The Don, to be renamed The Poser

Erawan Waterfalls

Thai Rehydration

Where did you go, Hoges?

Rest and Relaxation are That Way

Way out west at the waterfalls, and I lament that it has been three long years since I was last in Thailand. How good it is to feel the heat again, to be able to afford all those things you can't in Europe, and to drink at a bar with an ostrich. No, two ostriches. Four years ago I was in Kanchanaburi and I wasn't going to pass up another opportunity for an ostrich encounter. It was a biug effort to find this same bar, it's tucked away off the main drag, hidden behind a jungle-like garden. I'd heard rumours that the owners had closed it down, and it looked that way as no one was there except a thai couple. "I'm looking for the ostrich." Suddenly everything sprang into action. "Bring out the ostriches!" is probably what the guy shouted in Thai as his ten year old son raced back with 2 big bird beasts. We asked for some buckets of sangsom whiskey, red bull and coke - a thai staple - and so they went off the buy it for us. Strange setup for a bar. Aside from the ostriches, the true attraction for us were the waterfalls, but I should let the pictures do the talking.

We found beaches, but no R&R, on Phi Phi. I was pretty keen to see how the island might have changed since the tsunami two years ago and really I can't believe it. Once, on approach to the pier, the town centre of Ton Sai faced you, and you couldn't see past the buildings and palm trees. Now scattered palm trees stand and you can see straight through like the centre of town is a ghost. It's gone. Only the street along the southern beachfront remains as it was, and that is because every building has been rebuilt. It's all new. On the northern shore, which used to be lined with resorts, all that is left is a swimming pool and tents. For those that know it, the Reggae Bar came tumbling down too. But Phi Phi lives on, and despite being twice the cost it was last time, we found our niche here. Our niche was lots of late nights, seafood dinners and 'those' chocolate and banana pancakes.

In search of a break, we have found Koh Lanta. Today has been declared a day of nothing. Massages are allowed. Lying on the beach is allowed. And some more King Mackerel tonight. But that's it. Today is my last day of being 23. But there will be more of the same tomorrow, I imagine.

Under the Influence of Buckets

Pyramid at "The Beach"

Cruising Phi Phi Ley

Shortly before Billie is thrown in

The Bear, Dee, Billie, me, Hoges and The Don

Long Tails on Phi Phi

In Thailand Town

It's raining torrentially and we're headed west from Bangkok to Kanchanaburi. I remember now just how good Thai street vendor food is... pad thai with shrimps.. ooh yeah

Anth now has a blog called the V Love Freeway

Changing Continents... Let the sun begin!

The reunion with Yogi J Bear, The Sicilian Godfather Anth, Hulk Hogan, Boogying Eugie and DJ Dee is just a few hours away... it could involve busy bangkok streets, and it will definitely involve one of the worst beers in the world... Thai's Chang Beer.

It seems I'm escaping Europe just in time as the Gods give The Continent hell for such an easy winter so far. While the Europeans get a dose of cold weather for a change, I can't wait for that Bangkok humidity to slap me in the face as I begin the marathon bargaining session just to get the taxi driver to use his meter...

In Gold we Trust

Walking around Basel we were reminded of a Robin Williams sketch: “Come to Switzerland. We are the friendly people in the land of chocolate and cheese. We are neutral. Oh my! Where did all this money come from? It just appeared between 1941 and 1944.”

We are in Basel to visit Jenny (the alcoholic Swiss from Copenhagen). Jenny’s tour of Basel just accidentally happened to bypass chocolate shops, cheese shops, windows full of Swiss knives, and there may even have been a cathedral decorated with scaffolding. Not having enough gold to buy the chocolate, we nibble instead on a modestly sized piece of Gruyeré.

Standing at the train station was a Swiss man outfitted in camo gear, with an assault rifle slung across his chest. Next to him on the ground was his bag. Then a lady walked up and greeted him. His mum had come to pick him up from the station. How Swiss. Meanwhile, we boarded the train to Geneva and in 3 hours we’ll see Kaspar again.

Skiing with Jan

Very Swiss

We had cheese and chocolate in spades, but another Swiss specialty was conspicuously sparse. Although I arrived in Gstaad in a sea of snow, and was dutifully pelted with snowballs handcrafted by Yogi, Dave and Jan, this was the same snowfall which had to sustain our skiing as no more came. A year ago, this same town was 30 degrees colder and very much whiter.

With the help of Jan, our very own Ex-Junior-Swiss-National-Ski-Champion-cum-Ski-Instructor (and bed provider!), we found some great snow on the first few days. I in particular became well acquainted with the snow. My speed down the slopes belied my beginner status as a skier, and the combination of inexperience, speed and gravity lead in turn to a combination of spectacular cartwheels, worried onlookers and pure hilarity (for the others, at least).

Under twenty minutes of Jan’s tutelage on day 3, I significantly improved. Really, I did. My new-found skill allowed me to ski faster. Some ill-positioned bumps allowed me to fly higher and crash harder. Next time, Yogi and Dave will buy my lift pass as payment for the entertainment I provide them.

As the snow waned in the unseasonally warm conditions, we spent a little less time skiing and a little more time après skiing. One of the highlights for Yogi was discovering he had been undercharged, not overcharged when he complained about being paying 28 francs for three whiskey cokes. It should have been 42fr…

Lots of skiing, a dwindling supply of francs, and predominantly cheese related meals prove we’re in Switzerland…

Draughts in the Park

Winter Sunset, Genéve

Sightseeing in Basel

The Maestro: Ski Instructor Jan

Oooohh Fondue!!

Snowing

OK, so I fell over a few times...

Enjoying the Alps

Making Tracks

The Challenge

It was so loud. Then everything stopped.

NYE on the streets felt like a war zone and we loved it. Even throughout the preceding days, the random bangs of firecrackers kept you on edge. It was almost as if trouble was brewing, in the form of more riots like on the 14^th December. Waiting to board the bus. Bang. Jumping on the bike. Bang. It was bad because you could never see the fireworks, because they were obscured by either the buildings or the daylight. You just heard the gunshot-like bangs.

It looked for awhile as if the Danes don’t understand the concept of one homogenous light show. Social housing, rental caps, and a 70% tax rate make Denmark like a Governmental Robin Hood, yet it seemed they couldn’t share fireworks.

I was wrong. Copenhagen put on a show for my second last night. Along the lakes just north of the city, and on the edge of Nørrebro(nx), explosions of colour shot from the bridges. Everyway you turned was a light show. Everyway you walked, you had to watch out for a crazy Danish setting off his own firework. Every intersection was a do-it-yourself pyrotechnic playground. The result was as spectacular as it was scary. Meanwhile, the Poles, Kuba and Maciek danced in circles down the street, and the rest of the remaining clan from our Erasmus exchange 2006 embraced on their last night together.

Then silence. Even as New Year’s Eve was so loud and hectic, on January 1, Copenhagen was a ghost town. Where are the people? Every day of the past 5 months I have lived here it has buzzed. Copenhagen is always electric but my last day was quiet and eerie. My time here is over and for me it can never be the same again. In their ones, twos and threes my friends here have slipped away from the city. Jochen, back to Deutschland. Frenchie has gone home to Paris. Big Al had a German Christmas before sailing in Bris Vegas. Mummy and Daddy Catalan are back ‘entre Blanes y Cadaqués.’ The Italian Mafia, Silvia and Vale, are back chanting Bravo Azzurri in Rome, while Livia recovers from being deprived in Copenhagen of real coffee and proper pasta. Margaux is swanning around in the south of France. Jeremy is off to Paris and can tell me all about it when I bump into him in Asia. Stampy is tramping in Berlin and then on to Barcelona. Catalan Anna II is temporarily home in Barcelona for the break. Bev is in Ireland and has decided to return to Copenhagen for another dose of the same.

And some remain. Jenny, Chris and Dave have a ‘touch of cleaning’ to do in their now lonely apartment before heading back for their final semester in Sheffield. Sethery leaves tomorrow to look for somewhere to live in Chapel Hill, NC. Freyah is coming to the realisation that she will be trading her Amager dorm for home and uni back in Melbourne. Catalan Anna I, “La Pitjor del Mon,” is staying in town and struggling with the idea of losing everyone, while still preparing for exams. Kuba and “Magic” Maciek are still in town, drinking polish honey vodka. The endless goodbyes have been emotionally taxing, but we convince each other that somewhere, around the corner or around the world, we will all see each other again.

The next chapter has begun as an ICE train spirits me though Germany towards the Swiss Alps. Now I just need to pray for snow because it happens to be the warmest European winter anyone can remember, and if there’s no snow, I’ll have to pursue another Swiss sport – Curling.

The Works at New Year

Painting the town red

Faces of New Year

Fire and Water

Firework Craze

Nørrebrogade Lights