9 December - Santa Run

A post-drunken early morning start is never welcome, but there was some consolation in that the earliness was in aid of running 6km in Battersea Park dressed as Santa Claus, with 1500 other Santas. 2 of them (almost) naked. After this the day just improved - walking around various parts of London, generally exciting tourists and young children alike, and posing for photo-ops. I felt festive like never before.

The day culminated in Ciara's Birthday cocktail party, which in turn culminated in Tim's paraleticism on Ciara's bed.

6 December

I went to see a talk by a Children's Author about how to get published. It turned out to be useless in this regard, but was pretty interesting anyway. The best moment for me was when he said - in total seriousness - that, soon after Salman Rushdie had published the Satanic Verses, he felt he wanted to write a more controversial book than he had written so far, at which he produced a copy of "Jesus' Day Off".

Monopoly Pub Crawl

For Nige's birthday a bunch of us did what the title suggests: 22 properties, a drink in each. Even starting at 10:30 in the morning (in theory - most of us didn't make it to Old Kent Road or Whitechapel in time) it's still a pretty tight turnaround to make it to all of them in a single day. I have to admit I missed a further 3 properties to - yes, I know i'm terrible - eat some food. I caught up later though. Watch my descent into drunkenness.

20 November

"Yes to Physics! No to Closure!"
"Yes Yes Yes to Physics! No No No to Closure!"
"They say Cutback, we say Fightback!"
"Cutback?" - "Fightback!"
"Cutback?" - "Fightback!"
"Cutback?" - "Fightback!"
"They say Fightback, we say - no - We say Cutback - no - They say Cutback, we say Fightback!"
"Cutback?" - "Fightback!"
"Cutback?" - "Fightback!"

Amidst the worst chants in history, me and Emilie went demonstrating against the ridiculous closing of the Physics department at Reading Uni - one of the highest research centres in the country - just months after it had been told its future was secure. I felt like a radical activist! It was fun demonstrating, and I am now officially a part of history.

By the way, our chants did nothing - they announced the closure that afternoon.

Old School

Yup, as Old School as it gets: we (Me, Emilie and Nicky) went to see The Bluetones. I can't believe they're still together. I can't believe they're still touring. I can't believe the lead singer looks younger than me, despite being probably twice my age. That's what a rock n roll lifestyle will do to you.

Seeing as I only know 'Slight Return' and - um, what's that other one called again? - I was not expecting the best gig ever, but they were actually fantastic! I recommend going to see them even if just for the singer's witty comments between songs, and you don't tour for 40 years (or however long it is) without being an incredibly tight band indeed. I also heard what has to be the worst heckle in history: "You've got something in your eye!"

11 - 12 November

The first of many upcoming visits to London - went with Emilie for no particular reason than to see chums who live there. We went (about 10 of us) for a beautiful Thai meal, before going out to various pubs/bars and a club (where we met an Irish guy who imparted to us the wise words "sfdf...vrvg.vsfrver...verver....thn...he'sh....cor blimey that was a good'n"). The absolute best moment of the night, though, was finding a Chinese Takeaway restaurant called "Man Ho".

27 - 29 October

Went back to Bristol for the weekend and took Emilie along for the ride. On Friday (after a beautiful leek soup from Rhi, and helped by the less than beautiful Carling at the Academy) we went to Ramshackle and danced like crazy people. The day after that we enjoyed ourselves immensely by waiting approximately seventeen hours for a fry-up.

Saturday evening we first went to Bea's for preliminary drinking and final adjustments to our costumes for Tim's Robot Party (and as usual all other costumes were eclipsed by Bea's (i'm not saying she's a fatty - she makes incredibly good costumes)). Main choice of robot fuel was Snakebite Black, but I discovered that to mix this with Rum and Coke makes for a malfunctioning robot. System Error - Abort, Retry or Fail? All of the above.

Check it out for yamselves

12 October

This was a truuuly excellent day, as many have been over the past few weeks. I haven't been out a huge amount: just one club (The Fez) and a bunch of pubs (The Turks being the best so far); been out for a really nice meal with my brother, at which we met each other's girlfriends for the first time; been to see the Guillemots (who were pants); saw a crazy band whose lead singer was trying a little too hard to be Johnny Depp in Carrots of the Pirabbean (but had an amazing drummer); had a BBQ with my house and a few other stragglers; played Monopoly and several games of Cranium (still have yet to play Tony Blair); and have been trying to learn the piano; mostly though, I have been spending my time with Emilie (my aforementioned girlfriend), and it has been rather good indeed.

My First Weekend in Reading...

...was spent anywhere but. After an enjoyably drunken night out in Oxford I went to Newbury for paintballing to celebrate Nikos' birthday. I enjoyed the full paintballing experience by getting shot in the left testicle, and the less said about that the better. After this I went out to The Cube and the Black Swan in Bristol to celebrate Rog and Cat's emigration to Australia, and if you don't believe me you can see for yourself here. Luke Vibert played at the Black Swan, and he is a bit of a genius if you like that sort of thing (very very random, hardcore, hectic drum and bass).

Freshers' Week

I spent my first week in Reading feeling rather old - freshers all over the place reminding me of just how long ago it was that I was in their position. This is such a cliche, but they all look so young! Thinking about it, too, I must have looked even younger, seeing as I have normally looked about half my age throughout my life so far. That would have made me appear 9. Yep, that's probably about it. My week was mostly spent playing cards of various kinds with a few new found friends - mostly Emilie, Nicki and Amy (all staying in my Halls; from Canada, Devon and Paris respectively), and also going to mediocre pubs with these guys, Richard (another guy from my house) and a large group of Amy's French friends. Seeing as Nicki has just spent a year and a half in Paris, and Emilie is from French Canada, I think I should be fluent by the end of the year...

Titbits

Here's a few random things about Costa Rica and/or Panama that have been brought to my attention over the past few weeks...

• I have never eaten so much beans (of the kidney variety) and rice in my life! Gallo Pinto (a mixture of these two) makes an appearance in most traditional Costa Rican meals; for desayuno, almuerzo y cena.
• It is impossible, it seems, to write a song in Spanish without using the word "corazon" - and as if to prove my point, at exactly the same time as I wrote that, Black Francis said the very same thing on the song Evil Hearted You (which is in Spanish).
  
• "Puta" is by far the most commonly used word in CR.
  
• I have never sweated so much in my life as in these two countries
• The company "Dos Pinos" is the antithesis to Nestle, writing on their cartons that "breast milk is the healthiest thing for babies". Because of that I've been trying to buy as many Dos Pinos products as possible, so I suppose it's all marketing (to be cynical).
  
• Iguanas are amazing to see, but get boring after seeing your millionth.
  
• Song of the trip - Velouria by The Pixies, sung to myself more than any other whilst waiting for waves. Either this or Gasolina by Daddy Yankee - played everywhere by everyone, often on repeat (as Reggaeton is sweeping the nation at the moment).
  

Back once again...

The next day I began my long journey back to San Jose involving, as with any other in Panama/Costa Rica, many a bus (5 this time). It also involved another night in David (which had already lost its novelty), and a nostalgic revisit to several of the bus stations that populated my previous travels, including - best of all - the beautiful, chilled out and not a bit confusing border town from before (Paso Canoas).

Playa Venao

After finally arriving here I decided that Playa Venao is a bit too cool for school. Chilled out to the extreeem - free camping (which I opted for after seeing both a bat and a huge crab within 10 seconds of checking out the local cabina), lots of surfers, pretty much only one building (which is mostly only a roof) and, of course, a beautiful beach. But lets go back to the surfers - why do they have to be such unfriendly, up-their-own-culo posers? (Excluding, of course, all the surfers I know, and yes, I see the irony). Every time I tried to say hola to people (normally easy elsewhere) they didn´t even look at me! So it was totally full of these people and then (on the Sunday), after I sat on the beach and listened to a couple of albums, I turned round and they had all gone! I don´t know if they got my unfriendly, up-my-own-culo vibes, but suddenly the whole place was empty save me and an Israeli guy.

So it was that for my final surf of the trip I had one of the best surfing beaches in Panama (almost) all to myself - absolutely amazing, as only that morning I had been lamenting how Playa Venao suffers from the same annoyance as Pavones - too many surfers.

September 22, Rio Mar

This is one of several beaches spread across about 10 miles of coast. It´s extremely beautiful, with black sand that glitters like a night sky, and pretty clear water. The surf, however, was poobum whilst I was there, so I only stayed one night. Being little more than an hour from Panama City, it was empty whilst I was there (during the week) but at the weekends gets packed like Linford Christie´s pants, with both Panamanians and foreign tourists rocking up the over-priced resort (the cheapest place was $25 - like 3 times the norm - and only by virtue of having a tent did I enjoy a $5 pitch).

I decided to go to Playa Venao instead, but things are never so easy... a 5 hour wait at various places in and around San Carlos (the nearest town) and I eventually found myself on a bus to Chitré, where I was forced to stay the night through lack of buses and light. That evening I made friends with Nikli, who was learning English - so I offered my services. We talked mostly in Spanish though, about Ouija boards (popular, but highly frowned upon in a 90% Catholic country), "Satanic Rock" (Death Metal), religion, and how the prices of things compare in our countries: #25,000, for what I thought might be the cheapest house available in Britain, was shockingly expoensive to her, as one might expect.

Santa Catalina

Made a lengthy trek (3 buses, 2 taxis) to Santa Catalina, meeting a friendly painter on the way, who lived in Sona and got the bus every day to Santiago to sell his paintings.

The 2 Swiss-Germans that i met in Pavones, Simon and Evelyn, happened to be in the same hostel, so it was with them that I spent most of my time here. We went surfing at Playa Estero everyday, with waves soemtimes reaching 1.5m (although Simon reckoned 2m). Here we met Sean-Paul, a nice kid at first, who showed us where to surf (although he was only 8 he was certainly in the know, being as this beach was his back-garden). However, his insistence on mindless violence (in an 8 yr old kind of way) got a little grating, and he got especially annoyed when I called him a cucaracha or a niña traviesa.

Also met 3 American guys who exactly represented all bad things you might have heard about American tourists. They talked to the locals as if to someone fluent in english, and as if they were their boss. They were very loud, shouting both late at night and at 7 in the morning, literally waking up everybody in the hostel. They were bigoted ("You know you guys should just throw each and every Muslim out of your country. Mass-murdering fucks"). They were Bush supporters - would you believe? In this day and age! Needless to say I didn´t share with them my views on patriotism (see August 25). They were constantly boasting about the Colombian prostitutes they had just had in Panama City (prostitution is legal here). Guys, it´s not something to be proud of if you had to pay them to do it.

I also met Jaime, an interesting guy technically from America, grew up in Puerto Rico, and who had lived in various places in his time. He identified, within 30 seconds of meeting the yanks, the excellent quality of their character. That evening, my last in Santa Catalina, was spent with him, Simon and Evelyn and 2 guys from Barcelona with who I reminisced about Sonar. Most of the conversation was in Spanish - too hard for me to follow, but it´s fun and useful trying.

David

Yep, thats m´name. And it´s also the name of the city i´m currently staying in, the first major city over the CR-Panama border. Getting through immigration is a pain in las nalgas and I suppose I was looking confused - a small kid came and almost insisted that he helped me through the process (like several other people who had already offered my taxi rides to almost everywhere in Costa Rica, money-exchange deals, etc. I felt like I was in the Tokyo Stock Exchange). It really annoys me when this happens: he was clearly only doing it so that I would tip him something, and surely the process is fairly simple. Not so, amigo. After the event I realised it was absolutely necessary and I never would have made it on my own. I gladly tipped the cheeky rapscallion before he packed me onto a rather cheap bus.

My first impression of Panama was when, in a similarly spoonfed style, a kind lady walked me about 500m to a hostel recommendation. It seems she was doing it out of the kindness of her heart, as she refused any money as thanks. What a strange country.

Dia de la Independencia

Lena and I walked about an hour and a half each way to a secret surf spot that a local woman (who I suspect was on a large amount of coke) let slip to us. When we asked in the local surf shop for directions the guy threw his hands up and, with a knowing smile on his face, said he couldn´t possibly tell us anything about it. He later said there was a pact amongst the locals not to spill the beans. When we got there I was slightly worried the locals might give us jip but, after reminding us it is a lugar secreto, one pointed out where the dangerous rocks were, reassured us that there were no crocs and was helping us to catch the best waves. This spot is amazing - it basically catches the left of Pavones but without all the rocks - AND without all the tourists. They´re all the same, them.

Later we went to a BBQ at one of the other hostels, as we had met a couple of people staying there. On our way we heard the strangest sound, apparently from the frogs (although I suspect the toads). Make a gun with you fingers, pretend you´re a stormtrooper and shoot the person nearest to you with a laser gun. The sound you just made was probably a good rendition, except you have to do it constantly.

Pavones

Move over, mushrooms - I have a new pet hate. Rocky beaches. It hurts to walk on, and therefore to get into the water, it hurts to fall onto, it injures your board (don´t I know it), cuts your feet (while the saltwater won´t let you heal), and looks horrible. Where are you, Mr Erosion? When will you rear your much appreciated, rather dull head? I´ve decided that from now on, if it´s not sandy i´m not interested. I really am a surfer through and through.

Pavones is an amazing surf spot - if you know how to surf. Like Dominical, there was a huge swell whilst we were there, causing waves in excess of 2 metres. These I tried to surf, but the few times I caught one (sometimes competing with 20 other surfers, with room for only one lucky contender), I could not turn quick enough to get to the side of the wave (if you dont get to the side then the wave breaks after a few metres onto the aforementioned rocks, whilst if you do you have a potential 3 minute surf off one wave. My back hurts).

September 11

First up I was waiting for a bus to Golfito, when a couple (Brigitte and Randy) asked where I was going. They were going to San Isidro, so no luck. Then they reversed back: "The bridge is closed on the way to Golfito". So they took me to San Isidro instead, for an alternate route.

Here I had a strange coincidence: only that very morning, after considering the problem for weeks, I decided to name my board Stephanie (after a chica rica I had met in the place I bought it). Then, waiting for the bus, 2 Ticos asked me what she was called - the first people to do so.

I got the bus with only minutes to spare in the end, and before long ended up waiting for about 3 hours because of, guess what - a collapsed bridge. I dont know whether coincidence or crossed-wires, but after waiting for ages we just turned round and went back, so it was all fruitful.

On this bus I met Lena, a German girl who also happened to be going to Pavones (my final destination that day) to surf - naturally we stuck together for my time there...

September 10

I changed hostels to a campsite instead. I almost stayed on the beach for free with Taylor, Javier and Bob - three Texans I met who had travelled overland through Mexico and Central America (which takes a minimum of a week), and with whom I spent much of my time in Dominical, always pretending I was about to surf in half an hour. But I was worried about the security as my board won´t fit in my tent.

Later that day I had 2 near-death experiences. First I was electrocuted by a fridge because - stupid me - I opened it barefoot. Isn´t that just the classic schoolboy error? This precipitated fits of laughter from the Ticos watching, in a silly-gringo-doesn´t-know-better kind of way, mixed with a bit of let´s-wait-and-see-who´ll-be-got-next. I naturally played the passive Englishman and didn´t get as annoyed as I should have, mixed with a little wait-until-an-american-sues-your-ass-off.

Immediately after that (although after waiting some time for my right arm to calm down) I went for a surf. After missioning it out to catch a wave, as is par for the Playa Dominical course, I suddenly found I had gone too far, and was behind where the waves break - in a rip-current forcing me out to sea. I battled for about 45 minutes, sometimes finding myself closer to shore, sometimes only getting further out. Even when I got close to where the waves were breaking I had various mixed feelings: thank god I'm getting close; oh my god the waves are huge; please don´t break whilst I'm on top - I was literally pleading with the waves to break before they got to me. I was generally struggling to get on the breaking side of the waves, being in a position to catch a wave, and then realising they were too big for me (chickening out) - then being pushed a little further back, and regretting my momentary yellowness. After a bit of this, I eventually found the nerve to just go for one whatever the risks, and even managed to ride it for a short time. After this (as soon as I was on the breaking side of the waves) I knew I was safe, and rode 2 or 3 back to the shore. When I eventually crashed out on the beach I was over a mile from where I had started, which I had to walk without glasses, barefoot across painful pebbles (adding to my vitriol in the "Pavones" blog). Being without glasses I actually had no idea in which way to walk, and simply guessed (luckily, correctly). The thought crossed my mind, as sometimes does, that if I were stranded in a survival situation I would be significantly more powerless without my glasses, and without them could not realistically envisage my survival.

After that I had an incredibly nice meal and several beers to celebrate my still being alive.

September 9

I am now in Playa Dominical, which is another of them surf havens. This one, however is hardcore. Apparently it´s only because there´s a large amount of swell at the moment (get the lingo), so maybe it´ll die down. But I am generally struggling for 10 minutes just to get out there, to ride one wave back to shore and repeat the process after another 10 minutes rest. However, each of the 6 or so runs I have had here have been the fastest of my career to date, so I guess it´s all good.

Rashvests are great - for the uninitiated, they stop your chest and stomach rubbing on your board. However, the waves constantly push them up, like a half taken off t-shirt. Also, I sometimes get a rubbing between my thighs, which saltwater exacerbates. So i´ve decided the only logical solution is leotards. They´ll solve both of these problems at once in one stylish number. And, as has been evident in recent years, seeing as extreme sports often lead the way for fashion, leotards are sure to be the next big thing. So I recommend you get to the shops now and get your hands on one while they´re cheap, before Quiksilver and the like corner the market and charge 80 pounds for one doubly-endorsed by Kelly Slater and Mr Motivator. Don´t say I didn´t warn you.

Manuel Antonio National Park

Despite my misgivings about the town, the associated National Park is a beaut. I walked all the footpaths with my eyes wide open in wildlife-related anticipation. Most visitors see 3 types of monkeys, pizotes, iguanas-lizards, sloths, many types of birds, giant rats, squirrels, etc. However, it seems my luck had run out in Fortuna - I saw a monkey, a giant rat and 2 big iguanas. I feel cheated!

September 6

Met 2 Spanish guys in the room next to mine, both really nice, and one of them lent me his mp3 player, so the other night I mainly spent listening to Clap Your Hands Say Yeah (which I failed to bring with me and was missing like a friend). Jorge continued to feed me well, apparently for free, although I have become very cynical about this town...

I also met a guy called Oscar, who has been in Manuel Antonio for a while selling tours to tourists. He´s from Buenos Aires, used to work as a flight attendant, went to a British boarding school in BA, is set to marry a Tico lady, and various other interesting things like that. At first I really liked him, we were talking about music and politics, and either agreeing or disagreeing interestingly. But before long it became apparent how much he was simply after a tip for the information he gave me about the area. He kept pointing out that he hadn´t sold any tours that day, and that people always tip for his ¨good¨ info. That info included that Musmani is the cheapest place for food (it is indeed, but it is obvious to those who have been in the country for any length of time), the wrong bus times, an expensive and low quality batido recommendation, etc - basically he did not know his onions. It annoys me so much because it kind of typifies Manuel Antonio - a friendly place on the face of it, but entirely phony and quickly see-through. He also told me that I, as part of the young generation, need to be the one to make a difference and change the world (as many old people say). Frankly that is a load of cojones - everyone has a responsibilty to act responsibly, and practicing certainly comes before preaching.

Quepos and Manuel Antonio

After staying in Quepos for a night (where I had been promised good surf, only to find a scutty port-town full of ladrones), I moved to Manuel Antonio (or at least, at the top of a hill miles from Manuel Antonio) for what is reputedly the best National Park in CR. First up I did a day of Scuba diving - two 40 minute dives where I saw an octopus, loads of crazy fish, a starfish and held a pufferfish in my own two hands. They feel very strange. Between the dives I also saw dolphins, who swam for a moment with our boat.

A day or two later I decided to move hostels, to get one closer to the beach so I can get back on the surfing bandwagon. As I was walking the 2 miles in the heat with all my stuff thankfully 2 guys took pity on me, picked me up and took to an amazing place really close to the beach (with a fridge!!!) run by a really friendly guy called Jorge (which is impossible to pronounce in Spanish) who has already fed me twice. Met some really friendly Costa Ricans (David, Alfredo and Montserrat) and (after playing a ridiculous drinking game involving clapping, sore thighs and animal impressions) went out with them to a club called "Coconuts". I met the owner, who bored me to death with his extensive knowledge of rock bands I had never heard of. Apart from that though, a top night.

I´ve just surfed all morning and am now absolutely knackered, but have a large grin on my face.

August 30

We got up at 6:30 in preparation for a 5 hour drive, which took us less than 3, to San Jose. This would complete the 5-day odyssey of Team Enferma, and would be the last time I would see Anna and Wendy. It was real fun travelling with these guys - choruses of loud singing, tour guide bonuses, jacuzzis and hot springs, volcanoes (well, just one), their amazing taste in music (queso) and sweet Cariño, although at times it was like travelling by myself, due to my complete inability to speak Dutch.

After finding a cheap hostel in San Jose, I ended up going to a casino (for the first time in my life) with an Israeli guy I met. I went in with $20 and left with... $20. But I got nicely drunk off free Rum n Coke, and even had a small bit of tapas. Now that´s a bargain.

La Fortuna

A full-on tourist day: we walked to the base of the volcano, amidst lizards, spiders and trees that had been blown over by volcanic rocks hurled from Arenal. Travelling with a Tour Guide has its advantages: not only did we get a cheap (and rather nice) hotel room, but we also saved ourselves $6 a piece by getting into the National Park for free. Bargain.

After that we went to a Cataratas with a pool, and a powerful flow of water that means that all the tourists stay firmly clung to the edge, for fear of undercurrents. We lounged and bathed in the accompanying, slightly tamer pool, that has a powerful throughflow of water nonetheless (great fun to wedge yourself in some rocks and feel the torrent flow past you).

After a slightly worrying, but non-existent engine problem (the drip turned out to be from the Air Conditioning) and dinner, we finished the evening in the Hot Springs - with pools heated up by the volcano (some too hot to even put your toe in, as I verified) and, best of all, a swim-up bar. I felt like I was in Magnum PI.

August 28

Playa Conchal is so named, like many others around the world (I also saw one in Western Australia), because it is largely composed of millions of shells. With that, and its clear waters it was incredibly beautiful spot. BUT! We had been told that there was good surf here and, after lugging my board for about a kilometre or so, it turned out that was a big flat lie. We stayed anyway for a couple of hours before heading for La Fortuna and Volcan Arenal, the biggest (and still active) volcano in CR. After driving all around the lake, and seeing picturesque views of the beast from all directions, we finally found La Fortuna. We were incredibly lucky to be able to see the volcano at all - usually it laughs at the tourists from its impenetrable shroud of clouds - but for us the sky was mostly clear. I suppose that (for us at least) is becoming of a place called La Fortuna.

After dark we went to a choice lookout point and witnessed, after waiting an hour or so for a window in the clouds (that had built up by that point), we watched the amazing spectacle of bright red volcanic rocks spewing out of Arenal and rolling down her sides. But she was shy, and after watching for about fifteen minutes, the clouds returned and we left.

August 27

After eating at a cheap Soda, we started what we thought would be a short drive to Tamarindo. It wasn´t. When we got there though, we decided it lived up to its reputation as being Tamagringo - scutty and full of tourists - so we decided to leave. After considering Playas Del Coco, Playa Flamingo and Playa Grande (whose legendary waves I was disappointed to be missing), we eventually settled in a really nice room in Braselito, and saw what was probably the most amazingly beautiful sky I have ever witnessed. Of course it is impossible to describe: (but i´ll try!) an amazing sunset with a reflection in the East, patches of blue sky, a rainbow and beautiful clouds - all of which we watched while swimming in the sea.

25 August

The rest of my days in Malpais/Santa Teresa/Playa Carmen were spent in similar fashion - surfing everyday, writing and reading. I also met Stephanie and Dominique (French Canadians - a very strange accent that sounds like Eddie Izzard doing a medley of different accents in one of his vids - I didn't even recognise that they were speaking French) and Billy (NY), and we all went out and got rather drunk a couple of nights ago. On the same night I managed to create a look of shock, disgust and bemusement on an American's face by telling him that patriotism is an evil presence in the world. I guess politics is one of those things you should keep out of light conversation.

Yesterday I hired a 4x4 with 2 Dutch girls I also met in the hostel, Wendy and Anna. Team Enferma drove Cariño for about 5 hours on the sketchy roads to Sámara which, as Anna put it, are more like holes with the odd patch of road, and today we are very much relaxing (and surfing) to recover before we drive to Tamarindo tomorrow. Sámara is a really quiet, chilled out town, but I think we're getting a worse experience as it's been raining all day! I'm sooo pleased to be using my tent also, if only because it validates the fact that I brought it all the way here (and it's saving me 13 pounds). The fact that it's falling apart is relevant.

21 August, Malpais?

I am still in the same place as before, except I am now in Malpais. The truth is nobody actually seems to know where Malpais ends and Santa Teresa begins, so i'll pretend i'm in Malpais for a change of scenery. Malpais literally means 'Badlands', but it is far from that.

I hired a bike for a couple of days, cycled around the local area on a wildgoose chase for Howler Monkeys - no avail, but I might try again cos i'd really like to see some (despite the fact that they poo in their hand and throw it at you).

I've also been surfing everyday, sometimes with more luck than others. Just got back from a really good one this morning, and had an amazing one last night while the sun was setting (in contrast to the crazy lightning storm of the previous night) - i'm standing up fairly consistently now, but haven't really turned or anything yet. I have bought a beautiful board for $150.

I met a few guys from the hostel the other day - went for pizza with Erica and Peggy, then we went with Morgan, Dan and Mindy to a beach party full of local Ticos. Great to meet people, although they all left the next morning - hope it wasn't something I said!

I'm about to get cooked lunch by Hugo, who also sells delicious pinchos (kebabs) most evenings outside our hostel, so I had better get back soon...

17 August, Santa Teresa

I got up at 6:30 to get a boat to Montezuma - really good fun! Crazy bumpy speedboat all the way, for about an hour and a half. Was going to stay, but decided to share a taxi fare to Santa Teresa - and i'm really pleased I did. Our taxi driver was excellent, stopping and getting out every now and again to show us ardillas, monos, pizotes, mariposas, platanillos, iguanas - that is, squirrels (red like they used to be, with huge grey bushy tail), monkeys, pizotes (I dont know if there's even an English word for it!), butterflies, crazy plants related to bananas, and i think you can guess the last one. He put my mind at rest by saying he has rarely seen a snake in CR!

Santa Teresa looks like an amazing place, and a bit of a surf haven so I might stay here for a bit (although I just tried for a bit and failed miserably). I think it's a surf haven because it's all a little bit above me (literally and figuratively).

I don't know if eyes are the windows of the soul, but nostrils are las ventanas de la nariz.

15 August - El Dia de La Madre

Mother's Day.

I caught a bus from Coca-Cola in San Jose - very dodgy neighbourhood ("lots of crack smokers", said an old American guy I met in the hostel. He also recommended a good brothel to me).

Got to Jaco by noon and asked a woman (Celeste) on the bus for directions to a good hostel, and she ended up giving me my first Costa Rican coffee, along with Jocato, a weird fruit that would be almost impossible to explain. It had an almost powdery texture, about the size of a lime, and was quite sweet. I also met her pet parrot, who had some kind of infection/rash/parasite, so had scratched a lot of its belly-feathers off with its beak. But like a child it refused its medicine.

Celeste is studying to be a nurse, involving getting up at 5 and taking the bus to San Jose three days a week. I'll try to appreciate my Halls of Residence.

Also in Jaco I did a Canopy Tour, involving 12 ziplines from platform to platform in the treetops. I saw a White-Faced Monkey, a Chicle Tree and a huge Banana Spider. Tried surfing for the first time in CR - choppy waves, very hard work. I need to buy a rashvest!

San Jose, 14 August

After about 24 hours of travel, many security checks (involving taking off my shoes at each checkpoint), and waiting for about an hour on the plane on the Miami Airstrip, for the lightning to give us a breather, I am finally here in San Jose.

Yesterday I saw the Museo Del Oro y Numismatica (Gold and Coins) - the coins bit was absolutely boring - just cabinet after cabinet of Costa Rican coins and notes, with flimsy explanations holding it together. But the gold section was much better, how the indigineous folk used to make and craft gold into ritual paraphernalia and all that jazz. I also saw the Teatro Nacional, which was quite impressive and with obligatory paintings and sculptures. It was founded by Rafael Igelsias, who had a degree by the age of 15, was elected Minister For Culture at 19, was President of CR at 23, and is thought to be CR's most attractive man ever (y'know, one of the those real bastards).

22/23 July 06

Ashton Court Festival! As always, all the best people from Bristol and beyond flocked to the stately grounds for musical fun and the like. Amongst highlights were my marriage to Patsy, Paul (Randall)'s marriage to Rhi, Paul getting entirely lost ("don't worry," said Tim, "he always lands on his feet - he'll probably end up meeting a couple of lovely ladies and taking them home..." ...that he did), zippy getting a shout-out from Alice Russell, and free spacehoppers. Babyhead probably would've been the highlight, but I had to leave early to get back to that ivy!

18 - 27 July 06

I'm a lumberjack and I'm OK. I sleep all night and I work all day. It's true. "Do you wear women's clothing?" asked Nige. I think that's beside the point.

Although, just a few days before the 18th, I badly bruised the sole of my foot playing hopscotch (you think that's funny, do you?), and was limping for the best part of these couple of weeks, I fought through the pain (like Arnie in Commando) and spent my days killing the ivy that is taking over our wood in Wales. This is so much harder than it sounds! Ivy vines get literally as thick as your arm (unless you're a fatty), and each one needed to be sawn through in two places to kill it. Despite this I actually had an amazing time being out in the countryside chilling with Andrew, having a three day bonfire in the already sweltering heat, cycling to the nearest pub on ridiculously small bikes (one being Paul's first ever BMX) and playing Risk.

I also had a near-fatal encounter with a centipede. Those things can be very dangerous.

Photos

14 July 06

In a historical, landmark case it was proven that you should never mess with an Atkinson. Today I took the law into, well, the law's hands, and took my old employers to an Employment Tribunal. It was far from an enjoyable morning, involving lies, damn lies and a forged letter of written notice, so I'm not going to dwell on it! It was, in fact, a horrible experience, but all that really matters is I won, and it's over with. If this is the worst thing that happened to me across the last few months, I should probably count myself lucky.

29 June - 2 July 06

I went to Roskilde in Denmark, to a festival characterised by its uber-clean toilets (I held a poo all day because I had no toilet paper on me, only to find they actually provide it in the portaloos - ridiculous for a festival), liberal urinary habits (both girls and boys piss absolutely everywhere) and, of course, excellent music. I saw Clap Your Hands Say Yeah!, The Strokes, Martha Wainwright, Arctic Monkeys, Sigur Ros, Bellowhead, Tool, Death Cab For Cutie, Editors, George Clinton and Opeth, to name but a few. The clientele was as crazy and ostentatious as any festival (except Glastonbury, of course) and fashion item of the day in Scandinavia seems to be drainpipe trousers. Amidst Martyn's ridiculously small tent, comedy was provided by Bjorn, an upstanding citizen of "She Left You", which really exists!

The Scandinavian audience is a strange phenomenon. A couple of rows from the front of Tool (quite heavy), I would expect to be moving in waves of people, metres from side to side. I'd also expect a bit of moshing, and I even took my glasses off as I expected to lose them. But No! All them Vikings ever do is clap their hands and point vigorously, and not really dance at all. I felt out of place dancing, and for most of it was stood rigid to the spot. I put my glasses back on after a couple of songs.

Altho, after Andrew and I had shared 10 cans of beans, Eric was probably pleased to see the back of us, it has to be said it has been great to see his Canadian chops again (Martyn and I met him in Australia 5 years ago). I look forward to seeing him again in 5 years' time.

19 - 25 June 06

...Provence with the "few other people" I mentioned before (Rog, Cat, Caz, Jody, Monkey, Laura, Katie, Katie), Charlie Danger, Mary, Nige and Little Jon.

After abstaining for a whole 24 hours due to illness (throughout which, by the way, everyone was wonderfully full of tea and sypathy), I was able to tuck in to some of the amazing food we had - best of which was the homemade pizzas (cooked in a proper pizza oven!).

Between the swimming pool, hot-tub, table tennis, pass the pigs, archery, perudo, spelunki, Barrooose, Articulate and Caz's birthday, there was always time to play Tony Blair, the best game in the world. Best of all is the expressions round, and the ambience was improved even more by playing, in a chapel, above a 400 year old buried monk.

Incidentally, apologies must be made to the hundreds of passengers whose sleep we (Little, Laura, Katie, Jody and Laura's mate Jesse) disturbed on the way home, by playing Tony Blair between about 1 and 5 in the morning in the airport, at top volume. We won't do it again.

14 - 19 June 06

Went to Sonar, a dance/electronica fiestaval in Barcelona, with Little Jon, Laura, Em, Lizby, Mary and Nige (and a few other people...), and had a fantabulous time. Barca, as always is an amazing city (I am lucky enough to have been there a few times); beautiful architecture, great weather, slightly lukewarm beach, personas guapas, streets that smell of wee - the list goes on. By day, we mostly missed the festival activities and lay on the beach, or wasted out time in other excellent ways. But by night we went to see what the music had to offer... Goldfrapp (the highlight for sure), Rahzel, DJ Shadow (very, very disappointing - shame on you DJ Shadow), DJ Krush, One Self. Altho Goldfrapp were the highlight, I had to enjoy them by myself after Jon's buddy system broke down drastically soon after implementation. He got high and just, kind of, wandered off (forgetting most of the night in the process), leaving me with his new found friend of questionable Irish origin.

After the hectic lights of Barcelona I went to chill out for (almost) a week in...