It is rather disgusting to think that I have been holiday now for 6 or 7 weeks (who can keep track really?), the days have merged into one long summer holiday, as I have taken full advnatage of the long, hot days in the Caribbean, and the rather long, crazy nights that have gone with them!
I left my job at the end of July and headed over to Las Vegas to meet up with those 2 crazy kids- Se and Jas. I then spent the next 2 weeks or so in the back of their Monty the Ponty travelling from the hotspots of Vegas to the middle of the bear-infested wilds of Yosemite and then all the way up and down the California Coastline (and falling in love with San Francisco along the way!!).
Back to the Caymans, I had a short but intense struggle with Immigration, finally admitting defeat and decided to book another trip off the island to give them some more time to miss me (and perhaps issue a work permit in my absence...c´mon guys, I have loads of financial investing experience...riiight).
Hence, here I find myself in a rather chilly and damp Monday morning in Lima, Peru. My backpack is stuffed fill of thermal underwear, hiking boots and alpine hat and gloves, I am off to tackle this extraordinary country for a couple of weeks.
I have found myself a rather quirky (??!!) backpackers jaunt in Miraflores and am desperately and urgently awaiting the kitchen to open so I can get some caffeine into my body (my flight landed at 4.30am!), and then it is off to explore the city. So far, the sights and sounds have been enough to inspire a little trepidation (ie, 2 x bearded, long-haired nomads have just wandered out their room and seem to be trying to find their way to the bathroom or bar.... not sure which!).
Right, so this is also the re-launch of the caribbean chicken (after a 7 month hiatus), she is BACK!
Day One: Lima (to be cont.)
(ps, nomads are back with beers...)
Monday, 17 September 2007
Friday, 23 February 2007
Thursday, 8 February 2007
SuperBowl Madness
On Monday morning I woke up and went for my usual 10km run (it turned into a 10k hobble, the holiday south has taken its toll…) , and about 100m down the road I met a stray tourist. Not unusual, when one thinks that tourists outnumber locals 2 to 1 on the island. Anyhow, this particular tourist was dressed in nothing more than a pair of cargo shorts (strategically hanging somewhere mid-thigh), no t-shirt, no shoes, and no clue that he was staggering down the road singing war cries to the lamp posts.
I immediately recognized him as a stray tourist. We get a number of these every weekend (although they don’t usually venture so far south. Makes me think that he must have left a bar in Georgetown in the early hours of the morning and turned left instead of right…and 4 hours on he’s still looking for his hotel), they’re easy to recognize and even easier to diagnose. They’re usually burnt (too much sun) and reeking of rum (the rumbos get them every time- the alcohol percentage in the rum here is 3 times the legal limit anywhere else in the world and then the caffeine and sugar in the coke keeps one wired for hours…The glasses of rumbo should contain a warning label: “ Caution: the contents of this drink may cause temporary insanity”). And so, as I ran past, I turned him in the general direction of GeorgeTown and sent him on his way. The last I saw of him as I turned the corner, he had made friends with the resident 3-legged dog and the 2 were trotting down the road together…
So why all the madness you may ask? Well, Sunday 4th February was Superbowl Sunday.
Yes, that means absolutely NOTHING to all us Saffers. But it means a whole lot to everyone this side of the globe and I can quite proudly say that I now know who the Chicago Bulls and Indiana Colts are. I even know what colour each team wears and that a game spans 4 hours of which 3 hours 55 minutes are pure advertising. Superbowl madness hit the Grand Cayman Islands with a vengeance this past weekend. Everywhere I looked there was another excited American tourist jumping up and down, arms flailing about, white hairy legs protruding from checked Bermuda shorts and sweat drops gathering under their plastic peaks. I don’t think even Hurricane Ivan caused so much disruption in one day!
The kick off was at 6.30pm Island time and the festivities started early with most bars and restaurants offering “Superbowl Specials”- bucket of Buds and Chicken wingers (I am concerned about the sheer number of chicken wings that are eaten on a daily basis on the island. Most specials offer them at 25c a barbecued wing, with the average Joe consuming at least 20 and with a thousand tourists visiting the island daily, that’s a lot of chicken. I fear my wings might be next…)
And so whilst Superbowl mania engulfed the tiny island, I spent the weekend holed up in the Westin Hotel, inside the Ballroom, setting up and rehearsing for my second “sizeable” job for Celebrations. Here are some photos for those of you who can not believe that I now spend my day flower arranging. Check these out…
I immediately recognized him as a stray tourist. We get a number of these every weekend (although they don’t usually venture so far south. Makes me think that he must have left a bar in Georgetown in the early hours of the morning and turned left instead of right…and 4 hours on he’s still looking for his hotel), they’re easy to recognize and even easier to diagnose. They’re usually burnt (too much sun) and reeking of rum (the rumbos get them every time- the alcohol percentage in the rum here is 3 times the legal limit anywhere else in the world and then the caffeine and sugar in the coke keeps one wired for hours…The glasses of rumbo should contain a warning label: “ Caution: the contents of this drink may cause temporary insanity”). And so, as I ran past, I turned him in the general direction of GeorgeTown and sent him on his way. The last I saw of him as I turned the corner, he had made friends with the resident 3-legged dog and the 2 were trotting down the road together…
So why all the madness you may ask? Well, Sunday 4th February was Superbowl Sunday.
Yes, that means absolutely NOTHING to all us Saffers. But it means a whole lot to everyone this side of the globe and I can quite proudly say that I now know who the Chicago Bulls and Indiana Colts are. I even know what colour each team wears and that a game spans 4 hours of which 3 hours 55 minutes are pure advertising. Superbowl madness hit the Grand Cayman Islands with a vengeance this past weekend. Everywhere I looked there was another excited American tourist jumping up and down, arms flailing about, white hairy legs protruding from checked Bermuda shorts and sweat drops gathering under their plastic peaks. I don’t think even Hurricane Ivan caused so much disruption in one day!
The kick off was at 6.30pm Island time and the festivities started early with most bars and restaurants offering “Superbowl Specials”- bucket of Buds and Chicken wingers (I am concerned about the sheer number of chicken wings that are eaten on a daily basis on the island. Most specials offer them at 25c a barbecued wing, with the average Joe consuming at least 20 and with a thousand tourists visiting the island daily, that’s a lot of chicken. I fear my wings might be next…)
And so whilst Superbowl mania engulfed the tiny island, I spent the weekend holed up in the Westin Hotel, inside the Ballroom, setting up and rehearsing for my second “sizeable” job for Celebrations. Here are some photos for those of you who can not believe that I now spend my day flower arranging. Check these out…
Saturday, 3 February 2007
Migration
After a short migration south, the Chicken has landed back on the Caribbean Isles.
Here are a few highlights of the 2-week whirlwind:
Cayman Islands to Durban via Bahamas via London via Johannesburg: 22 hours in an airplane, 15 hours of airport stopovers, one crazy bat kicking my chair for 4 hours, 80-mile winds in London causing Heathrow mayhem: 42-cancelled flights, 80-delayed flights, undisclosed technical difficulty grounding my BA plane in JHB, 2 sleeping pills. Home. (sigh).
Kloof: 3 shopping trips to Gateway (wow shopping centres, real shops with clothes that don't have shoulder pads and pleated skirts, I'm in heaven), 2 visits to Kloof Virgin Active (wow a first-world gym with real weight machines and equipment that hasn't rusted shut), many home-cooked dinners (still too few though...aaaaarggghh), whirwind visits to friends and family...
Cape Town: 1 flight on a bright orange plane named after a rather tasty fruit. 1 emergency landing and evacuation of plane. No, the excitement was not caused by a potential terrorist. Instead, this piece of mayhem was caused by a 5mm stone lodged in the Rooster's (Daddy Hoops) bladder. At 32000 feet with 20 mins flying time on the clock, the stone decided to make its move. What followed was probably my most exciting entrance to Cape Town ever. It included evacuation of passengers, paramedics and ambulances screeching along the runway, one man-down, and one ambulance trip to Vincent Palloti. And so the Rooster was confined to a hospital bed for 3 days. After the initial sympathy and shock- kidney stone pain is akin to child birth so they say...- we left the Rooster hooked up to his morphine drip (he was floating about 2m above his bed with a permanent grin on his face), and headed into a stinking hot Cape Town.
3 days of heat wave and temps into the high-40's.
1 amazing house in Bakoven.
5 trips to Cavendish (on a permanent shopping high).
2 hours lost in Mitchells Plain.
2 days on wine estate in stellenbosch.
1 beautiful and perfect wedding.
1 hangover.
1 British Airways strike. 1 day less of my vacation as a mad scramble ensued to change my flights: Cape Town to Cayman Islands via London via Miami on BA, Virgin Atlantic and American Airlines. 25 hours flying time, 8 hours stopover time in airports, 1 very disgruntled US Customs Officer, 5 movies (no sleeping pills) and I arrived in Georgetown. Aaaahhh, back to island-time. Back to perfect seas, white sand beaches, and sundowner cocktails. Back to my apartment.... oh, yes, back to my psychotic flatmate (who, it seems, shaved his head whilst i was gone and now looks like an overweight Auschwitz survivor) hmmm...
1x Homesickness.
Here are a few highlights of the 2-week whirlwind:
Cayman Islands to Durban via Bahamas via London via Johannesburg: 22 hours in an airplane, 15 hours of airport stopovers, one crazy bat kicking my chair for 4 hours, 80-mile winds in London causing Heathrow mayhem: 42-cancelled flights, 80-delayed flights, undisclosed technical difficulty grounding my BA plane in JHB, 2 sleeping pills. Home. (sigh).
Kloof: 3 shopping trips to Gateway (wow shopping centres, real shops with clothes that don't have shoulder pads and pleated skirts, I'm in heaven), 2 visits to Kloof Virgin Active (wow a first-world gym with real weight machines and equipment that hasn't rusted shut), many home-cooked dinners (still too few though...aaaaarggghh), whirwind visits to friends and family...
Cape Town: 1 flight on a bright orange plane named after a rather tasty fruit. 1 emergency landing and evacuation of plane. No, the excitement was not caused by a potential terrorist. Instead, this piece of mayhem was caused by a 5mm stone lodged in the Rooster's (Daddy Hoops) bladder. At 32000 feet with 20 mins flying time on the clock, the stone decided to make its move. What followed was probably my most exciting entrance to Cape Town ever. It included evacuation of passengers, paramedics and ambulances screeching along the runway, one man-down, and one ambulance trip to Vincent Palloti. And so the Rooster was confined to a hospital bed for 3 days. After the initial sympathy and shock- kidney stone pain is akin to child birth so they say...- we left the Rooster hooked up to his morphine drip (he was floating about 2m above his bed with a permanent grin on his face), and headed into a stinking hot Cape Town.
3 days of heat wave and temps into the high-40's.
1 amazing house in Bakoven.
5 trips to Cavendish (on a permanent shopping high).
2 hours lost in Mitchells Plain.
2 days on wine estate in stellenbosch.
1 beautiful and perfect wedding.
1 hangover.
1 British Airways strike. 1 day less of my vacation as a mad scramble ensued to change my flights: Cape Town to Cayman Islands via London via Miami on BA, Virgin Atlantic and American Airlines. 25 hours flying time, 8 hours stopover time in airports, 1 very disgruntled US Customs Officer, 5 movies (no sleeping pills) and I arrived in Georgetown. Aaaahhh, back to island-time. Back to perfect seas, white sand beaches, and sundowner cocktails. Back to my apartment.... oh, yes, back to my psychotic flatmate (who, it seems, shaved his head whilst i was gone and now looks like an overweight Auschwitz survivor) hmmm...
1x Homesickness.
Wednesday, 17 January 2007
Leaving on a Jet Plane...
caribbeanchicken is flying the coup.
in other words- she is taking sime time off-island. she'll be back in the near future. until then, keep those tail feathers flying high!
cc.
in other words- she is taking sime time off-island. she'll be back in the near future. until then, keep those tail feathers flying high!
cc.
Thursday, 11 January 2007
the canadian curse
I am surrounded by Red and White.
Some days I feel like the Maple Leaf. No hang on, I feel like an ant on the Maple Leaf.
My new office happens to be situated on an idyllic island, which also happens to be inhabited by Canadians. In fact Canadians far out-populate any other ex-pat community on the island. Not that strange when you think where they're coming from. Poor buggers are desperate to thaw out after generations of living on the edge of a freezing ice cap.
Now, I don't necessarily have anything against the Canadians, but when you are boxed in by 5 of them in a small confined space, with no windows, I have started to view them as the 'others'. It is not one particular thing that makes my skin crawl with irritation, it's more the ever-present sweetness that starts to really...really get on my nerves.
I mean, come on now, we can't all be that nice ALL of the time. Well, clearly, I can't.
Our desks are divided into cubicles, tiny bits of space where you're expected to flourish for 8 hours of your day, for 5 (and sometimes 6) days of the week. All that good sunshine just going to waste :-( makes me sick man.
Sooooo, at the desk opposite me live Curls and Fast Food. You have never heard such enormous amounts of oozing sweetness as they discuss wedding plans with their bridal clients... but then, when the telephones have been put away and before our manager has managed to close the office door - its bam!- and the bitchiness begins. I reckon there's a place for them in the next X-Men, I have never seen so much maple syrup go sour so quickly- these byatches are talented.
In the 3 cubicles behind me, live Frenchie (French-Cabadian) , SOWM (stressed-out-working-mother, also Canadian) and Gaylord(trendy, gay, canadian wedding planner- no cliche there ofcourse).
And, finally, on my left, and the only other remaining exit out the office, sits the Administrator. We're all shit-scared of our office administrator and try and give her the least amount of administration work as possible. Oddly enough, she is the only person in my corner of the office who does not originate from the land of snow and ... and... bears... and I dunno.. park rangers??
Sticks and stones originates from Jamaica. She is quite possibly the skinniest Jamaican (see upcoming post on jamaicans), that I have ever met. Not from lack of trying though. I have never seen a chick devour so much fried chicken in my life.
Sticks and Stones and Bosslady (the departmental manager) are both from the same hometown in jamaica and therefore speak a completely different language than anyone else on the island and quite often discurse through means of telepathy. This means that anything and everything we do, say or think is beamed straight back to management. Quite disconcerting.
But, its ok, Sticks and Stones and I have an understanding.
You see, I am the only non-Canadian in our office, and for this reason and this reason alone, I pass inspection.
Some days I feel like the Maple Leaf. No hang on, I feel like an ant on the Maple Leaf.
My new office happens to be situated on an idyllic island, which also happens to be inhabited by Canadians. In fact Canadians far out-populate any other ex-pat community on the island. Not that strange when you think where they're coming from. Poor buggers are desperate to thaw out after generations of living on the edge of a freezing ice cap.
Now, I don't necessarily have anything against the Canadians, but when you are boxed in by 5 of them in a small confined space, with no windows, I have started to view them as the 'others'. It is not one particular thing that makes my skin crawl with irritation, it's more the ever-present sweetness that starts to really...really get on my nerves.
I mean, come on now, we can't all be that nice ALL of the time. Well, clearly, I can't.
Our desks are divided into cubicles, tiny bits of space where you're expected to flourish for 8 hours of your day, for 5 (and sometimes 6) days of the week. All that good sunshine just going to waste :-( makes me sick man.
Sooooo, at the desk opposite me live Curls and Fast Food. You have never heard such enormous amounts of oozing sweetness as they discuss wedding plans with their bridal clients... but then, when the telephones have been put away and before our manager has managed to close the office door - its bam!- and the bitchiness begins. I reckon there's a place for them in the next X-Men, I have never seen so much maple syrup go sour so quickly- these byatches are talented.
In the 3 cubicles behind me, live Frenchie (French-Cabadian) , SOWM (stressed-out-working-mother, also Canadian) and Gaylord(trendy, gay, canadian wedding planner- no cliche there ofcourse).
And, finally, on my left, and the only other remaining exit out the office, sits the Administrator. We're all shit-scared of our office administrator and try and give her the least amount of administration work as possible. Oddly enough, she is the only person in my corner of the office who does not originate from the land of snow and ... and... bears... and I dunno.. park rangers??
Sticks and stones originates from Jamaica. She is quite possibly the skinniest Jamaican (see upcoming post on jamaicans), that I have ever met. Not from lack of trying though. I have never seen a chick devour so much fried chicken in my life.
Sticks and Stones and Bosslady (the departmental manager) are both from the same hometown in jamaica and therefore speak a completely different language than anyone else on the island and quite often discurse through means of telepathy. This means that anything and everything we do, say or think is beamed straight back to management. Quite disconcerting.
But, its ok, Sticks and Stones and I have an understanding.
You see, I am the only non-Canadian in our office, and for this reason and this reason alone, I pass inspection.
Wednesday, 3 January 2007
adventures of a caribbean chicken
10 days of playa part-ay in paradise...
Yes, I was super excited!
10 days, in the brilliant caribbean sunshine, on white sands, swimming in turquiose seas with stingrays, drinking rum-cokes at every sunset... what could go wrong?? Idyllic, no??
Ideal, my ass.
Here's the low-down...
Day One;
car keys- check
house keys- check
wallet- check
dollars- check
credit cards- check
camera- check
clothing (on and off body)- check
liver still intact- check
Wow, i was off to a good start!
The first coupla days were spent gearing up for xmas- shop shop shop, decorate tree, wrap presents, make food (attempt to create salad extrodinaire) for 10 poeple, and then we cracked open the first bottle of champers and I truly feel things went downhill from this point on!!
But first, I received my FIRST xmas present!! I had bought myself a baby RAV which got delivered the first day of my hols! It's a gorgeous (beat up), blue (rusty) 2-door Rav (definitely an Island car) which i LOVE!! No more scooter incidents!!!!!!!!!
And, yes, i do see the irony in buying a Toyota as my first car (sorry DAD!!!!).
Christmas Eve Day was a day trip to Rum Point (opposite point of island). The entire Bentzie family has now relocated to the island so there was 8 of us falling all over the place in their tiny house, so come xmas eve day, it was time for some boat trippin'.
We packed some coolers full of beers, borrowd a mate's boat (is a fancy fishing boat so big enough for the bentzie mob and dupree) and headed across the North Sound to rum point.
On the way, we stopped off at StingRay city to play with the sting rays.
Damn, these things can bite! Apparently since 'The Incident' with the killer stingray, not many tourists opt to go so now they mob the people for food. We all came back with love bites as they know that you have squid for them so they suck on to your legs and arms... actually they are quite charming little buggers.
Then it was off to the reef for some snorkelling and finally Rum Point for Pina Coladas. I have some stunning photos of Rum Point area (feels like you've just landed on a beach from Pirates of Caribbean and that Johnny Depp is about to swagger down the beach), but unfortunately my camera got checked OFF my list a couple of days later so those photos are gonners.
Xmas eve was the BIG Christmas dinner and get together. 10 people, 10 bottles of champers, 5 courses of food. A good night.
Xmas day- the usual frenzy of opening xmas presents, eating too many chocolates and gorging on more champagne. Yummy. The most strenuous thing we did on xmas day was take a wander down the beach and laugh at all the drunnken tourists, before we headed back to Tamarind Bay for Pimms and a game of 30-seconds (by far the xmas pressie with the most kudos!!).
Boxing day: the usual shite. Different location. More turkey, more champers, more xmas crackers, more hangover. This time, I headed over to my bosses house in Prospect for their annual Boxing day party. Apparently it is one of the most sought-out parties to be invited to. The Browns are sort of legends on the island. Not sure how I cracked the nod?? Never mind, there was an open bar and free champers. all good.
So as you can see, the photos are no longer... they are now sitting with some dodgy Jamaican in the back of his shack. well, i hope they keep him warm at night. what comes around, goes around. more about that later.
the rest of the week was spent on the beach during the day- wakeboarding, snorkelling- the usual. and the evenings were spent tasting the fine array of caribbean rums that this island contains. thankfully i only had one rough morning where i had a very 'sore' 7km run back to one of the clubs to retrieve my vehicle!! the rest of the time, i was well-behaved!!
but then, the checklist starts to dwindle..
i had decided on a quiet evening. that's how all the best evening start don't they??
well, somewhere, things started to go pear shaped. we had started at a bar called hammerheads (a rather 'rough' place in a great location in the harbour, with really 'rough' rum). As the evening progressed, so did we and things started to get a little out of hand!! At some point in the evening (early hours of Saturday morning) we were walking home from a club and I had somehow got seperated from the crowd and there were just 2 of us trying to get to a friend's condo for a nightcap (it was 4 am and we had drank our bodyweight in booze, but the party must go on!!) and for some reason we found ourselves ina deserted field and thought the easiest way to get where we were going , was quite obviously, to to climb over a fence in the pitch darkness. I mean, c'mon. there was clearly no thought structure happening at all!
So over i go, and at the top of the fence my hand gets stuck on the barb wire and rips as I fall over the other side. Yummy.
But, it is amazing what a good anesthetic alcohol is. I was invincible. Unfortunately, the blood said otherwise. So we rushed my hand up the stairs and 2 of the guys bandaged it up pretty tight. I turned whiter than the saffers in london and was fed some coca cola and put to bed.
Unfortunately during the fracas, nobody noticed that my hand bag was left hanging on the fence.
And that was that.
Checklist OVER.
New Years Resolution: Drink No More Rum!
The next day I woke to the realisation that my bag was gone, my car was stranded in the middle of a sidewalk in GeorgeTown and my hand was throbbing!!
First stop was the police station to report the bag, then locksmith to break into my new car and change the ignition and create a whole new set of keys, and only then could I get to the hospital.
4 hours and 4 stitches (and a bucketful of cash later) i finally got home- 24 hours after leaving for that quiet drink...hmmmmm!
So this week has been a whole lot of admin-sorting: police station, banks, driving licensing dept etc etc. Love it.
New Years was a little quieter as I am now on some HECTIC antibiotics so things have toned down somewhat... Only somewhat...
New Years Resolution: Drink Less Rum!
The NY party was awesome tho- beach party at a place called Calico Jacks. I am going to hijack some photos from a friend and send them through...
My one-armed type-pecking is beginning to ache. so this the end of the All New Adventures of a CaribbeanChicken 2007.
Until the next one!
(New Years Resolution: Drink Only Good Rum!)
Yes, I was super excited!
10 days, in the brilliant caribbean sunshine, on white sands, swimming in turquiose seas with stingrays, drinking rum-cokes at every sunset... what could go wrong?? Idyllic, no??
Ideal, my ass.
Here's the low-down...
Day One;
car keys- check
house keys- check
wallet- check
dollars- check
credit cards- check
camera- check
clothing (on and off body)- check
liver still intact- check
Wow, i was off to a good start!
The first coupla days were spent gearing up for xmas- shop shop shop, decorate tree, wrap presents, make food (attempt to create salad extrodinaire) for 10 poeple, and then we cracked open the first bottle of champers and I truly feel things went downhill from this point on!!
But first, I received my FIRST xmas present!! I had bought myself a baby RAV which got delivered the first day of my hols! It's a gorgeous (beat up), blue (rusty) 2-door Rav (definitely an Island car) which i LOVE!! No more scooter incidents!!!!!!!!!
And, yes, i do see the irony in buying a Toyota as my first car (sorry DAD!!!!).
Christmas Eve Day was a day trip to Rum Point (opposite point of island). The entire Bentzie family has now relocated to the island so there was 8 of us falling all over the place in their tiny house, so come xmas eve day, it was time for some boat trippin'.
We packed some coolers full of beers, borrowd a mate's boat (is a fancy fishing boat so big enough for the bentzie mob and dupree) and headed across the North Sound to rum point.
On the way, we stopped off at StingRay city to play with the sting rays.
Damn, these things can bite! Apparently since 'The Incident' with the killer stingray, not many tourists opt to go so now they mob the people for food. We all came back with love bites as they know that you have squid for them so they suck on to your legs and arms... actually they are quite charming little buggers.
Then it was off to the reef for some snorkelling and finally Rum Point for Pina Coladas. I have some stunning photos of Rum Point area (feels like you've just landed on a beach from Pirates of Caribbean and that Johnny Depp is about to swagger down the beach), but unfortunately my camera got checked OFF my list a couple of days later so those photos are gonners.
Xmas eve was the BIG Christmas dinner and get together. 10 people, 10 bottles of champers, 5 courses of food. A good night.
Xmas day- the usual frenzy of opening xmas presents, eating too many chocolates and gorging on more champagne. Yummy. The most strenuous thing we did on xmas day was take a wander down the beach and laugh at all the drunnken tourists, before we headed back to Tamarind Bay for Pimms and a game of 30-seconds (by far the xmas pressie with the most kudos!!).
Boxing day: the usual shite. Different location. More turkey, more champers, more xmas crackers, more hangover. This time, I headed over to my bosses house in Prospect for their annual Boxing day party. Apparently it is one of the most sought-out parties to be invited to. The Browns are sort of legends on the island. Not sure how I cracked the nod?? Never mind, there was an open bar and free champers. all good.
So as you can see, the photos are no longer... they are now sitting with some dodgy Jamaican in the back of his shack. well, i hope they keep him warm at night. what comes around, goes around. more about that later.
the rest of the week was spent on the beach during the day- wakeboarding, snorkelling- the usual. and the evenings were spent tasting the fine array of caribbean rums that this island contains. thankfully i only had one rough morning where i had a very 'sore' 7km run back to one of the clubs to retrieve my vehicle!! the rest of the time, i was well-behaved!!
but then, the checklist starts to dwindle..
i had decided on a quiet evening. that's how all the best evening start don't they??
well, somewhere, things started to go pear shaped. we had started at a bar called hammerheads (a rather 'rough' place in a great location in the harbour, with really 'rough' rum). As the evening progressed, so did we and things started to get a little out of hand!! At some point in the evening (early hours of Saturday morning) we were walking home from a club and I had somehow got seperated from the crowd and there were just 2 of us trying to get to a friend's condo for a nightcap (it was 4 am and we had drank our bodyweight in booze, but the party must go on!!) and for some reason we found ourselves ina deserted field and thought the easiest way to get where we were going , was quite obviously, to to climb over a fence in the pitch darkness. I mean, c'mon. there was clearly no thought structure happening at all!
So over i go, and at the top of the fence my hand gets stuck on the barb wire and rips as I fall over the other side. Yummy.
But, it is amazing what a good anesthetic alcohol is. I was invincible. Unfortunately, the blood said otherwise. So we rushed my hand up the stairs and 2 of the guys bandaged it up pretty tight. I turned whiter than the saffers in london and was fed some coca cola and put to bed.
Unfortunately during the fracas, nobody noticed that my hand bag was left hanging on the fence.
And that was that.
Checklist OVER.
New Years Resolution: Drink No More Rum!
The next day I woke to the realisation that my bag was gone, my car was stranded in the middle of a sidewalk in GeorgeTown and my hand was throbbing!!
First stop was the police station to report the bag, then locksmith to break into my new car and change the ignition and create a whole new set of keys, and only then could I get to the hospital.
4 hours and 4 stitches (and a bucketful of cash later) i finally got home- 24 hours after leaving for that quiet drink...hmmmmm!
So this week has been a whole lot of admin-sorting: police station, banks, driving licensing dept etc etc. Love it.
New Years was a little quieter as I am now on some HECTIC antibiotics so things have toned down somewhat... Only somewhat...
New Years Resolution: Drink Less Rum!
The NY party was awesome tho- beach party at a place called Calico Jacks. I am going to hijack some photos from a friend and send them through...
My one-armed type-pecking is beginning to ache. so this the end of the All New Adventures of a CaribbeanChicken 2007.
Until the next one!
(New Years Resolution: Drink Only Good Rum!)
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