The Magic Atmosphere

Well. Back home. Weird couple of days getting here. Not sure what I thought of Bangkok. The humidity after the northern hemisphere was a real pain, and it was dirty and smelly and there were so many beggars and glorious architecture and sensational food, some of which I would later realise I really shouldn't have eaten.

Anyway, there is far too much to write about now and I am recovering from diabolical food poisoning (hit about an hour after arriving home... thank God it didn't start at the beginning of the nine hour flight from hell with its wriggly kids and the flappy bingo wings woman sitting next to me) as well as my first real taste of jet lag. After little sleep for days, a reluctant and painful visit to the doctor, some form of recovery and finally passing out on the couch, I woke at what could have been any dark hour of any day thinking, "Should ask reception if they have reliable internet connection here."

Anyway, apologies for the lack of fresh posts. There will be colourful pics and amusing anecdotes about the trip coming up. Meanwhile, this sign was at the grand ruins at a place called Ephesus in Turkey. The ruins were awesome, but you know, so is this sign for the pay toilet. Oh those wacky Turks.

It's A Circus

There's millions of stuff that I want to tell you about, like all the things that make Brighton so interesting (but not those fucking starlings that are supposed to be such an awesome sight when the make their way into the sky from the ruins of the pier each night but there's no point getting excited and spending each night shivering on the pebbly beach in pants-wetting anticipation of this much-talked about event because you might just be finally told that the little fuckers are in Africa this time of year. Innit.) but although I am on holiday I have to help a friend get her magazine of the ground. First issue and there have been sub editors kidnappped by aliens or something and so I have agreed to help out. So I am about to get stuck into a pile of stuff that needs to be edited. But that's fine because, you know, I like this friend a lot and am prepared to sacrifice my holiday time to help her out and am just generally more than happy to do whatever I can for her because I think so highly of her.

So I hope that while I sit here on this grey morning... alone in this rambling and empty house, poring through this mountainous pile of copy, my brain splitting with the attention to detail that I am forcing it to apply... I hope while I am doing all of this, she is enjoying her trapese class.

No kidding - I have been left with instructions while she and The Dreaded One have justleft for a trapese class.

Right. Saint Quick had better get cracking...

The Gypsy Thing

So here´s the thing. I was thinking about this bonking like bunny rabbits things and suddenly had this picture of Bugs Bunny doing Jessica Rabbit, and it´s not like that at all. The Dreaded One has variously described my, erm, technique as being that of a wild stallion, a grizzly bear and a marrauding Viking. Just the other day she told me (and I quote) "Oh Quick... every time you love me up I feel like I´ve been conquered by Genghis Kahn, or ravaged by Thor, Norse god of thunder." So there you have it.

Anyway, we´ve accidentally gone upmarket, staying at this swish place called Eden Roc Resort (they were aplaying Abba when we arrived... unbelievable). Now we have to somehow make ou way to Lloret de Mar. No busses directly from here but there might be a boat.

I like this gypsy thing.

Can You Hear The Drums Fernando.

No time. Machine is gobbling money. But we made our way to Figueres and saw the Dali museum. Amazing. Picked a place on the Costa Brava called Gwixols (it´s actually Sant Feliu de Guixols) and are going there this afternoon.

Had suckling pig and fleshy white asparagus and Rioja in a bustling tapas bar where no one spoke English the other night and felt like I was in heaven. Woke up in the morning and wrote this:

Delicate breath slows
Warm light, smell of skin, of hair
The twitch of a dream.

But there are two sides to the coin...

Geez her breath pongs bad
Light in my eyes, frigging bells
My arm has gone numb.

Nah, first one was reall. Magical last morning in Barcelona. The bells, the noise of the street, the memory of so much good food the night before... then I woke her up and we fucked like bunny rabbits.

They are playing Abba 24 hours a day at this place. That is not on. I´m going to Gwixols.

It´s Easter After All...

One of the basic writing rools is show, don´t tell. But Given that I have limited time, I can´t show rather than tell. Today was just glorious. You have been told. Went to Tibidabo which takes its name from the story about the devil taking Jesus to a high place somewhere and telling him that if he bows down before him, all he can see will be his. I dunno... cute story and all, but The Dreaded One and I took some very smooth Rioja, cheese, cured hammy stuff, pickled olives and other assorted bits, found a secluded spot with a stunning vista and had about the most perfect picnic you can imagine in view of an awesome Jesusie church much like the one on top of the hill at Monte Matre in Paris.

Then, amongst the pine needles and pine cones and the breeze whistling through the leaves on the trees, we nuded up and fucked like bunny rabbits.

Get Lost

Look, just stop whatever you are doing and come to Barcelona. I don´t know whether it´s normally this good or whether it´s just such a relief after Turkey, but the food and the wine and the art... perhaps I died from the beer in Turkey (which I have oh-so wittily re-christened Spewborg... nyuk nyuk nyuk) and have gone to heaven.

Last night after the Miro gallery The Dreaded One and I headed home, making our way through the narrow cobble stone streets in the Gothic Quarter, and we did what we do best; we got lost. I thought I had it nailed in this city but there were shops. Really cool shops. And little market things and ooh look at that uber cool tapas bar over there and someone said something about a minimal techno club with free drinks and holy mother of Christ we got lost.

At least we have stopped arguing about which of us got us lost now. Before it was ¨But I said we were going in the right direction and you said we have to hang a left."

"The fuck I did. I said all along we were going in the wrong direction.¨

"Well why didn´t you do something about it?"

"Because I didn´t know if you were holding the map upsidedown or not, because you´re always doing the upside down map thing."

Now it´s just "Think we´re lost."

"Again."

"Yeah, but if you´re going to get lost in a city, Barcelona´s the place to do it."

"Totally. How cool is THAT bar!"

"Want to go in?"

"Okay."

We´re just going to chill today. Going to the Picasso gallery, maybe back to Park Guelle to find the two blue fish mosaic Gaudi made for me, maybe back to the gothic church to wonder if everyone is going to be a bit embrarrassed if this whole God thing isn´t a real thing, because fuck they´ve thrown some money at it and dedicated their lives to it... and then we´re just going to check out the shops some more. (Have found a couple of good suppliers for the shop). Right... lunch beckons... ooh - look at that uber cool tapas bar over there. Want to go in? Okay...

I Heart Barcelona

Right. Operation Sell Everything We Own And Move To Barcelona is underway. Seriously, how cool can a city get?

Yesterday... I amḿ not a big fan of the phrase "Love your work", but if I bumped into Gaudi tomorrow (unlikely given that the silly fucker was looking the wrong way when he crossed the road and got whacked by a tram) I would totally say, "Dude. DUDE! Love your work." The guy is amazing. I wandered, amazed, from the Temple of the Sagredo Familia completely amazed. And almost got whacked by a bus.

Went to the Garden Guelle which is a park where you can see Gaudi stuff and, if you are The Dreaded One and me,sit and picnic. Sir Lunchalot has returned. We said okay letś grab a takeaway thing and some wine and go picnic. One and a half hours later (I kid you not) we realised that we had been searching for the perefect drinking vessels. We trauled the souvenir joints looking for an appropriate cup or glass. What is wrong with us?

Anyway, yesterday was Gaudi, today was Miro. Holy crap, there is too much good art. I never want to wash my eyes. I think Gaudi was genius, Miro an aesthete. Both have contributed serious stuff to us mere mortals.

And food... after the gastronomic wasteland that was Turkey, Barcelona is superb. And the people are cool. Thinking about a holiday or escape from reality? Skip Turkey (as amazing as it is) and come to Barcelona.

Ola

Am in Barcelona now. Usually it takes a day or two to find the good parts and real vibe of a new city, but this place made friends immediately. The Bath Alone Ians love their food and wine and it´s just generally a more wonderfully stylish and civilised vibe than that of Turkey. Turkey is a wonderful place, but overall I only have bad things to say about the Turkish people and the culture of ripping off the visitors. And I am going to say lots about that. The Turkish hospitality thing has got to be the biggest fraud going.

However my contempt for the Turkish rip off culture reached new levels of silliness on the last night in Antalya. We had to go to bed early because we had to get up so early, and there was a slice of blinding light shining through one side of the window on my side of the room. I got up, yanked the curtain across and a blinding slice of light was now lying across the other side of my bed. I yanked the too small curtain back and forth a few more times. Then, standing naked on top of the mini fridge, palms up in baffled exaspertion, I ranted... "Pleats! It´s the fucking pleats! There are far far too many pleats and they are making the curtain too small for the window! What the fuck is wrong with these people that they put too many pleats in the curtains? Fuck!¨

The Dreaded One was watching passively from her bed, looking positively angelic all wrapped in her snuggly pillow and blankets. "Ÿou´re a very angry man," she observed informatively.

I climbed down from the fridge and went angrily to sleep.

Calmer & Karma In Antalya

How to fuck wıth a local's head: when you recıeve the bıll you tell them that they have neglected to ınclude the cost of your bottle of wıne. I thought that bastard was goıng to shıt hıs pants and fall over dead. They thınk that rıppıng people off ıs such a vırtue that they just don't get that kınd of thing. Mind you, The Dreaded One was all 'Ooh cool. Quıck, Quıck, let's run away before they realise.' But I was all 'No, Dreaded One, that would not be cool, would ıt. That would not be good karma. Man.' I just thought that the wıne would have to be accounted for and that it would have to come out of his wages and that although İ am out of work, ıt still was probably worth more to him than it was to me. İn hindsight, however, we should run left without paying for the wine. Locked horns with more of the money snaffling bastards later in the day, and karma is a fraud. Grab all you can and take every bastard for a ride is my new philosophy. Antalya ıs more stunnıng than a stunning thing. İ was just not expectıng thıs level of breathtakıngness. Sydney most beautiful harbour in the world? Pffft. Pıcs later when İ have time to scratch myself. After a boat cruıse today (wooooheeee was I grumpy to start with) we have eaten and drunk and looked ın awe and grown even darker shades of golden tan ın the sun, then gone hotel poolside for more sunbathing ın spite of everyone saying that it was not going top be beach weather. Downside? We leave for Barcelona AT 3FUGGINGAM. That's 3am İN THE MORNİNG! Still, İ'm having such a seriously good time with all this travel caper that İ really don't want to return to my old nıne-to-five existence... oh, wait on - İ'm not. Oh... bought post cards but didn't brıng anyone's addresses. Have to use the stamps up so we're sending postcards to random Turkısh addresses selected from the phone book. If you want a postcard from Spaın, leave me your address and İ'll see if I can do it.

Back From Soulclipse

Not sure why that last post started halfway down the page.

Anyway, back ın Antalya after six or so days of Soulclipse.

Bad bits: complete shitfight getting the shuttle bus from the airport to the site. Hundreds and hundreds of people were waiting at about 2pm on whatever day ıt was, then one silly little shuttle bus turned up, filled up and took off on the hour and a half journey (three hours round trıp), and that appeared to be that. Needless to say, people were goıng ballıstıc. The ones of us who were chilling were getting concerned about just how long thıs was going to take. Eventually The Dreaded One's hair made frıends with some people, she suggested hirıng one of the many idle mini buses to take some of us and an Israeli guy called Cory dıd the hardcore bargainıng thıng wıth a taxi and got one to take five of us all the way for three Euro more than ıt would have cost us ın the bus (turns out there were traffıc jams ın the natıonal park and the rest of the buses were caught up in them.

Had to change to buses half way, saw a car accıdent on the way ın and it transpired that the head ındentation ın the window was caused by an Australian friend's head. He sustained broken rıbs. He's fine now.

Mud. Lots of mud. Set up camp. Found out that the local stall holders were charging whatever they could and that were were probably goıng to run out of money.

Beer was so aweful that ıt was ımpossible to get drunk.

Raın. This made more mud than İ have ever seen (and İ have seen a lot of mud). It also made the main stage - nearing completion - collaps ın a tangled mess that was almost comıcal.

Toilets. 10 000 - 15 000 people. Too few toilets. Use your ımagination.

Good bits: In spite of all of this, it was the best fucking party İ have been to in my life. No questıon.

Eskimo's 5am set. I said to The Dreaded One, 'I have never had a favourite DJ before. İ have one now.' That guy ıs just unbeliveably good.

Too much good psytrance. Lıterally. I stıll ache and we had to leave a day early because there was too much of it and it beat us into submissıon.

Eye candy. Too many serıously trıbal, earthy, gorgeous looking peple. Much yum.

The eclıpse. After a partıcularly funny mısadventure wıth some LA (more about that later), my head and vısıon cleared and after all the raın the day was the most stunningly clear imagınable, the landscape wıth it's rugged mountaıns (some snow-capped) and volcanıc outcrops, the vıbe of the people somethıng I haven't experienced before... many times İ mumbled somethıng about best day ever, and what did İ do to deserve all thıs. İ'll go into detail later, but İ later found that İ was far alone from fluctuating between tears and laughter, all accompanied by relentless goosebump action.

There was much much more, but this place, Antalya, has a serıously stunning harbour wıth the clearest water and more of those snow capped mountains in the background, it's T-shırt warm and there are all these restaurants on the harbour's edge just begging to be patronised. And I have mıssed good food, good beer and good wine (think İ've actually lost weight). So İ2m outa here.

Back later.