Greetings from Bogota, dear readers, many greetings, from your half dead author, who has reached the ripe age of 35 years. May the fourth be with you, and many thanks for all the greetings and cheeriness, and in some cases, gifts! Many thanks.
I celebrated many times, firstly with a lovely meal and cake at Casa Elena.....
That´s me in my new Barca top. I can't bring myself to explain what it says on the back of it - I will tell all when I see you.
Followed by a fun-packed Friday at a fish restaurant of the top order, the beach at Barcelona....
...and then off to get some fanny......
Before heading to see a Serbian band play some rocking gypsy-folky stuff which had the whole place dancing at the end.
This was followed up on Saturday with fish pie and more cake, home made by the lovely Argentine pocket rocket Eu.
Same candles. Apparently the Catalan folk are as famous as the Sc--ts (insert letters here to suit your desired stereotype) for being tight.
But before all this.......
Lanzagrotty
And so it was I waved goodbye to Morocco and landed in Lanzarote, meeting Elena, staying in a friend´s flat, camping and driving about.
I thought Lanzarote was all Brits and burgers, yet a little bit of inside knowledge takes you to the most stunning of places.
We camped for a couple of nights at a secret place (contact me for details), with beaches, dunes, volcanoes and wee fish restaurants for company. This was the view from our tent.
And again, at sunset.
Or with some faces shoved in the vista..
You can wander about, hire bikes, or just chill out with some beers. After the drought in Morocco, I was only too glad to suck up the beer. The beaches are incredible and the sea is just about warm enough for a good swim.
Or if you are feeling flush, why not buy a yacht from the pretty harbour?
After the beaches, we headed into the mountains where some thristy Spaniard, banished from the mainland, just knew he could make wine in the most unlikely setting of a black lava field.
They dig holes, put walls around them, and the vines grow along the floor, sheltered from the wind but getting the full sun and the fertility from the ash. It´s very good too, the white wine. So good, in fact, Elena was inspired to start stealing cheese and bread from a Bodega after a wee glass.
What I loved about Lanzarote was that in 20 minutes you could go from beach to volcanoes to lovely restaurants to beach back to volcanoes. It even looked a bit like Scotland at some points.
After a week in Lanzarote, it was to Barcelona for my birthday and catching up with folk, seeing lots of bands, eating enormous amounts of lovely food, cinema, rolling around, terrace yoga and more.
The two weeks flew past and afore I knew it, I was wobbling across the Atlantic on an Air France flight wondering what on earth happened to the black box of that Air France plane that ditched into the sea a few years ago......
Bogota
Delayed getting here due to a thunderstorm which closed the airport, Bogota is a big, nay huge, sprawling grid that is as confusing as it is interesting.
The old town has a crazy mix of beautiful colonial buildings, some of which are unused and crumbling, others are among the finest I´ve seen.
As I discover more about the place, the crazier it gets. In Spain, stamps are sold at tobacco shops. In Bogota, if you want to go for a swim, you buy your ticket....at the bank. I´m going to the bank later. For a swim. Or something.
The Spanish is as wobbly as ever, so look out teachers, here comes a man who struggles to remember much.
Pip pip
xxxx
PS - postcards may not be flapping their way across from Colombia. I have 80 plus willing recipients, and unfortunately, it costs GBP 3 to send one card. I just cannae afford it hen!
I celebrated many times, firstly with a lovely meal and cake at Casa Elena.....
That´s me in my new Barca top. I can't bring myself to explain what it says on the back of it - I will tell all when I see you.
Followed by a fun-packed Friday at a fish restaurant of the top order, the beach at Barcelona....
...and then off to get some fanny......
Before heading to see a Serbian band play some rocking gypsy-folky stuff which had the whole place dancing at the end.
This was followed up on Saturday with fish pie and more cake, home made by the lovely Argentine pocket rocket Eu.
Same candles. Apparently the Catalan folk are as famous as the Sc--ts (insert letters here to suit your desired stereotype) for being tight.
But before all this.......
Lanzagrotty
And so it was I waved goodbye to Morocco and landed in Lanzarote, meeting Elena, staying in a friend´s flat, camping and driving about.
I thought Lanzarote was all Brits and burgers, yet a little bit of inside knowledge takes you to the most stunning of places.
We camped for a couple of nights at a secret place (contact me for details), with beaches, dunes, volcanoes and wee fish restaurants for company. This was the view from our tent.
And again, at sunset.
Or with some faces shoved in the vista..
You can wander about, hire bikes, or just chill out with some beers. After the drought in Morocco, I was only too glad to suck up the beer. The beaches are incredible and the sea is just about warm enough for a good swim.
Or if you are feeling flush, why not buy a yacht from the pretty harbour?
After the beaches, we headed into the mountains where some thristy Spaniard, banished from the mainland, just knew he could make wine in the most unlikely setting of a black lava field.
They dig holes, put walls around them, and the vines grow along the floor, sheltered from the wind but getting the full sun and the fertility from the ash. It´s very good too, the white wine. So good, in fact, Elena was inspired to start stealing cheese and bread from a Bodega after a wee glass.
What I loved about Lanzarote was that in 20 minutes you could go from beach to volcanoes to lovely restaurants to beach back to volcanoes. It even looked a bit like Scotland at some points.
After a week in Lanzarote, it was to Barcelona for my birthday and catching up with folk, seeing lots of bands, eating enormous amounts of lovely food, cinema, rolling around, terrace yoga and more.
The two weeks flew past and afore I knew it, I was wobbling across the Atlantic on an Air France flight wondering what on earth happened to the black box of that Air France plane that ditched into the sea a few years ago......
Bogota
Delayed getting here due to a thunderstorm which closed the airport, Bogota is a big, nay huge, sprawling grid that is as confusing as it is interesting.
The old town has a crazy mix of beautiful colonial buildings, some of which are unused and crumbling, others are among the finest I´ve seen.
As I discover more about the place, the crazier it gets. In Spain, stamps are sold at tobacco shops. In Bogota, if you want to go for a swim, you buy your ticket....at the bank. I´m going to the bank later. For a swim. Or something.
The Spanish is as wobbly as ever, so look out teachers, here comes a man who struggles to remember much.
Pip pip
xxxx
PS - postcards may not be flapping their way across from Colombia. I have 80 plus willing recipients, and unfortunately, it costs GBP 3 to send one card. I just cannae afford it hen!
