Finally found a proxy site that hasnt been blocked from Syria. I should be in bed, but the clock maker from Homs has had me walking around the less picturesque sites of Damascus in an attempt to broaden my horizons or impress, I am not too sure.
Aleppo was uneventful unless you count the 12 hour tour of the dead cities and a 150km round trip to Krak des Chaviliers (sp?) in a mini bus of suspect safety record, the feeling I am being followed and the hammam of pain.
Aleppo is a strange city. Full of life and friendly folk but missing something or having too much of something, Ive not yet decided. Police on every corner, shoe shine boys touting for business - not sure whey they think black shoe polish would look good on my green and yellow veggie pumps though! - the odd turf war between the shiners and the usual traffic dodging and hussle and bussle of any middle eastern city.
When I arrived at the hotel the day before I introduced myself to a couple of American girls travelling through the middle east. They were in full swing talking about themselves and their trip - which from my questioning I could only determine a lot of down days and no learnt Turkish or Arabic, not even one word? No.
Next day I awoke late an could hear the American girls talking about themselves over breakfast. I was beat and not up for spending my time listening to down day travel stories so I decided to catch up on some internet research and take an easy walk around the new town, avoiding the touts in the souq as my brain wasnt up for it that day. Back at the hotel the American girls in their early 20s were still in the central courtyard of the hotel drinking Syrian Gin and lemonade while still talking about themselves. I introduced myself for the second time as they didnt seem to know who I was.
Early-ish night and the best sleep for a few days set me in good stead for the tour of the dead cities (Byzantine/Roman) and to suposedly the most impressive castle in the middle east (according to that well known ambiguous character Lawrence of Arabia). Dead cities interesting, castle disapointing, although the contrast between the outter Arab and inner Norman architecture and the warren of cavenous halls and tunels (which seemingly had no plan or design) was impressive, the mounds of trash and unguarded holes (skylights) in the floors, unprotected 100ft drops, rusty and rickety railings all left me with a feeling this country doesnt give a crap about anything or anyone. On the drive back to Aleppo the driver picked up some hitch-hikers, the one who sat in the back with me smelt like horse dung and insisted on showing me his funky phone which also acted like a torch, woo hoo! Trouble was it didnt actually work as a phone! ...and 12 bloody hours later I was back at the hotel famished. The German guy Thomas I met on the tour (which only consisted of 6 of us... a nice Dutch couple, a couple from Costa Rica - who seemed to make out at every opportunity, Get a room! - and Thomas and me) and I went out for some food where we ordered enough food to feed a family (resiting the raw meet and birds on the menu - restraint was always my middle name - but going for the meat and hummus, cherry meat, more meat, some more meat and a Taboule (sp?) salad - 1/2 of our five a day) and then deciding we were both too tired and not really that hungry either... but hey, it only cost us 4 pounds each... Ive made bigger and costlier mistakes.
After another good sleep I was set for a final a walk around Aleppo, this time the souq and the castle - perched up on a seeminlgy man-made mound of considerable stature, enough to give a decent view over the city and be windy enough to blow me over a few times... not good when you consider this is the country of limited health and safety considerations, again with sheer drops unprotected by railings or signs. My britishness has started to internally criticize this lack of attention to my wellbeing.
Jerin the Canuk from Vernon joined me on my ramble, although in true west coast style he was 1hrs late, and only arrived after I made a reminder phone call... I chastised him for being a flakey west coaster and left it at that :)
I am starting to feel like I am being followed. I have seen the same man/boy over the last 2 days no matter where I visit... the souq, the park, the square... I had dismissed it until I again saw him at the castle and pointed it out to Jerin and commented how odd it seems. 30mins later he was getting as paranoid as me after we ran into the same guy another two times in two different locations... spooky!
Time to exit, and a small detour to Lattakia for some R&R. Argument in two different languages with a taxi driver who doubled his fare, a helpful female Lattakian meditator who discussed philosophy and meditation with me on the 4 hour bus ride and Muhammud the super chilled (to the point of vacant) hotel manager at the Tin Tin hostel (Hotel Safwan) on Al-Cornish, the place to be and be seen in Lattakia.
Met up with a Syrian contact I had made and we walked around the town to see the sights (in true Syrian style). The Cornish (Al-Cornish) is a boulevard that runs along the sea front in Lattakia although this isnt any ordinary sea front, this is a container port! Donde esta la playa?
This town has the mediterranian climate and the mediterrainian bohemian attitude (in the younger generation that is) but it lacks the view of the Mediterranian... and Lattakians like nothing more than to walk up and down the Cornish watching the container port in action 24/7.
Frist day in Lattakia I just rambled around and found little of interest except a burger and fries on the American street. Second day it was a staggeringly long 30mins to get to a beach of any significance... I was greeted by four batteries of canons, a host of bored looking army boys on military service, ram shackle beach cafes surrounded by rubble and old metal and plastic containers and the usual mounds and mounds of trash. Mediterranian beauty Syrian style.
I hung out with the locals in the evenings and had some good times smoking the shisha and comparing life in London, Canada and Syria, but by the 2nd day life here seemed like a lifetime away from stimulating so the next morning I up-ed and left for Damascus.
I seem to have shaked my tail for now, maybe it was just a stalker with determination but of limited means to follow me beyond the Aleppo city limits. Time will tell.
After the customary chaos buying tickets, working out who is sitting in which seat etc etc I arrive in Damascus and start the search for a hotel room... but this town has less beds available than Bethlehem on Christmas Eve!
Sleeping on the roof tonight (Thur 8th), Funky!
Sunday 11 October 2009
Day ? - On The Road To Damascus
Friday 2 October 2009
No Blog for You!
[limited post: added by Dino - limited web access from Syria]
Syria blocks Blogspot! ...please refer to http://twitter.com/dougalville where I will try to update with my basic movements until I am back online.
Day 6/7 Sunrise at Namrut, Turkish Taxi Mafia and The Doctor from Aleppo
[limited post: added by Dino - I have limited web access from Syria]
Asalaam Alaykum!
Harran? What Harran? Met a 20(?) year old Canadian from Vernon in BC hustling his way around the middle east and changed my plans from Harran to visit Kata and take a hike to the top of Namrut to see the sunrise. All plans change, nothing in life is a certainty and life has a habit of asserting itself... on the road this fact is ever more present.
After a self administered atheist baptism at Abrahams cave in Sanliurfa it was Cay (tea) and donners at the souk before heading to the Otogar (bus station) for the trip to Kata for the early morning dash and hike to Namrut.
Negotiating minibus journeys is never easy when you dont speak the language and when there are sharks looking to make a fast buck it becomes ever more difficult. Finally on a bus to Kata the Canadian and I settle in for the journey and talk shite and make heads turn - the Canadian is as loud as an American after all (Sorry Jerin!) and my occasional use of the F word, forgetting its just as prevalent here doesnt help either, oops!
After swapping busses and being passed on like a pair of cheap whores we arrive in Kata and get hustled straight into a tourist office... before long we were in our hotel and booked into a 100km/hr drive at 3am to Namrut...
Two pairs of trousers, 1 tshirt, 1 long sleeve tshirt, 1 merino layer, 1 fleece and 1 wind sheet... oh and the flat cap :) ...and still cold! ... the hike to the top of the mountain, about 400m was made harder by the early hour the lack of any light and the unsteady ground all the way to the top... we still burnt our way past all the round tourists stacked like camels with blankets to the top of the hill. At the top we had 10mins before the sun started to make its mark, so we embarked on a photo frenzy before making a loop around the impressive cone stack of shingles, myan like platform and fallen heads and back down the mountain to awake our driver and make another 100km/hr dash to the bat cave [will explain later] two roman bridges and back to Kata for breakfast with the hotel owner who was afraid of his own dog - Jerin was petting the pooch not minutes before he almost took the hands off the proprietor!
More busses this time to Gaziantep and lack of time persuaded us to shack up in a hotel for 20 TYL for the night (10 British pounds) for the both of us! Run by a man who talked to us constantly - only in Turkish and we guessed his son who stank of skunk weed... add to that an old man who seemed to live in one of the hotel rooms smaller than a broom cupboard and a woman who watched Turkish TV at volumes that could take the plaster off the walls and this was one whacky hotel... cant complain for the price though... squat toilets didnt make for a comfortable morning call though :-S
Got heavily cruised by a hot girly who chatted me up and insisted on taking my picture - 40 and still got it! Unfortunately 'it' is not what I want or need! - then she disappeared into the night... spent the rest of the evening learning backgammon and drinking Cay in a real mans tea house... Nargeili (sp?), soccer and winning at backgammon! 8) - ok I was being tutored into my winning position, but it impressed the stash adorned Turkish studs, Grrrrr!
A good 8 hours of surprisingly restful sleep, shower (only after the TV lady finished whatever the sign language of fingers between the legs means) and its off again.
Breakfast of lentil soup - YUM! and we are back on our quest for the Syrian border ... long story short, we came up against more sharks the Turkish taxi mafia who wouldnt let us leave Turkey by foot and the saviour in the form of a Syrian taxi driver and Doctor (who spoke impeccable English). We still paid way more than expected to get to Aleppo (30 British pounds for the both of us) but it was half what the mafia were charging!
The Doctor (not of the Who kind! - although he now has cult status in my book) was instrumental in getting us across the border in an impressive 30mins, leaving an American and a Russian who have hitch-hiked their ways through Turkey and through northern Iraq - they didnt look like they were going anywhere fast after the lack of Visas and Iraqi passport stamps.
Should mention here the medical checks - on passing over our passports we were whisked away for a medical check where we filled in forms and were taken one by one into a side room (without a door) - I took a detour to the most scary toilet I have ever encountered anywhere ever ever ever! Camping loos have more romance! ... and arrived back to hear the doctor instruct Jerin to drop his pants for an injection!!!!!!!!!! I stood up and was just about to protest and started gesturing to our taxi driver... at which point the doctor laughed for some time, long enough in fact for the adrenalin to subside and all we where subjected to was a temperature check (thankfully electronic by ear - after seeing those toilets I didnt want anything in my mouth from this doctor!).
After the fifth checkpoint in less than 1km we were now in Syria and on our way to Aleppo... sigh, smile, hand shaking, congratulations, copious greetings!
In Aleppo there was a short but successful search for another hotel for myself this time - Jerin is off couch surfing on his hustle tour and I opt for the 600 Syrian Pound (6 British Pound) hotel which thankfully has more character than our Giazantep and Kata hotels and a lot cleaner! Images of the border crapper subside.
Getting my bearings after a search for an ATM - Jerin's cards dont work so I sub him the money for the treck and dinner - luckily mine work, thank my atheist god I dont have Mastercard, Cirus or Maestro anymore, Visa all the way! (although they do bang you for the 2% charge). Three Kebabs - we are in Syria now, no more Kebaps! Yes they are different, one is spelt with a P and one is spelt for a B :) - two with Chicken and one with french fries (but tasted like tasty sauce and pickled peppers - try and say that fast!) and a Coke for less than 200 Syrian Pounds (2 British Pounds), so no more Europe prices, hello french fries kebabs :)
So its Aleppo for the next 2 days at least and see what happens next. Have misgivings over Lebanon after the border issues coming into Syria but once I acclimatise I may well feel different. For the time being its historical sites, souks, tea, more meat, maybe some hardcore flirting and see where fate takes me...
This is my last blog for a while as blogspot is blocked in Syria... will put the basics up on Twitter, with account info to be published in the next post.
Tuesday 29 September 2009
Day 3/4 - On The Road to Damascus
Met a 22yo brıtısh guy from Herefordshıre ın the Hostel cafe, lucky B#$$½# ıs on a round the world trıp! We hung out for the day as last nıght I ventured out agaın just because I could - sought out some lıve musıc, only the lıve musıc was two guys sıngıng ballards together. Gettıng weırder and weırder! - was very entertaınıng though and the beer wasnt too bad so rolled home around 2:30am.
Woke up late so wasnt feelıng much lıke makıng an effort. Slept through breakfast, slept through lunch so just thought I would catch up wıth some downtıme. Spent the afternoon wıth Russ seekıng Istanbul's stencıl graphıttı - got a CCCP/USSR classıc to add to my collectıon :)
Headed out to a bar wıth Russ for some real lıve musıc thıs tıme, we were targeted by two drunk Turks lookıng to practıce theır Englısh. Beıng jaded, we expected a scam [spıked drınk?] but none materıalısed and apart from gettıng back to the hotel about 2 hours after the planned tıme [01:30] and knowıng I wıll feel lıke crap when ı wake up at 04:00 to head east ıt was a good nıght - wısh I was on the around the world trıp but wouldnt mıss Syrıa for the world - lookıng forward to seeıng the Aleppo souk traders wearıng foundatıon!
Russ was the vıctım of a leggy blonde scam the nıght before, he met some Turks on the maın drag who took hım to a bar where he was kept company by two leggy ladıes. They drank champers and to cut a long story short he was expected to pay 250 lıra (120 Euros) for the prıvılage ıncludıng physıcal threats and an escort back to the hotel to get hıs bank card. He was smart and legged ıt out the fıre escape at the hotel and hıd on the roof for over an hour before escapıng back to hıs real hotel accross the road. Lucky break... Read your guıde book next tıme Russ! :)
I am ın Sanlıurfa ın Kurdısh terrıtory now, had a nap on arrıval ın my 6 pound a nıght hotel and then went explorıng. Met some brıts, a lot of Kurds, saw lots of carpets, taught a Kurd the C word... he asked! Lıttle shıt called me a sheep shagger, proof that Englısh wankers shouldnt be allowed to travel!
Seem to have become a target for young Kurdısh men wantıng to practıce theır Englısh, doesnt hurt to ındulge the natıves :P
Weırd that thıs town ın the mıddle of nowhere has more Brıts sınce London... the pound has eıther lost ıts power lowerıng brıts to new bargaıns or ıts stıll strong enough to eject the unsettled to even the most remote and unlıkely locals.
More next tıme as Id lıke to have an early nıght for change - thıs ıs a holıday after all...
Next stop Harran before crossıng ınto Syrıa... tomorrow? Thursday? Wıll see what I feel lıke ın the mornıng and ıf the kg of kefta sıttıng on my tummy lıke a bowlıng ball wıll let me sleep enough to put a bounce ın my step tomorrow- what my body doesnt provıde my new shoes def provıde... revelatıon!
Nıght all, no more tıme for ınfıdels tonıght, Ive got an upcomıng border crossıng to stress about!
Sunday 27 September 2009
Day 2 Istanbul - on the road to Damascus
Got up late, just in time to catch breakfast of bread, salty cheese, boild eggs and black olives, surprısıngly yum! (ıgnore the weırd 'ı' characters, ıf ı thought Spanısh keyboards were odd these Turkısh keyboards are mınd bogglıng!)
Headed over to Saltanahmet to take in the obligatory sights, taking in the view of the water and fishermen on the brigde on the way. Fishermen everywhere here, this is serious stuff, not a spare inch of waterside unclaimed. Cant help thınkıng ıt all looks a bıt dangerous wıth boats streamıng underneath, pedestrıans streamıng by as they cast off and kıds runnıng around unsupervısed as the dads reel ın theır prıze sprats.
After the Sultan's tombs where I leant my socks to a Kiwi in distress and then onto the Blue mosque where I spend about an hour trying to get one photo of a very photogenic member of the mosque etiquette police - that would be female! shame on you all!
Bumped into the Kiwi again and joined them for a stoll up the main drag, where they stopped off at McDonalds for a taste of somewhere else. Couldnt bring myself to join the madness and nipped accross the road to checkout the book stores, when I got back they had vanished, mad cow sets in early? Nothing lost, backtracked and paid a visit to an underground cavern (Basilica Cistern) built by the romans and still a work of engineering genius. Used to store water transported tens of km from the nearby hills it provided fresh water for the local Basilica and settlements. Couldnt help thinking it was about time it had some structural problems, especıally as Istanbul sıts on a fault lıne, so I made my exit after battling the over excitable crowds.
Walked back towards Beyoglu and took a detour to a Hamami for unexpected lewd displays and the most pathetic massage Ive had in a lifetime... nothing on the James Bond massage in Nablus, more like a skin streatching torture. More on that next time... time to go out for a nightcap to aid the Zzzzzzzs!
[OK more on the Hamımı... was kept waıtıng ın a plastıc patıo chaır as the attendants argued amoungst themselves. Was shown to my room the sıze of a broom closet to strıp down and make my way back down staırs - ıts amazıng how unıversal and how quıckly you get the hang of sıgn language. After 45 mıns sıttıng ın the corner tryıng to look lıke I was an old hat at these thıngs I had been flashed at least 5 tımes, asked ıf I had kıssed a man and ıf I enjoyed ıt, asked ıf I was a good lover, ıf Germans were better lovers than the Englısh, would I lıke to make love and the lıst goes on, I decıded to opt for a massage and head home - I know you would have left earlıer, but I am a project manager and I dont quıt untıl the job ıs done! Massage was a load of pokıng and proddıng wıthout oıl or other such condements. So after 5 mıns of pokıng (not that kınd!) on a bed that was at least 2feet too short for me even wıth a wall each end, very comfortable! ıt was a face stretchıng (aka head massage) whıch was quıte alarmıng and not at all relaxıng - I dıd my best at lookıng content and as though I was relıshıng the moment, luckıly the good effort but faıled attempt was over and I could go wash off before leavıng - but the crazy attendants have another ıdea, I am told 'no fınısh!' and sıgned to, to dress and go, cant say I was sorry but was a shame to not actually have a wash ın a turkısh bath. Oh Well, you lıve and learn.]
Back to work you lot!
Saturday 26 September 2009
Day 1 Istanbul - on the road to Damascus
Last minute panic packing and bed by midnight.
Slept ok but awoke to techno alarm at stupid-o-clock and for once in my long snooze driven life I skipped the snooze button and jumpt out of bed - ok so it was more of a roll and a thump. Transit to airport issue free I arrived 2 hours early! ouch! Another first, no last minute check in and dash for the plane. Made a change but an extra 30mins of sleep would have been nice.
Flight was dominated by a rather over assertive Turkish woman who butted in on every conversation and was in attack mode if anyone should nudge or rattle her seat in the slightest. Negotiated taxi share downtown but skipped the usual do you want to hookup later as the girl's dude was way too moody for my liking.
Hotel basic but right in the thick of it. Had an hours nap to shake off the travel headache then took a walk up Beyoglu to take in the Saturday night throng. Think Oxford Street without traffic, without alcohol and without the attitude... in fact, forget oxford street, not enough puke, lost clothing or broken high heals for that matter.
Reached Taksim square, which is a bit like Times Square meets Trafalgar Square meets Champs de Lise (sp?) meets Mexıco Cıty and frogger all rolled into one... traffic dodging is the national sport here and it would have been rude not to have a go - thank the stars for my new bouncy walking shoes :)
Back home to bed by 1am.
Sunday 13 September 2009
10 Days and Counting
Ten long days until I'm back on the road for 21 days!
This is for those of you who'll be following my blog and have asked me for my itinerary... I tend to draft a very optomistic itinerary and then just go with the road. So dont take this as any more of a wants list:
Sept 26: London > Istanbul [TURKEY]
Sept 26 – 29: Istanbul (2 days)
Sept 29: Istanbul > Sanliurfa
Sept 29 – Oct 01: Sanliurfa + Harran (2 days)
Oct 01: Harran > Raqqa > Aleppo [SYRIA]
Oct 01 - 04: Aleppo (3 days)
Oct 04: Aleppo > Damascus
Oct 04 – 08: Damascus (4 days)
Oct 08: Damascus > Beirut [LEBANON]
Oct 08 – 11: Beirut (3 days)
Oct 11: Beirut > Tripoli [If time permits]
Oct 11 - 13: Tripoli (2 days) [If time permits]
Oct 13: Tripoli > Lattakia [SYRIA] [If time permits]
Oct 13 – 15: Lattakia (2 days) [If time permits]
Oct 15: Lattakia > Antakya [TURKEY]
Oct 15 – 16: Antakya [1 day]
Oct 16: Antakya – Istanbul
Oct 17: Istanbul – London [UK]
CANT WAIT!!!!
Wednesday 29 July 2009
A Religious Experience!
This is for those of you who have been asking for a pitiful photo of me doing my impression of a one armed bandit. I went under the knife on 24th July to have some pretty arcane slicing and dicing done on my shoulder called a Arthroscopic Subacromial Decompression and ACJ Excision. To cut a long story short, I had some bone shaven off the shoulder bone and my bicep tendon cut, shortened and screwed into a hole drilled into my upper arm, Nice!
The surgery isn't for the faint hearted, but thank the stars for modern pain killers! But after years of injury and reinjury and the final straw being a snowboard accident at Xmas, which has left me in constant pain for the last 7 months, there weren't many options left open to me.
With my days dominated by the all important pill popping at 12 noon, 6pm, 12 midnight and 6am I began to feel almost normal, until that is I try to do basic maths, remember a telephone number or talk to people on the phone and notice what a struggle it all is and how slurred and labored my speech is! good drugs! Closest thing to a religious experience I've ever had!
Only 5 weeks one armed to go! Not looking forward to the physio though.
For those not squeamish click on the 'Read more...' link below for the graphic shot...
Tuesday 28 July 2009
Birthday Bash Pics!
Finally I have gotten around to finish downloading and editing the pics from my birthday party back in March... I know I know its been 4 months but I've endured a post party hangover from hell, lurgy my Canuk friends brought over with them, various other Canadian visitors, my old computer going to silicon heaven, work going all crazy busy and life's generally getting in the way of late.
It's finally taken surgery and enforced recuperation leave to get me to this point, so its been tough being 40 thus far... It's hard being me!
The pic is the full size version for those of you that want to print it out as a souvenir.
Wednesday 1 April 2009
G20 London
[After much scanning of web forums and the internet I have decided to pixelate the faces of the police officers in the above photo. As far as I can tell UK anti-terror laws now prohibit the publishing of photographs of police officers for whatever purpose, I therefore have no option other than pixelate or remove this image to comply with UK law]
The G20 meeting in London has been hailed as a success by the media, but what if anything has improved for the ordinary people who have lost their jobs and face the prospect of being long term unemployed and having their homes repossessed?
A protest to the Bank of England on April 1 (nick names ‘Banking Fools’ day by the protestors) attracted a mostly peaceful crowd and a festival atmosphere until a few anarchists, and other trouble-makers bent on causing damage, took events to another level, daubing graffiti and attacking the Royal Bank of Scotland on Threadneedle Street adjacent to the Bank of England. The protests were nothing like those seen during the Poll Tax riots of the 1980s but they received similar press coverage, and probably rightly so given the magnitude of the G20’s importance and there were a lot of issues at play here, with the rhetoric from environmentalists, anti-capitalists and anarchists (to name a few) promising some degree of conflict.
Many protesters were wounded and arrested as the police seemed to employed a strike first strategy (after the crowd swell became threatening by its mere size) that saw hard core protestors, innocent bystanders and media alike pulled into the scuffles. Targeted extractions of individuals by snatch quads of police in riot gear also raised the heat and seemed to increase the resolve of the few trouble makers to cause more damage by setting fire to a mannequin of a banker hanged from a traffic light and a newspaper recycle box – obviously not your confident anarchist, resorting to acts of defiance rather than protest and taking a public stand – but they did achieve some of what they were after – by making a nuisance of themselves and attracting the media’s attention (at times it seemed like photographers, official and unofficial, outnumberd the protesters). After several hours waiting to be released from their open air detention, some protestors resorted to building a campfire to keep warm in the increasingly chilly evening.
The exit from the imposed open air detention began around 9pm in the evening. All those contained were let out through a narrow corridor of police vans in single file, past police cameras and police dogs. Protestors identified as trouble makers, challenged authority or organising and inflaming the crowds were arrested (including those who started the camp fire).
Did the media attention incite the protestors to act out? I think no, there were more photographers and media in the crowds at the time of the troubles than there were protestors. From my witness of the few vocal trouble makers, they were intent on doing their will with or without the media in attendanceand the media were targets of the protestors violence too. The biggest threat to the media and photographers were the protestors direct threats and attacks, they were not seen as a tool, but one of the guilty targets. Would there have been the same conditions for the few hardcore protestors to use the crowd as a tool and as a shield between them and the police if there where less photographers in the crowd? I think maybe not.
Friday 27 March 2009
40 Isn't Old, If Youre a Tree!
It’s with great surprise and a characteristic lack of pride that I can reveal The Dougal has made it to the ripe old age of 40 in one piece. I'm in that inbetween world where I'm not young enough to know everyting nor old enough to not care anymore. I seem to have found that inbetween worlds niche for myself for much of my life, so why be any different now?
I have the acne scars to prove I was young once (Who told me my teenage acne would eventually disappear? Blatant lie!), a lot less hair and the psychological scars to prove I’ve lived, loved and lost; not necessarily in that order.
It’s probably a cliché, but when this picture was taken I really didn't think I would ever make it to 40. I'm a bit of a thinker, with even that simple and (if you think about it) bizarre concept of that most human of activities, car travel, causing years of thought - we do after all hurl ourselves at incredible speed down strips of tarmac in a tin can with a tank of highly flammable liquid strapped to the back... What?!?! So the concept of living with myself (trust me, its not that easy) - still a scary thought - for another 20 years was a daunting and somewhat incredible idea.
But here I am all the same. With all that define me, my acne and psychological scarring, enough eccentricity to infuriate my friends (my rule is I only have eccentric or plain mad friends anyway so they have no room to talk! – normal people are so unpredictable!) and a lot less hair.
The big bash was a success (thus breaking the 40 year tradition of trying to ignore my birthdays by hiding), so thanks for all for coming along and making it one to remember - especially Dino and Gilbert for flying in from Canada. Look out for the pictures I add here in the next few weeks, once I've found the time to root through and put the mosaic of everyone’s drunken portrait together.
Here's hoping I make it to the next big one without losing any more hair and let’s hope I can stand living with myself for that long, because it is hard being me!
Monday 2 February 2009
Joseph Grimaldi
The most famous and popular of all the clowns in harlequinade and pantomime was Joseph Grimaldi. Despite his Italian name and family origins, he was born in London in 1779, dying in 1837.
To this day he is commemorated annually by clowns in their own church, Holy Trinity in Dalston, East London at the beginning of February.
There were a selection of clowns, old and new, good and bad, professional and part-time, and a unique opportunity to grab some images of some unusual characters.
This particular clown was an older clown who caught my attention. I was very lucky to be in the right place at the right time and chose the right camera angle to make this shot work in a room packed with clowns and public waiting for the clown show to begin. Thanks Mr. Clown.
