Tag: africa

Shannon, Shirly, our Berber guide, and the rest of our camel caravan

Mounting a camel is exciting. Dismounting a camel is dangerous. Riding a camel… well, riding a camel is like riding a roller coaster that has had its safety harness removed and its uncomfortable comfortable seats ripped out in favor of a hulking, strangely muscular, smelly beast that is less comfortable to sit on than Weird Uncle Jim’s knee. I don’t know if it was because I was tall, or because my camel (which Shannon had named Douglas) had eight extra…

Our Berber guide stares at some very small camels, in the Sahara desert

For the last 12 months, I have been doing almost everything with a girl called Shannon. By “everything” I do mean everything. It started off with chatting, and then a few weeks later flirting, and then, as is the natural progression of such things, eloping. We followed that up with eating, travelling around Europe, drinking lots of alcohol, exercising, watching awful TV, and being caught by the police for a crime that we (arguably) didn’t commit. Then, of course, to…

No, not crocs like the ones in my full-frontal photo… crocs, like… Crocodile Dundee! This post references yesterday’s post on The 2010 Tour. The next few weeks will probably see a flurry of posts about Africa and Asia. You’ll have to forgive me if that kind of thing doesn’t interest you — but this blog’s about what interests me! I’m sure I’ll throw in a few delicious curve balls to keep you on your toes anyway. Unlike the Faroe Islands, a grand…

The snow has melted! The sun is… almost shining! The ambient temperature is WAY above 3 centigrade (37F) now and heading towards a balmy 5 or 6. Soon the delightful showers of Spring will be upon us — and before I know it, April will turn to May. May, if you’re new to this blog or my life, is the month when everything happens — we have something like 10 immediate-family birthdays in May, and this year we also have…

For the first time in recorded history everyone has an equal chance of success. Or that’s what we like to tell ourselves. We gape at the powerful, unwaxed women that are directors and CEOs. We smile fondly at the emasculated house-husband that stays home to tend to the children. Sure, Spics and Polacks still man the mops and paint our walls, but everyone knows of at least one rich and successful Mexican or American Indian! They might not all be…