Friday, September 30, 2005

fucking tourists......shit I am one 9/9/05

I stayed in Cavtat (pronounced tsavtat) about 15km (metric - how continental) from Dubrovnik (pronounced Dubrovnik)(no more bracktes)(I promise) in Croatia. It's obviously the first stop off for the thousands of coach tours that Dubrovnik vomits out each day. Even though it's the end of the season, in order that for there to be enough space in the city to actually breathe, they have to send all the fat, short shorted, Nikon weilding tourists out of the city for the day to 'places of local interest'.
I sat drinking coffee in one of the harbour cafes watching them take photos of the boats, the buildings, their lunch, the waiter etc etc and listening to them using the age old trick of if they aren't understood to speak louder and slower, bobbing the head with each syllable for emphasis. Strange how it doesn't work.....
I watched one American, the kind that dresses as if he was on safari, expensive clothes in khaki and beige with lots of pockets, huge bum bag, and a ruck sack with lots of straps to hold water bottle, camera, night vision goggles, ice pick and crampons. The kind that stands closest to the tour guide and asks lots of ridiculous questions, for example (whilst looking shiftily around him, perhaps on the look out for rampaging rhinos or a herd of wildebeest) (I know I said no more brackets, but hey, I like them) 'how do the people here survive?' as if he were in an incredibley impoverished and underdeveloped part of the world. The answer of fishing and tourism seemed to confuse him, well duh, you are a tourist, standing in a harbour full of fishing boats, what did you expect them to do? Hunt and gather and trade animal skins for tools? You are in a town populated by locals wearing expensive clothes, talking on expensive mobiles and driving expensive cars (the fact that most of them would have been bought on credit or with borrowed money is another matter ), why do you assume that beacuse it is in eastern europe it must be poor and primative?
Enough of that.
I went for a walk later on round the headland which was really beautiful except for the multitude of nudists. I have no problem with nudism, but naked old men in sandals aren't really my thing (any man naked bar for footwear is a thing so tragic and lacking in dignity that it makes me weep). To add insult to injury, I fell up some stairs later on and as I sat there nursing my grazed knees and palms and my bruised dignity, a herd of them filed past me, their withered genitalia dangling in my face. I'm scarred by the experience, and I don't know if I ever want to grow old with a man if it means I'd have to look at that on a regular basis. I'm not that keen on penises and testicles anyway.........

brighton summers.......

brighton summer picked me up in a whirlwind of beer, pebbles and occasional sunshine and I've just been dropped, with a bump into brighton winter. Yuk.
This is the only explanaition I have for ignoring my blog for 4 months; in the summer brighton comes into it's own and i start to actually enjoy it and remember why the hell I stay here all winter when it's so bloody horrible.
I've also been away for a bit, so I'm going to pop a few bits of my travel diary up too, to make up for the negligence of the last few months.
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