The legend of Gordon



I have been staying in the same 4 bed dorm for a few days now. To begin with I had the guy who kept waking up to pray at 5am, then the night before last it got worse. A palestine who must've been at least 25 stone came wading into the room at midnight and started talking to everyone, even though it was obvious that we were all trying to sleep. He was on the bunk above me and asked if I wanted to swap as I'd die if it collapsed, but I thought to myself 'fuck you', why should I inconvenience myself just because you can't say no to 15 deserts after every meal. There are 3 steps up the ladder and I swear by the time he reached the top he was on the verge of a heart attack, he was out of breath for 15 minutes. What followed was one fo the worst nights sleep of my life. He couldn't lie on his side or front due to his sheer size, so for the next 8 hours the other three of us lay there listening to some of the most unbelievable snoring you'll ever hear. I cracked at about 3am and started rocking the bed intermittently to wake him, but he'd fall asleep again within a minute.

Stop, Tazer time



I think he got the hint that he wasn't so welcome and thankfully he moved into the room next door the following day, but we could still all hear him through the frigging wall! Anyway, I have been hanging around with Gordon for the past few days, he's a 74 year old english man who has simple tastes (wine and hookers) and is a very nice and intersting chap. Yesterday evening we went to the local night bazaar, which had some of the most random things for sale that you could wish to see. On one stall they sold stun-guns (tazers). I was setting it off and it certainly sounded real, I tried to convince Gordon to let me try it on him but he was not so keen. There were so many gifts that I wanted to buy but I can't carry them around for another 3 months, Dad, I had earmarked you the ashtray at the bottom of this page, I know you'd appreciate it....



Gordon mused

Today we went into Chinatown, wow what a place. The first thing that hits you is the smell. The closest description I could make is imagine being strapped to the counter of the fish stall in Hereford Butter Market whilst people pour cups of gravy and vinegar over you and smother you in onion and faeces and then banger spits on you - it's something akin to that. The smell was relentless, I could probably name about 5% of the food things that wre available for sale, there were som massive grub things which almost made me spew.

What the fuck are these things



We have a new guy called Scott staying in the room tonight. I have triple padlocked my rucksack to the bunk bed before I left - lesson two of travelling - never trust a white man with dreadlocks. I also as a rule do not trust people named Scott, but that's a bit more of a sweeping generalisation; whereas the dreadlock statement is based upon anecdotal evidence compiled over a short period of time.





Best ashtray ever