Leon Logothetis's Blog, page 21
July 19, 2012
Mongol Rally, Day 6: Crime doesn’t pay — for the driver
The border between Poland and Ukraine was nearly the end of the road. (Leon Logothetis)
“When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained.” –Mark Twain
After what happened to me at last year’s Mongol Rally, the 10,000-mile road trip from Britain to Ulan Bator, some people may think it’s slightly unbalanced to have played a return engagement. And there may be some truth to that when you consider we had a near-fatal car crash in the dusty roads of a Romanian village. But being unbalanced keeps life interesting and fun, which helps when you encounter what we (Steve Priovolos, my partner in crime) did at the Polish-Ukranian border.
As I was driving from the border town in Poland to Rivne,Ukraine, I may have strayed a little over the speed limit — about 30 miles over, in fact. My new friend the policeman didn’t hesitate to tell me about my transgression.
Then he asked me for 500 euros — about $614 — on the spot. I politely informed him I didn’t have 500 euros, which I didn’t. He politely informed me that he didn’t care and pointed to the handcuffs on his belt. I took this to mean the fine was going to be 500 euros. The situation was not looking good.
One of my books on the Ukraine said the traveler should be wary of policemen who levy ridiculous on-the-spot fines. At the time I dismissed this as the writer’s overcautiousness. I was wrong.
I looked my new friend in the eyes and started to bargain. I had 100 euros — about $123 — in my pocket, but I told him I had only 50. I told him that if he were going to arrest me he should do it then and there. Or he could have the 50 euros. He looked at me and smiled. “You English are crazy!” he said.
Maybe. But he did want the money. I signed a document, which he didn’t bother to fill out. Then I was on my merry way, albeit 50 euros poorer, but at least I wasn’t sitting in a Ukranian jail.
July 18, 2012
Mongol Rally, Day 5: A time for somber reflection at Auschwitz
History is a vast early warning system. –Norman Cousins
The Mongol Rally is not just an opportunity for adventure and serendipity. The nature of this 10,000-mile journey from Britain to Mongolia means ralliers can immerse themselves in diverse cultures and histories.
This leads to the possibility of taking in sites of immense historical importance. Places that can force you to stop in your tracks and think deeply. On Wednesday, Day 5, my experience was about coming face to face with unspeakable pain, suffering and pure evil.
I stayed the night in Krakow, Poland, a magnificent city. The main square in old town is vibrant and full of life. The residents are friendly and welcoming. That puts Krakow on the “must” list for me.
But about 30 miles from Krakow is Auschwitz, the concentration camp run by the German Nazis in World War II. This is where I came face to face with pure evil. Walking around the camp was a powerful and moving experience. Passing under the infamous gate at the entrance to Auschwitz, which roughly says “Work makes you free,” sent shivers down my spine.
Documentaries, books, movies — none of them measures up to seeing this in person. They become horrifyingly real. What happened inside the barbed wires of this camp is a human catastrophe of almost unimaginable and certainly unforgettable proportions.
July 17, 2012
Mongol Rally, Day 4: The wheels on the car go round and round
I believe in getting into hot water; it keeps you clean. –G.K. Chesteron
The mishap with the car Monday — hitting the ginormous pothole in the Czech Republic – was not a welcome development. Good things, however, can occur even in life’s little mishaps, of which there are many on the Mongol Rally, the 10,000-mile road trip that about 800 of us have undertaken, all for a good cause. We left Saturday from Britain and think it will take about five weeks to get to Ulan Bator, Mongolia. For each mile we drive, we donate one book to FirstBook.org, which helps underprivileged children.
As my co-driver, Steve Priovolos, and I were sitting by the road a fellow Mongol Rally team stopped and offered their assistance. Random acts of kindness rock. As a mechanic, I’m useless and so is Steve, and the lads who helped were not much better — but they were good enough to partly diagnose the problem.
It seems the car has an “issue” with the protection panel behind the disc brake on the front right tire. Joe, the lead pseudo-mechanic, and his chums tinkered with the wheel, and although it is not fully fixed, the horrible noises it was making are not quite as horrible.
Job done. For the moment anyway.
I have decided to throw caution to the wind and will be visiting a real mechanic in the Ukraine the day before I visitChernobyl. Yes, that Chernobyl. This is more than 1,000 miles from where we are. We’ll soon see the wisdom of this decision.
Because we could now continue on, we headed toward Klenova Castle in the Czech Republic. The Festival of Slow as it is called is the final party (the Mongol rally chaps seem to love throwing a good party) before all teams head off to the east.
“Heading off to the east” sounds slightly ominous — maybe because it is.
The Czech Out party is a last chance to let off some steam before the real adventures begin. By letting off steam I mean eating vast amounts of meat and drinking copious amounts of beer. And who can forget the wacky costumes. It is craziness on an epic scale.
Mongol Rally, Day 3: The little dangers along life’s rutted roads
On Day 3 of the Mongol Rally, a noise signals a car problem. (Leon Logothetis / July 16, 2012)
“ Bite off more than you can chew. Then chew it.” – Ella Williams
Traveling is for sissies. That’s the signature slogan of the Mongol Rally, the 10,000-mile road trip that Steve Priovolos and I started on Saturday near London with about 800 other people. I guess the Mongol Rally people think that on a “normal” trip, things probably don’t often go so terribly wrong.
I am beginning to realize (again) why the fine chaps at Mongol Rally headquarters think that. Of course things do go wrong on leisure trips, but on an adventure trip, the things that happen are…not for the faint of heart. Bad stuff happens. It seems to happen to me and fairly often too.
On Day 8 of last year’s rally, my trusty Nissan Micra was destroyed in a crash on a dusty Romanian road. Steve and I escaped largely unharmed.
This year I had driven 961 miles without a hitch. Unfortunately the 962nd mile wasn’t as kind. I drove over a humongous pothole in my Daihatsu Terrios. This time, it was a dusty Czech road.
From that moment on, the car began making some interesting and, for me, inexplicable noises. Unfortunately, I have no idea how to fix a car. None. A further slice of misfortune is that Steve is similarly challenged in the car-fixing department.
I know what you’re thinking: Why are you driving 10,000 miles without knowing anything about cars? Good question. Unfortunately (again) I don’t have a good answer. What I do know is that these noises, whatever they are, are coming from the front right wheel. If there is anyone who knows about cars (specifically, Daihatsus that have driven over humongous potholes) please email me at llogothetis@hotmail.com
While I wait to be saved by a random act of kindness, I think I may have realized something about myself. I may just be one of those sissies who wants to travel like a normal chap. Or maybe I am just having a moment….
July 15, 2012
Mongol Rally, Day 2: Here’s one for the books
“Books can be dangerous. The best ones should be labeled ‘This could change your life.’” –Helen Exley
By a twist of fate, I eventually made it to my rendezvous with the Channel Tunnel on Saturday at the start of the 10,000-mile Mongol Rally, a road trip that will take me through 18 countries on the way to Ulan Bator, Mongolia, in a tiny, tiny car.
The weather gods were on my side: The English rain caused a two-hour delay, but this meant I would reach my destination of Brussels after all. Just in time for a well-deserved nightcap. I was relieved to have a place to sleep. I was less relieved to find my bed for the evening was infested with bed bugs. People often tell me I need to socialize more, but this was not what I had in mind.
My journey on Sunday took me to the German city of Nuremberg. The travel time from my bug-infested bed to Nuremberg was about 7.5 hours. You may be thinking, “Geez, that’s a long drive,” but when you have slightly less than 10,000 miles ahead and hundreds of hours of driving just around the corner, it’s not so bad.
But this year, each mile means far more than being a step closer to Mongolia. For every mile I drive I will be donating a book to the charity First Book. Because the journey is 10,000 miles, I will be donating 10,000 books. It feels good to know that every mile that appears on the odometer is a book for an underprivileged a child.
I have traveled 785 miles. That’s 785 books and counting. Here’s hoping this journey is a real page turner.
July 14, 2012
Mongol Rally: And they’re off–and you can say that again
“Today was good. Today was fun. Tomorrow is another one.” –Dr Seuss
The Mongol Rally, a 10,000-mile road trip from Britain to Ulan Bator, Mongolia, is about adventure, charity, fun and a rather large dose of danger. The launch party extravaganza was all about the fun side of this epic journey. The craziness. The camaraderie and the mad hatter costumes. Pure unadulterated silliness to be precise, and it was exactly what the doctor ordered, especially if the doctor is named Seuss.
The Mongol Rally always begins at the legendary racetrack of Goodward Motor Circuit in Westhampnett, about 65 miles southwest of London. Teams meet and share their hopes and aspirations for their upcoming adventures.
They also try to outdo one another with their bizarre costumes. I came face to face with two completely red chaps. Two Russian Spies. A furry white car and some vintage-looking British soldiers from the Zulu wars. Let’s not forget the giant Mongolian wrestlers who embarrassed a few ralliers by tying them up in knots and slamming them into the rain-soaked grass.
With the revelry in full swing it was time for the adventures to begin. A lap around the famed course heralded the beginning of the 2012 Mongol Rally. A rally that sees a multitude of adventure seekers (879 to be exact) try to drive across 10,000 miles of imposing terrain. What awaits those of us brave enough, or foolish enough, to make this trek is a once-in-a-lifetime journey into the unknown that will test us and inspire us. . A journey, above all, that creates a lifetime of memories. Here’s to adventure, charity and a whole lot of fun along the way,
As I write I am hurtling towards the Channel Tunnel. It seems that I grossly misjudged my time (I blame the woman dressed as a caveman!) and it is now highly improbable that I will reach my destination of Brussels tonight. This would not be first or the last time this Englishman has been late for his own parade…
July 13, 2012
Mongol Rally: Let the extreme adventure begin–again
Los Angeles Times Travel editor
July 13, 2012, 5:30 a.m.
But why?
Why would you want to drive from Britain to Mongolia in a tiny car through the sometimes-hostile terrain of 18 countries where you’re almost guaranteed to encounter some sort of trouble? Especially when that trouble could include death, quite possibly your own?
And why, if you’ve tried it once and nearly got killed, would you want to do it again?
To encourage reading, of course.
We don’t mean reading of this blog, although that’s nice too. We mean reading for children who may not have access to books.
That’s why Leon Logothetis and Steven Priovolos have teamed up again for the Mongol Rally, a road trip that starts Saturday outside of London at and ends in Ulan Bator, Mongolia. For every mile the two drive (and rules of the rally say the car can’t have more than a 1.2 liter-engine), they will donate a book to an underprivileged child through FirstBook. Ten thousand miles, 10,000 books.
Logothetis and Priovolos started the rally last year, as readers of this blog may recall. Things went OK the first week (if you ignore visa problems and a stomach upset that laid the ever-energetic Logothetis flat on his back) but on the eighth day, they were T-boned in Romania by a driver in a 4X4 who was violating all sorts of traffic laws. Their car, a Nissan Micra, was totaled. Somehow, they were not.
After having to drop out of the 10,000-mile rally, Logothetis said he was frustrated and depressed. But then, he said, he and Priovolos concluded that the adventure may have been cut short because there was no element of giving and compassion, the hallmark of some of their previous adventures.
The two, for instance, last spring completed a tour of what they called the Kindness Cab, in which they drove a black British taxi cab across country, stopping to give rides to people who needed them (a veteran on his way to the hospital for cancer treatment, a poor family who joined the two for a trip to an ice cream store, complete with frozen greats for all). The Kindness Cab was cute but a mechanical mess. In the end, it didn’t matter. They raised $11,500 that they donated to local schools and to the St. Joseph Center in Venice.
With the book donations, Logothetis thinks his Mongol Rally karma is in sync. You’ll have a chance to see in the coming days as he blogs his way across a third of the Earth’s surface.
Watch this space.
June 15, 2012
“No rucksacks scuffed” by James Horrigan
Hello fellow earth dwellers. I hope you are all happy and smiling your day away 
I wanted to share with you another guest blog written by a fine young chap I met on twitter.
The chap you are about to meet is called Jimmy Horrigan and he is quite the character! Please read his musings, maybe they will inspire you to travel the world and find yourself…
“Many a trip continues long after movement in time and space have ceased.”
-John Steinbeck, taken from “Travels with Charley”
For some time now I’ve been hopping time zones. In the last twelve months I’ve travelled around the UK, crossed the English Channel to explore mainland Europe, traversed Asia and even managed to squeeze in a trip to Australia. Along the way, just for good measure you’ll understand, I’ve thrown in the odd jaunt around the United States. Incredibly I managed to do all this by spending less than £50 in total! ($75 USD – as I type). Beat that, Leon!
If you discount the visits to the library for new loans and trips to local charity shops to stock up on more second-hand books then I can also attest, without hyperbole, that I achieved this feat whilst barely moving a muscle and without scuffing a single rucksack. In return for so little physical exertion on my part I’ve been rewarded with jaw-dropping tours, memorable trips and fabulous treks around our extraordinary planet with some brilliantly colourful characters as my guide. All this happened while I waited for appointments, travelled on buses, took my lunch breaks, relaxed with a glass of wine, listened to my favourite music, and most enjoyable of all – at night when I retired in time to devour a few more pages before switching off the bedside lamp.
So why do I read travelogues so fervently and what makes me want to read more? Why after reading about somebody else’s travels are even the most mundane aspects of my own life subject to overhaul and review? What is it these books are teaching me? More importantly, why do I draw inspiration from these journeys and what is it they inspire me to do? Do I harbour a desire to become the ultimate adventurer – one so secret even I’m not aware of? Am I, unwittingly and rather meticulously, compiling the perfect itinerary and making subconscious plans to travel the globe and see everything there is to see? What am I getting myself ready for? If not for the journey of all journeys then what? If you give me a few minutes to explain I’ll try to do just that.
I started reading travelogues last January. It all came about when, after years of knowing the name but never reading anything by the man, I turned over my first page of a Bill Bryson book. Prior to this my reading was limited almost entirely to my rather salacious obsession for music. Every once in a while I’d read fiction, Kurt Vonnegut a personal favourite, but I was always happiest reading about music, social history or popular culture. Then Bryson jumped off the page changing all that in an instant – and irreversibly so. Falling instantly for the way he paints a palpable picture of his travels and shares the wisdom of his observations through a witty, worldly and idiosyncratic turn of phrase: I was suddenly turned on to a new way of escaping.
Any reading is escapism, of course. But there’s just something unmatchable in the particular release from the quotidian that I get from reading a well-written travelogue that sets it apart from anything else I read. What I get from the author will depend on their focus but be it their motives, the people they meet, the highs and lows of the journey, the places they visit, the transport, the landscape, the history of places along the way; they all offer something different yet paradoxically the same; an unconditional bond between the writer and me. The honesty that stems from their solitude has me gripped from the very start and I’m more immediately involved with the writer than when I wait for a novelist to unravel plots and characterisation. Rather than the abstract proposition of fiction this is somebody doing things I have done, can see myself doing, or wish I had the courage to do.
These are books written by people interested in people and the adventures wouldn’t be possible if other people didn’t get involved, often only momentarily so. Our favourite all-round good guy Leon sets out to travel from place to place in his book but only strangers can make that happen. Each of them is to play a small but vital role in helping him reach his goal. Transport is only his vehicle in the physical sense but it’s the interconnectedness he yearns for which will take him places. For anyone yet to read Leon’s book – you know who you are and you have no good excuse – I won’t spoil it but something else you’ll learn is that the journey, any journey, isn’t just about getting from one place to another.
With the travel books I’ve read the starting point, destination and stop-offs are merely a by-product of the journey itself. Thankfully these accounts are not just about getting from A to B. (I’m reliably informed by library staff and booksellers alike that this is available from all good maps and atlases). No, for me the sense of the discovery goes way beyond geographical vistas and physical landscapes. It’s what happens to the writer as a person and what they learn about themselves and the world around them that appeals most. In most cases the location is almost academic and the lessons I take from the books could be – indeed most definitely are – about anybody, anywhere and everybody, everywhere.
Journeying slowly, enjoying the experience of being neither here nor there (Thanks, Bill!) and taking time to reflect is a recurring theme in these books. In such a time-critical world I’ve relished the words of writers capable of slowing down time to get something more from each moment rather than merely waiting for the next one to arrive. Shortly after reading Carl Honore’s “In Praise of Slow” and days before the first of my back-issues of “The Idler” started to arrive in the post, I found myself reading books perfectly tuned in to the concept of Slow Living. Perhaps I was just in the right state of mind for the ethos and appeal of these books or maybe it’s just the take on the world I’m forming with age but nevertheless I was enamoured with the contemplative charm and narrative of “Three Men in a Float”, “The Wisdom of Donkeys”, “Narrowboat Dreams” and “One Man and a Narrowboat”.
“Three Men in a Float” by Dan Kiernan and Ian Vince tells the story of how they, together with their friend Prasanth Visweswaran, made their way from Lowestoft to Land’s End – the most easterly and westerly points of England – in a 1958 milk float. Travelling at never more than 15 miles per hour and relying on kind strangers to help charge the float’s battery every 8 hours, their adventure spoke to me loud and clear: people need people and some things just take time. As eccentric as the challenge might sound, the connection with other people was as important to the adventure as the pace of the journey itself. The authors had plenty of time to reflect and bicker (ah, good old human nature) but the “speed” of the journey meant they got to explore the kind of detail anyone taking the same route by rail or motorway would simply miss. Each chapter depicts perfectly what we can gain from our companions, our surroundings and our own resolve when we choose to go slowly, reverse the hectic schedule of everyday life and just enjoy the ride. John Ruskin, the prominent Victorian social thinker, would have rained praise on the chaps for their approach. Rather prophetically and over 100 years ahead of their trip he mused, “Modern travelling is not travelling at all; it is merely being sent to a place, and very little different from becoming a parcel”.
Andy Merrifield‘s “The Wisdom of Donkeys: Finding Tranquillity in a Chaotic World” tells a different story but at a similar, steady plod. Accompanied by a donkey and walking around the Auvergne region of France, Andy looks at donkeys through philosophy, culture, film and literature to bond with his companion and to better understand the order of things. The loyal and gentle Gribouille, Andy’s furry companion, provides a way for Andy to examine his own existence and his place in the world around him. It’s unclear how long they walked for but in the spirit of the journey, it took as long as it needed to take and they went home when it was time to go home. The pace they walk at, the people and customs they encounter, and the conversations they share together (yes, he talks to his donkey!) help him conclude that inspiration and true meaning is waiting for us all wherever we’re willing to look for it.
In “Narrowboat Dreams: A Journey North by England’s Waterways” and “One Man and a Narrowboat: Slowing Down Time on England’s Waterways” the author, Steve Haywood, writes passionately of his love (and sometimes – hate) affair with the English canal network. The first of these introduced me to something enthusiasts call “the fastest way to slow down” and was the perfect bedfellow for tales of slow milk floats and leisurely donkey walks. (How often have you ever found yourself reading that sentence?) As Steve navigates the canals he gives a brilliantly erudite and entertaining account of the history and heritage attached to the once arterial routes of the country’s industrial past. He even finds time to throw in some recipe ideas and recommend good pubs selling real ale into the bargain which from where I’m sitting makes him the perfect guide for any journey.
His approach to making a journey is something we should all try from time to time – escape the hysteria of city life for a more sedate way of going about things. The slow cruising of his tales gives me time to think in much the same way as his time on the canal gives him “opportunity to cogitate a bit too. About myself. About England”. He admits his trips may well lack a grand purpose or design but for me they show how things without purpose don’t necessarily lack meaning. He puts it better himself towards the end of “One man and a Narrowboat” as he writes, “And if nothing else, I’d had the chance of cooking and eating some decent food, and drinking some good beer. And having a laugh from time to time. Can you expect any more from any journey? Even life itself?”
Tony Hawks – the rather brilliant British comedian and writer not to be confused with any skateboarders that may leap, ollie or fakie to mind – made his way around Ireland in order to win a bet. Simply getting about Ireland may sound easy enough but he did it with a fridge and without his own transport. Pete McCarthy’s journey around the same Emerald Isle in “McCarthy’s Bar” however was one of personal reflection, and a search for personal identity and heritage. He needed to make a link with others in order to reconnect with his own memories, his past and effectively, to find his roots. Both McCarthy and Hawks had to rely on other people and their success or failure rested on the shoulders of strangers. Their motives couldn’t have been more different but this dependency on others was pivotal to both of them on their journeys.
So where else have I been to on my travels? Well thanks to Bill Bryson, John O’Brien and John Steinbeck I’ve got to know the United States. Bill and I walked a good part of the Appalachian Trail together in “A Walk in the Woods” which opened my eyes to a mostly consumer-free side to the U.S. that I’d only previously seen represented in documentaries like Dave Gorman’s “America Unchained”. John O’Brien’s “At Home in the Heart of Appalachia” was the heartfelt memoir of a man attempting to reconnect with his troubled past. He took me to a small pocket of the trail, to a small town in West Virginia that Bill and I had passed through only weeks before, giving me an insight into the history, politics and industry that created the identity which he hoped to rediscover. Bryson, on the other hand, offered me a customarily light hearted account of a physically demanding trek and made me belly laugh until it hurt. Two very different journeys set in the same landscape later and I too started to develop an affinity with the Trail.
Sticking with Bill, which it’s only fair to do as he’s responsible for starting my obsession with travel books and the words you’re reading, we’ve been all over together. We looked for the heart of small-town America in “The Lost Continent”, re-traced his youthful wanderings around mainland Europe in “Neither Here nor There”, discovered Australia together in “Down Under” and more familiarly, for me at least, ambled around the British Isles as he said his farewells to the country he’d made his home in “Notes From a Small Island”. The journeys were a blend of the exotic and the sublime; we’ve walked some of the quaintest, picture-postcard English countryside, experienced some of the most beautiful cities in Europe and for contrast we tackled the scale and inhospitable heat of the Australian outback. These were pleasures of polarised extremes.
For miles covered, nothing I’ve read comes close to Peter Moore’s “Wrong Way Home”. Peter’s challenge was simple – to return home to Sydney, from London, without setting foot on a plane. Rather than the hippy image synonymous with the overland trail of the 60s and 70s, Peter just sees himself as an ordinary bloke doing something to quench his own thirst for travel, culture and as a challenge to himself. As he advises aspiring travel writers via his website, “It doesn’t always have to be an emotional journey”, and there’s definitely more fun than philosophy or personal discovery to his trip. However, finding that connection with others along the way still plays a massive part in how things go and for me the inspiration Peter’s story generates goes way beyond travel – the idea that ordinary people can do extraordinary things is something we can all apply to anything we want to do.
It’s hard to know how to bring this ramble to a natural end as I could talk about more inspiring tales than you could probably take in one sitting. I suppose the fact I’ve had to omit Stuart Maconie’s search for the apocryphal Middle England in “Adventures on High Teas” and his quest to find the true heart of Northern England in “Pies and Prejudice”, Robbie Coltrane (Harry Potter fans will know him better as Rubeus Hagrid) and his journey around the back-roads of Britain in a vintage Jaguar, and the other crazy bets taken by Tony Hawks in “Playing the Moldovans at Tennis” and “One Hit Wonderland”, is something I’ll just have to learn to live with. (Or write about some other time). A fitting end would probably be to mention another major influence on the theme of this piece – the source of the quote right at the beginning.
Being a dog owner myself, John Steinbeck’s idea of taking-off around America with only his dog for companionship, instantly hit the sweet spot for me. Charley is effectively Steinbeck’s Gribouille in “Travels with Charley: In Search of America” and they are perfect company for each other on the road. In the book Steinbeck wants to rediscover the country and its people, the source of inspiration throughout his career, after years spent living abroad. He’s looking for something he feels he’s lost touch with which he concedes may no longer exist; he’s changed and so have the times, so it stands to reason that the people have too. The honesty and introspection in the book is matched by intricate and colourful language throughout and although the journey may not bear the fruit he hoped for, his understanding of what we have to gain from any journey sits perfectly with why these books inspire me.
The idea that a trip “continues long after movement in time and space have ceased” is something I think about regularly. The stories told in these books may come to an end but the lessons they offer go way beyond the final words and can relate to many different aspects of our lives. Everything we do is effectively a journey and we’re always on our way to do something, to get to somewhere, or to be somebody. Sometimes we have a fridge with us, a donkey, a dog, our memories, little money, sore feet, or a thirst for adventure – but whichever it is – we’ll meet people along the way and need to be ready to connect and to enjoy the ride.
So where to next? “In Siberia” with Colin Thubron is tempting me as I write this but beyond that, who knows? I have another book by my favourite narrowboat man waiting on the bowing shelves so it may be time to take a gentle course through still waters. I could always seek out more European flavours and move to France for Michael Wright’s “C’est La Folie”, push myself and go high-brow to explore China with Paul Theroux’s “Riding the Iron Rooster”, or take my first trip through another continent and accompany him overland from Cairo to Cape Town in “Dark Star Safari”. But I’m in a playful mood so I’m more likely to look at the journey of a multi-pack of gentleman’s briefs via Joe Bennett’s “Where Underpants come from: From Checkout to Cotton Field – Travels through the New China” or Tim Moore’s 500 mile trek around Spain with a reluctant donkey in “Spanish Steps”. As Kurt Vonnegut once put it – better than I could ever hope to – “Peculiar travel suggestions are dancing lessons from God”.
I’ve created an “Inspirational Shelf” on Goodreads so if you want to find out more just click here.
If you’d like to read about one of my other passions you’ll find heaps of music reviews here.
You can follow my day to day ramblings on Twitter – I’m @jimmyhorrigan . Please come say hello
June 11, 2012
LEON JUMPS INTO THE US PRESIDENTIAL RACE
Watch Leon’s Announcement on YouTube:
Here at The Adventure Party, led by the great man* himself, Leon Logothetis, we believe that living a full life involves going on adventures. Adventures large and small. It is for this reason that we believe that we are a valid alternative to the Republican and Democratic nominees for president. They are boring and will only bring more boredom to the world. We will change that. Our aim is to bring joy and new experiences to the good people of America. And the world. To join the movement visit www.TheAdventureParty.com.
*Our leader did not write this manifesto, so that is why we can call him a great man. We don’t want you to feel that our leader is being presumptuous about his stature.
CORRECTION: we are not sure if this was written by our leader or not actually…
Donation options (Cash only please)
$1,000,000
$50,000,000
$275,000,000
$1 trillion
Please send all donations to the following address: P.O Box 1776 The Adventure Party HQ, Somewhere on planet Earth.
June 6, 2012
Don’t be embarrassed. We all do it…
Ok. I admit it. I f*cked up. Sort of.
I was recently asked by HLN (CNN’s sister network) to give my ‘expert’ advice on what not to post on Facebook whilst on your travels. Things that would get you arrested. Deported. Humiliated. Fired. Or all of the above.
It seems that people do the funniest things. Posting naked travel pictures is one. Posting comments about how much you hate your boss, another. Oh. And what about the chap who posted a picture of his holiday romance. Only to receive divorce papers when he returned home to his wife!
Yes. Some of us can do the silliest of things.
And yes. I am included in the hall of shame. Unfortunately.
Watch the video of my appearance on HLN and then see if you can spot my moment of madness that qualified me for the Facebook hall of shame…
