Beach Life, an Overland tour begins

Playa Santa Clara, is a wide expanse of sand over 2 miles long, dotted with beach huts, wooden shelters and bars selling beer at 80 cents a pop. Only a few people are around and after dusk our group are the only folk around, apart from some inquisitive dogs.

So thus starts a month on the road on a big truck and 13 other ´travellers´. You can´t say tourist. oh dear no. and apparently we´re responsible travellers to boot. What exactly is an irresponsible one? Oh yeah, Lisbon last year springs to mind...

Anyhoo everyone seems cool and relaxed. We´ve a wide age range 24 - 55 and split 50-50 boys and girls. Everyone has to pitch in and cook, clean and generally help out. I have the glam task of loading and unloading the bags every day. I might get fit yet.

We also checked out the Miraflores locks on the Panama canal. If you want to take a cruise ship through, make sure you have 250,000 dollars in your sky rocket. Next stop is over the border into Costa Rica. Hopefully by then i´ll have worked out how to upload photos. Ha!

You know what is in this year?.. Hats!

Flying in over Panama, you get a great view of the single most famous thing about this country. The Canal is the only waterway between the Atlantic and the Pacific. Container ships queue up in the harbour to wait their turn, thus cutting out a nasty trip all the way south to the tip of Argentina. Think of the Manchester ship canal writ large. The dangers though in building it were Dengue Fever and bandits instead of Scallies and Boddingtons.

Because of the canal, there is a lot of money floating around Panama. Sleek tower blocks rise into the sky. German 4x4s cruise down Avenue Central, the main drag through the city. The Yanks used to have a big army base on the edge of town.

Now the base has been converted into one of the biggest shopping centres in Central America. GIs have been replaced with Sports stores. Kit centres are now shops selling the ubiquitous Panama hats. Military imperialism seems to have been replaced by a cultural one. There is a big multiplex in the mall, where you can see the latest Ben Stiller effort for 4 dollars. And it is an effort by the way...

I head out of the city tomorrow, heading north and camping on a beach. Time to get the feet dirty.....

Ultra music Festival

Festivals in the city. There's something not right about saying that. Surely they should be in the middle of rolling hills with views of cattle and annoyed farmers. Well what with Download last year in Hyde Park and T in the Park in Glasgow, city festivals are all the rage.

Miami is having a stab at it too. The Ultra Festival is over two days this weekend. Primarily Dance orientated to tie in with the Winter Music Conference, it gives a good go at packing a lot in. They managed to hire in the stilt walkers, but annoyingly I didn't see one juggler. Still some stuff to learn, these Yanks..

Last night I managed to see, in no particular order; Miss Kitten, Deep Dish, Princess Superstar, Tiesto, Tommy Sunshine, Shiny Toy Guns and, er, The Cure. With no album to promote Robert "bob" Smith and chums played as close to a greatest hits set as possible. everything from 'Friday i'm in love', 'Let's got to bed', 'Lullaby', 'A Forest' to the double encore of 'Close to me' and 'Boys don't cry'.

Everything was upbeat and the rain of earlier in the day gave way to a lovely sunset over the causeway. It isn't Glastonbury but after a few vodka's most punters there didn't seem to mind...

Are you dancin..? Miami Winter Music Conference

There's a saying in Shoreditch that you're only ever 10 feet away from a DJ. Here in South Beach it's actually about 5. Everywhere you turn there's somebody with a box of vinyl under their arm. The dress code is oversized jeans and stupidly trimed beards.

This is the Winter Music Conference, an annual back slapping convention for socially awkward men to look important whilst playing other people's records. Lot's of parties and club nights are happening throught the city. All culminating in the Ultra Dance Festival on Friday and Saturday. Headlined by the Cure. Huh?

Everyone in this town is a DJ. Talking to a friendly postman when buying a bagel this morning; "Oh sure, this is the day job, but at night I like to drop some tunes" Dear god. Can't get to the bar? That's because Pete Tong is in front of you. Waiting in the queue at the post office, John Digweed is sticking stamps on some postcards. Fat Boy Slim is looking for more loud shirts in a clothes shop. They're everywhere, like a post rave virus.

Other than that, South Beach is lovely. Lots of Pastel shaded Art Deco Hotels, hundreds of cafe's restaurants and bars. The beach is long and wide patrolled by hyperactive Life guards. Go in to the ocean above your waist and their horns start going and the frantic waving starts. I'm not sure why, It must be their exercise program....

On Leaving..part 2

The only way that a sane person in the modern world can recover from 14 hours of drinking... is to go down the pub. Well, if it's good enough for Freddie "pedalo" Flintoff, then i'm there.

The Comedy Cafe in Shoreditch was the venue for my friend and, "internet worker" Pete's 35th birthday. Here's a tip, never mention the 'net to a stand up, the conversation will only go one way.

Here's some photos;



So I fly tomorrow. I'm almost prepared. If prepared means turning up at the airport with the contents of your life in various plastic carrier bags. Well at least the security search will be straight forward. Hup!

On Leaving..

Thanks to everyone who came out on my leaving do. I can't believe i'm still alive after 14 hours of drinking.

MD Nick gave a nice speech and then it was off to the pub. Or several pubs as it turned out. We'll quickly skip England's woeful display in the World Cup Cricket. It was a day of celebration! Herschelle Gibbs hit 6 sixes in an over in my honour! And I've never been to South Africa. Though my friend TimTim say's it lovely.

It all ended up at Ian/Pootle/Prolix's Friday residency at The Eagle, Hoxton. Lots of dancing and merriment all round. Photos of the night can be found here. But here's a taster...

T - 7 Days

So one week till I leave London. Miami beckons but I'm too busy on hold to call centres to give it much thought. Try cancelling anything from phones to DVD rentals and it's a maze of push button technology. It's made all the more fun remembering to tell the 'friendly' representitive your three unique passwords. Except you can't remember because you set them all when already half way through a bottle of red.

In the midst of this whirl I managed to see the family back at the Warwickshire homestead. We're all spread far and wide across this land now, so it was a unique occassion to have everyone sitting around together at a restaurant table.

What wasn't such a top idea was sitting down with the folks that evening in front of the telly to watch this guy. Bear (who on earth is ever called Bear?) is a combination of Ray Mears and SportBilly on tartrazine. A complete nutter who parachutes into jungles with only a penknife and flask of luke warm tea for company. That probably won't assuage their fears that I'm off to Costa Rica to wrestle Jaguars and spit out venom from poisonous snakes...

BTW: I meant to put this link up last week, but better late than never. My friend Lee is running the London Marathon this year for the very worthy Macmillan Cancer Support. If you have a spare fiver you could do a lot worse than give here. Cheers.

Seek professional help

"Who am I..? You know who I am - I'm your worst fucking nightmare!"

The whole class takes a collective intake of breath. The eyes of Matt, our tutor, have just doubled in size. It's possible to see the veins in his neck pressing against the skin. He's just told us how not to pitch to a commissioning editor. I believe him. We're all just a bit afraid.

How did that happen? It's the first day of a weekend course for budding travel writers. Twelve of us have given up a precious weekend to sit in a classroom at King's College, by the South Bank of the Thames. Surely this should be about describing gin-clear lakes, majestic mountains, breathtaking vistas and the ubiquitous land of contrasts? (Btw: that's the only time in this blog you'll read those cliches, honest). Instead we're being shouted at by an Andrew Lincoln look-a-like with anger management issues.

I'm here seeking professional help. I want to write about more than just 7 car pile-ups on the M25. So the purpose of the weekend is to try and gain the wisdom of three experienced writers. Between them they have written for most of the newspaper and magazine travel sections you've idly browsed through on a Sunday morning. Their life seems impossibly glamorous. Another one of our tutors, Ian, has just flown in from the Arctic Circle after observing the Northern Lights from a deserted mountain. Sophie our third sage, casually recounts tales of meeting heart-stopping Frenchmen while Camel Riding through Rajasthan.

Over the course of our two days, we cover everything to do with travel writing. From how to spot a good idea, researching a story, pitching to editors (hopefully less scary than Matt), to proper interview technique and how to avoid being sued. The vibe is fun and relaxed. Everyone has an anecdote to share or a pertinent question to ask. After both days we decamp to a near-by pub for a well earned pint or three.

Through a number of practical sessions I meet a few of my fellow class mates. It's pretty inspiring stuff, and everyone wants something different from the weekend. There's Aussie Mike who's setting off on a mammoth tour of Europe with his trusty dog, Bondi. He's here to get tips for his excellent blog
Catherine is about to set off on a one woman tour of the Trans Siberian Express and is fitting this course in whilst also learning Chinese. Laid back surfer Gary wants to document his trips to the reef. Jane wants to break out of profiling inane celebs for women's mags, into weighty double page travel features for broadsheets.

So what did I get out of the course? Well apart from being on permanent cliche-alert, and avoiding overblown adjectives, I've discovered it is possible to turn your travels into engaging stories. Hopefully that will show through in this blog. Also If I can conquer my new found fear of commissioning eds, maybe a story or two will appear in your next Sunday paper.

PS. Matt Potter is actually a lovely bloke, who buys you drinks down the pub. This entry is a direct steal from his template of how to use a strong quote as an intro... cheers Matt.

For more info on this course click here.