Anyone who’s spent a summer on the road exploring Europe knows it can be a costly proposition. Even the most budget-savvy traveller can struggle to keep expenses below €75 per day. Add a museum visit, an evening meal out or a night of bar-hopping to the blend and your daily spend can quickly climb over €100.
I could talk Turkey for hours. From the sheer size of Istanbul, her stunning setting straddling the Bosphorus, to the majesty of her mosques and the lure of her bustling bazaars. From the eerie silence of the World War I battlegrounds at Gallipoli, to the wonder of the cave houses of Cappadocia and the natural beauty of her white-sand Mediterranean beaches. And don’t start me on her food (especially any meat left basting in its own juices). Visiting Turkey is a must for those wishing to escape the humdrum of a typical package tour holiday.
It’s a little known fact that the word Parkour comes from the French and translated literally means, “lover’s escape“.
The term was first coined back in 1927 after an episode in Paris’ 7th Arrondissement – not far from the Hôtel des Invalides and a mere clove’s throw from the southern banks of the Seine – where Cartwright P. Moocjheenie (lover, philanthropist) was caught four stories up, with his pants down.
I remember my first taste of Red Bull. It was the mid-nineties, I was hanging out in a bean-bag bar on Khao San Road in Bangkok watching a dodgy copy of Beverly Hills Cop III, with a bunch of happy Brits and a hippy Dane by the name of Munz. Munz had a massive head.
Munz offered me what looked like a medicine bottle with a little Thai script and a couple of bulls in profile, on the label.
The day is hellish. It’s as muggy as Hades with a hulking swell and a vertical driving rain that’s kept everyone off deck. I’m told – perhaps presumptuously – that we’ll probably be barging the bilge through the thwacker before any respite from the starboard for neigh on six. Whatever the fuck that means. By my reckoning we’re still making decent time though, pushing on through open water aided by a 45 knot sou-wester toward Sulat Sunda – the passage of sea that separates the Indonesian islands of Java and Sumatra.
What could be gained from denying the world these pioneers of the pantry? And without them, who would ever think of combining pears with pine nuts and popping it on a pork chop?
This time around the victim was Jordan Fancy — the seething, pock-speckled English chef from Kitchen Death Wish. Kitchen Death Wish (or KDW to its devotees) pitted wannabe chefs against other in three rounds – an appetiser, a main and a dessert. Hardly the most original concept but producers in the genre were becoming complacent.
Type the term, “baby jumping” into youtube and you’ll get a pleasant, inevitable mix of toddlers bouncing in harnesses or toppling into swimming pools. It’s all pretty tame stuff until you get to an entry about half way down the first page where things take a bit of a turn to the dark side.
It’s there you’ll find a video from Lonely Planet photographer, Dominic Bonuccelli that takes a closer look at the Spanish festival of El Colacho, known in English as the Baby Jumping Festival.
I love to watch good skateboarding but it seems like such a hard sport, not just to master but to attain any sort of level of above-averageness.
Now you might be asking yourself, “what the freak do you know about skateboarding fat-boy?“, before making some wicked sort-of-sideways gesture with your hand and adding, “skate or die!”
To which my answer would have to be, “Not a lot. I guess I’ll have to take death.”