In this one I discover that retirees are full of lies.

People in Canada had a long weekend in the not too distant past celebrating the birth of this nation, as well as the one to  the south. No. I do not mean Mexico, although I would like to celebrate their independence day as well (doing this would involve drinking Tequila).

In this one I discover that the sea is salty

How to calmly abandon people

So what does one do on an island paradise? One finds a remote part of said island and goes snorkelling of course. I was informed of this fact by a local named Ian, the minute he saw me step foot on the beach. He did sort of ruin the moment where I see an ocean for the first time in my life (readers will remember I am 193 years old). So I did what comes naturally to me. I glowered, bared my teeth, unleashed my adamantium claws and tried to walk away.

In this one I stop looking at roadside crabs

One might argue that I am a fairly worldly traveller. While they would be as wrong as Sarah Palin is about everything, they, much like her, have the right to argue this point. It turns out that despite my best efforts at being totally awesome, this visit I truly felt awed by what all is left for me to see in this world. After all, this was the first time I was going to see an ocean. Little know fact, oceans are also known as the giant-blue-portions-on-the-world-map-that-I-used-to-think-meant-land. I will personally french-kiss you (whether you want me to or not) if you can get that reference.

Early  into day #1 in St.Lucia I was very excited for my first trip to a beach that did not strongly resemble a bunch of sand that was dumped on a landfill next to a fresh water lake (looking at you here Britannia Beach).

For those not in the know, a beach is not only a place where a terrible Leonardo Di Caprio movie was shot but also a curious phenomenon of nature. This is the place where sun, sand, salt-water come together in a mixture of awesome. It is as spectacular in it’s beauty as a herd of Chihuahuas are terrifying.

I decided after glancing at the *insert superlative here* beach that  I should look strip down and find myself a bench and stop staring at the giant crabs on the road. As cool as the crabs may have been, they were at the end of the day giant insects that move sideways.

At this point in time I bid you, dear reader, a fond adieu. I would talk more but I have some beach chilling to do. If you happen to find yourself in St. Lucia, and you stumble upon a young, handsome, ripped, brown blogger who is staring at giant crabs who are impudently crossing the road, rest assured, you have not met me.

Lessons in booking a roof over my bald head

Good day my lovely cetaceans,

I know that you have waited with bated breath for my next communiqué. I have deprived you of this amazing, handsome and talented blogger’s pithy writings. For this, I do apologize, just like a famous golfer did recently for sampling a cavalcade of fine women. In so much that I am sorry for my (in)actions, but to be honest, I was having fun while doing (or not) it.

So back to the post. As I mentioned in one of my past musings, that we (PS aka the useless co-writer, DS who is no relation to PS but also quite useless as a blogger, and KB who is no relation to me and is quite unsure what a blog is) were heading to St. Lucia. Well as I type this I am flying over Savannah, Georgia headed to Miami, from where I shall fly with my metal wings to St.Lucia. The problem is that we do not know where we are going to stay once we are in St. Lucia.

You see, PS, apart from being the world’s worst co-writer, is also one of the people who was responsible for booking a hotel for us to stay. So proactive was this man, that within a few hours of us deciding to do this trip, he had been in contact with a small hotel owner in St. Lucia. This was followed by him promptly declaring this endeavour a success and assuring us that he had taken care of accommodations. We slumbered in our belief that everything had been indeed taken care of.

This dream was shattered much like a Ming vase shot out of a howitzer in the middle of a hurricane made of angry tigers. You see on Wednesday, PS, decided to check up on the hotel room. It turns out that the hotel room was *not* booked. This caused some amounts of consternation inside his capacious cranium. Upon enquiring how a room that he had “booked” 4 months back is not in fact booked. Apparently, hotel rooms are not booked if money does not change hands. Since the hotelier was asking for a wire transfer and PS was not used to wires, transfers or money and the only think that he  provided instead of green pieces of paper, the hotelier with was supplied with ample assurance that we were coming, and told him to hold the room. It appears that someone might have given the hotelier a better deal. A deal that might have actually involved small green pieces of paper.

So where does this leave us? PS managed to speak to “Simon” who is a hotelier in St. Lucia, who has managed to link us up with his friend “Trevor’s” apartments. So we have two 1-bedroom flats to stay in. The following is the questions that I was most concerned about. The following is the answer that I was provided with.

Do we know the address of this place? No. Turns out addresses are quite unnecessary. We are supposed to land at the airport and call Trevor to acquire the required directions.  This I am sure will end well. May the great flying spaghetti monster have mercy on my meatballs.

That sounded wrong.  

Words that move and do other things

Good day my beautiful mudskippers,
As we all know that being an elite, erudite, and thoroughly charming bloke that I am, means that I have certain sectors of populace to please. Consequently, I took my own sweet arse time to put the videos of my India trip up. While the audio is a bit off and there is plenty of shaky cam. (I refer to them as the typos of the video world) I would suggest that you have a box of  tissues beside you because you are about to be taken through an emotional tour-de-force.
The videos are after the jump, and I would suggest having HD switched on.

Different kind of travel

Being single is boring. Turns out you can only laugh at your jokes only so many times, if you hold hands in public people look at you strangely and if you try to snog yourself, you leave lip marks on the mirror. Okay, none of this happened, but solitude does become boring when I am not running, climbing, biking or working.

So today, I am treating you to a different kind of travel. I am entering the scary world of online dating. Your protestations aside, my little narwhals, there are times when drop dead stunning bloggers such as myself must brave this new world.