Hitchhike to India leg 62: Khao Sok to Ranong

Friday 23 December

The second hitchhike with the American begins a little shakily, and it’s the first test of our ability to travel together. This is why I prefer (and generally do) hitchhike solo. We’ve been waiting a good while at the end of the village road – which should usually be a great spot – but with nothing doing we begin to knock heads. Then finally at my suggestion, we walk a few hundred yards away from the junction, up the hill and round the bend – which is exactly where Alex was driving me.

Flogging dead horses.

Flogging dead horses.

And sure enough, experience pays off. Hitchhiking in a built up or busy area might seem like a good idea with a steady flow of traffic, but you’ll be hard pressed to get a ride. Once you’re out in the sticks, at least appearing to be in the middle of nowhere, you’re pretty much guaranteed that anyone who passes you (and has room) will pull over. There’s something about the desperation of it. A human being in peril and needing help, miles from civilisation. I always remember a scene in Superman II, when a newly powerless Clark Kent is trying to get back to his home in the Arctic in a bid to return to becoming Superman, and he’s wandering down a lengthy stretch of ice road in a blizzard. He’s freezing cold and can barely see his hands in front of his face when a big rig truck appears behind him and he turns to thumb a ride. It doesn’t stop, even as he desperately waves at the driver to pull over and give him a lift, it still thunders heartlessly past. In the scene, it solidifies how alone he has become. In reality – that would just never happen. In that situation, possibly life or death in arctic wastes, ANYONE who drove by would stop and give you a ride. Otherwise, you’re simply not human.

No rides mean plenty of photo opportunities.

No rides mean plenty of photo opportunities.

This isn’t the arctic wastes, but it is the jungle, and sure enough my instinct is right. We’re not really in the middle of nowhere (only having just left the village junction found the corner) but you can trick people into thinking you are, and as we struggle up the hill with our packs on in the heat, pretty much the first vehicle that passes slows down to pick us up. I bet my bottom dollar they wouldn’t have stopped if we were still by the village. We jump in the back, thankful for the first ride of the day, with me smiling like a smug bastard. I can never get enough of saying “I told you so.”

The view from the pickup.

The view from the pickup.

Riding in the back of a pickup with a partner is a lot of fun though. Usually, I do this alone, with only my thoughts and observations to keep me company, so it’s really nice to have someone to talk to and bounce off of. This is especially good if the scenery is awesome – which it really is. If you come to Thailand there is simply one thing you must do – get out of the cities.

We wanna go that way please.

We wanna go that way, please.

It’s a short ride before we’re dropped on the main highway again, and then it’s easy pickings. From here there isn’t much of a tale to tell. We’re waiting no more than five minutes before our next ride can take us up to Kurabure, and following a quick coffee/toilet break, we’re in the back of our next ride all the way to our destination.

I look retarded.

I look retarded.

From there it’s easy to book passage to the islands, but not before we meet some douche American traveler who up until that point believed that he was the best thing since sliced bread. But after seeing us jump out the back of a truck, he’s clearly dismayed that he hasn’t thought about or BEEN SEEN to be hitchhiking.

“Are you hitchhiking?” He asks with a disappointed tone, before scoffing; “Yeah I think my stuff is too heavy to hitchhike with.”

Bollocks mate. Total bollocks. He’s laboriously showing off that he’s camping, going “off the beaten track” and traveling with one of those all green army surplus back packs – as opposed to the more traditional (and colourful) ones that everyone else has. “My stuff is too heavy to hitchhike with.” Ahhahahaha. Fuuuuck offfff! You couldn’t LIFT my bag you absolute twat.

Maybe I’m being a bit harsh. Did I mention that I hate people?

Ferry time.

Ferry time.

Thankfully we’re going in opposite directions, and me and the bird pile onto a speed boat to take us across the water, and into a hurricane. Well not exactly – but we certainly hit some rough weather as we enter under a storm cloud. For someone who is fearless at getting into the back of motors with strangers, I do tend to shit myself in situations like this. I’m doing my best to show this is all completely fine as the boat rockets through and over the waves like a rollercoaster, beaming a fake smile and hiding behind my clip-on sunglasses. Water lashes from the heavens and from the sea and my gut is churning.  I’m generally not a big fan of speed, and I mean that in every sense of the word.

YOU'RE HEADING INTO THE EYE OF THE MONSTER!!

YOU’RE HEADING INTO THE EYE OF THE MONSTER!!

A little damp, we break out into sunshine on the other side and set foot on Koh Phayam – our island home for the Christmas holidays. A beautiful, relaxing, tropical paradise…

…or so I thought.

The next tale is a belter...

The next story is a belter…

Read More

Khao Sok National Park

Thursday 22 December

What the hell am I doing here?  Speeding across a vast, deep, dammed lake with 15 other randoms, sat low in a motor-canoe type thing, all the while on the way to a trek into dense Thai jungle, to then go potholing through a daylight-void cave of inky blackness. Oh I know – it’s because Alex wants to do it.  And what Alex wants, Alex gets.  And actually – I didn’t find it all that bad either.

Cheow Lan Lake, Khao Sok National Park

Cheow Lan Lake, Khao Sok National Park

Our day starts with an hour long (and not very comfortable) juggle around in the back of a taxi-truck vehicle.  I really do wish to know what these are called, as it’s not a taxi, it’s not a tuk-tuk, and it’s not a truck.  It’s kind of a combination of all three.  You’re crammed in, sitting facing each other, knees up to the chin, and at the mercy of the elements, while the vehicle’s distinct lack of any notable suspension becomes achingly apparent. It’s fun for about 5 minutes.

Sardined. Not happy.

Sardined. Not happy.

Fellow random tourists.

Fellow random tourists.

From one crazy transport to another, we’re shuffled into one of those boats that always look like they come from Vietnam.  You know the kind – the really long thin ones that have an outboard motor ten feet behind the stern, and that can go from naught to sixty before you shit your pants. No, it’s not racist!  I always think they look like they come from Vietnam! Anyway, we’re bundled onto one of those and all given a lifejacket, even though the rest of the crew are clearly too hard and too cool for school to wear one. And then off we go, us and another gazillion boats, scattered across the lake, all clearly visible from the high-res tourists on board.

"I'm goin' up the country...up where you wanna go..."

“I’m goin’ up the country…up where you wanna go…”

Cheow Lan Lake sits in an area of rainforest older than its Amazon counterpart, and is entirely man-made, with an ambitious dam project being completed in 1982.  And it’s pretty damn beautiful; as I’m sure you can tell from some of the snaps I managed to take.  The area is home to some wonderfully diverse flora and fauna, some of which we were hoping to see, others we can do without.

Another boat makes its way across the waters.

Another boat makes its way across the waters.

Navigating the seas.

Navigating the seas.

The stunning landscape unfolds.

The stunning landscape unfolds.

We’re taken to a floating hotel thing and I thank god that we’re not staying in it.  It’s not that it isn’t nice – it’s perfectly pleasant – but on the edge of the jungle and with this abundance of water, you’ve no idea how many flying or crawling things are going to come and visit.  This is especially true during a visit to the bathroom, where Alex chances on a monkey raiding a litter bin.  This isn’t too bad really, but the cobwebs in the little boy’s room are a different matter entirely, forcing me to bung up – and I decide I’ll poo later.  I do so love how my body works sometimes.  Very similar to attending music festivals when I was younger – my system (not wanting to visit those ghastly chemical toilets full of pebble-dashed-post-drug-binge-defecation) would simply shut down.  I went four days at V97 without so much as a turtle’s head.  The same applies when entering a jungle commode potentially filled with eight legged freaks. I’ll wait for a fully enclosed stall thank you.  I don’t want anything crawling up my anus.

Lake side hotel. Full of things.

Lake side hotel. Full of things.

I’m sorry I got carried away there.  Where was I? Oh yes – the beauty of nature! God’s gorgeous creations! The delightful content of the jungle.  The first of which we discover as we set sail for a trek deep into the undergrowth – a large, brightly coloured arachnid just hanging from a tree – deliberately waiting for someone like me to just walk into it. Selfish bastard.  Either that or the tour staff have just hung it there five minutes prior to our arrival.  Either way – so long as I know where they are I’m ok.

Urgh! Just stay where you are.

Urgh! Just stay where you are.

As it’s been raining – obviously – the trekking path is a mud pool.  We’re covered in filth within moments, and it becomes a struggle to stand up in places.  We’re also wading through deep sections of water – which once again I’m apprehensive about, as I don’t know what is attempting to swim up my penis. But in spite all of this outside of comfort zone shit, I actually begin to enjoy it.

THIS IS MY...CAMERA...THERE ARE MANY MORE LIKE IT BUT THIS ONE IS MINE...!"

THIS IS MY…CAMERA…THERE ARE MANY MORE LIKE IT BUT THIS ONE IS MINE…!”

Once I’ve settled into the fear of the things that are out there – I can feel myself becoming used to it. I don’t shit myself every time I duck under a twisted vine, or I’m forced to wade through muddy waters.  This is something I’ve always admired about the locals – who of course take all of this in their stride.  It doesn’t faze them one bit what could be lurking in the shadows – because they’ve lived with it all their lives. Ahhh but imagine their fear if they saw a highland cow! They’d run a country mile.

DSC06889

Indiana Jones I am not.

Loads of bamboo. Managed to take some home as a souvenir.

Loads of bamboo. Managed to take some home as a souvenir.

Eat your heart out Tarzan.

Eat your heart out Tarzan.

It's actually very beautiful.

It’s actually very beautiful.

About 2.5 kilometres in, we reach the cave, and with headlamps and flashlights ready, we file inside.  It’s pitch dark without the aid the lamps, and this time we’re armpit deep in water.  It reminds me of the time I went ghyll-scrambling as part of a school team building weekend when I was about 13.  Except that trip didn’t have tarantulas. On the way back from scaling a waterfall (really cool by the way) there he is.  Finally, I spot my nemesis.  He’s a good distance above us (thank Christ) but the unmistakable horror of a black tarantula lumbers off into the darkness, hiding from the intrusion of flashlight. I fucking hate you, you giant hairy bastard!

They're in there. They're all in there.

They’re in there. They’re all in there.

It was pretty cool to see one though. The closest I’ve ever come before was when it scuttled across the road as we drove an Ambulance on a charity rally through Mexico.  We were just not close enough to hit it.

What fresh hell is this?

What fresh hell is this?

The Lady of the Lake.

The Lady of the Lake.

There's a boat Jack...

There’s a boat Jack…

As far as I had controlled aspects of my fear – I was still very relieved when we return to the boat and finally to the ride home. Jungles aren’t exactly my thing – as much as I actually love snakes, being the complete opposite of Indiana Jones – this habitat is generally one I’m happy to see only in movies.  It’s just unfortunate that I’m stuck with them for the next 6 countries.

Please enjoy a selection of the photographs I wasn’t too afraid to take, dear readers. From the comfort of your spider-free living room. Let me in. Please let me in.

Read More

Hitchhike to India leg 61: Phuket to Khao Sok National Park

Wednesday 21 December

If it had been up to me, I’d probably have been sleeping in a bar in Phuket town instead of writing this somewhere close to completing a round trip from Bangkok to Singapore.  Currently, I’m not wearing the trousers.  Alex has a bee in her bonnet about a day visit to the Khao Sok National park – which is along our way (and a little to the right) to where we’re actually meant to be spending Christmas and New Year.  Who am I to argue?  My hitchhike has been hitchjacked.

Alex makes her first ever hitchhike sign.

Alex makes her first ever hitchhike sign.

So off we set at a moderate pace to try our luck at getting out of Phuket town without the need to take public transport to the city limits.  Hitchwiki and other sites of information are careful about confirming that this is a good idea – as there have been some horror stories of hitchers getting into what they think is a free ride only to be robbed blind by a taxi driver under threat of being taken to the police.  Still, odds were in favour of us attracting the sort of ride we need, and during our march towards a decent spot on the highway, our gamble pays off.

Cars are not supposed to stop on the red and white lines, apparently.

Cars are not supposed to stop on the red and white lines, apparently.

The first ride of the day is a lovely young lady who can’t take us far, but certainly out of the city build up and well on the road.  Once there it should be easy pickings, but not before being told a couple of times that we need to move away from the red and white painted curb – as it is illegal for vehicles to stop there and police will come down heavy.  That being said, our next ride takes the risk and can give us a lift almost to the airport.  We’re there by 11 am and we saved 8 bucks for our trouble.

Alex tries her luck.

Alex tries her luck.

We’re waiting only seconds before our third hitch swings in – and he’s an absolute hoot.  Addy was an engineer who used to build bridges.  He built the bridge across the Persian Gulf from Bahrain amongst others, but at around 55 years of age admits that he is slowing down in his quest to see the world.  A polyglot by nature of his travel and work, he’d lived in San Francisco for a long time as well as Bahrain and Saudi Arabia, and here he was giving us a ride before starting work at a local construction site. Certainly an entertaining character and one of my most interesting hitchhike drivers to date, Addy drops us just over the bridge outside Phuket on highway number 4.  Home straights already, cooking on gas.

Leave it to the pro...

Leave it to the pro…

About two minutes after we’re back by the side of the road following lunch at a nearby hawker stand, and we’re in the back of our fourth ride of the day.  And it looks like for the first time it’s the driver that hasn’t made the decision.  The young lady in the passenger seat is a business woman going to a meeting in Ranong (our destination in a couple of days’ time – it’s a shame she can’t pass by again) and has clearly told her driver to pick us up.  Not only that, but she commands him to drive us off the highway and at least 30 KM out of her way in order to get us to a good spot for our destination.  This is getting ridiculous – and Alex and I have not murdered each other as a result.

It’s a quieter road now as we’re off the main drag, deep into the jungle and into the national park.  There’s barely a whisper of traffic, and we’re also joined by a local woman who needs a ride to the next town.  Yet low and behold – round the bend comes one of those lovely 4x4s, and with the Thai lady in the cab and the two of us in the truck bed, we’re dropped right outside the entrance to the village.  It’s not even 4 pm.

Super.

Super.

Walking about a kilometer into the town we find comfortable dwellings amidst the backdrop of the jungle.  It’s here that the Raffelisia is to be found – the largest flower in the world.  It can grow up to three feet across and weigh up to 15 pounds.  Unfortunately, we’re a little too late to go off in search of it, as the national park is shutting its doors for the night, and hopefully shutting nasty things in.  Although I’m somewhat relieved, I’m less than a little excited about the amount of crawling and flying activity in and around our accommodation upon our return and wrap myself in the mosquito net just to be on the safe side.

5 rides, 5 hours, 176 KM.  It’s been an easy, leisurely hitch, taking our time and spending no more than a few moments actually on the side of the road with thumbs out.  Now to visit the beautiful Cheow Larn Lake, and take in a jungle trek with lots of things that can kill you.  I hope she’s happy.

Read More

Phuket – overrun shit-hole. Mostly.

Monday 19 December

The province of Phuket is an interesting place, depending on who you are and what you’re looking for.  There is, as they say, something for everyone, but not necessarily everything for someone.  Or something.  Anyway, the highlight of my stay here is of course, reuniting with my Bishkek baby and partner in crime Alex, as she flies out to experience first-hand what it’s like to hitchhike with a crabby old misanthrope.  They say if you find the person you can travel with you must never let them go.  Maybe that’s why I’m still single.

Phuket old town. Easily the most charming thing about the place.

Phuket old town. Easily the most charming thing about the place.

We’re staying in Phuket town, which at first glance appears to be the land that time forgot.  There doesn’t appear to be much here, and I’m wondering why Alex booked it.  I’m considering the possibility it’s because I couldn’t get to the beach to find three Russian models to bring back to the hotel, and that tucking me safely out of harm’s way was the right course of action.  However there is certainly more here than meets the eye – and in the long run, we’re both very thankful that this is home base.

There's some really cool street art to find here. I say street art - it's only because I can't spell grafititi.

There’s some really cool street art to find here. I say street art – it’s only because I can’t spell grafititi.

Phuket town is a charming wander, with interesting buildings and street art aplenty, and some wonderful places to chow down on street food, get an incredible Thai massage, or simply lie on the grass by a round-about, blind drunk and looking up at the stars.  It’s quiet here too – which serves me well considering how much I hate people.  But of course, the obligatory visit to other parts of the (kind of) island are warranted.

We don’t actually visit Patong beach – which by all accounts looks like – and is – a hole of a place.  This you can glean just from looking a map of it.  One long stretch of sand with garish, shitty joints and insalubrious establishments dotted along the front, geared towards speedo wearing, lard-bellied Europeans and Russians – of which there are more of here than in their own countries.  Perhaps finally learning my lessons from San Juan Del Sur, Kavos and Koh Samui – I’m happy to give this place a wide, WIDE berth.

It's alright I suppose.

It’s alright I suppose.

We opt instead for the (slightly) quieter region of Kata, which – as the sun goes down – is actually rather pleasant.  There’s still a significant Russian presence here, which is evident in waiters trying to tempt us in by bawling the language at us.  Of course, Alex is fluent and keen to show it outside her usual stomping ground of Kyrgyzstan – but I certainly don’t want to be confused for being from there.  It’s bad enough that people think I’m German.

I jest of course.  Or do I?  No, I do.  HAhAhAHAh.    HA. Hahaha.  Ha.  I’m running out of things to write about Phuket, aren’t I?  Oh, wait!  Taxis!  FUCKING EXTORTIONATE.  Buses don’t run after around 5 pm, which in itself is outrageous, and it’s clear that everyone is in cahoots to charge stupid money from tourists after hours.  Some kind of taxi mafia exists which is in league with local police too.  After leaving a late night showing of Rogue One (very good – but more like a Star Wars video game than a Star Wars film), we’re robbed about ten GPB just for the privilege to get home.  Taxi transport here is at London prices, so watch yourself if you’re caught out late.

I like this picture. It reminds me of Monet...

I like this picture. It reminds me of Monet…

Phuket is also the gateway to some of the most beautiful islands Thailand has to offer.  Or did have to offer.  This includes famous locales such as the ‘beach beach’ – which is the beach from the film of the same name; and ‘James Bond island’ which is taken from the finale of The Man with the Golden Gun.  Movie fan(s) that I am (we are) we didn’t go to either.

Alright, alright pipe down dear readers.  Of course, this might appear to be a little travel snobbery on my part – and perhaps it is – but I don’t care.  I’ve seen the pictures of these places – awash with a hoard of holiday makers, and you pay over the odds to be shoe-horned onto a boat, given a short time to explore a place you can’t see over the throng of sun-hatted-lobster-flaps, thong-sporting-skin-cancer wannahaves (melting with age and UV) and giant-camera-wielding-photo-envy-sauruses.  Then you get a distinctly average lunch menu, with a friendly English speaking guide who doesn’t speak English, before being shipped back with the masses.  Not my idea of a holiday, not my idea of traveling, and most certainly not my idea of fun.  We decide to save the expensive and overpriced ticket money for a rainy day – but to each their own.

A giant crayfish on the side of a building. Much more fun than a load of Russians in speedos.

A giant crayfish on the side of a building. Much more fun than a load of Russians in speedos.

And speaking for rainy days – there are lots of them.  We are in the season after all.  This I’m not too bothered about, as I prefer the rain to the sun, and so long as that shit is coming down – I ain’t getting burnt.

Buddhist temple in the old town.

Buddhist temple in the old town.

With the exception of the old town (places of its ilk I’d dearly like to see more of – but I keep getting dragged to party beaches), Phuket isn’t anything to write home about.  On the morrow will be my first hitch with a hitch buddy since my Australian friend Olivia and I gorged ourselves on Magnum ice creams while tearing through Turkey two years ago.  It’s also Alex’s first ever hitch hike.  Wish us luck – because I reckon the next time you see a picture one of us is going to have no hair.

Below is a small selection of the weird and wonderful you can find wandering around the old town. When I could be bothered to take a picture.

Read More

Hitchhike to India leg 60: Trang to Phuket

Sunday 18 December

I sleep in.  This is because I’m still exhausted from yesterday’s hitch, and I know that if I surely can make the remaining 287 km to Phuket with relative ease.  But nothing ever comes that easy in the hitch world.  Or does it?

Last nights digs. I've stayed in worse.

Last nights digs. I’ve stayed in worse.

It’s 11 am and bright with sunshine as I hand my key over at the reception desk and bid them farewell.  It’s only a short walk to a road which will lead directly to my destination, and I have two signs made – both in English – one for Phuket and one for the closer town of Krabi.  I find a decent spot for cars to pull in and stick out my thumb.  This is going to be easy.

Waited here an age.

Waited here an age.

Except it isn’t.  There’s far too much local traffic, many vehicles are rammed with passengers and – worst of all – people keep stopping to offer to take me to the bus station.  Regular readers will understand this is one of my biggest pet peeves.  As much as I understand how kind and hospitable they’re trying to be, when you’re constantly politely declining ten to fifteen offers it gets grating – especially when it takes up time from actually getting a real ride.

Finally in the back of a truck.

Finally in the back of a truck.

And it isn’t only the road traffic that stops.  This is such a busy street and intersection, I’m getting a lot of unwanted attention from those bane-of-my-life scooters, who are all buzzing curiously around, barking suggestions and getting in the way of the vehicles I want.  With a forced perma-grin etched on my tiring face, I continually attempt to explain what I’m trying to do and that I don’t need a bus or a taxi – eventually struggling to maintain my courtesy and patience.  Nobody is doing anybody any favours.

This helped.

This helped.

About half an hour goes by (which is nothing in the grand hitch of things – but in places like Thailand it’s a lifetime), and so I opt to change my sign into Thai.  This is perhaps something I should have done already but I went for the benefit of the doubt.  Feeling like an artist at the Montmartre, several passers-by stop to peer over my shoulder at my handiwork.

This wasn't particularly nice to share the pickup with. No idea what it could have been.

This wasn’t particularly nice to share the pickup with. No idea what it could have been.

Thai roads are pretty damn decent.

Thai roads are pretty damn decent.

“Ahhhhh KRABI!” Someone exclaims when I’m nearly done copying the lettering from a signpost – as if they really had no idea that’s what my sign in English was alluding to.  This I find fascinating – but it works both ways – as I couldn’t even begin to guess what their beautiful (but squiggly) alphabet means just the same.  Gold and missing teeth are shown in a couple of grins around me and a clamour of chatter crescendos.  No sooner have I held up my new placard to a fresh torrent of traffic than one of those lovely pick-up trucks pulls over.

What I do when I overtake someone who should have picked me up. (They were far enough away to not cause offence...)

What I do when I overtake someone who should have picked me up. (They were far enough away to not cause offence…)

“KRABI! KRABI” WE GO KRABI!” exclaims the excited passenger as he exits the nearside and urges me into the truck bed.  It says a lot for making your hitch signs in the local language.

The main issue with riding in the back. And I'd put sunscreen on!

The main issue with riding in the back. And I’d put sunscreen on!

And so I’m finally off.  A little later than I thought or wanted to be – and didn’t imagine I’d run into that much (manageable) difficulty – but I’m off nonetheless.  I’ve originally envisioned a two ride trip – one to Krabi and then one to my destination of Phuket.  If you look at a map of that region of Thailand, you can see from my start point and home base of Trang, that Krabi is about half way to my goal.  So the sensible option would be a ride there and then a ride to Phuket.  Easy peasy once you’re on the road and ticking the boxes, inching closer to the final destination.  I was unprepared for quite how easy this would be.

Through the Thai countryside.

Through the Thai countryside.

Keeping track of my little blue dot on my now indispensable GPS smart phone, and I follow my progress all the way to Krabi, where the guys turn off the highway and start making for the town centre.  I tap on the cab roof to indicate I need to get off here, and as I jump out I explain to the passenger that I’m actually going to Phuket and I need to be back on the highway – thank you very much etc, etc.

“WE GO PHUKET!”  He beams, nodding enthusiastically.

“YOU GO PHUKET?!” I stammer, holding out and pointing to my Phuket sign.  This happens the obligatory average of seven times before we’re all in agreement that we’re all going to Phuket. I shriek for joy before frightening the life out of the laughing man by throwing my arms around him in a bear hug.  Elated, I heave myself back into the pickup and settle in for the remainder of the journey.

The only way to travel.

The only way to travel.

I honestly can’t believe my luck.  At first, I thought today was going to be tougher than anticipated, then the next thing I know I’m getting ONE RIDE all the way to my destination.  Those guys turned off the highway to drop me in Krabi town too – so they were obviously going out of their way to get me where they thought I needed to be.  This becomes more apparent when they stop just after crossing from the mainland into Phuket – ask where my hostel is – and then duly drop me right at the door of it.  Unbelievable.

Home for the week - door to door service.

Home for the week – door to door service.

This time the driver exits the cab too, and with the three of us grinning ear to ear, I warmly shake their hands before waving them off and briskly stride towards check in.  It’s taken me one ride and 5 hours to travel 287 KM – which on these winding roads is about the same time as estimated by google maps.  Probably the fastest and easiest hitchhike so far, and now to await the imminent arrival of partner in crime and the emperor herself – Alexandra Mentele.  I’d best cram a night of drinking in.

Read More
Website Apps