Prague... No warning sign?!

Awake from our deep three-hour sleep, we got out of bed before midnight and like superwomen, we were ready in a few twirls. The minicab was waiting outside. Troy, Hala and I were driven to the address, where we got off by a paved area by the river, next to a green, 40-meter-long party boat. The sound of house music could be heard outside, close to a bridge, with what seemed like office buildings on the other side of the road, standing at a misty distance.

The three of us went on board and walked into a smoky area, with leather armchairs on each side of the entrance, a small DJ booth on the left and a couple of steps down. There was the bar on the right with a dance floor next to it. I must add, the cloud of smoke made my eyes tearful in no time but the music was good and the way the DJ looked down and smiled at me, I decided the smoke was not going to bother me. We ordered vodka and cranberry each and danced. Torsten arrived and introduced us to people he had met on his nightly outings in Prague.
He first introduced me to Barbara; a young, blonde, friendly Czech who then introduced me to 'her boyfriend', an older man, in a white jacket, smiling at her side.
"This is Steve," Barbara said. "He's from Liverpool. A true scouser, my man."
They were very pleasant and invited me to have a joint with them on the leather seats. As they expressed their love for one another, Barbara suddenly pointed at a new arrival on the boat, surrounded by three others.
"Look, here's the guy if you wanna get ecstasy, he's your man." She said.
I turned around to see the recommended dealer who seemed most popular.

After a quick discussion with my travel companions, we decided to go for it. We had a 48-hour schedule to maintain and a little substance could take us a long way.
With the purchase in place, Hala and I looked at each other and thought... 'Let's do the whole one rather than half. That should keep us going for hours.'
And on that note, we swallowed a whole E with some water to wash it down.

I have to point out, that my keyword is 'moderation'. You can 'almost' do anything in life and enjoy it if you learn to keep things in moderation. It is when you overdo things that get you in trouble eventually. Use it, don't abuse it, is my motto. 

Back on the dancefloor, I started to feel irritated from the smoky atmosphere. I went on deck for some fresh air. The night was beginning to get chilly. The toilets were on the other side of the boat, which meant I had to traverse through the cloudy area again. I managed to get to the ladies. As I was washing my hands, I felt the boat rock, like a tsunami had hit the river! 

Walking back as steadily as I could support myself through the dancing crowd, I felt a strange pain in my stomach, different to any feeling I ever had before.
I got on deck to join Troy and Hala and in no time, got to the roadside of the river on the boat and threw up overboard! 

Now, that is a rare occasion. I simply do not throw up! I like being in control; whatever state I am in. I was truly bothered by what was happening to me and yet tried to go about it as elegantly as I possibly could. Well, I had blue fur around my neck, with a tissue in one hand to dub on my lips as though I had been having afternoon tea at the Ritz and was dusting the crust away from my mouth. Opposite this scene, was a man sitting on the stairs of the pavement, leaning against a short wall behind him, a full glass of drink in hand, smiling at me, without changing expression or looking away!  

My first thoughts were... Wow, the E's in Prague must be super strong. Am I really throwing up? Does this stranger opposite get a kick out of seeing a woman puke? As it turned out, he seemed to have been out of it and had his eyes shut a while later, still smiling! I then looked up to see a couple of gorgeous-looking men get on board. Thank goodness they did not see me in that state! So I smiled and waited till they had their back to me before I could continue with my ritual. Oh, dear! That was not good.
Troy was super concerned: "Are you alright Haldita?"
"No," I replied, "Is there a proper toilet you could get me to around here?"
We were almost in the middle of nowhere! Just lucky enough to have a couple of taxis standing on the side road by now.
I saw Troy approach the driver and ask: "Is there a 5-star toilet nearby?"
He cracked me up, only if I was in a state to laugh.
At this point, we were all feeling uneasy and got in the cab on our way back to Torsten's, with him nowhere in sight. And so, we left the boat party.

I must have been 'tripping' in the taxi as Hala was covering me with her jacket to keep me warm. It was a feeling totally alien to me.
Troy and Hala were trying to figure out what was in that pill?
After a lengthy ride and the conclusion it must have been LSD we had taken, we finally arrived at our destination and got in the flat, to lay on the L-shaped sofa with a duvet on to warm up.
All I could hear was Hala saying: "We must be tripping."
I got what was left of my strength together and said from under the duvet: "Sis, can you stop repeating that word, it's disturbing me! We're on a trip already... Tripping! Tripping!"
The rest of the night was spent under the duvet giggling at the outcome of what was supposed to be our night out in Prague!
"This is so bizarre, this feeling." I kept repeating myself. "So bizarre."
There was a sensation of pins and needles on the surface of my skin, from the upper arms to the lower, which then moved to other parts of the body. I had a feeling of utter exhaustion, where you just do not want to move but stay warm and just... Trip I guess. By no choice.

Hala told us stories of being in Goa many years ago when it was a hippie colony, very different to the developed Goa nowadays. She met Eric, a skinny older Scotsman living there, with long grey hair and a silver beard down to his belly. He was known as the God of Acid. She talked about the nights spent around a big fire lit on the beach, listening to the hippies playing music and dancing.
I then said: "I really feel I'm in Goa now and I've never been before."

Troy managed to call Torsten and said: "We're back at your place chilling. Come for a bit and we'll see what happens."
Torsten could be heard on the other side of the line: "Noooo. My home? Dude, I've been there a million times before. I don't wanna come home."
However, half an hour later, the door of the flat opened and Torsten literally jumped in, giving us a momentary fright. He said:
"I'm tooootally disappointed in you."
"Where were you?" Asked Troy, "I came looking for you."
"Well,"  Torsten answered, "I've been going according to our Plan. Unlike you all! You girls missed the dinner and now Le Clan!"
"Well," I said leaning on one elbow, "We would have if we had got ecstasy as opposed to LSD! And I threw up... Elegantly I may add."
"No," Torsten was amazed, "Really?! Stop saying TU."
"We've been tripping all this time!"  Hala had to mention that word again. "What? TU?"
"Oh! TU for throw up!" I laughed, "Seriously, Torsten."

Thank goodness, the weather on Saturday was cold and rainy, which made it a better excuse to stay in for the next 24 hours! All I wanted was for this feeling of exhaustion to go away and to have my energy back.
Salar messaged me to ask how our trip to Prague was going. When I mentioned how the E turned into Acid, he wrote back: "I would like to remind you of what we discussed together last week... What is on the floor, stays on the floor!"
"No, no," I replied, "We actually bought the stuff!"
"Hahaha," Salar wrote, "When are you coming back?"
"From which trip?" I answered. "I was sitting in front of a white wall for some time, waiting for the view to appear."
"Try to watch a cartoon," Salar suggested.
"We are cartoons, baby." That was my reply. "When I last looked in the bath mirror, I looked like Countess Dracula with mascara running down one cheek."
"It should only last for 12 hours honey."  His remark did not sound promising. He continued: "Did you have a love bite on your neck as well?"
"You're too sharp Salar." I said, "No. I wish at least! All I did was throw up in the river overboard.  No time to give a love bite either."
Hahaha... We both wrote.

Oh boy did we giggle. But I really pray that this never happens to me again. I promised myself to be seriously careful with what I take. My kinesiologist today mentioned how I have to take some anti-oxidants for a month to get rid of the effect of that pill which I TU-ed and still managed to damage my body with. She played a piece of music by Vivaldi to calm my senses which happened to be a concert we sadly missed inside a cathedral in Prague. And why did we miss it?!

The story goes on of course... We managed to get some sleep before...
The rest of the Prague trip is to follow.

However much appreciated Prague is... It's still underrated

Gosh... Haldita has been missing in action here. 'I'm sooooooo busy'.

Well, as you would have well gathered from the heading, it was a spare-of-moment decision, to take a trip (in more ways than one), to Prague. I would call it an open-air museum where the magnificence of baroque and Gothic architecture embrace one another with the flow of Art Deco, to present sights beyond one's imagination.  Beauty in one mind-blowing building after another, where the eyes follow the lines of each sight,  only to stop... at the next one and try to take in all this glory. 'Demasiado' is the word Hala and I kept repeating it. 'Too much'... In Spanish of course.

The story is bubbling in my mind...
It was the previous Saturday, that Hala and I, joined by Troy and Torsten, who are both tall, energetic, with a great sense of humour and extremely friendly in their general approach to everyone, went to Shoreditch to meet up with the lovely Shane for an evening of fun and music in a small underground club; the Nest.
As it happened, the DJ was not quite playing our tunes, so we ended up driving to Fabric with the three big lads and Hala in my (kind of) sporty car!
Although the music was totally to our liking, we did not stay long but before we left Torsten who had been living and working in Prague for the past four years, said:
"I'm off to Prague next weekend, to pack up and move back to London."
"Really," Hala responded with a sigh.  "You know Prague is top on my list of places to visit.  I've never been."
Torsten's eyes lit up in the dark: "Then, you must come with Troy and Haldita." He turned towards me and said: "I've told you before. Le Clan's eleventh anniversary starts on Friday night for 48 hours! Aaaand it's my favourite after-party club; come."
Troy's first response was: "Oh! I can't, I've been there 8 times and I'm busy with my new project."
The words left my lips without a moment's thought: "Brilliant. I went there some eleven years ago with a girlfriend in November and it was minus ten degrees! Would love to see it now in warmer conditions and besides, she fell asleep at dinner at 8.30 on me every night."
"Seriously?" Hala was more than excited. "I'm gonna change my ticket for next week. I was meant to be flying home next Sunday."
Torsten was very serious: "Yes, do it."
And so... We did it.

On Friday at about 10 am, we met up with Troy at Prague airport! He had flown on a different airline to us. The three of us went outside in the sun and caught a taxi to Torsten's; who had flown in the night before.  As Troy went to pay the taxi driver, he turned around to us at the back of the cab and said: "Oh Oh... No good, the amount on the meter says 6-6-6. Nooooo good." We laughed at his comment.

We took the lift to Torsten's modern maisonette and shortly after, the four of us headed out for lunch at Kogo in Slovansky Dum (Slovak House). As we were let out the taxi, I asked: 

"What's thank you in Czech?"
Torsten answered a word, not dissimilar to 'deekeyoo'.
"What?" I asked again.
"Just say deeke for short," Torsten answered.
"Or dik, dik." Troy grinned.
"Dik, dik?" I questioned. "You're kidding me, right?"
"Dik so much." Hala laughed.
"Guys, guys... Deeeke." Torsten added.

At the airy, off-white, modern restaurant, we took our seats close to the glass, fronting the outdoor, green space.  The table got bigger after a lengthy fabulous lunch of pasta and red wine. We were joined firstly by the smiley Yvan, an American friend of the boys, I had once met briefly in London arrived, followed by Arnost, who only stayed briefly. Arnost was on his way home, to get ready for the beginning of his birthday celebrations that evening at a new restaurant their friend had opened, followed by Le Clan. We were, of course, to accompany Trosten to the events.

We left the restaurant on foot at around 4 pm, to be shown around this marvellous city, by our host; as in a fast-forward movie on a DVD. To keep following his long steps and try hard to take in all the names was quite an ordeal, nevertheless, worth every second. But how many 'wonders' can a city hold? Plenty.
The massive Old Town Square leaves the eyes wide open with the magnificence of the architecture and the mouth speechless.
 

The two small wooden shutters at the top of the building open at the strike of every hour for the statues inside to twirl with music. Torsten then whizzed us off through the backstreets to astonish us further with the view of Charles Bridge. And St Vitus Cathedral at the far end.

The lack of sleep from the previous night, due to late night packing (a mere 12 kg leather luggage to check in! made Hala very proud of me) and an early rise to catch the flight, added by the wine at lunch and all the sightseeing, was taking its toll on us. We paid a short visit to Yvan on our way back home.

Hala and I decided to be sensible and miss the birthday dinner for a couple hours' sleep, in order to join the boys and their friends later at the next destination... On a party boat. And fell fast asleep, not realising I had set my alarm for 10.30 am and not pm. We dreamed through the PINGs coming on my Blackberry from Torsten and the missed calls made by Troy!
One hour later, the downstairs door slammed shut and we saw Troy climbing up the stairs, with his arms up in the air: "Where are you girls? We tried to call. Com' on up you get. We're meeting everyone on the boat."

And so... The night to remember began to kick off.
You guessed it... To be continued... TBC

Ocean Dream... Aruba, Cartagena, Panama Canal and on...

While watching so many cities of the world in chaos and feeling deeply hurt by their pain, life goes on elsewhere. It's not that I don't feel the sorrow of others, but I also realise how life is short and the need to get on with my life the best I can, while I can.

We went to Zuma's for dinner with a new girlfriend, Kristine. As we struggled for a table, a passion fruit martini was on order and got talking to some Greeks. They invited me to their restaurant in Mykonos in the summer. I thanked them and warned them if I came, it would be with a group of ten to twenty people!

We finally got shown to our table. Kristine went to the ladies and did not return for a while. I was people-watching when she came back in all excitement and stood next to me to say: "Haldita, you won't believe who's here... John Kerry. I just talked to him and took a photo with him."
I racked my brain, 'John Kerry rings a bell. Is he some hot Irish actor? Which movies?' I thought momentarily. While I was in my reverie, Kristine asked in shock: "You know who John Kerry is?" She added: "The ex US candidate for the presidency."
"Oh!" I must have had an indifferent look on my face and continued: "OK."
"But he's big. He almost became president."  Kristine went on: "Look, I took a picture with him on my iPhone. Everyone's taking photos, go and take one."
She showed me her photo with the tall, grey man.
"Yes, of course, I know." Now I sounded disappointed. "My phone camera doesn't work." I tried to get out of the obligation.
"Take mine," My friend offered, "Go."
"It's ok. He can wait. Let's have our sake first." I said as the sake was being served.
Kristine laughed in disbelief. If he was some hot-looking actor maybe, but some politician?! And not even Obama at the very least! Mmm... Of course, by the time, I was ready to offer Mr John Kerry the pleasure of a photo with me, haha, he was gone. I am not vain, just not into politics!
After dinner, we picked up Hala to go to Supper Club for a night of dancing et 'de la folie'.

It is actually the first time I truly felt at ease, sorry, an understatement!  Haha. I feel great about the way I look. It's not that I have lost any weight!  But I feel fit and strong after that lipo suction surgery I did almost a year and a half ago which left me in pain and sick for months on end. It's good to have regained my energy and there is nothing, but nothing more important than our health. I actually learnt to control my drinking from the South Americans on the cruise we went on for a week while in Venezuela. It sounds strange as the Latinos I had gathered drunk well.

The story is as follows: Teresa and Ramon, through their super friendly travel agent, suggested we take a cruise from Caracas, which only began running in December, to see another chosen destination: Cartagena in Colombia. The route of the cruise in seven days was: Embarkation at La Guaira in Caracas on a Tuesday, a day at Curaçao, a day at sea, Colon in Panama, Cartagena, Santa Marta and Aruba.
So we did it.
The idea of a cruise and being stuck with a group of people on a ship in the middle of the sea had never appealed to us before. But with a group of fun-loving Latinos... Why not?!
As the price of the cruise was inclusive of meals and drinks of any sort, we were expecting somewhat drunken behaviour from passengers. However, in one week, we never saw anyone behave out of character to that effect. A very mixed group of ages, there was music, dancing and a friendly atmosphere on the cruise.  Hardly anyone spoke any other language but Spanish and in the one week, we never met anyone from outside of their continent. So we got to practise our Spanish. Perfecto. And boy did I speak my heart out! We got invited by couples and ladies to all parts of South America. Very cultural as Hala puts it.

Ocean Dream was the name of the cruise liner, 205 meters long. We had a good size cabin with an en-suite shower room. TV which Hala turned on at night to watch the CNN news of the riots going on in many Islamic countries to get rid of their tyrant leaders, keeping up with the world while cruising the seas so far away from the troubles.

The Dutch-occupied Caribbean island of Curaçao was a vibrantly, colourful version of a city in the Netherlands, under the sun.

We took a colourful bus tour around the island with the jolly bus driver and tour guide, The Salsa Express as he called it. Curaçao's main source of income is from the oil refinery, the oil brought down from Venezuela. It lacked the rustic, unorganised feel of most islands in the Caribbean. Nevertheless, beautiful.

At the end of the tour, the tour guide played salsa music and being amongst the 'forever ready to dance' Latinos, people stood up in the moving bus and let their bodies follow the music. Shaking it with the happiest of smiles on their faces while the rest of us clapped.

We next got off at Panama and took another tour to visit the eighth wonder of the world, The Panama Canal.  Watching the movement of the cargo ship leaving from one side, while the water went down on the aisle next to us to let the old American warship enter from the other was a sight to watch. The process takes about 2 hours each time.

On the fourth day, we had the whole day to spend in Cartagena which had been high on our agenda, to visit. Cartagena has recently become super popular with visitors, celebrities and travellers. Entering the port onboard, we could first see a row of modern apartment blocks, quite Miami-like, mostly in white, followed by the dome of yet another cathedral in what looked like the old part of this well-known Colombian holiday destination.
As we entered the port of Cartagena, there was a tropical garden with dancers and musicians, welcoming the cruisers.

We were approached by a Venezuelan lady to join their group of two couples to take a tour around the town.  They, of course, thought we were Brazilian first, like everyone else we met.
We were first taken on a drive through the modern part of the city.

To the old part.  So much charm, walking through the pedestrianised streets of colourful houses; posadas discreetly hidden behind large wooden doors.

The middle photo of the statue of the irresistible La Gorda, lying in the middle of the main square, took my breath away. I had Hala take a photo of me almost biting her big toe. Now I ask you, if a skinny woman was lying there, would the attraction of this larger-than-life character be as significant? Not judging, simply reality-check. 
Cartagena is not a cheap destination to visit but its charm and beauty would definitely make it worth a visit. We left the lit-up city at night. Shame, as I have heard the partying scene in the city at night is fun and exciting. Never mind... There could always be a next time.

There is not much about Santa Marta in Colombia to report. I heard from someone I met at the pirate party on the ship, on the Thames here last week who had been there a month before our visit, that he had enjoyed a great time. However, our visit was very touristic, the beach we were dropped off at, was rather busy and the sea, not that pleasant to swim in. So, different times, different experiences.

Aruba, the second biggest Dutch Caribbean island was also colourful. Only 18 miles from Venezuela, the port was just off the main street and the sign of Louis Vuitton could be read on a shop across.

Aruba was filled with Cacti; four different types and views of the blue sea were stunning from every angle.

Everyone residing in Aruba speaks four languages by the age of 12. During the XIX century, there was a gold fever and soon afterwards, a refinery of petroleum was opened in 1924. The oil in countries like Venezuela and Iran seems to cause them so much chaos and yet the refineries of the oil in islands such as Curaçao and Aruba have brought them prosperity and peace!
We left on the cruise, watching another magnificent sunset on the blue seas.

Our one week on the cruise ended with meeting very friendly people and exchanging emails and phone numbers. We may never cross one another's paths... Or we may do. What is important... is that initial moment of bonding, however short or long.
Apart from adding to our worldly culture, I remember the smiling faces of people having fun.

If you put your head on your pillow with no friends to think about, the world could be a lonely place.  Embrace your loved ones with gratitude.

Bliss... In The Hippie Colony of Choroni

Today, I had moments of recalling the time spent on the sunny beaches of Los Roques and the drive by Ramon, accompanied by his lovely lady, Teresa to the hippie colony of Choroni.

It was towards the end of our trip.  Ramon had taken time off work to take us to a colony, four hours' drive from Caracas which was his second favourite place to visit in Venezuela.

We had been told by the young Venezuelan; Miguel, whom we met during the waiting period at the airport in Caracas, that the road through The Henry Pittier National Park (I'd say National Mountains) is narrow and dangerous. I forgot to mention Miguel.  Sitting two seats away from me at the back row of the gate, waiting to fly to Los Roques, I noticed a young, intellectual-looking, bearded man reading a book. He looked different, with curly dark hair and glasses, jeans falling off his backside (a sign of youth), every so often looking up with observing eyes. So... I began the chat.  His father was an ambassador many years ago, in the 'Belle Epoque' and he was brought up abroad in the Far East. He now got a job working for the current government. It made me wonder if Chavez, the president has brought the country to chaos and yet, he has many followers. There are many different views on that of course. One thing is for sure, the division between the poor and the rich, has almost diminished the middle class. The permission to build the favelas by cutting down the trees on the mountains surrounding Caracas, adds further danger of mudslides. I actually saw a toilet hanging on the edge of the remains of walls which was part of a house in a favela up in the mountain ahead.
Miguel was not prepared to give much information on his thoughts on the present government. But he spoke perfect English and we became momentarily friends for the next couple of days on the island.

Anyhow, all this ...  To go back to the incredible drive to Choroni.
From Ramon's house, further up in the mountains, we passed a German village... German? Yep; Colonia Trovar.  One hour and a half away from Caracas. This place was untrue! So similar to the chalets I have seen numerous times, travelling on the way from Geneva through small villages in Switzerland.

We walked through the village on a sunny early morning, with an aromatic coffee purchased at the cafe.  The drive continued.  We were now above the white clouds viewed below the mountainous roads.

Passed villages laying deep in the valleys.

From being above the clouds, we drove through them, until they were above us.  With waterfalls along the way.

Four and a half hours later, a wide river appeared and we drove through a square to the empty street of colourful houses.  It was so picturesque.  Soon after, the drive to our posada was in sight.  It used to be an old cocoa farm now turned into a posada by the owners.

We dropped our luggage off in our located rooms and took a walk around the village ...  The hippie colony of Choroni.  And we went to the main bay.  Wow.

Eventually, we hit town at dusk. Well, kind of. It was a Friday night and the place gets busy during the week-end beginning Saturday morning when visitors arrive mostly from Maracay on run-down buses.

After some seafood and the strong Caipirinha we were served, a little tipsy, we walked past a cafe, two or three shops open along our route, to reach the few artisans displaying their merchandise of bracelets and handicrafts along the seaside. I saw a man pass by holding a big fish!  So asked if I could take a photo.

And the next is one of the rare forms of transport; when it stopped, people just kept pouring out of the vehicle; a true people's carrier in full form.

As I was talking to a cute vendor, buying God knows what from him, Hala was listening to a barefoot man and came to stop me from purchasing more bracelets and said: "Haldita, enough. Let's go. This guy says he's gonna play the drums and is gonna take us somewhere fun!"
"Excellente," I showed off my Spanish, paid the vendor and we left following the 'red Indian' man, now in full conversation with Ramon and Teresa.

Through the unlit, dark muddy roads, we followed the stranger in the drizzle of the rain. We got to a fenced area and entered through a flimsy doorway into a small camping ground with a badly lit-up hut in the middle. The sound of Latino music and the gathering of a handful of Venezuelans could be seen from afar. We joined them under the hut and were introduced to Gerard. A young Frenchman, well-travelled, who spent most the time of the year in Choroni.  He talked of the purity of the land and people there and how he planned to spend his retirement in that somewhat untouched, magical colony.

We danced. Teresa sang to the tunes and I spoke to the young girl carrying her newborn in a blanket while shaking her bootie. She then introduced me to her friends and I carried on in my newly acquired language. We left at midnight when the heavy rain had finally stopped.

The next day, the weather was not improving. Very unusual for this time of year, but hey, what is usual any more with the way the world is going? We left Choroni at midday for the long drive back, purchasing the most delicious variety of mangoes being sold on the way. Definitely to return to.

One final thing... Thinking about our time in Choroni, I could not help but recall the moment, dressed in hippie-style jeans shorts, a colourful top and the infamous flip-flops, I looked up at the cloudy sky, walking by the river and thought in owe... 'It takes so little for us to be truly happy.  So... Why all the greed?'

The Archipielago Islands of Los Roques... Magnifico!

The day began in Caracas, with the ring of the alarm clock for an early rise.  We were warned to get to the airport in Caracas early; guess what?  In the case of trafico!  As it happens, we got there in half an hour, three hours before the half-hour plane ride.  Grrrreat.  We were then informed in half-hourly intervals of the next two hours' delay.  It was fascinating to 'people watch'; in particular the men with their lovers or secretaries as most Venezuelans would say. Five hours later since our arrival at the airport, we walked to the small plane, carrying about 40 passengers.
Hala tells me: "Hey sis, didn't wanna say this before, but I read in the Lonely Planet book that these small planes have also been known to disappear in the sky; like the Bermuda Triangle."  And she laughed.
"Really?!"  I exclaimed.  "But that's fine. Things like these don't bother me, when our time is up, then so be it. We go."

In half an hour, our noise-polluted experience came to an end. Before landing, beneath us, was the view of all different shades of blue and the small islands scattered all over the place.
We got off the plane in our flip-flops and bikinis under our clothing, into the small outdoor airport which was more like a bus stand and got in to dispose of our valuables in a safe. We were then directed straight into a motor boat to join the Catamaran on an island close by. They told us our luggage shall be in our posada (inn) upon return.

We began taking our clothes off and changing into the pareo on the boat. When we arrived close to our catamaran, I saw one of the attendants on the boat smiling at us and as we boarded, he introduced himself as Captain Javier. Looking at him, I thought... 'Mmm... If Javier works for Penelope Cruz!' 

We had lunch onboard and the cat began to move. We watched our approach to the next magical island.  To see the various shades of blue, from the transparent water with the colour of white sand to the turquoise blue, turning further into navy was a sight. Then the blue sky. A postcard made into reality.

At about 4 pm, we were dropped off on the sandy island, where no cars or bicycles were in sight. We were shown to our posada by the sea, extremely well located. You could walk the island in a matter of 10 minutes. With about 60 posadas and the area the locals lived, the colourful houses made Los Roques absolutely delightful to walk around.

 

At night, we were told to meet up at the restaurant, across from where we were staying for dinner. We shared our table with a young Venezuelan couple, married for 4 years, both engineers who were like honeymooners and put our knowledge of Spanish into good use.  We seemed to make them laugh.
After dinner, we asked about the two bars on the island and were directed towards the first.  We got a grumpy waiter with an attitude getting us a drink.   As beautifully as the place was decorated in white and blue, the service was too unfriendly,  so we moved on to the next.  Now that place was buzzing.  The waitress behind the bar spoke English and was extremely welcoming so we got our drinks and sat in the outside bar, while the DJ played some cool Latino tunes.  Hala was busy talking to a whole bunch of friendly guys while Captain Javier appeared next to me.
We wanted to get drinks but our cash currency of dolares and bolivares were locked in the safe which was in the main building of the offices and it had shut at 6 pm.

The captain saw me somewhat in distress and asked what was wrong.  When I told him our problem, he said: "No worries, I've the key to the safe with me.  I can take you there."
Of course, I agreed and we got to our money to buy a couple of Cuba Libres; vodka and rum.
The island being so small, Javier knew our posada and asked: "Have you been to the roof terrace of your posada with the view of the sea?"
"No, we just checked in after the boat showered, changed and came to dinner,"  I answered rather innocently.
"Come, I'll show you."  He eagerly suggested.
I looked at Hala, happily sitting and talking so I told her where we were heading and left with the Latino captain.

This was the view from the roof terrace of our posada in the daytime.  That night, looking down, there was no one in sight.  The sound of the small waves reaching the beach, the light breeze blowing through my curled-up hair, smelling the aroma the sea gave out mixed with the humidity, the dark blue sky, lit up by the almost full moon and the twinkling stars, made it a heavenly setting, made for lovers.

We smoked and chatted, and laughed when Javier drew me close to his manly chest and kissed me passionately.
I told him to stop.  "Let me take in this moment.  This is probably normal to you," I said, "I mean the view of the sea, the gentle breeze in the air, the moon shining brightly in the sky and onto the sea ...."
My eyes must have been glowing, like an excited child.
"You've probably not been with a Latino before?"  He asked.
"Mmm ... " I cannot lie so I answered: "Well, not with a Venezuelan.  No."  And I laughed.
He was hot.

I joined Hala at the bar later when she was talking to an eccentric Venezuelan businessman from Caracas.  He looked like a character from a cartoon, with fuzzy black and white hair on the sides of his head and none at the top, a slight belly who was talking of his surfing on further islands and how things had changed there from a few years ago when he last visited, with nowhere to go at night.
He was funny.

The next three days at Los Roques were a dream.  On the Catamaran from 8.30 am and being taken to other islands and served fresh lobster caught there and then at sea. One of the best I have had.
The captain changed the next two days and we got talking to other fellow travellers on the catamaran, all South Americans and mainly well-to-do Venezuelans as the island and places to stay do not come cheap in Los Roques. There were quite a few Italians, owning posadas and visitors.

The clear sign at the entrance of the square on the island read as...

Que? No drugs? I had never come across such a sign before. Quite amusing.
On the fourth day, after lunch on the catamaran, we were taken to the 'so-called' airport by a speedboat and got on the plane to leave our magical moments spent on spectacular beaches behind. Had to take photos of the luggage delivery!

Leaving the magnificent memories of Los Roques and coming back to London today... I'm exhauuuuusted!

First things first, I started my boxing sessions with the Colombian trainer again and booked a pilates reformer class. Picked up the forever-loving Ex mother-in-law to lunch, sharing some of my adventurous trip stories. Seeing my beautiful girl in between her hectic life and the week-end beginning on Thursday with a last-minute decision of few friends around for Troy's special pie. Robby arrived, followed by Dylan who came late, hand in hand with a beautiful Africana, with the sweetest of smiles. Troy arrived with the food plates accompanied by the lovely Dori. And of course Shane, one of the very lovely guys I am blessed to have as a friend. We talked and laughed and enjoyed each other's company with the exchange of stories.

Friday was dinner at Diba; our amazing older lady friend, who is so full of life and love to give.  She is one hell of a Lady and one to learn good lessons of humanity from. Always entertaining with her fun stories of meeting various celebrities and her travels around the globe. She is now happy to stay in her London home and entertain her varied, good friends and family. And she is a great cook.
Her birthday party was fabulous seeing her young and old circle of very warm and worldly entourage and family. I particularly love meeting people with open views, who know better than judge others. At a certain age, they learn what pleases them in life and they keep it simple and always fun. Very frank and open, having nothing to hide.
Driving home at midnight, Hala and I began thinking we were in too much of a good mood to head home when Massimo called. So we headed to his place instead.
From there, Massimo suggested we turn up at this pirate party on a ship on the Thames. And so we did in, as Massimo's gorgeous musician friend commented, gorgeous outfits to a whole crowd of pirates all made up for the occasion. My only upset was I could have easily got dressed up for this party! And still, we had a great time; with or without costume.

And Saturday... Oh! Oh!
Lunch in Notting Hill. I turned up at our favourite Pan-Asian cuisine restaurant E&O, for a very late brunch at 3.30 pm.  Dylan and his girlfriend had already arrived with Troy and Dori. During a couple of smoking breaks, I managed to visit one vintage shop and came back with a summer hat. As though the four I had purchased in South America were not enough!
And on the other visit, I went to the next shop and came out with a gold sequined top, covered by a flowing chiffon fabric and a one-sided sleeve. Great top for the night out.

The night out on a Saturday... Mmm... Where else but our beloved Fabric Club. Another night of dancing to great tunes played by amazing DJs, catching up with friends and making new ones. Massimo, Salar and his uncle joined us for a night of 'folie', madness and laughter.
We danced our socks off till morning and left in full daylight to head home ready for our bed.

I haven't quite finished with stories of our trip yet... For now, the bed is calling.