Archive for the travel Category

New countries. New languages. New mistakes.

Posted in travel, truth 101 with tags , , , , , on 25/01/2012 by mujo

My grammatical screw-ups are many and frequent when speaking my second class languages (Italian, French, German and Bosnian): like saying I’m ‘soft tired’ instead of dead tired (Italian), or ‘put the chicken in hell’ instead of into the oven (Italian), or ‘put a mouse on your face’ instead of a smile (French).

But here for you all now, are my top three favourites in the category of “Sorry, I’m not from around here”:

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The World’s Best Coffee.

Posted in food, travel with tags , , , , , , , on 25/05/2011 by mujo

I’ve got a thing for coffee. Which is handy, because I’ve got a thing for caffeine too.

When the coffee is shit, which is all too often the case, I tell myself that at least I’m getting my caffeine fix this hour. All is well.

But if the coffee should taste good in addition to giving me those highly prized pin-prick pupils – the whole day just takes on a shiny patina.

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Encounters with Christians

Posted in travel with tags , , , , on 10/11/2010 by mujo

Perhaps the title is misleading. This blog is about a chance encounter with one Christian. My first and only. I’m sorry for those of you I’ve met in the past who believe they ought rightly be counted amongst my Christian meetings. But you bible sellers aren’t even in the same league. This guy was the real deal (and you should probably be thanking him).

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The Reason I Love Americans

Posted in food, travel with tags , , , , , , , on 08/11/2010 by mujo

This story starts in Rome. I know, I know, why the dickens is he writing a blog about Americans if he’s in Italy? Have patience, answers come.

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Sport Pissing

Posted in travel with tags , , , , , , on 01/11/2010 by mujo

The wash basin is blocked with toilet paper and cigarette butts, and the tap is dripping something altogether the wrong colour. The toilet bowl is crusted with the crud of a thousand stranger’s rear ends. The stains on the walls are so thick and tactile you would be well within your rights thinking they were the only thing holding up the ceiling.

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