Im at the airport and my flight is delayed. The woman at customs took half my liquids off me and I saw an old work colleague with his new wife. All of them looked at me with that look that you get when youve just dyed your very long hair very mermaid green and it catches their eye.
I couldnt help remembered this cartoon and its wonderfulness. Give me a red balloon and call me Tom. ‘Coz I dont give a…
I love the beach. I love the sea. I hate the sand. This poses a problem, I know. I’m one of those annoying people who spend most of the time on the beach rearranging their towel to brush off the sand but in doing so spread the sand everywhere else in an utterly futile and stressful display of insanity. Until I discovered the Olympic swimming pool at Montjuic that is. There is no sand at the swimming pool. There are, however, a couple sparkling clean pools with beautiful views overlooking Barcelona, and several diving boards. You’re not supposed to go on the diving boards. But they almost certainly wont try to throw you out if you scurry up and dive off sometime near the end of the day. They will probably try to prevent you from diving off, so be at your wittiest to slip past, its worth it.
When you’ve done enough swimming and illicit diving to shrivel your digits into little pink prunes you can stroll around, find a quiet spot to watch the tourist buses endlessly loop past. Perhaps imbibe an estrella. Or two. And learn how to play a silly game.
A few of my shots and edits into 16 by 9, I’m really starting to like the cinematic appearance it gives even the most mundane of pictures 🙂
A few days ago me and this dude, finished editing the video filmed during my last few weeks in the Ecuador. Yes, I’ve been home a while, and yes, I do still have several draft posts filled with deliciously gory details of my medical escapades on the flip side of the equator, but frankly, they will have to wait. This is a whisk through Ecuador accompanied by the wonderful warblings of Compay Segundo‘s vocal chords. The title was taken from a nursery rhyme-esque song by Roberto Carlos that was played inexplicably loudly as children skipped and giggled their way to school in the morning. The placid tones woke us, or more accurately, woke me, up every morning at sparrow fart, (which may be any time between 5 and 7am, for the exact commencement has been much debated and never agreed upon).
If you were hoping for blood and guts and hospital shots then you will be disappointed (well, there is a bit of blood so all is not lost if that’s your bag), but there are a lot of butterflies which makes me a bit chirpier about my retrospectively stupid blog name. If you can be bothered I would suggest you go to vimeo and watch it in HD, it makes an incredible difference.
Warning: It features a lot more of my mug than I would’ve cared for, but there you go, view at your ophthalmic peril.