Me and Ade have been planning this gig for years. We didn't go in 1998 and it was Chemical Dave's fault. He'd just broken up with the Finnish nurse (it was serious - he'd already met the parents and learned to love saunas), and going back to that part of the world so soon was just too painful... So we decided to go to Catalunya (that's North Eastern Spain to you lot) instead. And the funny thing was Dave decided he couldn't make it after all. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. Git.
Nevertheless, me and Ade had a brilliant time in Barcelona, Cadaques and Espot (way up in the Pyrennes), and now, finally, Dave-less and determined, we're off to the Baltic. Let's hope it's not too late...
Lat week was pretty fraught as I tried to figure out how on Earth I was going to get us a Russian visa without having to shell out wads of cash, and wade through rivers of beaurocracy. Tried to persuade Ade that for a measly two days in St. Petersberg it just wasn't worth it. Fortunately, he bought it. Hooray for the easy life.
Booked return tickets to Helsinki through Expedia. It was a toss up between that and using Buzz, KLMs cheap airline. It was about 35 quid cheaper but flew from Stansted. The Lufthansa flight I booked goes from Birminham (about an hour's drive closer). I don't know whether that in itself is enough to justify the extra expense, but it means I get an hour extra in bed before we have to leave (still at a ridiculously early time).
Can't wait to tell Ade what time he has to pick me up...
8 August 2000 - Ticket to Ride?
Got the tickets last week. Fast work by the boys at Expedia. Subject to my not dying of a horrible disease in the meantime (see future section on paranoia and insecurity) we'll be off at some obscene time on the morning of Sat. 26th. The logistics have yet to be worked out, but you can bet it'll be long winded!
10 August 2000 - Spreading the Disease
Killer, flesh-easting disease scare almost over, I've turned my attention once again to investigating the finer points of this excursion. While thumbing through January's edition of 'Elle' magazine in the Doctor's waiting room (know your enemy!) I noticed that Tallin was mentioned in the bit that tells girlies what's fashionable that particular month - y'know so they know what to fritter their money away on (bless 'em)....
Anyway, according to the aforementioned "Elle", the Estonian capital has registered on the fashion-ometer as a place where the beautiful people can go and have... a beautiful time. How about that, I'm cool and hip! (It won't last).
Still worried about how we're going to get back from Vilnius to Helsinki for our return flight, without it costing wads of cash. Might post on the Lonely Planet message board (handy facility), see if I can tap into the benefit of someones experience.
21 August - Diary of a Madman
As you can see, I'm not the world's most concientious diarist (and I can't be bothered checking that spelling as I'm in a hurry), but there's less than a week to go now.
22 August 2000 - Hard Rock Cafe Theory
I'm not quite sure of the origins of this theory, nevertheless I know that it is mine. I have spent many hours in many different locations on several continents testing it out, but I have yet to reach a conclusion.
Hard Rock Cafe t-shirts have been a blight on us for a good dozen years or so, and are not what you would describe as hip, emblazoned with trite slogans such as "Save the Planet" (!) and being worn by people whose idea of hard rock is the last Queen album.
I am sorry to say that even my good friend Matthew "Daddy" Fisher owned one of these monstrosoties after a visit to the Bahamas in 1988. Later, I seem to remember he cut the sleeves off and turned it into a vest (tank top for our American readers) to work out in. The rest I think we should gloss over.
But I digress. Although I have seen many of these t-shirts with ever more and more exotic placenames printed on the decal, I never actually saw a Hard Rock Cafe. This perplexed me. so many t-shirts, they must've come from somewhere. But where?
Maybe it was passing through the border markets in Tijuana that made me think up the theory, or maybe it occurred to me much later, I don't know, but the only place I ever saw these garments was in third world markets that sold fake designer duds. That's when it hit me. THERE IS NO SUCH THINK AS THE HARD ROCK CAFE. IT'S JUST AN ELABORATE SCAM TO SELL T-SHIRTS.
Just think of it, all those hapless idiots out there mad keen to associate themselves with anything that appeared remotely like American culture. Stick a placename on it to give it local appeal and Bob's your Uncle, license to print cash.
New York, Chicago, London, Lisbon, Rome, Tunis. None of these places disproved my theory - it was so obvious. I could picture the sweatshops churning out those low grade tees, slapping on the decals, with ever more outlandish placenames.
But, as I am sure you have guessed, the nightmare soon came true. In May 1998. Walking through Barcelona heading for Las Ramblas at the corner of a huge Piazza (I know this is an Italian word, what's the Spanish?). There it was, the Hard Rock Cafe Barcelona. Save the Planet and pass the Coca Cola.
You may wonder what set me off on this particluar line of thinking. Well, you see, Tina Turner is coming to Estonia, or rather she's been and gone thank the Lord. You can picture it can't you? Not a train ticket or bus toicket to be had. Not a hotel room anywhere. They're a simple folk. They have simple tastes, and after all she is "Simply the Best";-)
25 August - The Curse of Dond
Just twelve hours until we leave so I thought I'd leave a quick entry (missus), to tell you about the curse. So you're prepared.
I shall fast forward over the origins of the curse, which lie in South Africa, suffice it to say that it involved an airline going bust and an overextended stay in Johannesburg. Whenever anything has gone wrong on a trip, since then it has been attributed to the curse. It is often said that the curse only rears it wicked head when Adey is travelling, which is why the curse bears his name (his surname Dowd, mysteriously mutates into Dond on most plane tickets). Ade refutes the fact it's all his fault and places the blame solely at the feet of "Postie" Colin Smith.
However, Adrian Dowd carries the cross of blame and the curse has never yet failed to strike, following the premise that if something can go wrong, it will.
Right now all is well, I've got the tickets, my passport, money and clean pants. What could possibly....?
<Editorial Note: this next part is being written retrospectively, given that the last thing I wanted to do while I was awaywas sit at a bloody computer. It wasn't the initial plan to do it this way, but there ya go.
See the following page for more...>