Road Trip

Winter holiday, Benjamin Cheng, icy Whistler down to sunny Mexico. Roads, cars, petrol stations, the list goes on. Here it is, in bitesize fun pack version.

Ben Cheng rocks my world.

road trippin'

Hello friend,

If you are at all interested in my recent holiday (I went on holiday recently), please feel free to read below. I have attached endnotes at certain useful reference points, so you can filter your level of concern.

When Ben(1) told me (two days before my departure to meet him in Canadia(2) and drive down to Mexico(3)), that the car’s transmission had all but fallen out I was immediately made poignant(4). I thus arrived in Whistler(5), the rain clouds formed, and I spent the first six days getting up early(6), hanging round with Aussies(7), sitting in a hot tub(8), and checking my profile on hot or not(9). Now, mechanics(10) are a backward bunch, and so it was that on the seventh day they actually began work, miraculously delivering old ‘Doris’(11) in the hour of four(12), to our door(13).
We set off straight away, with Ben’s Canadian(14) friend Ryan(15) in tow to subsidise fuel costs and say the word ‘somewhat’ a lot. The next few days were spent driving south all day(16), sleeping in car parks(17) and San Francisco(18) at night, and avoiding close contact with Americans(19).
We made it to Mexico in four days, crossing the border at Tijuana without even noticing(20) and heading straight for San Felipe(21). Over the next ten days we then continued driving to Puerticitos(22), Ensenada(23), San Quintin(24), Rosarito(25) and Tijuana(26), sleeping on the beach(27) and eating tacos(28).
And just like that it was more or less over. Ben and Ryan drove me up to Los Angeles, via Huntington(29) to fly home, where I arrived twenty-four sleepless(30) hours later, took a shower, and spent the day at work dressed in a poncho and a sombrero, passing out sweets with chilli centres to my unfortunate work-mates(31).

Very best wishes to thee and thine, it feels like we haven't met up for ages - let's go out for a drink sometime(32).

El Sprengiko xxx(33)



FOOTNOTES

1 Ah, what to say about the cheeky chinaman? For those who don't know Ben description is futile, but i'll give it a go regardless - he's basically a goat in the body of a Viet Kong. He is fond of saying stupid things, has a grip on reality best described as 'loose', and is exactly the type of person you should not spend a driving holiday with. His name in Chinese means 'sweaty onion'.
2 The Wales to our United States. I flew in to Vancouver, which I passed through twice - both times at night so as to save energy looking at it. I've heard its quite nice.
3 The Baja California region, a peninsular on the west coast populated solely by American real estate holiday home owners (November - September) and stray dogs (weekdays). With the exception of Tijuana, it's not 'proper' Mexico but you do get a passport stamp (if you remember to go to the 'voluntary' immigration office) and the cars are generally dirtier than in the States.
4 Sad.
5 Canadian ski resort, during the week long season that has neither sun nor snow.
6 Midday. Ish.
7 Persons with a basic grasp of the English language. There's a large number of them in Whistler, a couple of whom seemed very keen to try and grab my balls on a regular basis. Out of boredom I even allowed them the privelidge, once or twice. Two of the Aussie girls were extremely dull.
8 The highlight of my time in Whistler, the stone hot tub was situated outside the beautiful log cabin I was staying in overlooking a misty mountain in the distance, and clung to a temperature of 40 degrees for the duration. Nothing much interesting happened in the tub, except that one time I farted and nobody noticed. This did not happen later on during my time in the tent.
9 Started at about 8 and dropped to 5.5 at the blink of an eye. Despite the fact that I look really cool (like Tom Cruise sometimes does) and list ‘meerkats’ among my interests.
10 Backward bunch.
11 A Dodge van, the missing link between the modern people carrier and the sixteenth century wheelbarrow.
12 Inclusion for literal purposes.
13 Inclusion for rhyming purposes.
14 From Canadia.
15 Cheapskate, to the point that he once tried to take fifty cents out of the dollar tip we (Ben and I) paid and would complain if he had to pay more than a buck for a beer. He also had the annoying habit of saying whatever came into his head, regardless of interest or relevance. As far as I can tell he brought only three things to the trip - firstly he stopped me squabbling with Ben (as we had a common enemy), secondly that he stopped Ben squabbling with me (as he provided distractions as mundane as 'I somewhat thought for a minute it cost five bucks', when commenting unprovoked on an otherwise unmemorable meal that cost five bucks) and thirdly his own tent. Entertainingly mistaken for a girl, a hippy, a surfer, a terrorist (by a Mexican army officer with a big gun), and the second coming (in order of likelihood).
16 Mexico is practically directly south of Canada! Dodgy Doris survived the whole trip (no idea how far we drove as Ben reset the lap counter for no particular reason) despite being driven by a blind grandma (Ben - see point 20), a lunatic (me - managed to double the speed limit a few times and hit a speed bump at 50mph) and an illegal (Ryan - didn't have a licence and acted like he didn't have a brain). We did have a few problems along the way; The muffler went in the hills of Oregon, producing a noise steadily increasing throughout the trip that sounded like a tank continually crashing into a subwoofer factory. Then in Mexico we drove over a nail (producing a slow puncture, which turned into a fast one when Ben removed the offending article), a brake pad went (just the one, as if we were only ever stopping the left hand side of the car, while the right continued on with its journey), the left front speaker stopped speaking (most distressing for me when listening to anything produced after 1955), and the glove compartment had a habit of opening unprovoked at any given time and then refusing to shut (except on tuesdays when it failed to open).
17 Very uncomfortable. We'd basically hang up sheets to block the light and lie awake for several hours pretending to be asleep so as not to have to talk to Ryan.
18 Stayed in a motel in Berkley, used the BART subway (which was as simple as three ostriches attempting to decypher sanskrit), and saw a lot of sailors.
19 I have nothing much to add about Americans that hasn’t been said already, save that they begin most sentences with ‘well, ever since 9/11…’ (Particularly when involving petrol, car-parking and passports), and have a communal sense of humour to rival a dead, plastic, German shade of grey. They also appear to inhabit towns for many years and then suddenly evacuate them, leaving only a few wrinkled old ladies around to sit in diners and eat without teeth. They do similarly in the winter in Mexico, replacing the ladies with suicidal dogs.
20 With Ben driving we missed a number of things, including; me driving, being stationary, turnings, stop signs, red lights (it seemed he would often slow for orange ones for the sole purpose of driving through when they red), the correct side of the road, the road, and that we had crossed the border and were driving in Mexico. On the plus side he did drive like he lived in Jersey.
21 A tourist town without tourists. Numerous dead fish washed up on the shore.
22 Complete ghost town. With a library the size of a toilet cubicle. Didn't eat lunch there as the only restaurant in town only opened at 6pm, but the beach was very pleasantly situated in a bay and it had hot springs that stank of sulpher and could have liquidised a small child.
23 Quite touristy (comparatively). Had an excellent night out at a jazz bar and a locals' club where we danced with girls until they realised we couldn't dance 'Mexican' (as far as I could tell spinning in constant circles and taking short breaks to simulate buggery), at which point they would lose interest and turn to laugh at Ryan, who danced like he was being held upright by constant machine gun fire.
24 Another ghost town, without the town. Great beach and the unfulfilled promise of surf boards by our friendly American host. On the way down there it had been raining, and we made the mistake of driving down a mud road and getting the front wheel stuck (my fault). We eventually got ourselves out of trouble with the aid of retarded local, only for Ben to reverse into another sticky patch with his back tyre. By this point Ben had also coated half the van in mud while Ryan had managed to prove his uselessness twelve times.
25 Not much to say about Rosarito, lots of lifesize carvings of obscure animals along the roadside though, and a great deal of furniture.
26 I really liked Tijuana, though we didn't stay there long (only for breakfast) and the roads were mental. At the border crossing back into the States we were berated a number of times for having too much Tequila with us, only to be subsequently allowed straight through without so much as a sniffer dog. Which was at the time a little disappointing.
27 In tents, but right on the beach, or on the concrete before the beach. Pretty uncomfortable, but worth it for the view in the morning (Ben, legs akimbo, with a background of crashing waves and blinding sun).
28 We ate tacos pretty much all the time in Mexico. They were really good. Sometimes we'd put them in a flour tortilla (as opposed to corn) and call them burritos, include only cheese and call them quesadillas, cover them in a tasteless sauce and call them enchiladas or make them ourselves and call them fajitas.
29 Surf City, USA! We went out on the Friday night and surfing on the Saturday before leaving for the airport that night. My hideous efforts at partying, socialising and wave riding resulted in falling over, giving a girl my email without actually giving her my email, and more falling over. This was made bearable only because Ben was even worse than me and Ryan was a berk.
30 Nearly.
31 I know, I have a job!
32 Not you, Ryan.
33 For you, Ben. (Sorry).

Ben Cheng Vs The Name Game

We were in Casablanca, in bed, in fact - though separate ones I must stress - on our final night in Morocco. The pre-sleep chat revolved around people we knew with cool names.

The usual suspects cropped up; Steve Allen, Felizia Ano Nuevo*, Kashif Ferozili Gillamili Meherali, until I remembered I once renovated a pond with a guy called James Bond. James Bond was a few years older than me and thus very cool anyway, but I digress.

“Yeah yeah good name good name”.

Said Ben.

Silence.

Pitch Black.

We contemplate the practicality of a name like James Bond, the difficulties it would inevitably bring once the initial respect had been granted.

Silence.

Pitch Black.

“I knew a guy once called Ian Bond.”

Said Ben.

“Ian Bond???” I say, “That’s a rubbish name! Ha ha ha.”

Black.

Pitch Black.

Ben starts laughing. He’s got the joke. He’s realised his mistake.

Pitch Black.

Silence.

And then I just here this:

“Yeah, Ian Bond. Ha ha ha”

Turns out that instead of speculating on the turgid identity obscurity that a name like Ian Bond inevitably brings, as I was, Ben was recalling something that Ian Bond did once.

Tsk.


* Literally ‘Happy New Year” en Espanol. We didn’t actually meet her until we were in Whistler in 2005, and even then it was her niece Cecilia... But the point remains - it’s still a great name and serves the purposes of this brief story perfectly.

N.B. Several years later, Ben texted me to tell me that Ian Bond was playing bowls on the telly. Turns out this was not the same Bond, but another, only serving to confirm my point about the name’s utter turgidity.

Final words from Morocco

dear all, the end of the trip is nigh...
firstly, an apology: i have received a number of pieces of mail, mainly from my concerned family (though notably not my mother) about the meningitis i suffered from a while ago.
i would like to take this opportunity to admit that i did at no time suffer from meningitis, or indeed any such thing. this was a mere fabrication, although i did once have a cold that kept me sneezing for a week, which is almost as bad...
i hereby extend this apology to everyone except religious chris, with whom i am now even after he informed me that he had lost a limb.
anyway...
thanks to all who have sent info on the plane hijakings, i have been on cnn etc, but still dont know as much as i'd like. ben took the opportunity of the disaster to tell a few of the locals that it was 'probably the arabs'. i think he wants to die.
since the last email, we have been to the desert (not A desert, THE desert)
and ridden on camels. ben was conned out of money, and i argued with some arab before he got some compensation.
we have also been up in the rif mountains, mooching about and trying to steer clear of trouble. its really cool up there.
now we are in rabat, our last stop before casa and home.
its been a varied trip, one extreme to another. when we left chefchaouen (in the rif), it was monsoon raining, the first of the trip, and the water had formed rapids down the cobbled streets of the hillside medina. amazing.
im sure i'll inform you all of the rest of our stories in good time, but we are both looking forward to coming home now, been here long enough.
just a few quick notes:

simon, sorry to hear about the groin, sounds unusual- if you get a brown liquid called henry seeping out, start to worry- its what i had just before the 'accident'...

dad, thanks for the football info, ive missed out on that as well.

shaun, i was homeless to start with- in the long run it beats being a lodger. youre welcome in our flat until you find somewhere though, it shouldnt be long if youre homeless, though sharing my bed is pushing it a bit! ill call you when i get back, but be wary of anyhting to do with families, hotels or boscombe...

ben, glad to hear james is alright, ill keep my fingers crossed for getting home soon.

jim lovesy, who is this karen from reception??? so... i did find out! haha! prepare for a grilling upon my imminent return.

sara and sophie, youd better have that kettle on when i get down there...

mum, sadly, i have died. typical. am too dissappointed to talk about it, will try and let you know the details when we arrive in heathrow... typical.

anyway, thats all, will see/speak to most of you soon, if i dont, bad luck.
rock the kasbah,

El Sprengiko!

How NOT to react to the news of the twin towers attacks...

We are in a drum shop in Erfud, a small town near the Western Sahara, chilling with the locals.

Ben Cheng and I are sat in the corner, with several Moroccan Arabs around us tapping away an infectious rhythm on their drums. The whiskey is flowing and the kif, mind blowing.

The owner of the shop has a paper in his lap. He turns a page to reveal Osama Bin Laden’s then unknown, now unforgettable face, surrounded by Arabic writing.

He turns to Ben.

“Who do you think is responsible for the attacks?”

Ben contemplates this for a moment, scratching his fortnight’s worth of beard.

“Probably the Arabs”.

Silence.

I wanted to die.

Fortunately we didn’t. Instead everyone began to laugh. When I quizzed Ben later he said “I didn’t realise you could be a Muslim and an Arab, I thought it was like being Hindu and Jewish.”

more from maroc

dear all,

firstly, am in a bit of shock about the news from the usa, its a bit difficult to find info, but if anyone could send me a breakdown of whats going on, i would be grateful.

i hope you are all still well and so on.

ben and i are now in marrakesh, soaking up the atmosphere. the heat here is intense, and i have already lost several pounds of sweat! soon we plan to go further inland to the desert!!! there we will see much sand and bit of camel.
after that, we will travel north to fes, up to chefchouan - a hippy village in the rif, and back through rabat to casablanca. hopefully by then the airports will all be back to normal...
since the last mail we have been busy, met some other travellers and shared stories- there are a few good ones about. back in essaouria we went to a hammam, where i was massaged (tortured) for about ten minutes before i had the pleasure of watching ben suffer the same fate- anyone who knows him, laugh... he screamed like a girl!!!
the moroccans themselves are all hustlers and gits, but we either ignore them or else ben talks cantonese and i act dumb- then they just pat us on the back and let us go.

anyway, i will bore you no longer with info, save for when i get back. oh, except for the story of when i bought a little statue for 50 dirham and a pair of socks... he loved it. also managed to offload my vinten tripod hat as a sailing cap. hehehe.

a few quick replies:

ben s. thanks for catch-22 really funny.

steve c. thanks for the warning, i think its okay here though, but the guard is always up, i do think that they find it funny...

jenny. back to uni at the beginning of october so will miss you by a few weeks, take care.

esther. yeah, bald, its growing well slowly and i look like a convict.

chris. they speak arabic, french and berber here, and also enough english to sell you something you dont want- im steering well clear of carpet shops.

kate. when i had meningitis i made my friends feel sorry for me by groaning a lot, and made my mum buy me ice cream. milk it for all its worth, it soon goes and leaves you feeling even worse because youve eaten solely ice cream for 2 weeks.

sara. yeah, ben is quite a bad person to travel with, i tried to club him to death with a bongo the other night, but i think his heads made of wood. the bongo wasnt so lucky. my bowels are quite irregular, thanks.

mum. am still alive, unbelivable, at this rate i will live forever.

shaun. bournemouth? tell me all about it, i bet youre well chuffed.

miriam. whoah, you sound busy, good that you are having fun, let me know of any other shenanigans...

i think thats about it, thanks for writing to me etc,
big love and lots of flies (the bastards),
Sprengiko x

Greetings from Morocco

Email from travels in Morocco...

dear all

hope you are well cannot find comma on foreign keyboard

we are in essaouria south of casablanca lapping up the sea and sun and generally chilling out have met a few scary morroccans and seen some of the greatest and worst views ever

sometimes the smell almost kills me and i have to lean on ben for support who, (aha) by the way, is even more stupid in this foreign climate than at home

having lots of fun and not in too much trouble yet...

the toilets here are nasty and for al those in the know, my groin is bleeding

liz, thanks for the book

ben, may pop in to a place called ben slimane and send you a postcard...

steve a, happy birthday matey, have one for me

steve c, what are you on about, this place is great

sara, thanks for the photo, you have more stubble than i remember, but your friend is well hot and certainly not fat!

mum, am still alive

please forward to anyone whose adresses i have lost, except for people that i hate,

big love and small singing birds to one and all,

el sprengiko.

ps, am still bald, i want my hair back...