(The Mancunion) For someone with a voice that can be so haunting, Houghton manages to sound warm and comforting throughout the debut album Yours Truly, Cellophane Nose. Listening to it is the audio equivalent of curling up by a warm fire and drifting into a dream infused sleep, full of bizarre but pleasant images.
‘The Barely Skinny Bone’ starts with a lone vocal, which is then replaced by mix of bass guitar and acoustic finger picking that mimic raindrops. Read full article at The Mancunion
22/07/2010
Dear Diary (lol),
It’s about 3am and I’d hoped I would be on a plane to Chile by now. But actually I am in MADRID on a COACH wearing JOGGERS in the middle of summer. I don’t have my suitcase and the only other clothes I have are a coat, jumper and scarf, since I thought I was going to a cold place. As it is, I won’t be in Chile for at least another 2 days – that is if there aren’t any more cock-ups! I don’t even have deodorant or spare knickers (small handbag didn’t allow for such luxuries) and I have a huge boil developing on my chin and my spot cream is in my suitcase. Disaster.
I did at least get to practise some Spanish – “Donde esta el bus?” However the woman replied in English. Hmm. On the plus side I did meet some nice Geordie lads, who are travelling for 4 months. We spent the plane journey doing crosswords and sudokus and I’m hoping (although it would be crap for them) that they also can’t get a flight until Sunday so we can go out and party in Madrid tomorrow! The staff on the flight were all – “Hey, you guys ever been to Madrid?!” As if this were some fantastic opportunity to explore the city. Thanks very much but yes I have been to Madrid and I rather fancied going to CHILE this time around. Plus, I do not know where I am. This hotel is in the middle of nowhere. We drove past some buildings that looked like prison. I will have to go into town, I suppose.
3.30am
A nice South American woman spoke to me in the lift. She is also going to Chile AND travelling alone! Hurrah! Maybe she will be my companion. She’s quite old, but I can tell she’s a fun loving criminal. She told me it’s a 20 minute bus ride into town. I will definitely need some shorts. Madrid is really hot. There is also a German couple. They’re in the room next door and I’m scared that I might hear them having sex. They’re going to Gran Canaria (I spied their ticket) and she is wearing lime green crocs and white cut offs.
I just remembered the film James and I watched in Barcelona. Basically Luke Wilson and Kate Beckinsale get trapped in their motel room and the motel owners attempt to brutally kill them, while playing violent, almost pornographic, videos of them murdering other people in the exact same room. I’m sure this place (Tryp Diana) isn’t like that though…
Looking back, I should have been more excited by the prospect of seeing Carl live in my favourite little venue (as mother pointed out, if the Libs were still together you’d only be able to see them in big horrible stadiums by now). Back in the day, before seeing The Libertines, I was jumping up and down telling anyone who would listen weeks before the actual gig. I know seeing Carl is a little different from seeing The Libertines, but still, Carl was the one I couldn’t keep my eyes off, the one I was (and clearly still am) in love with. But the truth is, on Wednesday I was just scared and anxious for him. I was almost anticipating a depressing flop and I imagined it would be painful to watch. I quite like the album but it doesn’t come close to the genius (yes) of Up the Bracket. So simply put, I thought it might be crap.
As it turns out, my predictions were way off and it was glorious. You know when a gig is SO good you just can’t wipe the smile off your face and it gives you that overwhelming feeling in your chest that makes you want to jump around and do something reckless? Well this was like that. (If you are unfamiliar with this feeling, you’ve been going to the wrong gigs). We were treated to 6 Libertines songs (!), including France, Up the Bracket, What a Waster, Death on the Stairs, Don’t Look Back into the Sun AND Man Who Would Be King. Looking at the crowd, it could have been The Libertines up on stage and as for me; I had a massive smile on my face and sang every word like it was 2004. The songs sounded great – Carl’s voice is better than ever and no complaints about the band – and not for a minute did I think “I miss Pete”; I was just in awe of the beautiful, outrageously sexy and talented man on stage. I know it’s not The Libertines, but I think it’s time to accept that that ship has sailed. I don’t know how I feel about the “reunion” gigs; it seems all too soon and too forced for me. And perhaps it’s also better for Carl’s mental state not to spend too much time around Pete… (just a suggestion).
As for Carl’s own material, obviously it didn’t generate the same excitement as the opening bars of a Libs classic, however people were very respectful and even the outrageously drunk guy in front of me was singing to some of the new tracks, rather than hurling abuse and demanding more Libertines. “So long my lover” was a highlight, although the chorus is a bit too sing-along for my liking, but the way the verse flows is very legs 11, just lovely. It went down very well on Wednesday night, possibly, in part, due to the fact that everyone thinks it’s about Pete…
Conclusions of the fabulous night: Carl is still a great Libertine and doing just fine without Peter, if you would like to hear great versions of Libertines classics from the sex god himself then go to a Carl gig and Carl is still the sexiest man on earth, in fact probably the whole entire universe.
So until Pete decides to properly sort himself out and make genuine amends, I’ll keep going to the Carl gigs and listen to him playing their songs. It’s the best option we have. Let’s just not mention the album cover…
It has been a dramatic couple of weeks. I’m not even sure how long it’s been since I last wrote – I think 2 weeks ago, but so much has happened I’m going to be here a while. Might get pretty dull and full of spelling and grammar mistakes, so apologies for that.
Last time I wrote I had been feeling pretty down and generally a bit ill and just not up for the whole travelling lark. It is a lark. I mean, what am I actually doing with myself? Having an awesome time, meeting lots of people, seeing amazing stuff, being abroad? Yeah. But I don’t actually have anything I should be doing. I’m thinking of doing some charity work in Cusco, if only for the selfish reason that I don’t want to feel like a spoilt little knob. So anyway, I was about to embark upon 3 days in the salt flats, which if memory serves, I was dreading due to all the ridiculous hype about altitude sickness – I was expecting vomit, hallucinations, worst headaches ever, the full shebang. And I’m not guna say it was pleasant, yes I had a nasty headache and found it very hard to sleep BUT it wasn’t the worst I’ve ever felt – it was perfectly tolerable.
We left early in the morning on New Year’s Eve and saw lots of amazing landscapes. It really is another world. Some of the lakes are beautiful and we saw thousands of flamingos, which are really fun to watch with their spindly long legs. They shouldn’t look so elegant with those comically long and skinny things but they do, and they look amazing when they fly too. Animals are fun to watch I have found. I’ve seen a lot of llamas which are also hilarious – they have big fat furry bodies and skinny legs so they look all wobbly and unstable when they move around. Made me laugh watching these ones walking along next to the lake – It was really wet and slippery and they kept almost skidding!
New Year’s Eve was cool even though I was prepared to just ignore the whole occasion. There was a nice group of us and the guides gave us some “champagne/cider”, which we popped open at midnight. We also went out and joined some other people from the hostel next to us who had made a fire. I went out all zipped up in my sleeping bag (which is made for temperatures of -10, amazing) so was hopping along slightly behind everyone else, but I was happy because it was SO FUCKING COLD. I was wearing just about all my clothes. Brrrrr!The Dutch guy carried me around for a bit too, which was nice. I felt a bit bad though because with the altitude he got so puffed out – thought he was guna faint!
The next day was better because we went down in altitude and started to feel a little perkier. Saw more beautiful landscapes and then that night we stayed in a hostel made ENTIRELY OUT OF SALT. The floor was just big salt granules and the walls were salt, the ceiling was salt, no joke. Actually made me a bit sniffly, but still, thought it was extremely cool. We also went to see these crazy mummies in this weird cave nearby, which was pretty freaky. Got some sick photos! I wasn’t 100% convinced they were real but… nice all the same. Maybe I’m just being a cynical Brit, as everyone else thought they were probably real.
The next morning was to be MY BIRTHDAY! My 21st! Only happens once ya know, so I made quite sure that everyone was aware that it was to be MY BIRTHDAY! Probably went on a bit too much about but who cares? It was MY BIRTHDAY. Anyway, I can’t have pissed them off too much with my incessant birthday talk because the next morning I was woken up with birthday cake, a candle and a glorious rendition of happy birthday. I was pretty touched – it brought tears to my eyes and joy to my heart. That day was fun, driving through the actual salt flats all day. It really was like being on another planet. It looked like the sea, except it was land… Shit description, I know, but the sea is the only thing I can compare it to in terms of how vast and endless it was. I made sure I had a birthday beer out in the salt flats too and a birthday piscola at lunchtime (daytime drinking is so much more acceptable when you put a word like birthday in front of it).
When we got to the town Uyuni that day it was time to break the news to my travel bud that I wanted to continue the voyage as a lone ranger. I had been giving it a lot of thought and finally decided I just had to break loose and go for this, go it alone or I would regret it for all eternity (overstatement yes, but would certainly regret it). I got pretty nervous about it – it takes guts to be so honest! It was like preparing to break up with someone! I just felt trapped and constantly irritated travelling in a pair, which I can’t blame on him, it’s just differences between us and possibly my inability to tolerate people for long periods of time… He was upset at first but took it well and in the end I think we agreed this was the best thing. I am definitely a lot happier travelling alone even though there are inevitably difficulties and the uncertainty can be quite scary at times. But it’s better; less restricting, can be myself 100% without any outside influence and the possibilities are endless!
I’ve given up trying to write this in a chronological order. It’s too long and boring and I have to really wrack my brain. I’m going to take a more organic approach (aka just say what pops into my stupid little brain). After a rough couple of days in La Paz, I have found a happy haven in Copacabana, a small town in Lake Titicaca. It’s very chilled out, peaceful yet with a touristy, holiday buzz in the best possible way and everyone has so far been extremely friendly.
This is actually the first time I’ve been totally alone alone. I know I ditched Chris a while ago, but I’ve always headed to new places accompanied by other people. And do you know, I’m actually feeling quite content, in spite of a lot of shitty factors such as not having had any sleep. For dinner I went to this groovy little bar called Pueblo Viejo and had lasagne and orange juice and there was a Bolivian band playing.
I have come to realise that all Bolivian songs contain both the words “amor” and “corazon”, without fail. They’re all ridiculously sweet and romantic, especially when you compare it to reggaeton which is pure sex. This band basically consisted of a guy with a guitar and a reasonably good voice and what looked like his dad on bass and his granddad on this weird bongo drum. I thoroughly enjoyed it and clapped especially loudly.
Tomorrow I’m getting up very bright and early to go to Isla del Sol. Exciting time ahead. I might end up staying here longer than I thought. Relax a little, be happy, la la la.
It is day 4 of my immense travels and I have already completely overdone it; burnt the candle at both ends as my parents love to say. A brief outline of what I’ve done so far:
Christmas Day: After a jolly and drunken Christmas dinner at my dearest friend’s house, Chris and I left our adopted hometown of Santiago at 9pm. Hopped on a 24 hour bus to Iquique and arrived there on Boxing Day, getting to the hostel around 10 that night.
Dec 27th: Actually this day was pretty tranquilo. The beach in Iquique was beautiful and the waves were big without being too dangerous splash around in. I had a whale of a time playing in the waves, joining in with a group of Chilean kids with body boards (I stood near them screaming and laughing a lot and they gave me weird looks). Chris said he could hear me shouting from way up the beach… Loved the sea! Only thing that put me off was the amount of bloomin’ jelly fish! There were swarms of ‘em! I don’t understand it either because they kept brushing right past me, but I didn’t get stung. At one point I thought I had been stung but it turned that the mark on my bum from where I sat on my hair straighteners was just stinging because of the sea salt… That night was pretty funny: Chris went to bed early and I stayed up and parrrrrrrrtied with Argentines, Chileans and Germans. Good times! But was glad to escape to bed at 4am without having consumed too much alcohol as I had to be up bright and early the next day…
Dec 28th: We had to be up bright and early so we were ready and raring to go paragliding that day. I wasn’t at all sure about this but
I was assured many times that it was, like “totally safe”. I looked up the statistics online…I met a lot of people who’d done it, all saying they had been shit scared but that once they were in the sky it was mega easy and fun. So off I went.
I have never been so petrified in my life – you have to RUN off a CLIFF EDGE. What’s that about? Didn’t feel all that secure to me either! So I don’t know what everyone else was talking about – I never relaxed, I was bricking it from start to finish, still shaking when I came down. Didn’t realise I was afraid of heights but if you ask me it’s a pretty rational think to be scared of. At the same time, it was bloody brilliant. The view was spectacular, probably the most amazing view I’ve ever seen: It had everything from sand dunes, windy roads, beautiful coastline, city, and the best thing of all was this giant penis shape that someone had made out of rocks! Ha. Made me laugh anyway. And my guide was really good fun, even though he scared the life out of me making me let go of the ropes and flap my arms like a bird!!
After that we walked around a bit, went to the beach, ate a couple of times and waited for our 11pm bus, due to arrive in Calama at 5.30am the next morning.
Dec 29th: Arriving in Calama was a bit of a downer. 5.30am isn’t my favourite time to wake up in the morning, especially when you’re in the middle of a freezing cold desert wearing shorts and have 2 ½ hour wait for the next bus. But that’s over now. We arrived in San Pedro de Atacama around 9.30am and then got to the hostel. I really wanted to sleep, but after a shower I felt rejuvenated and so instead we went bike riding through the desert all day up to a place called Valle de la Luna. Hoards of tourists go there at sun down to watch the mountains opposite the sunset change colour.
Quote of the day from me, genius that I am: “Where does the sun go when it sets?” Said really loudly just as a group of English-speaking tourists walked past and inevitably burst out laughing at me… We also went in some sweet caves and did some trekking type shiz. It was a very fun day, though quite tough cycling up lots of hills – cycling down them at the end of the day made it all worthwhile though. I was more than ready to sleep until late into the next day, however my itinerary was not to permit such a luxury.
Dec 30th: Instead, I wake up at 3.30am to go on a tour to see some geysers. I didn’t know what a geyser was before I came to Chile so I will describe what I saw for those who do not know… Basically in the middle of the desert there were all these mental hot shoots of water that just come out of the ground. But mega hot, like, boiling and because it’s so cold (I’ve never felt so cold – high altitude, middle of desert in the early hours is a very cold place to be) there is loads and loads of steam everywhere. Was pretty groovy, but for me being that cold just isn’t fun. I half loved it because it was incredible and I doubt I’ll ever see anything like it again and half hated it and wanted to die because I was so cold and tired. Eventually we went to some natural thermal spa things. I went in but was a little disappointed because they weren’t as hot as I’d anticipated – in Pucon they were so warm that you’d be relieved by the time you got out and the cold air wouldn’t bother you too much. This one was more like a lukewarm bath. Quite nice, but not really satisfying. And getting out was horrendous. BRR! So now here we are. That happened today. I’ve spent the rest of the day being in bed, washing, and chilling ready for a brutal trip across the Salar de Uyuni tomorrow. I feel quite sick. Just a combination of too much sun, maybe a little altitude, not sleeping, exerting oneself, etc etc etc. Blah! Hard work this travelling lark!
So that wasn’t as brief as I’d intended. It’s put me in a better mood though, writing about it all, remembering the good times because I was in a bit of a grump, feeling ill and tired. Need some downtime now but that’s not going to happen for a few days. We’re about to embark on a tour across the Salar de Uyuni (think I mentioned that). Google it because it looks amazing. I can’t wait to see all that stuff, I’m sure it will be immense. BUT. The tour guide told us that virtually everyone gets very sick from the altitude, which is not fun. I’ve never had it properly, only a little headache, but it’s meant to be horrendous. Vomming and everything. Oh. So I’m half really excited and half really dreading it. At least by the time we get to places like La Paz and Cusco we’ll already be pretty acclimatised. Fingers crossed… If I really can’t cope with the altitude after more than a few days, I’ll escape – Argentina, maybe Brazil?!
I wish I’d been in England these past few days to express my disgust at the rise in tuition fees. I’m extremely pissed off by all these idiots saying “I’m just so ashamed to be a student right now, this is just so embarrassing” ERR!?! What? Shut up fuddy duddies! It’s about time the “apathetic generation” started standing up for what they believe in and I for one am bloody proud.
Ok yes, we can’t condone violence. But let’s not pretend like this is the first time a protest has ever turned violent – there were 50,000 people there and a very small minority took it too far and it’s a shame that people got injured. Everyone is completely overreacting – the media have chosen to focus on this, ignoring the vast majority who marched peacefully (with some really excellent banners, I must say). They completely underestimated the size of the protest and any fool could see the potential for violence – a lot of the people there would never have been to a protest before and don’t have the experience to realise when it’s getting out of hand PLUS where were all the police? They should have been able to keep it under control.
David Cameron (I can’t even say his name without wanting to puke) is opting to focus on the violence that went on, completely blowing it out of proportion, as his tactic to avoid confronting the huge opposition to his policy.
Finally, the person who should be ashamed of themselves is Nick Clegg. We’ve been royally screwed and that’s the last time I will be making a “tactical” vote. I never liked him, I though he was lightweight, I just thought, labour will never get in here so I’ll vote for the lesser of two evils… BUT I have a lot of friends who were really keen on him, almost solely because of Lib Dem policies on education. Look how that turned out.
I was just informed that peanuts are not nuts. Repeat, they are NOT nuts.
How misleading! I am bewildered by this revelation. It’s almost as baffling as the time I discovered a tomato is actually a fruit and birds are dinosaurs’ cousins!
Apparently the beloved peanut is in fact a legume as it spends the early stages of life in a pod. Just like other legumes.
When I think of peanut shells I always remember this club we went to in Hamburg. All anyone remembers of this particular club is that there were monkey nuts. Why were there monkey nuts in a club? I don’t know, but they got everywhere – we were finding them for days after that.
I found out another interesting fact about peanuts too. My friend told me that George Washington Carver, a black guy (which was a big deal back in those days) is not only responsible for peanut butter, but also came up with over 100 other peanut recipes! Apparently peanuts were pretty useless before he came along with his nutty (I couldn’t help it) ideas! So all in all, a fantastic thing.
I personally like eating peanuts just how they are, but I am definitely open to other ways in which they can be enjoyed, for example in curries. Maybe I will research his recipes. I didn’t particularly like peanuts before I came to Chile but now I eat them all the time.
I didn’t know I had so much to say about peanuts but turns out they are fascinating.
In an email today my mum told me about how my little brother’s friends all went into town on fireworks night and got themselves into a spot of trouble “startin’ on people” and the like. This really takes me back to my youth (my younger youth anyway – I’m still a youth). In Winchester, like in most UK towns, there’s always a massive bonfire and fireworks display on Guy Fawkes Night. When you’re younger this is an awesome excuse to stay out late in town, which is, of course, the ultimate life goal for a 14 year old from Winchester. Oh the good old days.
One particular year really stands out. I must have been in year 9, the year when suddenly everyone gets switched on to drinking and thinks it is the coolest and most outrageous thing ever. All I can really remember from that night is one of my friends asking a tramp to buy us alcohol (which they did) only to have a policeman make us pour away this sacred beverage. This was later followed by a 20 minute walk home to a friend’s house where two of the girls I was with (given the confidence from a sip of Malibu) decided it was a great idea to shout abuse at some local ruffians. Oh, how we ran! It was very very funny but we were genuinely scared for our lives and ended up taking refuge in an old lady’s house – not sure whose brilliant idea that was!
That incident was kind of our fault, but I had other friends in town that night and all of them encountered similar (but unprovoked) problems and some got quite badly beaten up. The rumour was a load of Eastleigh “chavs” would come down to Winchester every Guy Fawkes Night for some posh kid bashing… But, besides that, there’s something about Bonfire Night just brings the violence out in people. I’m not sure what it is; perhaps it’s all the talk of fire and burning at the stake? It’s a pretty weird holiday if you ask me.
I’ve just returned from a trip to Buenos Aires and you know, I think I’m possibly the first person on the planet (except for Chileans) to have said this, but I much prefer Santiago. Don’t get me wrong, Buenos Aires is cool and I had a great time there but I don’t get why TODO EL MUNDO is so insistent that it’s “da best place evaa” and Santiago is “lyk soo lame” in comparison. I accept that there are certain things that Santiago would benefit from; yes the rumours are true, Argentines are indeed beautiful and very stylish, which was actually a bit of a culture shock for me having been in Santiago for 3 months where no one gives a shit about what they wear… The food is also delicious and cheap – lots of Italian, lots of steak, etc. But it’s only marginally better and I’m not exactly suffering in Santiago – I’ve just had to adapt my tastes a tad.
So yes, there are beautiful people, the food is a bit nicer and I guess the nightlife is “crazy”, though I’ve never had any problem staying out all night and having fun in Santiago so I don’t see what the big deal is… And Santiago is so beautiful, in spite of all the skyscrapers (which I think may be what people object to.) It has lots of lovely green spaces and quiet, pretty little streets hidden away, though just off the main street, and wherever you are in the city you can always see the mountains (except on those few pesky days when the smog is too thick to see a thing..)
People ask me if I’m joking when I say I prefer Santiago but I really do mean it. Buenos Aires is a very cool place to visit, but it’s a big horrible city if truth be told and I felt a little lost there. Santiago is a big city but it has a small, homey feel to it and is divided up into lots of nice little neighbourhoods. Plus everyone loves an underdog. I think it’s a shame Santiago has such a shitty rep but then again, it’s nice having it to myself.
Perhaps Buenos Aires is a cooler placer to visit for a few days but I really think it’s lacking – what’s it got on Santiago? We have the mountains surrounding us, the beach an hour away, hundreds of quality vineyards, amazing national parks only a stones throw away AND the city is pretty and lovely and fun. So yeah, bring it Buenos Aires. To clarify, I don’t hate Buenos Aires, I thought it was nice, but I have a lot more love for ma hometown of Santiago!
Hannah Mead 