armyofsnails: (time snail)
This carnivorous man, a.k.a. [livejournal.com profile] sea_kaban, is the one who tied me up with sailing rope on a boat in the Canary Islands a year ago. Today he has cooked a whole goose in our honour. Hot goose fat is dripping off fingers; beer is drunk; rats (released from the cage behind him) crawl all over everyone. Read more... )
armyofsnails: (Default)
I have four volunteer tour guides and a hangover. Three out of four volunteer guides also have a hangover. This is because it's January 1st 2010, and we are in the ancient city of Jaffa, now part of Tel Aviv, recovering from the previous night's excesses - a party in [livejournal.com profile] muzk's house where we attempted to drink a toast to the New Year in every time zone in Russia, starting from Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky and finishing in Kalinigrad (nobody survived until Kaliningrad). Read more... )
armyofsnails: (man replacer)
Jerusalem Old City is full of tiny shops belonging to the four quarters (Muslim, Christian, Jewish and Armenian) and has arguably the highest concentration of hapless tourists per square metre in the entirety of Eurasia. That's not to say I'm any different. Except that unlike most tourists I don't have a map, naively relying on my two companions who are ex-Israelites to show me the way. And of course we get lost.

We go down yet another labyrinthine alleyway peppered with emaciated cats and loud salesmen looming in doorways. One of the latter is eyeing up my lady companion as we are walking by. He has a greasy hairdo and an impressive pot belly for someone of his build. Without further ado the salesman makes his move, "Hello beautiful. Do you need husband? I have very nice cock."

My second companion - the actual husband - responds, "Thanks for the offer but but she already has one." We turn into yet another tiny passage leading from nowhere to nowhere. After a quarter of an hour of strange meanderings we somehow find ourselves back in the same alley with the same salesman shaking his formidable stomach at the passers by.

The salesman recognises us, looks confused for a moment but quickly recovers. He folds his hands into fists and turns towards my friend, jumping up and down like a cartoon boxer, "Do you want to fight with me? Duel, yes? Fight, yes?"

"Go fuck yourself," my friend suggests laconically. He drags his lady and me away as I attempt to take a picture of the scene (and fail). The shouts, "You think you strong man! You think you strong! I defeat you! Fight, yes! Fight with me! Duel, yes! I have very nice cock!" etc. are heard in the distance for quite some time.

and not just that... )

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