Hers: Lashings in London

We went from Turkey to the US to celebrate my Grandpa’s 90th birthday. We spent two weeks with our families, and it was absolutely lovely. It was strange being back after nine months abroad, so were definitely ready to get back on the road and back to our comfort of the unknown.

We only decided to go to London (AKA land of gnarly teeth and tea), because our flight from home to Cairo had an overnight layover in London, so the ball and chain suggested we extend it to see some friends who live there. I’ll be honest when I say I’ve never been interested in seeing London and I wasn’t impressed with the idea of staying a whole week. Andrew has been there 6 or 7 times and always raved about it, but he doesn’t know shit, so I didn’t listen. Really, I felt like I’d seen enough of it in movies and photos and most people I know have been and that reason alone made it less interesting to me. I’m much more interested in exotic places with cultural differences, warm weather and few to zero hipsters hipstering around like they own the damn city. I put London in the ‘that place is overdone. I’ll go there when I’m old. or never’ category. For the first time ever, I was wrong.

Some of our favorite hood-rats are living in London and each one showed us a different side to their city. We did a few touristy things, but mostly played and played and played in every dirty crack and crevasse built with the stolen wealth of the world (oh, burn). 

Upon arriving to the land of the Queen every woman receives a lavish hat for high tea and men get a jacket with coattails and their teeth painted brown. Horse drawn carriages, black taxis and double-decker buses flood the streets. Every waiter’s name is Alfred. People even smoke cigarettes with their pinkies out. Union jacks are on ev-er-y-thing. There are keg-orators flowing with London Pride on every street corner. People are still being hung, drawn and quartered inside castle walls. Fish and chips for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Andrew got into a sword fight.  We even saw Kate Moss hoof a line of yak on the bar.

Just kidding. London is just another western, big city, but it was beautiful and we had a riot. London was fun-don.

Fun fact, “Street names that sadly no longer exist include Shiteburn Lane, Pissing Alley, and more than one Gropecunt Lane, which as the name might suggest, was associated with prostitution.” - Buzzfeed - (you’re welcome Roy, for quoting your favorite journalism gateway)

Hers: Stranded In The Bush, Kenya

I suggest you grab a glass of wine and make yourself comfortable, cuz this is a long one.

Before we arrived to Nairobi, Andrew had made an Instagram connection; Ian Cox. This guy showed us the funniest, most crazy shit Nairobi had to offer. Some stories that will never be put to paper as they will surely come back to bite me in the ass when I run for POTUS. Andrew will give you the PG version of our two-week stay. I’m going to do my best to recap our most ridiculously African day in Africa, ever!

Our new BFF, Ian, took his new BFF Emily, Andrew and myself out to “the bush” for a real “Kenyan experience”.  All we knew about the bush is that there are Masai people and wild animals in the open countryside. The Masia tribe is basically the last, easily-ish accessible and traditional tribe in Africa. They’re known for their red, plaid looking “dresses” and cool ass sandals. People say that these shepherds are (were, maybe?) fearless warriors. We saw some in Tanzania/Zanzibar, but they were Disney-fied for tourists and turned themselves into basic bitches with neon-green Wayfarer sunglasses and the occasional gold tooth. Nairobi is a pretty modern city, but once you drive 15 minutes out, you’re in another world. There are leopards, hyenas, lions, elephants, giraffes, zebras, etc. roaming freely. Emily and I started drinking a few minutes into our drive (go ahead, judge the lawbreakers). If there had been a camera recording our drive you would have thought Ian was drinking with us because he drives like a full-blown psychopath.

The roads in the bush, are not roads, they’re just a shitload of holes in the ground that create a large vegetation-less dirt path.  He was going SO DAMN FAST and swerving left and right to dodge the bigger holes. It was sort of like riding one of those shaky, shitty old wooden roller coasters, but worse.  These paths were like the surface of the moon or that crater-faced kid, Pete, from high-school. Anyways, we stopped a few different times to get out of the car and take in the gorgeous scenery of the Great Rift Valley. One time we were sitting idle on the side of the road after taking photos, chatting, when 6 or 7 boys ran up to the car with beaded bracelets and key chains hanging from their fingers. We have NO idea where they came from, as there were no structures, villages in sight, they must have come out of the fucking ground like the worms in Tremmors.  They were sweet, with big, kind eyes, not pushy or moody or whining like other street hawkers we’ve encountered. We bought a few things, gave them some extra money and drove on, Mario Cart style.

We drove through so many gorgeous Masai villages. We passed dozens of beautiful Masai women with their bright dresses, massive beaded necklaces, earrings, and kids tied to their fronts and backs; just walking along the crater roads or sitting under trees. Masai people are relatively stand-offish, so stopping the car near them generally made them run, duck behind trees or just waive their spear/staff thingy in the air angrily. I would never want to upset these guys, they carry a spear/staff and baby sword tied around their waist at all times. We saw Masai kids no older than 10 years old tending to massive flocks of sheep. It was beautiful. It was so, so beautiful.

There were two old Masai men walking along the road with a goat (I'm certain it was a goat, but everyone else in the car called the creature a sheep - but what do they know?) in tow. They flagged us down and slowly walked up to the car as we pulled over with sheer excitement and curiosity. I never asked what Ian said to them in Swahili, but next thing I know they were squeezing into our car WITH their sheep/goat. One of the two Masai’s (we’ll call him Frank) was next to me and the other (Beans) climbed into the hatchback trunk WITH the sheep/goat. I had a very large beer in my hand and several empties in the back pocket of the drivers seat. Frank pointed at the beer in my hand, so I passed it to him not knowing whether or not he even KNEW what beer was. He chugged it, then grinned. So, I handed him a second beer. He downed that one too and then checked the empties, drank the last drops of backwash from each one. I smiled at him like a proud Mother. 

Anyways, we’re all packed into the Subaru, Andrew and I giggling to each other, knowing that whatever was happening next was going to be fantastic. Frank and Beans didn’t speak English, so they would have to lean over me to point Ian in the right direction. These guys live in huts made of cow poo. They’re in the hot sun ALL day with their sheep/goats/cows/donkeys. Those two facts mean they’ve got a funky stench that was undeniably revolting. Their teeth are mangled. They have crazy, long fingers nails, big, stretched out earlobes and they wear, what we would call dresses. Did I mention that they carry a staff/spear and a mini-sword? Yeah, this was quite the site and I think most people would think twice before picking up said hitchhikers, but you could see and sense that they had hearts of gold. So smiley, so cute, but oh, so stinky.

We thought we were just dropping them off at their village, but they invited us to stay. One of their daughters came out. She spoke a bit of English and translated for us. There were a total of 7 people that we got to meet, not including the dozens of furry sheep munchkins that we of, course had to chase, catch and hold. The flies were EVERYWHERE. We were COVERED in them. I have family who own large farms, so I’ve experienced fly mayhem, but nothing like this. It was quite unpleasant, and of course Andrew was freaking out (he doesn’t like when bugs touch him), but we were so infatuated with these people and their way of life that it made the fly hell totally worth it. Frank’s daughter, we’ll call her Ketchup, was sneaky and asked us for money in order to get a tour. Whateva, this experience was priceless. We all squeezed into a poo hut, where there was a small fire going, but it was mostly black as night inside. There were a couple of tiny stools, a bed/ledge made out of poo and hide and a second poo poo/hide bed in the next “room”. The smell wasn’t as bad as you would think, considering we were basically sitting inside a mound of dung up to 100 years old. Also, there were no flies in our poo house, so Andrew finally stopped having panic attacks. Emily was sitting on a poopy bed next to Frank and Beans. Me and Andrew we standing/nealing next to Ketchup, Franks wife (Mustard) and their tiny, but fat baby (Pickle). There was another kid (Onion, he had attitude so his new name is quite fitting) who was darling, but looked at us as if we were aliens. We all sat with smiles on our faces, but in complete silence. I think we were in awe of our current situation and the way the day had started to unfold. After awhile it became apparent that we were overstaying our welcome, so we all hugged, took some photos together, got into our car and drove onto our next adventure. We were high off the experience we just had together. Ian continued to drive like a jackass. Emily and I were starting to get tipsy and giggly and Andrew was taking every opportunity to poke fun of us, per usual. It was SO grand.

After a couple more hours of crazy driving, drinking, scenery admiring, we made it to the Lake Magadi. Magadi is a salt/soda lake. It looks like a frozen over lake, but pink. Pepto Bismol pink. There were dozens of men shoveling the soda (idk, just google it) into big thick lines. If you took an aerial shot of what was going down, it would look like a bunch of ants using tiny, itty bitty shovels to make thick lines of cocaine ready for a dollar bill and a schnozzle. Emily took a dance on the lake even though the workers forbid us from touching it.  Probably because its acidic, poison, moist, anthrax.

Ten minutes later we got to a portion of the lake that was regular water, rather than pink anthrax and it was riddled with flamingos. This was the first time I’ve seen wild flamingos. Actually, I’ve never even considered that wild flamingos existed. Those are some stupid ass looking birds. Watching them fly in flocks is the most bizarre thing. That said, I’ve developed a small infatuation with those pink, awkward dummies.

Two minutes after that we stumbled upon wild zebras and wildebeests. The termite hills everywhere were ten+ feet tall and while you know what nasty, bitey, bugs are inside, they still look majestic. We saw some weird looking horned animals and other furry creatures I didn’t know existed.

Twenty minutes later we were at the hot springs part of this massive lake. We all got out of the car once again, but this time to dip our toes into a multicolored hole in the ground. We took off our clothes with the idea of submerging ourselves, but it was hotter than hot, so we just skated around the slippery rocks, coming inches away from falling to our scolding death. We all looked at the car and complimented it on making it through hours of evil treatment from the rabid-driving, careless, heartless owner. Andrew actually said, wow, after that ride out here, with that thing still standing and no flat tires, this day could be a Subaru commercial… Yeah, a commercial about how to ruin everything.

At this point I’m buzzed enough that the memory of the following events are a bit spotty. From what I recall, we all got dressed and hoped into the car, Ian turned the key and tik, tik, tik, nothing... We laughed and laughed at the irony of what we just said (Why didn't I knock on wood this time?!) until we realized we’re in the middle of fucking nowhere and the sun was setting. We were parked in a massive dry lakebed and looking around as it got darker and darker- it was a bit surreal. Emily and I had our doors open, with our feet hanging out the open windows, we quietly mocked Ian for pretending to know what he was doing under the hood of the car and made fun of Andrew for sitting there, watching Ian, doing absolutely nothing (I think he was waiting for Ian to have him hold something. Andrew's more of a "tool holder" than a fixer.), as she and I shared the last beer we had. Honestly, the lack of beer was our only concern. We were stuck in the bush, where leopards and lions and hyenas live and that was fine. But we didn’t have any beer. We had water and a few chocolate truffles, whatever, water and chocolate…. But, again, no beer.

Well, after an hour of Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb touching parts on the car trying to look like they’re fixing stuff, the sun finally went down. We sat in the complete darkness, several miles from the last town, slowly accepting the fact that we’re going to sleep out there.  The sky was beautiful, filled with stars, it was really pleasant.  Then the hyenas started howling or barking or whatever they do that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand.  Also, with the buzz now wearing off….mmkkay, maybe sleeping not here sounds a bit better than sleeping here. 

After an hour of sitting in the pitch black, with manhood defeat completely accepted by the guys, we decided to give her another shot. “Let’s try to start it again, why not? This time, turn the lights off first.”  Rev, rev, vroom, vroom, OH MY GOODNESS, WE’RE SAVED, well,  that's if we make it home without Ian finally crashing the car.  I kinda wish we would have been stuck out there and maybe someone got a hand or leg bitten off by an African beast. We’re traveling around the world in search of adventure after all, I’m willing to sacrifice a few of Andrew’s body parts for a good story to bring home.

45 minutes later, we made it to electricity!  We stopped in the soda town, picked up more beer (our third beer run of the day) and headed for home.

We saw striped hyenas (apparently those are more rare than regular hyenas- Ian peed himself with happiness). We got stuck in a traffic jam as there were one billion donkeys sleep-standing in the middle of the path. At that point, we thought it was a good idea to get out of the car and try to catch one. Emily got close once, but we gave up when I stepped in a steamy pile of shit, and went back to the car as failures.  We drove back to Nairobi with our spastic driver, ate the worst meal of our lives at some random fried chicken joint and headed out to the Subaru to finally go home, 6 hours after originally planned.  We made it across the parking lot and finally, as expected, our trusty old Subaru had that flat tire that Ian basically worked really hard on getting all day. Of course. Seriously, Ian, you’re the worst car owner in the world. The worst.

The next morning we replayed the day in our heads and we couldn’t get the smiles off our faces. What a perfect day of madness and adventure in Kenya. Thank you Ian and Emily for being so fun and carefree with us. We love you both!




Hers: Zanzibar-ing Like F'n Bosses!

We’ve had a few adventures here and all of them have been interesting, to say the least.

The owner of our hotel recommended that we check out these “really cool” coral caves. So, we took our favorite mode of public transport here called ‘Boda Boda,’ which is riding on the back of a shotty motorcycle taxi. We got to the check-in point of the caves after driving 20 minutes on tiny, rocky paths through a jungle-like forest. We finally pull up with broken asses and there was no sign, just one guy sitting in a hut to welcome us to this “tourist attraction” who said “Jambo!” (Hi) and then handed us two flickering flashlights. He walked us through the forest until we got to a staircase going into the ground. It looked very civilized at first until we got to the point where we could no longer see the light from the entrance.

I shit you not, the very moment we were in complete darkness all hell broke loose. I consider myself pretty brave. I don’t scare easily besides from movies like The Ring or The Grudge, two movies that still haunt me to this day and I literally break down in tears when my d-bag husband makes the same sounds as the little demon child in The Ring. Worst sound ever, and he always threatens or bribes me with it! Besides that, I’m cool in dark spaces where it’s ideal for murders to capture and kill you. Anyways, we were walking through this pitch-black cave while the guide tells us the history of the cave and blah, blah, blah. I pointed my strobe light to the ceiling and I’ll admit, I wasn’t impressed with the hundreds of upside down hanging bats above us. They were silent and still for a moment and then they went ape-shit. They dive-bombed us repeatedly while screeching. “Bats wont hurt you” our guide said, “there’s no reason to be afraid of them”. Dude. Shut. Up. Andrew was walking behind me and I see his flashlight shine at my feet where the ground is properly moving. I actually had to remind myself that we didn’t take LSD or mushrooms before this excursion because there should be no other reason for the floor to crawl. I peer down to get a closer look, Andrew must have done the same thing at the same time, because we both screamed bloody murder. There were dozens of spiders the size of my whole hand, not my palm, my entire hand with my fingers spread wide. They had FANGS. They had big, fucking vampire-like fangs. We all know fangs = murder. Andrew jumped onto a boulder and I scrambled to hop on our tour guides back. I wrapped my arms and legs around him and begged him to run. He was giggling. The motherfucker was giggling at us. He informed us that they are poisonous, but they wont hurt us. That sentence made zero sense in my head and I wasn’t buying it. “Please, please turn around. I want to go back.” Homeboy walked onward into cave-hell with me still on his back as I sure as shit was not putting my feet down. There was another 25 minutes of this madness until we got to a point in the cave where we had to crawl on our hands and knees to continue. I said a few choice words to our guide and he turned us around. I couldn’t see the look on his face as I was still piggy backing on him, but I’m pretty sure I scared him more than this demon house scared me.

We’ve gone on walks through forests with dozens of monkeys who would climb trees and jump inches away from our faces and just peer into our eyes as if we were the animals. Idiots.

We took Boda Bodas to far away beaches where men build big, beautiful boats with their hands using handmade wooden drills and rocks as hammers. Cute little unsupervised kids playing on the beach and swimming in the water would run up to us and ask us to take their picture. Right as we’d lift our camera to our face they would scold us and say, “NO PAY, NO PHOTO”. Little shits totally tricked us.

We’ve been sailing a few times in the turquoise waters on the aforementioned boats. On one pre-historic looking boat-sailing trip, our Captain randomly jumped out onto the reef and asked us to follow him.  After walking through waist-deep water, dodging thousands, no millions of spiky Sea urchins, we found dozens and dozens of starfish in every color you can imagine. I tried to stuff some in my bathing suit, but their little feet things were tickling me too much. I read somewhere  that starfish can tickle you to death, so I didn't want to take any chances. Yes, i know its shocking that I read, I just skip over the words with six letters or more. I'm basically a speed reading legend.

We took a boat taxi to Prison Island where many, many giant tortoises roamed around freely. There were several that “stood” up to my waist, but all of them were over 100 years old and shockingly massive. We fed them, pet them, pretended to ride them and I was in heaven. If you kneel down and massage the skin in between their front legs, neck and shell they stretch their seemingly short necks out really tall like a growing penis. Ew, wieners are gross. Not these turtles though, they were cute as hell. When we arrived, one of the monstrous male turtles (tortoises? same thing) was mounting a much smaller female turtle and making the most horrific noise my poor, innocent ears have ever heard. She was casually eating lettuce as if nothing was going on top of her the entire time he was going to work, mouth-breathing on the back of her neck. I obviously got photos and videoed the worlds slowest sex scene. If you’re one of the people that I like making feel dirty all over, you’ve seen said video and heard the noise that I can only describe as…. actually, I can’t describe it. You’ll have to go there and hear for yourself. Anyways, I could have stayed there all day, despite the rape-y sex scene that has forever changed my idea of the phrase, “humping like an animal”. 



Hers: The Rio-ians in Rio de Janiero, Brazil

One, I don't understand how or why there are fitness centers on every corner but all people seem to eat here is fried food and steak. There are 1,000 crowded restaurants and food stands that only sell fried munchies - so our diet here has been 90% unidentifiable mush that's been deep fried into a golden brown slice of heaven. As you walk down the street, it's just gym, fried food, gym, fried food, gym, fried food. It's basically the most confusing thing that I've ever thought about (no, I've never thought about physics, rocket science or how jello becomes jello-y). Why don't you people make up your mind? Be fat, or be fit. There's no room for multifaceted people on this planet. Anyways, I really enjoy sitting in front of gym windows while making love to goodies that are the opposite of healthy and gesturing to the gym rats offering a bite. Awkward and evil. :)

***My body hates me, it's begging for something of nutritional value. My mind is telling me, 'its ok, veggies are for wussies. Put that frizzled happiness in your face hole.'

Two, there are 6.1 million people living in Rio and all of them get dressed in the dark. This doesn't upset me, I'm impressed that there are this many people in one area that look like they got dressed in the morning and swapped an article of clothing with someone else just for shits and giggles (bit of a false statement- nobody actually giggles here, but we were unfortunate enough to see a kid actually shit in his bathing suit, Woof). I will add, there are more spandex pants of all shapes, sizes and colors in this city than anywhere else in the world. It's true. The internet told me and the internet is always right.

Three, the locals here are so kind. We got a lot of flack from friends and family who said we shouldn't visit Rio because it's extremely dangerous and I, not exactly blending in with my blonde hair and green eyes, would be a target for all the "rampant criminals". We've been here for almost three weeks, in several neighborhoods, out and about at all hours of the day/night and not once were we worried for our safety. The people here are mostly very sweet and very helpful, despite their confusing health choices and clothing preferences. Please note that I said MOSTLY. I had a nice screaming match with the neighborhood nail lady. The little devil insisted on torturing me with a nail file and pokey objects that I'm certain are not meant for human interaction and then charged me $110 for it. It was a waste of time as I was yelling in English and she was yelling back in Portuguese, but I'm pretty sure I won. So, that was the closest I've come to slapping an old broad. Besides that everyone has been great!

We haven't captured any photos of the above subjects, so here's our view from the top of Sugarloaf Mountain. It was perfect. 

Over and out.