Whasssss 'Appenin? Part One

Well then, it's been almost three weeks since I blogged. That has gone fast.

I've been getting about. I've been gigging! Get me!

First off I went to Cambodia for a week of gigging and ligging. It all began beautifully with an easy flight from Chiang Mai to Phnom Penh via Bangkok. It appears you can't even go to the loo without going via Bangkok over here. 

Anyway the flight was only 30 minutes delayed which is good going for Air Asia, and I was met by the magnificent Mr Dee, tuk tuk driver extraordinaire, and Daniel-Ryan Spaulding my co-star for the week. 

Luckily we weren't gigging that night so once we'd checked in at our fabulous hotel, the House Boutique Hotel, we had time to freshen up, and have a leisurely dinner with one of our hosts and bookers, the lovely Dan Riley. 

 Fabulous framed album sleeve

He took us off in Mr Dee's mean machine for a Cambodian feast, and it truly was. Of course I've forgotten the names of all the dishes but there wasn't a damn thing that wasn't amazing. We were joined for the meal by my old comedy chum Tony Morewood who is living a life of leisure in Phnom Penh these days, as well as dipping his toe back into the murky waters of stand-up.

It was a night of many beers for the lads, water for me, memories and reminiscences, as well as finding out the lay of the land from both Dan and Tony. We also got to meet our MC/tour manager for the week, Sam Thomas, a young American comedian with a great future ahead of him I believe.

The day's events caught up with me and I bailed around midnight, falling into my very comfy bed.

Early up the next morning as we had a four (plus) hour bus ride to Sihanoukville for the first show. Our vehicle - provided by another of the tour's sponsors Giant Ibis - was pretty cool and as comfy as any vehicle can be that you're sat in for a prolonged period of time. Of course every time I thought of the name I also thought of the Ibis hotel chain, but I can assure you these buses were way better.

We arrived at the beachside town of Sihanoukville around 3.30 and found the gig. This was made easier by Sam having been there before. There was a huge big poster outside but inside nobody seemed to be expecting us. Eventually we found someone who knew we were coming and they guided us towards the hotel. The hotel weren't expecting us either, I was sensing a theme developing. It says something about the experience when I say I can't recall the name of the hotel, I've stayed in worse for sure but it was the least lovely of the tour.

We went over to the gig early and met yet another "cook" *. Considering how many organisers this gig had it was possibly in my top 10 of disorganised gigs ever.

We found one guy who ironically was completely new to it all, and thus the most amenable. We set up a gig, there was even an audience and I got my first shock. Not only is smoking almost compulsory in Cambodia, and at £1 a pack I can see why, it's positively encouraged indoors! 

This was my first time ever doing a gig in a smoky room as a non-smoker, and now I totally get why my non-smoking friends used to complain back in the day. I had to shower when I got back to the hotel, the smell on my clothes and hair was just vile.

The gig, while certainly not vile, could've been better from all sides to be honest. The room was unsuitable, the audience mostly dragged in not knowing what to expect - and given that it seems to be perfectly ok to smoke dope openly - not caring much either. I was a bit freaked out by the whole experience but still managed to get some laughs thanks to the unstoned people in the room.

After breakfast the next morning I was happy to say goodbye to Sihanoukville. Perhaps under different circumstances it's a pleasurable place to visit, but it's not on my list of places to return to.


* As in too many of them spoil the frikken gig

A Traveller's Life For Me

So here I am in Thailand. I got here just under two weeks ago and already I feel myself letting go.

Of course a physical distance from life in the UK makes it easier to not be so caught up in the pointless rubbish I often allow to drag me down. There's something more though, it's being in a Buddhist country I believe. Everywhere I walk I see reminders of the Buddha's teachings, From the little offerings placed at the doors of all the businesses on the road where I'm staying, to the temples - which here in Chiang Mai "the temple capital" of Thailand are every hundred yards or so - gleaming and glorious in the sunshine.

Yesterday I ventured out to Doi Suthep to visit the Wat Phra That temple. It's a popular tourist attraction but despite the crowds I was able to get up close and personal with what I needed. I got blessed by one of the monks, dousing my head with holy water (so that's where the Catholics got it from!), and handing a piece of white string to a female assistant to tie it to my wrist. Here in Thailand they practice Theravada Buddhism and one of the rules is that no monk must have any physical contact with a female. Even if you buy something, you put the money down on the counter and then they pick it up.

When I was in Dharamsala doing the English conversation classes with the Mahana monks a few years back I was shocked with the first one shook my hand. I asked him why he was allowed to touch me when the ones in Thailand weren't. He told me that HH The Dalai Lama has said that the no touching rule serves no purpose (I'm paraphrasing here). His belief was that if you had impure thoughts, then not touching a woman wouldn't stop them, and likewise if your mind was pure shaking hands with a woman won't ignite the flames of passion Thorn Birds-stylee.

I wandered around the complex marvelling at the beauty of it all, feeling a lightness in my chest that I'm rarely aware of. By rights I should be feeling this chilled all the time, because there's a tradition here that the day you were born dictates your 'Buddha Nature'. As a Tuesday's child, mine is the Reclining Buddha - one of the reasons I love visiting the massive one at Wat Pho I guess - and you've gotta be pretty chilled if you're reclining by nature, surely!

There was a little stall selling amulets and I bought the tiniest little one to remind me of today and the feelings I'm experiencing. The monk manning the stall blessed that too before handing a woman another bit of white string to tie to my wrist. I dunno what being given two symbolises, either I'm very blessed or I need all the blessings I can get!

Something else I've noticed here in Chiang Mai is the prevalence of Ganesha in the most unexpected places. Outside the flashy shopping mall near my apartment is a shrine to him, and here at the temple I saw this (left). If anyone can tell me the reason for the sudden popularity of a Hindu diety in a Buddhist temple I'd really appreciate it.

I love seeing him here though, it's like the tattoos on my back with Ganesha in the middle protecting this body and Buddha on my right shoulder come to life.

While I'm on that subject, in Bangkok last week I saw huge billboards everywhere - from the arrivals hall at Suvarnabhumi Airport to Chatuchak market telling people to respect the Buddha image. Instructing us not to buy artwork or statues of the Buddha's head, and not to have Buddha tattoos as they are considered disrespectful. I can't tell you how much this has distressed me. I have a huge image of the Buddha on my back/shoulder and I can assure you it's one of the most respectful things about me. It's a copy of an ancient Tibetan Thanka, and I feel it's not just on my skin but inside of me, protecting me from my baser instincts. It's certainly not a 'fashion' thing or a tourist reminder. The idea that any Thai person seeing this would be offended upsets me, and I guess there's nowt I can do about that. I'm more careful about people seeing it this time round, even when I'm sunbathing! Up here in Chiang Mai I've yet to see one of those billboards, maybe it's more relaxed up here.

We also stopped off at a 'traditional' Hmong market that was meant to be selling traditional crafts. The Hmong are an ethnic group from the mountainous regions of China, Laos, Vietnam and Thailand, but I got the feeling this market was more about raising funds. Most of the goods on sale were the kind of factory produced tat on sale everywhere, with one or two exceptions who were selling things like home made honey which looked delicious but was in a jar so big that to finish it would surely have induced type-2 diabetes. Just beyond the market though was a flower garden that blew my mind with its beauty. Here's just a few images.

Indiahhhhhhh Again!

So I’ve been in Goa just over a week now. My first few days were spent staying in Anjuna so that I could hit the markets with a vengeance. Which I did. I spent so much time at the Flea Market last Wednesday that I was on chatting terms with the stallholders. Beyond a bag of peanuts I didn’t buy much, but I enjoyed trolling around the place. 

When I first visited that market in 1990 it was about the size of a football pitch and everybody just laid their goods on a blanket on the ground. Now it’s all bamboo stalls, and about the size of Hull. The quality of the goods has deteriorated sadly, back then you could get bags and throws that were hand embroidered by the woman selling them to you, now it’s all factory produced. Progress eh? 

The Indian economy fared much better when I went to the Saturday Night Market at Arpora. I came back with a cache of goodies, some of which might actually make it back to the UK with me! This market has everything, tourist tat, young designers selling original clothes and jewellery, live music, and food from around the globe. I’ll be going back next week.

In between I didn’t do too much, to be honest. The intense heat here, averaging about 33C, was disagreeing with me rather violently at first, I laid out in the sun for a couple of hours last Friday and was close to vomiting from the heat! That’s a new one for me even! Of course it didn’t help that I was sunbathing on the roof of my hotel, rather than on the beach (I couldn’t face the hawkers to be honest) so there was no sea breeze to cool me. Other than that I mainly did a lot of reading and even more sleeping.

I did find an amazing oasis in the madness of Anjuna, a fabulous organic cafe called Artjuna (www.artjuna.com). If you're anywhere close make sure to go. The good is delicious and even at the height of the day, it’s cool and shady. Also there’s a brilliant shop selling really gorgeous clothes, bags and jewellery.

On Monday I moved up the coast to Ashvem Beach. I’d booked at hotel online called the Rococo Ashvem which has just the most amazing feedback on Trip Advisor. The website looked pretty cool too, with it’s promises of being on the most exclusive beach in the area, and neighbours like Jade Jagger.

Now I’m long enough in the tooth to take those claims with a pinch of salt, so while I wasn’t expecting anything like five star luxury, nothing could have prepared me for the hell hole that awaited my arrival.

You remember when Terry Waite was a hostage and chained to that radiator? Well all I can say is if he’d been staying at the Rococo in Ashvem he would’ve topped himself. I was shown four different rooms that all made the dwellings in Slumdog Millionaire look like the Taj Mahal.

Celebration ice cream and Masala Chai at the new hotel

I was kinda stranded, unless I handed over my credit card I wasn’t gonna get access to the internet and the crappy 3G on my phone wasn’t working, so I decided to be all stiff upper lip and signed on the dotted line.

I went to check out the rest of the joint while at the same time texting an old Osho pal of mine who was staying further up the coast at a different beach to see if her place had any vacancies. She was out sightseeing, so I found their number and called. They did have a room available and were prepared to do me a deal. 

Slightly wary, I locked my luggage in the slum room, and jumped in a cab to Mandrem Beach. Not only was the hotel a billion times more fabulous (nothing could’ve been worse to be honest) but he was willing to cut me a deal and give me my own little four star beach hut for less than I’d paid at the shithole.

I paid half upfront and grabbed another cab back to the Rococco, took my case and handed over the key. The woman who’d shown me all four of the vile rooms had the audacity to look affronted when I explained I’d actually found a hotel that looked and felt like a hotel. I guess they were gearing up for a big old row about me trying to get a refund, but to be honest, they needed the money more than I did! Of course, by not even offering me the teensiest of refunds they’ve ensured I shall be correcting that obviously false Trip Advisor rating!

Yesterday, I met up with my pal Zia and her husband Steve - who it turns out are staying two huts down - and we headed up to Arambol for the afternoon/evening. There was going to be a carnival apparently, but what I saw was a bunch of people going for a walk along the beach dressed in bits of old tat. No different from any other day! We made for Oshoanic beach bar, and whiled the time away drinking mojitos, eating moms and pakora and pizza and catching up on where the last four years have gone. Fabulous

Anyway, it’s Wednesday evening now, and I've spent my first full day on the beach since I arrived. I’m somewhat acclimatised, and just finally slowing down. 

I've Been Unfaithful...

I wrote a little memoir piece for these guys...
http://magazine.enterprise.co.uk/open-road/perspective/italia-90-the-year-we-all-believed-world-cup-jojo-smith?utm_source=Magazine&utm_medium=Twitter&utm_term=Feature&utm_campaign=Italia%2090

How's The Air Up There?

As you know, I rarely blog these days. I’m not sure why. I think Instagram has replaced blogging for me. A picture really is worth a thousand words sometimes.

It’s Instagram that’s led me to write this today. I kind of have little themes going when I post photos on there e.g. Mondays are #MonkeyMonday and Saturdays are #SunnySaturday. 

Now given my passions, it’s almost impossible for Tuesdays to not be #TigerTuesday, where I post photos of my visits to assorted tiger sanctuaries I’ve visited in Thailand. For the most part these are well received. Recently however, I’ve had a couple of people really harangue me for my photographs of these amazing creatures.

The first time I visited the Tiger Temple in Kanchanaburi, Thailand I met one of the vets who was volunteering there. He was an English guy who’d chosen to give up six months of his life to work with the monks in tending to the tigers. I’d read up on the place before I went and the internet is filled with horror stories of how atrociously these animals are treated. The biggest claim (unsubstantiated) is that they’re drugged and that’s why we humans can get so close to them. 

So I got chatting to this guy and asked him outright - but away from anyone else’s earshot - if they were given a ‘little something’ to stop them eating the visitors. He laughed and said not at all. He repeated the fact that these tigers are very well fed and that in the midday heat when us humans come in, they really only wanna get some shut eye. 

The fact that recently someone was attacked by a tiger there is yet more proof that they’re not drugged I reckon. I know I’m a soppy old mare but I choose to believe the monks’ story that these are re-incarnated monks and if your karma is good, you’ve nothing to fear.

The second time I visited there, I was lucky enough to play with pretty much full-grown tigers as they cooled off in the water, I also got to hand feed one of them some cooked chicken, after I’d given him a bath. Those guys were definitely not drugged as they somehow managed to round up all the humans in the water and then lined up on land just looking at us and licking their lips!

The Tiger Temple is the oldest of these places in Thailand. A much newer way to interact with them is at Tiger Kingdom. I’ve visited the one in Chiang Mai twice now, and I believe they’ve opened another on Phuket recently. Why wouldn’t they? They’re a license to print money! Both occasions I’ve been there it’s been pretty full of humans.

It’s run very differently to the Tiger Temple, in that they actively breed tigers here. There’s a seemingly endless supply of babies to feed, cuddle and marvel at. Cynical old witch that I am - I’ve wandered away from the crowds on both visits to try and catch some sign of these mythical abuses I’ve read about on the net. I’ve never seen the keepers treat them with anything less than love and respect. Rightly so, these tigers are their bread and butter.

Now I will be the first to hold my hand up and say that there’s a part of me that’s unhappy that these places exist, but I’m pragmatic enough to realise that while they’re far from ideal, they are no worse than the majority of zoos I’ve visited around the world. The success of their breeding programmes eclipses most zoos’ ones.

One of the haters made a huge deal about how once the tigers are fully-grown they’re shipped off to China where they’re killed and parts of them used in traditional Chinese medicine. She could offer no proof at all of this, but swore it was true - in much the same way I can swear that Ryan Gosling loves me with all his heart. 

Now, let’s just say she’s right. It’s abhorrent and disgusting and all of those provocative words, but if we close down all these tiger sanctuaries does anyone really believe that the use of tigers in traditional Chinese medicine will stop? Of course it won’t, what will happen is the very few tigers left in the wild will be hunted to extinction and that’ll be the end of that. Man is the most dangerous and selfish of animals, if he believes taking a pill made of fermented tiger penis will give him a hard on, he’ll keep demanding access to it. 

Look at these medicines, a huge percentage are to cure erectile disfunction. Someone should inform the sick fuckers who demand dead animals bits as a cure that we now have Viagra.

What shocks me the most is zoo workers who attack me. Even the best of zoos is a far from ideal way for animals to live. Singapore Zoo is considered one of the best in the world and when I visited it was was very impressed with the way it’s run. But a tiger in an enclosure vs one living in the wild? Wild is best every time of course. The thing that depressed me more than anything was the way the animals at Singapore Zoo were made to turn tricks for the paying humans. A “show” telling the story of how mankind has destroyed their habitat employed several animals. 

If these Tiger Temples and Kingdoms are exploiting animals, what the hell are zoos with their “shows” doing? Both of them are whoring them out, only the whorehouse changes.

In an ideal world there would be enough space for every living creature to exist in peace with plenty to eat, room to roam and breed, and no fear of us. But when you consider how dreadful we treat each other, it’s pretty obvious that animals haven’t got a bloody chance! 

These people in their ivory towers who berate me for being evil personified because I post a few photos should really take a look at themselves before they start on me. I don’t drive a car, I don’t have kids, I’m really not using up too much of the earth’s resources. My job entails bringing laughter to my fellow man. I’m not the enemy here, I’m just someone who sees the world as it is, not as it should be.

Get your head out of the clouds and check yourself.

Paradise Found

So this trip to SE Asia has turned out to be very different to the one I had roughly planned in my mind. Regular readers will recall that this time last year I came out here for six months and buggered off home after six weeks. The thrill of travelling had left me, I was sick of being a tourist.

When I got the email from BA offering me a chance to use my Air Miles for a cheap ticket anywhere in the world, Thailand wasn’t my first choice. I looked at LA and a chance to visit one of my comedy chums who’s doing rather well out there, but there were no cheap flights available to Los Angeles like ever, so because I can’t resist a “bargain” I booked a return flight to Bangkok. 

beautiful Bangkok sunset

Mindful of the last trip I made it for six weeks and then thought no more about it really. The year moved on and suddenly in the middle of my Christmas shows it hit me that I was about to head off again. I had no real idea of where I wanted to go, so I got a visa for India and one for Vietnam. I had pals who were going to be in both countries around the same time so a vague plan of meeting up with one or both of them was filed away in my brain.

I also had a standing invitation to visit my pal up in Chiang Mai where she has a villa. I’d had the same invite last year although she wasn’t there, but then it all went to shit at the last minute, so as I booked my flight and my own villa on the resort I didn’t have high hopes or expectations. That, I now believe, is the key to having a great time. Expect nowt, it can only be a series of positive experiences!

Pre-fast and pre-tan!

As you know from my previous blog, the five days in Chiang Mai became 22 days and another vague plan to sail up the Mekong into Laos was shelved. I also missed the chance to hook up with my chum in Hanoi but as it was almost as cold there as it was in London I wasn’t too heartbroken about not getting there. After three weeks of raw food (and a week of NO food) I was determined to get my fix of Vietnamese cuisine though, so I booked a flying three day visit to Saigon. This turned out to be very serendipitous as I’d unwittingly left it extremely close to my visa for Thailand running out! 

My three days in Ho Chi Minh City were spent walking, eating Pho Bo (beef noodle soup) in some of the most unsavoury locations, and drinking gallons of Ca Phe Sua. I found a really cool little store selling gorgeous t-shirts and divine linen trousers, and stocked up. I cannot tell you how thrilled I was to find out that even in Vietnam where nobody has an ass I am a size S in trousers! Of course it might just be the cut, but an S is an S!

Chicken Banh Mi for breakfast

Has it really been that long?

From there it was back to Thailand (with another four week visa), and down to Koh Samui. I spent almost two weeks there last year and detested the place but I went back for the shopping! Because it’s the most popular island destination for Europeans there are more handbag shops here than in Bangkok even. Having been devastated that my favourite PatPong shop Mook had closed down, this was my only chance to get a fab fake. I was also looking to get another “Rolex” cos the one I got last year is still going strong and it’s the same time as it is on a real one. With that in mind I figured three days would be plenty and I booked a hotel from Agoda, which I thankfully got a big discount on. I say thankfully because compared with everywhere else I’ve stayed it was a dump. Bizarrely though I wasn’t that bothered. I’m not sure what’s happened to me on this trip, but I’m way more laid back about everything. Even the mad Russians who were in the hut next door playing bad trance on an iPhone speaker at  midnight didn’t rile me!

So I got the bag - a lime green Alexander Wang that I didn’t know I loved till I got it on my arm, and a brace of watches in red and yellow “gold”. All were bargains and I was happy.

Gotta love a bit of Wang!

And now I am here. In paradise. Also known as Koh Phangan. I’m staying at an amazing place on Salad Beach, which is miles from the backpacker hell of Had Rin and its legendary Full Moon Parties. On our stretch of beach there’s maybe four hotels and while they’re all pretty much full, there’s a silence. Nobody feels the need to pump out bad dance music, the birds’ singing is as much music as we need. 

I had been apprehensive about staying in an isolated place, especially as I’m here for almost a week. My theory in the past has been stay somewhere busy, because I’m travelling alone, but of course this hasn’t really worked out too well. Quiet is good. 

Fast Times in Chiang Mai

In a vain attempt to bridge the enormous blog block I’m gonna leap straight in with the most recent activities.

I’m here in Chiang Mai, northern Thailand. My hotel is overlooking the ancient city Thae Pae Gate, it’s about 30C and I’m a different person. 

Why?

Well, last week I did something I a/ vowed I would NEVER do and b/ didn’t believe I was capable of doing. 

I fasted.

For seven and a half days.

A bit of back story…

About five years ago my mate Gina did a fast in Koh Samui. It triggered a massive weight loss and huge improvement in her health. We did a tour together where she described the entire process in graphic glory, from the lack of food to the self-administered enemas. While I was impressed with her results, I was less than impressed with the methods! Laying on your back like an up-ended turtle, trying to stick a pipe up your arse, all the while sweating and slipping around didn’t sound like my idea of fun.

Fast forward to this January. Gina was in a spa in Chiang Mai doing her now annual fast/cleanse, and I was invited to go up and hang out, nothing more. I readily accepted and booked a one way flight up there.

I planned to stay no more than a week but within less than 24 hours of arriving at the resort I knew I’d be there longer. I can honestly say it’s one of the most peaceful, beautiful and magical places I’ve ever spent time. The climate is magnificent, none of the humidity of Bangkok and the south. Wonderfully fresh, clean air because the resort is up in the hills a few kms outside of the city. It’s been built in a style sympathetic to the local surroundings and generally resounds with simple luxury.

I quickly settled in and booked a further four nights in my Townhouse, but still adamant that unlike the group of fabulous women I met I wasn’t gonna be joining them in the cleanse. 

I did get into the raw food and for the most part I spent 10 days eating mainly veggie, mainly uncooked meals. All of them were delicious. As that 10 days passed, I watched my fellow Spa-ers go through the entire process and was incredibly impressed with the results. Glowing skin, shining eyes, not to mention weight loss, every single one of them was a brilliant advertisement for it. Importantly, every single one of them assured me that the enema (or colema as it’s called here) was nowhere near as vile as I was imagining.

I was slowing coming round to the idea and so it was that on Friday 18^th of January I found myself beginning my own seven day cleanse. 

It began with a weigh-in. I was delighted to find that in the two weeks since I’d left London I’d already lost seven pounds mainly down the the raw food diet at the Spa. I’d had my check up with the Doctor the previous day and all was good to go. 

I was given my first detox drink at 7am - a mix of clay and psyllium husk shaken with fruit juice and quickly downed before it set solid. This was followed 90 minutes later by six herbal supplements. These were to give me the essential nutrients and boost my metabolism. I had a little book with my schedule on it. Basically every hour and a half you’re doing something between 7am and 9pm. 

The "broth soup"

In addition to the five detox drinks and five doses of pills per day, you take two bowls of “broth soup” filled with minerals. This “soup” was more like the water left behind when you’ve boiled cabbage for about a week, but if you drank it rather than ate it like soup it was bearable despite the photos!

On day one you only do one “colema” and before you start you watch an instructional video and the doc gives you a physical demo of how to place yourself on the special board devised for this purpose. Not a complete demo I hasten to add!

The colema set up. Not sexy!

I won’t lie, my first day on this fast was tough. Almost immediately I got the headache from hell due my rather traumatic withdrawal from caffine. And when the time came to do the first colema, the process was far from simple. I ended up vomiting at the same time. Not the greatest of starts! If ever there was a chance of me quitting, day one was it!

Days two to seven passed without incident, I quickly developed a routine around the 90 minute intervals that encompassed meditation, exercise (including 200 sit-ups every day), and copious amounts of sunbathing. 

I can honestly say I never once felt really hungry. Of course you’re filling your stomach with all kinds of liquids on an extremely regular basis, and while I missed my morning cup of coffee I didn’t experience any real craving for it.

I even came to look forward to the enemas because there was the physical proof that the whole process was working. My results in that arena weren’t as striking as some people’s but it was still immensely satisfying to see all the old crap (literally) leaving my body.

On the morning of day eight you follow a sort of winding up procedure and reintroduce food very slowly. I was feeling weak by then and my body was definitely ready for some food, but on the whole the entire process was pretty simple and straightforward. 

Of course, it’s easy to do it in a place like this where everything is laid on for you and the most strenuous thing you have to do is walk up the hill to the meditation sala, but I think I’d even attempt to do it at home in the future. 

Before (left) After (right)

At the end of it all I’d lost a further seven pounds and now that I am eating again I’m still losing weight. I feel mentally and physically better than I have for a very long time, and have come away with a determination to do all I can to make sure I return to Chiang Mai again very soon.

Dubai-aiiiiii

So then…

When I got back from Thailand at the beginning of March I felt like I’d done enough travelling to last a while. I put my summer clothes away along with the suitcase I use for my major travels, thinking I might not see them again till 2013.

About a month later, I got an email from lovely Simon at the Comedy Store asking me if I fancied doing a run of gigs in the Middle East. To say that this came out of the blue is an understatement!

I replied with a ‘yes please’ and now here I am on day six into the 10 day gagfest, and I am having a bloody ball! I’ve had four of the best gigs I’ve ever had, in some of the most unusual circumstances, and I’ve gotten a reminder of how wonderful it feels to have the sun on your skin instead of cold rain.

Comedians are a relatively simple bunch of people within the showbiz family. We don’t need endless soundchecks or baskets of puppies and all white dressing rooms in order to give our all. We need a stage, a mike, some lights and an audience, that’s about it. If you add to that some amazing hotels and a couple of really friendly and organised promoters we’re the happiest bunnies in the universe. 

The people behind the Laughter Factory shows here in UAE have got it all spot on, and therefore all three of us are giving 100% when it comes to the shows. Another thing that makes for a good tour is the combination of comedians. The guys I’m out here with are fab, no hassles, no major egos, just grown-ups who are professional and chilled.

For the first of the three Dubai shows we experimented with me opening. The gig was fine but afterwards we all agreed that perhaps the audience needed to be a bit more ‘relaxed’ if they were going to be open to answering some of my questions. As a result we’ve gone for the tradition ‘girl-sandwich’ line-up since and I’ve had better and better gigs with each night that passes. 

On Saturday night we were in Bahrain doing the first of a new comedy night there and the audience mix was way more diverse than we’d had in Dubai where it’s been mostly ex-pats. To say I was nervous about doing my stuff to a more ‘traditional’ audience is an understatement! 

Wearing my H&M Does Marni Parka
for the gig in Bahrain

Rainer Hersch opened the show in his usual wonderfully witty way, and I sat at the back trying to gage the audience’s reactions to anything remotely racy. They seemed fine and they sure laughed a lot, but my ‘thing’ is way more blatant than his!

Apart from wanting to do well for my own sake, there was a pressure I put on myself that this was the opening night and if the audience took offense the gig might not have a second night! 

I am thrilled to report that all of my worrying was in vain. I had so much fun with the audience! One of my favourite parts was explaining what was wrong with the design of the Rabbit to two middle-aged (my age!) women in headscarves who, minutes earlier, didn’t even know what a rabbit was! After the show they thanked me for making them laugh so much!

Apart from the relief and joy I felt at doing a good job, I also got a buzz from my performance because it showed me just how far I’ve come on my comedy journey. A few years ago, I would’ve died on my arse with an audience like that. Not because of anything they did, or because my material was offensive. I would have died because I’d have been so freaked out that the charm would’ve gone and I’d have come across as just some old bird talking dirty. Nerves can be a fucker sometimes.

Sean Collins is closing the shows and of course he stormed it too - he really is bullet proof and so relaxed onstage he makes Sean Lock look like Lee Evans! Afterwards I lost count of the amount of people who thanked us for coming to town and giving them a great night. What a tremendous feeling that is!

JoJo in Paris

So much for being over my wanderlust. Back three weeks and off again, this time to Paris, but with one difference.

I did an awayday. What I've realised more than anything is that I'm less over travelling than I am over staying in hotels. I've been thinking about how much I love visiting Paris for a few months now, even while I was in Thailand, and so when I saw a tweet saying Eurostar were doing their £69 returns to Paris I went for it. At that point I still thought about spending a couple of days there but then I thought why not get the first train out and the last train back and avoid having to pack, unpack and schlepp a suitcase anywhere? So that's what I did.

The date was chosen purely because that's when the cheap tickets were available, but it turned out to be the perfect choice. It was, after all the first day of spring. I didn't have anything concrete planned ahead of time, either. I knew I wanted to get back to the Left Bank after discovering it on my last longer trip, and I fancied a bit of chill time in the Tuileries if the sun was shining. Other than that I was kind of open to whatever happened.

The downside of this was of course that the train out left at 5.40am which meant that I was up at 3am - yikes. I spent the day before working my ass off in the gym to make sure I was tired and went to bed at 7pm the night before, so actually I was as rested as if I'd not been up before the dawn had even thought of cracking. I even had a little twinge of nostalgia for Thailand as I put the BBC World News on and there was Mr Over-pronouncer Rico Hizon, so that's where he goes when I come home!

The journey was perfect, marred only by a report of a parcel bomb that had gone off outside the Indonesian Embassy in Paris at 3am. Nobody was hurt, but I wasn't sure how easy it would be to move about the city if it was on high alert. As I got off the Eurostar at Gare du Nord, I saw soldiers with machine guns patrolling the place - it took me back to my first ever trip to Belfast in 1980 with Dexys, the first time I had seen such a thing on the streets - but other than that everything seemed ok.

I grabbed a cafe creme and plotted a route of sorts. On the train I'd read that there was an exhibition in the Gallerie des Arts Decoratifs dedicated to Louis Vuitton and Marc Jacobs which I quite fancied, so that went on the list.

My route for the day then was as follows -

Galleries Lafayette and Au Printemps on Boulevard Haussman (I'm a girl I have to shop!)
The Louvre for the March Jacobs/LV mash-up
Lunch in the gardens
Left Bank for a browse around Le Bon Marche and a stroll around the streets
Le Marais for more wandering
Dinner and train home.

I'd bought a one day Metro pass at St Pancras for a tenner. It came with a map which meant I was able to hit the ground running.

The beautiful ceiling at Galleries Lafayette

Some days things just work and today was one of those days. From the off things just went to plan. For ages I've been searching for an emerald green handbag (not sure why but I have), I'd not found anything on any of my travels either fake or real and yet within five minutes of being in Galleries Lafayette, there it was suede, roomy and the most perfect emerald green! Just to add to the joy, it wasn't a €8000 designer job it was an own brand and less than £80 cos it was on sale! I didn't fancy carrying it around all day so I made a deal that if I didn't see anything better I'd come back for it before I caught the train home. That deal didn't extend to the dress and top I got in H&M next door - they fit into my rucksack no problem!

The Pyramid at the Louvre

 I took the Metro to the Louvre and went into the Apple store to use the free wifi so that I could check up on this bomb. I also took the time to have a look at the new iPad. Im sure it's fabulous and everything but it's still that bit too big and too heavy for me to carry round in my handbag all the time. My iPod touch and my Kindle are safe for the time being.

The sun was blazing and I found myself glad to be in the cool confines of the gallery, even happier when I could dump my coat and rucksack in the cloakroom before going in to see the exhibition. The history of the LV trunks and logo etc it pretty interesting - I didn't know they made a trunk that actually held a camp bed! The second part was a Marc Jacobs retrospective and for a Bag Slag like myself this was bliss, I spent a good long while staring at his work over the last 15 years, and kicking myself for not buying one of the Richard Prince "jokes' bags when I had the chance.

Outside, and the Tuileries was calling. I bought a baguette (compulsory) and found a bench and sat soaking up the spring sunshine. There was quite the little wildlife documentary going on before my eyes - pigeons, sparrows and starlings (I think) all attempting to make more pigeons, sparrows and starlings - and there were a few humans up to the same thing! I guess Spring really has sprung!

I sat for ages just 'being' in the space, which I know sounds really hippyish, but it was beautiful to just stop and enjoy the moment, and to count my blessings.

Birthday Boots!

After lunch I was on the Metro again, via a quick trip to Colette, down to Sevre Babylone (and ting) to check out my favourite department store in Paris - Le Bon Marche. Last time I was here I found a perfume that has become my signature scent. Again today it didn't let me down. I've been after a pair of Ash silver studded motorbike boots for a while and they're out of stock in the UK until September. I'd only just put my name on the waiting list for a pair on Tuesday in their Marylebone shop. So there I am gazing at all kinds of leg-breaking but lust-inducing stilettos, when I spot they have an Ash concession! I hardly dared allow myself to think they'd have my size but bugger me, they did! Happy as a pig in shit, I minced around the shoe department and then reluctantly took them off so that I could pay for them. Here was yet another treat, they were a good £40 cheaper than in London. Aaaah Paris I love you! Even without the box they were heavy, but this was one bag I was happy to carry.

I made my way up to Le Marais and by now it was getting late-ish so some of the little shops were closing (probably not such a bad thing) which meant it was cafe time. I found the perfect cafe bar, ordered a caffeine injection and sat and watched people while I waited for the anti-inflammatories to kick in.  I was close to the Pompidou Centre, so once my legs had recovered enough I wandered around there and watched some street entertainers and enjoyed the fabulous street art.







When I booked my trip I did think that I might have trouble filling the whole day, but now time was getting away from me! I made it back to Galleries Lafayette by 7pm and got the bag. It was even cheaper with the voucher that came with my Metro pass - perfect! Plans for a fancy dinner went out the window though, all I had time to do was grab another baguette before I had to check in for my train home.

Once I took my seat, my knackered old knees gave up the ghost, I slept the entire journey home. What a perfect day!

Faaaabulous!

The Journey Is The Goal

So then, this should’ve been the first of many long, photo-filled posts about my 5 month sojourn in Thailand, but it isn’t. Depending on how much I write, it’ll be the only one or at most one of two.

Two years ago this month I lost two people who meant the world to me. Now I won’t claim that I was in the greatest shape before their deaths, but the loss of those two people within a week of each other tipped me over the edge emotionally. I looked at my life, with them gone there wasn’t a whole lot left to show really. Their untimely deaths made me acutely aware that we have no idea how long we have on the planet and so I wanted to do something positive with whatever time I had left. I also wanted to live my dreams and travel. 

Well you can’t say I haven’t done that! In the last 24 months I’ve visited more than 12 countries in all and pretty much crossed them from top to bottom. This current trip was a continuation of that journey. Then last week, as I was laying by the hotel pool in Ko Samui while my pals back home shoveled snow, I felt something I’ve never felt in my life - ever. I felt homesick. 

I’d only been in London for six weeks in between the previous SE Asian jaunt and this one, but in that time I’d made sure I did all the things I love in London. I had lunches with people I love, got right back into my gym and yoga routines, felt a passion for writing that I’d not had since I was 14 and put my ideas out there. I was actually saying to people that I didn’t feel the need to go away again, but I’d booked the ticket so why not go and see how I felt while I was away? 

So this trip - as regular readers will know - began on a near-impossible high. I still shiver when I think about bumping into Ryan Gosling in Chatuchak Market. I’d not been in Bangkok 12 hours when it happened. I did kinda wonder how I was gonna top that experience, but then I headed north up to Chiangs Mai and Rai where I saw the magnificent White Temple rising out of the semi-industrial landscape like a mirage. That came close to my RGoz experience I have to say, but not quite. My last couple of days in Chiang Mai saw me taking a break from endless shopping and a visit to the Tiger Kingdom in Mae Rim. 

As my new Portuguese pal took photos of me playing with a 2 month old tiger cub, he commented that my face was a portrait of happiness. When I look at the snaps I can see what he meant. Now if only I had a photo of me and Ryan to compare the two. Actually I don’t need it, I know that my all too brief tiger time was an all time high of my life, not just of the trip.  

There’s not that much going on here for me on Samui, taking dodgy drugs and drinking buckets of hooch don’t really float my boat these days. I am enjoying the sunshine, and the endless cheap massages and other beauty treatments but last week I just knew I wanted to be home. 

So it is. I’ve booked my ticket and on 1 March I will be back in Heathrow and on my way home. I feel a fire in my belly I’ve not felt in a long time, for yoga, writing, people and life in general. That’s the gift my Dad and my good and dear friend Jason gave me. Life is to be lived, and lived well. 

 Before then I’ll be seeing a couple of old mates in Phuket and having another go at stalking Ryan in Bangkok. I notice Eva flew in a few days ago, she must be worried about him falling for me!