From Spain to Switzerland...by bike!

It’s become an annual occurrence of mine to cycle around Europe in my summer break from Colombia with a few friends in tow.  This blog documented my coast to coast trip across the USA in 2010, and also mentions  trips from Barcelona to Milan in 2011, and to Spain from England last year, but for one time constraint and another, I’ve not always been able to go into as much as detail as I’d like to have done.  Anyway, this year saw the 2012 crew decide to embark on another tour across Europe on our bikes, so myself, university mate, James Birchall and sort of university mate, Andy Kenny, put our heads metaphorically together through Facebook messages over a few months to come up with the plan of cycling from the Basque city of Bilbao, on Spain’s northern coast, to Geneva, just inside the Swiss border and on the edge of the mighty Alps.  As our trips tend to coincide with the Tour de France, we also thought we’d stick in an ascent of the legendary Alpine climb, Alp D’Huez, where the tour was going up in its 100^th anniversary year, and why not also pass by the engineering magnificence of the Millau bridge in the south of France?  There we had it, route sorted!

In Spain, with views over to the Pyrenees and France

Unfortunately, the preparation didn’t go as planned for Andy, who injured his knee on a training ride the week before we were due to fly out, so we were a man down straight from the off, which complicated equipment issues for us, such as tents and stoves, as well as him obviously missing out on a week of his holiday.   Nevertheless, James and I proudly boasted that we felt fitter than last year, and together with James’ new bike, and some fine sunshine, we confidently cycled out of Bilbao on a Saturday afternoon, with the remnants of a stinking hangover being masked by the usual excitement and anticipation of what the next 2 weeks and 700 plus miles of cycling would hold for us.  This year’s route distinguished itself from last year’s monotonous riding through northern France by thrusting us straight into steep, but short, coastal climbs, before gradually climbing the higher peaks of the Central Massif, and then onto the Alpine ascents that are infamous with professional and amateur cyclists alike.

The world's tallest bridge, the Millau Viaduct, 

Spain’s wealthy Basque country didn’t feel like part of a country with 25% unemployment, I suppose that’s why so many people there want to be independent, but did provide us with very pleasant coastal roads and a reintroduction to the cycle tourer diet.  Eating huge bowls of cereal and bananas for breakfast, lunchtime ham, cheese and tomato sandwiches, and all rounded off with chorizo and tomato pasta for our evening meal, interspersed with cakes, ice creams, cookies and nuts throughout the day, is very enjoyable.  I hear that Andy Murray and Novak Djokovic are on gluten free diets so I’m not sure what they’d make of ours, but it works for us.

James trying to shelter from the hail

San Sebastian was beautiful and had an incredible cycle infrastructure, including exclusive cycling tunnels, but Biarritz, on the French Atlantic, wasn’t as glitzy as I’d imagined, maybe that’s why the ‘Beer and Tits’ nickname originated, but still it had a nice beach and was a decent place to take it easy for a day.  We gradually made our way eastwards, increasing the mileage up to a hefty 85 miles on one day, but also into hilly inland areas, more vulnerable to heavy afternoon thunderstorms.  We had a bit of luck for a few days, avoiding them by diving into bus shelters on the edge of town at the last minute or sitting in McDonalds making use of the free wifi, before we were caught out.  Arriving at the top of a 1,000m peak, dark clouds hovered above us, and despite descending at 30mph, we weren’t able to out run the impending storm.  All of a sudden a barrage of ice cubed sized hail forced us to duck for cover under trees (not ideal in an electrical storm), whilst hailstones continued to ping off our helmets and chink our bike frames as thunder rumbled around us.  A few passing cars slowed down to see why the two resting bicycles didn’t have any cyclists on them, but it didn’t get us down the mountain any quicker and a cold and wet descent meant a break from camping in a ‘Chambe D’Hote’ was in order to dry ourselves and our kit out.

Spirits were raised the next day by a return to clear blue skies and scorching temperatures, as well as some lovely cycling through the Ardeche region, passing scented lavender fields, before we met up with our crooked companion, Andy, that evening.  His knee hadn’t quite repaired itself on the beach in Barcelona (blame the beer), but he felt up for the challenge to plough along with us for the second week towards Geneva, where he was then set to start another week of intense cycling through the Alps on a separate holiday.  Cycling predominantly with his right leg and a concoction of drugs that would make Lance Armstrong jealous, he more than kept up with James and I, leaving the prospect open of still being able to make it up Alp D’Huez.

Before that however, we had to stop off in Grenoble.  I’d previously heard good things about this place, but I reserve the right to call this city perhaps the most boring one I’ve ever had the misfortune to stumble across.  I’d say cycling 6 miles in the evening, along main roads, without finding even one bar open, makes it more akin to the nuclear decimated Chenobyl than a supposedly wealthy western European city.  At least we weren’t short of conversations though with our campsite neighbours well involved in their own domestic dispute and the campsite itself boasting toilets that smelt very much of stale urine.  A lovely place to stay, it was not.  Anyway, the Alps beckoned and at least Grenoble has a good cycle network, enabling us to make a rapid escape for the mountains.

Alp D'Huez - Andy 3rd, James 1st, Me 2nd

The name of Alp D’Huez rightly reverberates around cyclists conversations throughout the world.  It features regularly in the Tour de France and this year the cyclists were, for the first time, subjected to not one, but two ascents of the mountain.  This involves around 8.5 miles of continuous climbing with 22 hairpin corners ramping up the gradient to around 13% in places, taking you from the valley basin at 700m to the ski resort, at about 1,850m.  The tour and its 500,000 fans had filled the mountain the week before, so the roads were freshly ‘decorated’ with support for Froome, Quintana, Contador and co, all adding to the mythical nature of the climb.  James finished first in about 80 minutes, I was a few minutes behind and Andy’s ever expanding right leg managed to power him up not too long afterwards, a top effort from all of us.  We found a podium to get a photo in our new, and increasingly dirty, Union Jack jerseys, where the inevitable comparisons to Froome and Wiggins were made (!), they’d get up the climb in about 40 minutes or so, half our time and that’s an incredible average speed of over 12mph, doing it twice!  The information leaflet said around 400 cyclists go up every day in the summer, but I’d say this is a very conservative estimate, and the continual stream of weary cyclists that came passed us as we enjoyed a celebratory beer even included one guy with a baby on the back his bike!   These days are always the highlight of the holiday for various reasons, none more so than being surrounded by stunning scenery and feeling very proud of what you and your mates have just achieved.  Obviously  knowing that the climbing is just about done, leaving you to cycle down at 35mph, is pretty good fun too…

Unfortunately a visit to the Grenoble campsite was once again called for, where our rubbish bag from the previous stay still hadn’t been removed, but we treated ourselves to a rotisserie chicken and manufactured a fridge out of Andy’s pannier for the beer.  All that was now left was the 100 miles or so of cycling to Geneva, via a stop off at beautiful Lake Annecy, to complete another cycle tour across Europe and finish with a few well earned beers!  Geneva is as expensive as you might have imagined, and also full of prostitutes we realised, which you might not have thought of.  Consequently walking around slightly inebriated at 3am looking for a takeaway felt more like walking down the seedy Avenida Sexta in Cali or Amsterdam's Red Light District than a classy European city, but I suppose nowhere's ever perfect.  It does have free public transport to the airport though, which is a very advantageous when taking your 25kg cardboard box and bike back home!   

Last day's cycling at Lake Annecy

When telling people about these trips afterwards they are often astounded by what they entail, and when planning them you do think if you really want to put yourself through the long, hot days, sudden rainstorms and endless climbs all over again.  But that unpredictability for me is what cycle touring is all about.  Cycling with your mates, experiencing all these continual challenges can be occasionally frustrating, but when finishing in a new city together and being able to look back at how far you have travelled in such a short space of time, you can feel rightly pleased with yourself.  Obviously you also feel a hell of a lot fitter, maybe with a few niggling pains, but having seen a huge part of a country, eaten its food, spoken the language and shared the usual jokes and bugbears for 2 weeks we start to think where the next tour could take us.  Maybe the World Cup or something else will get in the way next year, who knows, but if not, I’m sure we’ll get planning and think of where we could go.  Europe's compactness, fine summer weather and beautiful towns and cities always make it an attractive choice, but across the pond The Pacific Coast Highway, from LA to San Francisco, is widely regarded as an excellent cycle tour.  Wherever we choose I'm sure there'll be the usual trials and tribulations - wonderful weather, stunning views, evening beers, as well as a scruffy campsite or two and some horrendous hangovers hanging on the handlebars...but hopefully we'll once again be able to look back on what we've done, have a few more stories to tell and some well toned and tanned legs to match!


Here are some facts and stats about the trip:

Distance travelled - 722 miles (I think!)

Longest day - 85 miles, Lavaur to St. Affrique

Average mileage over 14 days - 52 miles a day

Highest point - 1,850m, Alp D'Huez

1,000m+ passes - 3

Accommodation - 11 camping nights, 4 hotel/Chambre D'Hote/hostel nights

Hottest day - 40oC, Viviers to St. Donat

Punctures - 0

Thunder storms that stopped us cycling - 4

Hail storms that stopped us cycling - 1

Evening meals - 9 'Pasta Delights' cooked on the stove, 5 burgers/pizzas eaten in restaurants

Countries visited - 3, Spain, France and Switzerland

Song of the tour - Ian Brown - Stellify

Foreign Football in Cali and the founding of Aston Huila!

I recall living abroad for the first time in Chile 5 years ago.  One of things I missed most about  life in England was having a regular game of football with a group of mates, an event to get together every week, do some exercise and share a few jokes and beers afterwards.  I felt the same sentiment when I started living in Colombia, and it took me a year and a half in Cali to find a good group of guys who invited me along for a kick about.  The crew I stumbled across were a mix of foreign teachers and a rag bag bunch of Colombians from all walks of life, some of whom have been playing together in the same place, at the same time, more or less every week for the past 8 years.  Obviously some faces have come and gone due to moving jobs, changing girlfriends and the like, but the tradition lives on and we meet every Friday, at around 6pm, for a game of 5 or 6 a side, on top of a multi-storey supermarket car park, with a view of Cali and in the shadow of the towering Andes.

The two teams that kick off are generally comprised of foreign transfers, it could be said, with a few homegrown Colombian talents who've managed to penetrate their way into the first team.  The quality of the game varies and niggling injuries persist, backs crack here and knees creak there, but we normally play for at least an hour, sometimes running up a rugby score with a few 'Golazos' in the process, but then always sitting down for a few beers and a good catch up afterwards.  Post match rumours have occasionally circulated about possible 11-a-side games and potential opponents, but it has taken until last Saturday for a full sided game to be arranged on a good quality pitch, with kits, opponents and, the hardest bit, our own 11 players!

Pre-Game Team Talk

'Captain' John Driscoll, who christened us 'Aston Huila,' did the lion's share of organisation, sending the team out by facebook, buying the oranges and even arranging a fake German away kit to wear, with a few pairs of accompanying Liverpool shorts, raising eyebrows amongst certain team members.  The venue was Deportivo Cali's training complex, in the south of the city and on the edge of the Cordillera mountains, which comes complete with a few pitches, pool, steam room, gym and even a bar and restaurant.  Our opposing team were all big 'Cali' fans with the relevant club membership to play at such a place, which is how we got the invitation to come along, otherwise there's no way we would have got the chance to show our skills (!) in such extravagant surroundings.

Being the first time most of us had ever played 11-a-side football together, as well as with the game taking place in Cali's suppressing afternoon heat, we didn't exactly have expectations of a possession, pressing based 'tiki-taka' style of play á la Barcelona, but we thought that with our virtues of organisation, communication and team spirit, as well as a few skillful players dotted around the team, we might be able to spring an upset on the Colombians.  However, like everything in life, preparation is paramount.  The star striker got lucky on his big Friday night on the town, with inevitable consequences, the intended left back couldn't make it due to his own toilet committments and the right back, myself, had barely eaten for the previous 2 days due to stomach problems of my own, as well as one centre back only just passing a late fitness test on his back.  All in all, not great and when we saw the size of the pitch we were going to play on, our childlike enthusiasm was replaced with a less gung-ho attitude, based around the need for energy conservation and maximising substitutions.

Being punctual foreigners we arrived one hour early, but being Colombia, the game was of course slightly delayed due to the referee's late arrival.  Eventually at about 3.45pm we kicked off and tentatively got to grips with our positions and sussing out our direct opponents.  Mine seemed to be a fairly silky skilled left winger, he wasn't having any of my banter intended to put him off his game and I opted not to put a Ron Atkinson 'reducer' on him early doors to make my presence felt, for fear of being turned and skinned, and then potentially sick chasing him down on my starved stomach.  Nevertheless, we had a fairly solid start with some good tracking of players and preventing chances, and even some good passing and a few chances of our own.  Having never defended a proper corner together, set pieces were never going to be our strong point, however, and it was from the first corner into the box that a towering free header put us 1-0 down after about 15 minutes.  The challenge now was to keep our heads held high and get ourselves back on track.  Luckily, a quick reply came thanks to some tidy build up play on the right and a nice finish from Canadian creative midfielder, Andy Harris.  1-1 and game on!

Top:Ayres,Whelan,Skinner,Driscoll,Chow,Sheakespeare,Harris
Bottom:Procter,Ortiz,Palmer,Kaney,McCaffrey

Unfortunately we couldn't hold on for long and we went off at the break 3-1 down after a few well worked goals from our oppenents.  Fitness was proving to be an issue, with most of our team sporting pasty white skin which was proving extremely attractive to the overhead sun, and the tropical heat wasn't helping the situation either, meaning regular substitutions, affecting the set up of the team.  It goes without saying that the half time oranges were a very welcome sight.  It turned out as well that the referee, who was having a pretty good game in general, had only given us a 40 minute half, but he said he'd rectify it by giving us a 50 minute second half, not that much of the team were interested in actually playing the whole official 90 minutes at that moment in time.

The second half started well for us, but the left winger, their best player, scored two goals in quick succession, leaving us an uphill battle for the last 25 minutes.  We still managed to get a few shots away and had we taken our chances, especially at 3-1, who knows what would have happened.  The game eventually finished 7-2, with the half highlights being Harris' stupendous second goal, a 25 yard screamer leaving the keeper hapless.  A mention must also be made for our goalkeeper, Luke Whelan, whose own goal was a sight to behold, clinically smashed in the top corner of his own net from 1 yard out after a goal mouth scramble.

So, the game finished, handshakes were exchanged and the rather tacky trophy was passed over to the victors, leaving us to reflect on Aston Huila's first outing.  After a quick dip in the pool and some time in the steam room to rest sore muscles and aching joints, a few beers slipped down easily in the sumptuous surroundings, with conversation revolving about when future possible games will be and areas for improvement as a team.  The sun, heat and humidity proved a lethal combination, and adding on our general lack of fitness, it was no surpise that most of the squad was left absolutely battered, so there we have one area identified for definite improvement in the future.

Post Friday Footy Beers!

Looking back a few days later after the knocks have faded away and we've all got our breath back, I'm sure we can all say it was a great day out.  It's not every day you get to play at one of the most exclusive places in Cali, surrounded by palm trees, the Andes mountains and with tropical birds serranading you as you run around a football field.  It might have been hard work, and we didn't win, but as with all team sports, it's not just the actual game that defines your enjoyment of the occasion, but more the actual people you play with.  Who'd have thought that all those Friday evenings running around on top of a supermarket, releasing the pent up anger from the busy week at work, would have lead to such a fantastic afternoon.  And so we'll meet again this Friday evening as the daylight fades, captains will pick the teams, the game will feature a few good goals, and a few scrappy ones, but of course we'll all sit down afterwards for a few (too many) well earned beers!

  

Back to posting with a personal review of 2012!

First of all, an apology.  This blog has fallen somewhat by the wayside over the last 18 months.  For this I blame a combination of more time consuming work and obviously becoming lazier in the free time I do have, but who would have thought that at 1am on New Year’s Eve 2012 the writing inspiration would grace my fingertips and keyboard once again!  That, and the steady stream of tweets and emails I receive on a weekly basis regarding  teaching, travelling, Colombia and anything else to do with my life, have put my mind to work on my life review for 2012.  I do read all the emails that you send me, and do my best to get back to you all, even if there maybe a delay, which I sincerely apologise for.  Anyway, hopefully this review should be a bit more entertaining than a standard ‘Round Robin’ Christmas card letter!

Starting on a professional level, 2012 treated me with a change of jobs.  I’ve now gone from working in one of Cali’s prestigious bilingual schools, teaching 8^th and 9^th grade English and History, to another top school, but just with 8^th grade English to keep me busy now.  Less planning, a bit more grading and more academic freedom is the general mantra of the new job.   I’m finding out 8^th graders are the same, regardless of the school – that means they like to touch each other, often inappropriately, hate authority and have little control over their hormones and emotions.  But it’s these observations of their growing up and (slow) maturing that make them ever so slightly endearing, at times.

Free time in Cali is being increasingly taken up by the growing cricket schedule - we have had 2 competitive games this year!  Us Cali folk ventured up to the capital in June for our first away fixture and then Bogotá returned the favour in November.  Unfortunately they trounced us on both occasions but all the meetings are turning out to be very memorable occasions, whether that is due to being invited to the British Ambassador’s residence in Bogotá, having inebriated team members vomit out of buses (no names), or some absolutely marvellous cricket in the meantime, I’ll let you decide.

The expanding cricket team, forming a sort of core for the British community in Cali, is definitely one of the highlights of living abroad now.  The cricket is taken fairly seriously, but the bonds amongst a rag bag bunch of people, developing into a team, and the people that surround it, make these match weekends ever more enjoyable.  Around that we have also had occasions such as the Diamond Jubilee to bring us together for a rendition of 'God Save the Queen', and even Cali’s first ever pub quiz, hosted by myself and good friend, Luke Whelan.   The role of being a Quizmaster can be a bit stressful, but having 50 people wait on your every word and then getting to see their look of general confusion with questions such as, “Which company sponsor Novak Djokovic’s tennis clothing?” is very good fun.

My holidays this year have followed a similar, adventurous theme, as with previous years (with the exception of the recent excessive Christmas drinking!).  I have just come back from the French Alps, after a week’s skiing in luxurious Courchevel, and the summer’s main expedition was a cycle trip from the south of England to the wonderful Spanish city of Barcelona, via the ferry to Northern France at the start of course.  University friend, James Birchall, and American cycle companion, Andy Kenny, provided the company this time as we ventured through western France, before arriving at the Pyrenees.  Regular readers of this blog will be aware that planning of our cycle trips doesn’t really come high on the agenda and just heading for a destination is the accepted norm.  Well, the same was true this year, except that the Tour de France decided to cross our path!  Obviously the Tour goes much faster than we do, but our ascent of the highest pass in the Pyrenees, the Col du Tourmalet at 2115m, was just 2 days before Wiggins, Froome, Contador and co were making their way up it.  Consequently, our 4 hours of climbing was accompanied by all the Tour fans setting up to watch the race later in the week,  all of a sudden giving us thousands of adoring fans shouting “Allez Allez”, to which I responded with my support for Wiggo!  There was also lots of past support for Lance Armstrong still painted on the road, I wonder if that will still be there in 2013.  Bearing in mind that 2013 is the 100^th Tour de France, I think I might plan to cross paths with it this time, maybe for the Alp d’Huez Alpine finish?

I always think it’s a good idea to ‘tick’ a metaphorical box every year, whether that be visit a place, see a person, or do a personal milestone, such as a marathon.  Well, the marathon box thrust itself upon my friend and colleague, Jim Watts, and I in September by way of the Medellin marathon.  ‘Thrust’ being the verb of choice mainly as we only entered 10 days before, and completed one training run in the process.  We were raising money for a local charity in Cali and our lack of training, whilst being very brave, was also rather short sighted in some respects.  Just having a good aerobic fitness is not enough for a marathon I found out, rather painfully, at the halfway point of 21km when my right knee seized up.  Still, Jim and I both finished, arm in arm, towards the end, in a time of over 6 hours, and when the finish clock had already been packed away!  It was immensely difficult in the scorching heat and with the pounding pain in my knee, but the solidarity and determination in finishing, together with the immense pride in completing 42km with my mate in Colombia’s first ever international marathon, was well worth the effort, and just about the 2 weeks of pain and hobbling that followed.

I suppose that brings me on to a nice end with the London Olympics.  A blog by an Englishman wouldn’t be complete without a mention of such a momentous occasion for my country.  I was lucky enough to witness Bradley Wiggins storm to Gold in the Cycling Time Trial and also three football matches at Old Trafford, including seeing the impressive but eventually disappointing Brazil team.   The tangible optimism and positivity in London, and around the whole country, was contagious and the venues, both old and new, looked spectacular.   However, the pride of watching both opening and closing ceremonies, with the images of James Bond, the Queen and Mr. Bean beaming around the world, accompanied by the music of the Spice Girls, Take That, The Who and everyone else, couldn’t have made me feel more proud to be British and will definitely stay with me forever .  What an occasion, what a year, and I wonder what 2013 will hold for me back in Colombia?!  That just leaves me to thank all my colleagues, students, friends and family for all being magnificent - Happy New Year!

*More pictures to be added in the coming days!*

Cricket in Colombia

I've mentioned the sport, cricket, a few times on this blog and in other places related to life in Colombia.  I played fairly regularly as a child in school up until the age of 16 or so, and have always taken an interest in the international game, of which my highlight has to be managing to get into Old Trafford on the last day of the 2005 Ashes test match, when 25,000 people were locked out of the packed stadium.  I pushed in the queue to get in, which is rather shameful, but would I do it again to witness the game come down to the final ball, definitely.  Anyway, this most quintessential of English sports has become quite a big fixture of our expat life in Cali over the last few months.

Peter Martin's great design work

Thanks to the many hours of organising by David Muirhead, Cali was able to host its first 'competitive' cricket game since 2002 against Bogotá last weekend.  The build up involved several fairly rigorous (depending on how old you are!) training sessions under the watchful eye of resident Aussie, Tony Carter, and even some net sessions at the restaurant in Rozo.   Arrangements were made for the British Ambassador, John Dew, to come down, t-shirts and caps embroidered with the new logo, social events planned, and eventually, the weekend arrived.  Captain Dennis Jarvis even gave strict instructions to the welcome party to get the Bogotá boys out on the lash in Cali on the Friday evening, in an attempt to cripple their batting line up the following day.  3am phone calls enquiring about the whereabouts of people's kit seems to ensure that was done to good effect.

Getting to the Colombo for the game may have involved a failing convoy of various overloaded vehicles and a few beers, but Friday's rain held off and the 20/20 version of the game was quickly under way with Cali winning the toss and putting Bogotá into bat.  The first over featured 2 sixes as the openers aggressively took on the Cali attack, but Andy Jarvis quickly replied with 2 wickets in the following over. A few chances could have been taken but the middle order ploughed on to take the score to 109/3 off 9 overs, a good building block for the rest of the innings.  Wickets continued to fall, until an impressive last pair stand by a passing traveller in the team and an imposter from the Cali crew, taking their score to a mighty 189 all out off the 20 overs.

Andy Jarvis batting

The Cali innings got off to a decent start with John and Tony, but two wickets in an over, including my own for a very irritating golden duck, were then followed by a middle order collapse.  John scored 44, and then Andy Jarvis took on the Bogotá attack with the tail, scoring a potent 32, but the lack of any partners was always going to prove problematic with Bogotá's bowlers on top form, the nomadic traveller making his mark with a 5 wicket haul.  We were all out for 98, giving the Bogotá team a resounding victory in the 'warm up' game.

We then headed off to the Carlos' residence for some wonderful hospitality to relax after the game.  The delicious paella was swished down with lots of booze, a bit of kareoke and dancing was also had, and all in all , a bloody good time was had by everyone!

Post game social at Carlos'

I then had to leave on the Sunday, so wasn't able to take part in the game, but from what I understand, the Bogotá team very much left their hungover heads on the hostel pillows.  Batting first again, they wilted in the hot Cali sun, and were all out for 133, letting Cali romp to victory by 9 wickets.  John and Tony Carter each scored half centuries and Tony was then named 'Man of the Match,' a fitting way to mark his last outing for the team before he leaves Cali.

Some turned up just to support, others helped out with the hospitality, some just played, but everyone got involved with the event and I think I can speak for everyone that came in saying a great weekend was had by all.  Rumours are already flying around about getting a rematch set up for November in Bogotá, I'm sure they'll want to take us on at altitude. Cricket may have its home back on village greens in England, but a football pitch in tropical Cali, Colombia, didn't prove too bad a venue I must say!

I'm back in England now, planning my cycle trip from Barcelona to Milan, starting in 2 weeks.  I'm then working in a summer language school before heading back to Cali again in August, for another year...or so!  Follow me on Twitter @latino_dave for ongoing updates on these adventures...

Events Back Home

When deciding to live abroad you have to be aware that in doing so you'll be detaching yourself from lots of things that have had a big influence on your life as you've grown up, your friends and family most significantly, but also news, sporting and cultural events that are constantly on going.  There aren't too many days when I really miss England, but watching Man Utd win the record breaking 19th title slightly hungover on Saturday morning and the victory against Chelsea last week, I thought it'd be great to be back home, enjoying the wonderful atmosphere of success whilst marauding slightly inebriated around Manchester city centre.

Although everyone is probably sick of hearing about the Royal Wedding two weeks ago, the same has to be said for that.  This was a truly global, once in a generation event, so much so that when teaching my 3rd grade children (8 years old) in the week before it, they knew more about some of the background and traditions than me, I was astonished.  Being in London, or just in England, for that special holiday period to soak up the feel good vibe, sing along with 'Jerusalem' and wave a cheap Union Jack around would have been fantastic, but then life's twists and turns have brought me here to Colombia and I suppose if there's a Royal Wedding in another 30 years or so, I'll be able to look back on this one and remember my crazy few years in tropical Cali.  As to where I'll be then, that's another matter!

And then in 2 weeks time, the ultimate occasion in club football, the Champions League Final, between Manchester United and Barcelona, comes to Wembley.  I was living in Chile for the 2008 penalty victory over Chelsea, so missed the manic celebrations in Manchester at John Terry's expense, but did venture to Rome to see the humiliating loss against Barca in 2009, although we had a fantastic few days in the Italian capital.  A friend has got hold of a ticket for the Wembley showcase, and I even met a Colombian guy last week who has splashed out €2,000 a piece for the game - he's going to London just for that, must be very flush with cash!

Even though I'll be able to watch the game just as easily here as in England on cable TV, with a few friends and accompanying beers no doubt, it'd be nice to be in a bar in Manchester, or London for that matter, and be surrounded by all the anticipation and excitement associated with such monumental events.  A global audience of 1 billion or whatever it will be just adds to the hype of it all, and I am very much looking forward to what I hope will be a victorious day for my team!

Next summer then brings the Olympics, the biggest show of them all to London.  Despite all the scepticism towards seemingly every aspect of the event, which I think is a very unfortunate aspect of the British psyche, it should be a great show piece and, as long as it doesn't piss down for the two weeks, a wonderful advert for the country.  I've just accepted a job at a bilingual school and will be in Cali for another year, but my holidays would coincide with at least some of the Games, so hopefully I maybe back in England to witness some of the spectacle.

Morning mist and sun in Cali

Obviously the wonders of the internet make it much easier to keep in touch with all of these things nowadays, but there is a part of me that always wants to be there.  This is just the case too with friends and family, the first of my good mates from university has just got engaged back in England, and living abroad would probably mean missing out on that wedding, depending on when and where it happens.  These are all things that affect people living away and can make it hard at times, but then you wake up, look at the morning sun shining on the 4,000m Andes that tower over Cali, and think what a cool thing you're doing in the meantime.  I don't know too many people back home saying that about their current job at the moment.