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Welcome to my travel log! You will find here a lot more than in the travel reports, stripped from political correctness. Enjoy! 
Jan 07, 2006 07:00 PM Antigua - my best street and night party ever (almost)
Next morning I booked all remaining accommodations using Opera Internet browser in my mobile phone. Only then I thought I should be proud of this somewhat wonderful piece of gadget. It was almost unbelievable how I could find the right web page, request and filter through the available accommodation options and pay with my credit card!
I then had to figure out what to do for the entire day. I negotiated with a taxi to take me to the capital via a scenic route, so I could stop and take pictures. I showed him the map of the island and pointed the sites I wanted to stop by. There was no problem with that. I was not very comfortable with the price thought, but what the hell, I thought. I was not planning to come back to Antigua ever again, anyway.
The driver took me to dramatic cliffs, natural rock bridges, and sugarcane windmills.
I liked St. John's, the island’s capital. It had some interesting architecture typical for the tropics. The houses were painted in bright colours, of course. I could see that the authorities kept developing the town. There was a stretch of a commercial street leading to the ferry landing and a pier, a line of restored old buildings near the sea, which housed shops and bars, which appeared to have been closed for a longer period of time.
Then the suburbs, although more dilapidated, did not feel less Caribbean and had something African in them. Maybe it was the corrugated iron or the simplicity of the form, I am not entirely sure. I liked thought.
I figured that I had enough time to wander off to a beach out of town. I took a longer stroll and I had absolutely no idea where I was going. I just kept going either north or north-west. I passed less inhabited areas and several places of interesting smells. And I will not elaborate on this in order not to ruin the picture.
Eventually, I ended at the Fort Bay beach. There was a very simple lodge with a bar and groups of locals lingering on the beach. A few guys played football with an almost completely deflated ball. It was hilarious. At first, I thought they were just fooling around, but later I noticed that they treated the game very seriously. I spotted a few very dangerous fouls.
As I was walking back to town, the guys caught up with me and started asking questions in bewilderedness of seeing me walking rather than driving. We stopped in one of the side streets, where they claimed they lived. We sat down on a doorstep and the lads pulled out their smoke.
They began smoking and I bought a few beers from the local store. As soon as we did that, another guy came, who introduced himself as Nelly (pictured right). It must have been his nick name, because he slightly resembled the musician of the same name. Actually, one of the other guys looked like R Kelly. He never smiled, because it was important to be cool.
The guys revealed that they were in fact into music very much. Nelly said that he was a DJ and said that I should come back to the capital later at night, so he would take me to a party. I was not sure what to say, because I thought I was going to party near English Harbour. So, I said that I would leave a message on his mobile and we would agree a meeting spot.
Shirley's Heights were very busy as it was Sunday. A band played live to an incredibly squeezed crowd. The barbecue smelled horribly and when I saw what they were grilling, I decided to turn back immediately, and take Nelly’s offer.
When I took a taxi to the capital, which was only like 10 miles away, I started thinking how I should describe the driving on the Caribbean islands. I quickly realised that the islands felt much larger than they really were due to poor condition of roads. In addition, all routes passed through villages and towns so one could not drive fast. This is why the 10 mile trip could take from half an hour to an hour depending on traffic, which was usually very bad.
I stopped at one the restaurants while waiting for Nelly to come. I tried two rums: El Dorado Special Reserve 21 years (finest demerara) from Guyana - wonderful rum!; and Appleton Twenty One - Jamaica’s Rum, which was not bad at all.
Nelly took me to two street parties. Speakers of the size of Fiat Cinquecento stood out in the street blasting reggae, hip-hop or rap music. Brothers and sisters (I was the only white face around causing absolutely no surprise effect) just swayed from left to right or back and forward.
Then, Nelly and two guy I had met before on the beach, took me to a massive in-the-middle-of-nowhere-field party. I had no idea where I was but I did enjoy it. Nelly DJ-ed there.
I was promptly explained that DJs in the Caribbean were grouped in two categories - the youngsters aged between 13 and 18 and the big men, older than 18 years. Nelly was a big man, so they did not allow him to play very long. Youngsters were given the chance that night. What a party!
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Jan 06, 2006 07:00 PM Saint Martin - the French part
In the morning, I crossed to the French side of the island with the aim to have breakfast at one of Marigot's countless cafes. Surprisingly, the French side appeared much less developed and seriously underinvested. Whilst Sint Maarten appeared like a separate state of the Netherlands, with its own flag and currency, Saint Martin definitely demonstrated that it was a French Department, fully integrated with the Republic of France, flying the blue/white/red French flag, dealing in euro and riding French car registration plates.
There were a few colonial French buildings around but not enough to create elegant ambiance. It was a pity.
I was also hoping for a larger number of French-style cafes and bars. I could not even see the French baguette breads around. The eateries were opening very late as well. I could not make up my mind where I should sit down and relax, breakfasting on something hybrid, combing French and local cuisine.
I walked around the small town of Marigot for about an hour, rather unimpressed and bored. I found a very nice marina with super chic apartments but they were so clustered that the area did not feel very comfortable.
I had a quick early lunch by a taxi rank and escaped back to Sint Maarten.
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Jan 06, 2006 07:00 PM Antigua - what a change! Very British.
My first fully independent island on the travel schedule was Antigua, a former British colony. I could not wait to see what that could mean to a small island nation.
My first impression of Antigua was not the greatest. I was stuck in a queue for almost an hour after my flight was late about three quarters of an hour. Had it not been late I would have landed before the fat airplanes of Virgin Atlantic and British Airways and otherwise would have been fine. Immigration officers were working very slow like they did not care what first impression they were making on the travellers who just arrived. The room was very hot and I could not be more unhappy.
Somehow I decided to stay in the town called English Harbour, which still is the world's only fully operating Georgian dockyard. My accommodation - Admiral's Inn - was directly at the Nelson's Dockyard lined with large grand columns. I was told that the admiral lived in the house I chose for a hotel. It was quite electric to my senses.
The English Harbour's Nelson Dockyard was, and still is, full of historical and grand buildings, which looked stupendously among palm trees. At the time when I landed there the setting sun added its special colours to the picture.
It definitely felt like a trip to the past. The grandeur of the buildings and structures in the dock varied. It was clear to see that access to certain buildings depended on people’s class or a job. The more elaborate houses were for officers and the more basic ones for ordinary soldiers. It was fascinating that it was still visible when I visited. They ranged from officers’ club, cafeteria, canteen, living quarters of the sailors, etc.
Just before the historical dockyard, there were a number of bars based in wooden huts elevated on stilts. I stopped onto one of them called ‘Drop In’ and surprising myself immensely I ordered a glass of Glenlivet. I could hardly manage to drink it as I was being eaten alive by bloody mosquitoes. I ran away quickly to the hotel, took shower and, guess what?, it was time for dinner.
On my way to the restaurant, I stopped in the ‘Drop In’ again and took an aperitif the second time. Still disbelieving how little I was paying for it, which could only be a triple shot.
The restaurant of my choice was near - it was in the Admiral’s Inn. The food was good. I had pumpkin soup and fillet of red snapper, which was breaded and fried (!!) - what a horrific thing to do! The man who was playing a synthesizer and tried to sing every now and again ruined everything. He was playing very cheap wedding party music - very badly! - in this historical site! I almost developed a headache and indigestion. I mentioned this to the bartender and receptionist, ran up to my room, put loads of insect repellent on my exposed skin and rushed to the Drop In, again.
Then, I went to the Club Havana and tried the Mount Gay Rum Extra Old, and although I did not know how old it actually was, I loved it smoothness. I became a rum lover after visiting Trinidad about a year previously. I then tried the extraordinary Angostura 1824, which hooked me on. It was not cheap, but I got a couple of bottles for my home bar, so I could indulge once in a while. This way, I learnt how to appreciate and recognise good rum.
A band came singing reggae and I decided to leave. They were singing much better than the lousy guy at Admiral's Inn but they put it so loud that I could not hear my thoughts.
Also on Antigua the taxi service is based on minibuses, which in fact turn into bus and not taxi service. The best way I can describe it is something like taxi share scheme. I hate that. Why would I always end to be dropped last?!
I failed to book a day trip to Montserrat island, to see modern Pompeii and the mighty active volcano. I would prefer a half day visit and not a full day tour, but nothing was available so despite being disappointed, I wanted to quickly forget about it! I guess I should have pretext to come back there one day.
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Jan 05, 2006 07:00 PM Sint Maarten - Diamonds are forever!
The island is split into two dependent territories – the Dutch colony, part of the Dutch Antilles – called Sint Maarten, and the French department called Saint-Martin. The border between those two does not exist, as it practically does not in Europe, since both France and The Netherlands are part of the European Union, and both singed the Schengen Agreement.
I immediately felt the charm of the island. Well, to be completely honest, I could not believe the chaos with taxis at the Dutch airport. Then, I was definitely unimpressed with the traffic.
However, I felt so at home when I saw the plenitude of waterfront bars and restaurants. My jaw almost dropped when I drove onto Philipsburg main street. It was a narrow, single-lane, one way avenue lined with fine palm trees and excellent shops. Colonial Dutch architecture adapted to the heavenly Caribbean climate just complemented the overall charm!
My taxi driver did not speak Spanish, which I found interesting. I figured he must have arrived from a poorer Carib state and never learnt Papiamento or Spanish. He was hopeless avoiding traffic or entering one way street wrongly. He also told me in his heavy Caribbean accent that he could not hate more doing jobs for the local people. He did realise it was racist but could not helping telling me. He mentioned that the locals often lived in difficult to reach places, on dirty roads and carried smelly bags. He said it was ruining his van and leaving it smell of fish or dead goats.
Apparently locals carried a lot of dead meat and fish with them. Tourists, like me, on the other hand, were always clean, headed to civilised places and had money. Yes, he told me he had been tricked on many occasions that the locals had not had enough money or had relied on friends or relatives at the destination to pay, who either had not had money either, had not been at home or had never existed at all.
As soon as I miraculously checked in at the most chic (and the first ever) hotel of Philipsburg, the Pasanggrahan Royal, I stepped on the beach and almost jumped in awe. The town beach was superb and a megaclean beach level promenade separating the beach sand from the hotels' and households' buildings was a pleasant surprise. I loved that esplanade. It was so civilised! Some of the beach-front bars and eateries placed comfy couches and armchairs directly on the beachsand among baby palmtrees. How cool was that?
When I took a walk around the town I quickly realised how terribly isolated the islands of Aruba, Curacao and Bonaire were. I mean this in two ways. First, there was nothing else in their vicinity apart from mainland South America. Second, the population was ethnically boring. Despite the fact that Curacao broadcasted that they were home to 109 nationalities, I felt more ethnic variety on St Martin. I noticed more African-Caribbean people, whom I missed somehow. I loved watching small boys racing on their tiny bikes along the beach-front promenade in particular. Their skin had many different shades of ivory and ebony, and they looked very happy.
In addition to the grand buildings on the main street, I went to see the historical Philipsburg. It was simply part of the marina lined with old wooden houses now converted to shops, restaurants, bars and a terrible casino.
Although I only saw a small part of the island, I felt it was my kind of place and I wished I had been able to stay longer than just 27 hours there. Maybe because it reminded me of my home town of Ustka in Poland with its beach-front promenade and bars. At the same time I could not wait what I was going to see on the other islands!
Did Byron have the same problem? I definitely felt like Byron.
In the evening the beach-front entered into its different form of life. Many of the bars sponsored bands to play live, some of which were quite good when sticking to easy songs. Others tried to perform more ambitiously with rather mixed results. So mixed that I could not really listen to it, and I moved on.
I eventually landed in an extremely comfortable ottoman on my personal verandah attached to my hotel room. If the crimson bougainvillaea had not grown so tall I would have enjoyed the view of the beach. Instead, I lied down out of anyone's sight and listened to one of the bands playing at the Get Wet Bar. I guess Philipsburg made a great impact on me as it was the first town so far on my holiday with beach-front facilities, bars, restaurants, shops, etc. First in three months of travelling.
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Jan 04, 2006 07:00 PM Curacao - birthday in the Caribbean
Since weather was not at its best, I took an executive decision to go on an organised tour to see the entire island. When the tour stopped at a restaurant for lunch and I wasted two and half hours, plus the food was overpriced and well below average, I knew I should have not gone on that tour. I should have hired a taxi for an entire day instead and go at my own pace. I would have seen much more.
The tour covered majority of the island but there were few stops to contemplate the architecture, nature or wildlife. Well, at least I saw that Curaçao was a pretty island full of organ pipe cactuses and green hills. The hills were often homes to grand plantation houses, typically painted yellow.
I also visited the home of the Curaçao liquor, the original orange flavour sweet liqueur. It was produced from a mutated Valencia oranges which brought from Spain turned bitter and dry. Their cultivation was abandoned but a few decades later a clever family started fermenting the oranges' skin oils into what is now a renowned alcoholic beverage.
Purely for cocktail purposes the liqueur is made in various colours, of which blue is the most famous. Only recently, the company started production of Curacao Chocolate, Coffee and Rum Raisin. I had never seen those before though.
I almost jumped out of joy when I found a Thai restaurant in Otrabanda. I noticed it from the main road linking my hotel with the capital. I could not believe that I noticed it so late. I was on that road many times. Well, I did not actually see it, I just saw a billboard advertising it.
Since it was my birthday, decided to find it and treat myself. I chose to linger in town long enough so the restaurant would open for the evening. In the meantime, the setting sun produced stupendous light conditions for photographing the historic Willemstad waterfront.
When I went back to find the restaurant, I let myself wander off. And I almost got lost. I tried to remember where the billboard was in the relation to where I was going but I could not figure out where exactly I should turn towards the main road. I astoundingly remained confident and when I felt (opposite to knew), it was time, I made a left turn, and... found myself on the right track! The restaurant was near, the entrance of it was hard to find, though. I had to ask a policeman, who was patrolling the area. Although he explained it to me, I still could not get there. Then, someone pointed me to a shortcut!
I had the usual Thai - green curry. It was good and the chef must have been Thai himself. It was a good birthday dinner.
As I was enjoying my free birthday drink back at Hilton Curaçao, I watched the three golden teeth of a young black bartender Patrick, who was switching effortlessly from Dutch to Spanish to Papiamento to English. And although it only reminded me mercilessly that Curaçao remained under the rule of the Netherlands, I was utterly impressed with and totally proud of the local people who did learn Dutch.
I guess there were two good reasons for it. It was the official language of the Dutch Antilles and to know the language of the enemy is a half of victory already.
Patrick gave me another free drink but this time it was his favourite - pisang with orange juice, which tasted to me like medicine. I just could not remember which one but my body knew the taste from childhood. I told him that. He was not sure how to react to my comment, but I told him that I did like it and he laughed genuinely demonstrating his three golden front teeth. It was very hard not to stare at them.
I have never heard of pisang and Patrick said that Ambon was making the best one.
Then, the other bartender offered me a birthday drink, too. I cannot remember what it was, but it was good. I could not recognise myself and I just wanted to experiment with drinks that night. I normally stick to what I know and like or drink alcohol straight, or on ice, without unnecessary mixing. My problem was that they had no quality drinks at the bar. No single malt whiskey, no Bombay Sapphire gin, no vintage rum (which I found extremely disappointing and surprising, by the way), no genuine porto, not even a proper vodka. I felt like on a desert! I had to say something, so I filled in an evaluation form, complaining about the choice of the drinks.
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Jan 03, 2006 07:00 PM Curacao - wanting to be independent, or not?
My second stop was a Dutch colony, part of the Dutch Antilles, Curaçao.
The flight from Aruba took 20 minutes and I was somewhat surprised that there was no highspeed boat crossing between Aruba and Curacao. Surely there would be people interested making a day trip to visit the UNESCO listed Willemstad. The boat would have been taking an hour perhaps to cross the gap between the islands and with the necessity to be at the airport an hour before, that crossing would have been faster.
The town of Willemstad boasts seventeenth and eighteenth centuries architecture copying the style of the incomparable Amsterdam, and also the first synagogue on the western hemisphere.
The main difference is that Willemstad has all the buildings painted in eye-stinging vivid colours. Legend has it that once they were whitewashed but on a sunny morning an allegedly rum-loving governor outlawed white colour. Hmm... Good idea, it was. Now, the town looks lovely!
The town, and in fact the capital of the Dutch Antilles is rather small. The taxi from the hotel dropped me just outside the site of the famous Queen Emma pontoon bridge at the Otrabanda side of town. This side was traditionally residential for the poorer population, who built a low rise houses of an unsophisticated architecture.
The bridge was being renovated when I arrived and locals told me that it was going to take nine months until the bridge was to be back in its place. The foot bridge was designed to be completely mobile since large cargo vessels pass through the channel. It would have been see on the photograph I took above. You can see that there was a wooden fence right at the front of the first yellow building. This is where one of the bridge’s ends would be.
Punda, the opposite side (this one visible on the picture), was the engine of Curaçao. It was the trading centre where wealthy merchants lived and made their business. It was the part of the town with the colourful Dutch colonial buildings. Even today, most the trade is completed on this side supported by the banks, central market site, floating boat market and the governor's office. The souvenir and kitsch shops are all located there as well.
Punda's colourful buildings confirmed that I was in the Caribbean despite the misleading architecture and Dutch language spoken everywhere. Hey, even the waterfront bars decided to put up different umbrellas - red, green and yellow.
I took a short photo stroll around the town cursing a certain taxi driver who told me that I was not going to need sun glasses. Yes, weather was haphazard but the sun kept making a few long appearances. So, I bought a few postcards and sat down in a cafe at the famous Handelskade Waterfront. I ordered a papaya milkshake and blue curaçao, which was rather unorthodox of me. I do not drink such rubbish. However I was on Curaçao, so what the hell.
Two ferries, which replaced the pontoon bridge, were making so much noise that I almost developed a headache, and fumes from their diesel engines kept ruining the taste of my subsequent Coca-Colas.
The reason why I did not move and kept sitting there this long was that I was waiting for the sun to significantly change position so I could take better photographs of the Handelskade buildings. I pretended that I enjoyed the view of the Otrabanda with its large Christmas tree, blue hotel and the historic red Gouverneur house and watched the rain falling in Venezuela. Yes, the main continent was really not far.
Willemstad had completely different atmosphere to Oranjestad. It had cute narrow streets, small squares and of course restaurant-lined waterfront. It was lovely and relaxing. I definitely preferred it. The city centre was more compact and there were more places to socialise and go out. This is what a Caribbean destination should have to offer.
There were very many grand mansions and villas erected from coral blocks. Most of them had to be renovated for millions of dollars and required regular maintenance. Therefore they were occupied by companies, embassies, which could afford that.
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Jan 02, 2006 07:00 PM Aruba - the last day
After securing a flight to Curacao, I just went for a walk and visited the Paradise Beach again, and then the Pink Shopping Centre and then I went to... the cinema again. Weather was still bad, bad, bad. Then, I speculated of going to the other end of the island, but somehow I could not convince myself. I sat down at one of the restaurants near the cinema, had some lobster, wine and ice-cream, and... I lost the urge.
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Jan 01, 2006 07:00 PM Aruba - boring... because of weather
Moving around Aruba was easy with Arubus. There were fifteen or so lines, which must have been subsidised. The buses often ran empty or with a couple of passengers.
Unfortunately the next day's weather was awful enough to put me off the trip to the northern beach of Arashi. It was bucketing down every few minutes. Luckily, I found a spot where dozens of iguanas were hiding, so I did take some pictures that day.
In fact, weather was not great on Aruba at all. It was really unpredictable and rain kept breaking haphazardly. I was fortunate that I did not stay at the Highrise or Lowrise Hotel Areas, because there was nothing to do there if weather was not beach-like. With me hoovering around the capital’s centre, I had my cinema. I did go more than once. I went three times. I love cinema so I was content that I could catch up and see some films, which were not coming to Europe long after I was scheduled to be back in London.
This was also because I was staying on Aruba longer than I would ever intend. My problem were the flights, a lack of them, and a lack of any alternative means of transport from Aruba. I could not help it.
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Dec 31, 2005 07:00 PM Aruba - New Year
I got up at 10.30 a.m. on the New Year's Day and by 11 o'clock I was pointing my camera at some more interesting buildings in the capital. For about fifteen blocks I was the only soul in the streets of Oranjestad. Later, I passed a few American style pickups moving at remarkably sluggish speed.
The centre of the capital had interesting examples of modern interpretation of seventeenth century Dutch architecture. The buildings were painted in vivid colours and I loved that.
I decided to visit the only Dutch windmill in West Indies and I thought that since I was not exercising recently (seventeen hours on airplanes!) and I had beer the night before, a longer hike would only make it good to me. I suspected the windmill was not near but when I asked for directions people thought I was nuts. No-one sensible walked farther than a few hundred yards. They claimed it was too hot. I respectfully disagreed, and energetically embarked on the hike.
My walk was great. It took just over an hour. I passed a few American style bars, restaurants and uptown shopping centres. I also noted that the majority of vehicles were American and all carried US-style plates, which stated One Happy Island - Aruba.
The beaches I walked along were near perfect - white sand, palm trees, turquoise water. There were even pelicans diving for fish. Unfortunately, some of the beach bars belonged to all inclusive hotels and I could not buy a drink there. How boring!
The windmill was kept in excellent condition. So perfect that it looked new or even fake. Sadly, it was closed when I visited and I did not have a look inside.
When I was walking back to Oranjestad, I started thinking what to do on the island for the next three days. Apart from the capital and the windmill, there was not much else to do. Lying on the beach was not really my thing anymore but it surprisingly did cross my mind.
Well, when I reached the cinema, I thought I might just go and see a film that evening. I asked if the films were in English and bought a ticket for King Kong. I did not like it actually but laughed a few times so it was not a complete waste of time and the ticket was cheap.
Later, I decided to go on a sunset cruise with Jolly Pirates. It was possibly the best and cheapest way to get completely sloshed with free and unlimited sundowners. The ride was great, and I could finally socialise a little with some completely and unreasonably stupid holiday makers. It was totally obvious that many of them treated this cruise as a way of abusing the intake of alcohol. They did not give a toss about the sunset.
The cruise organised also, what they called, a pirate swing, which was basically swinging from the boat to the sea. The captain of the boat was the best in jumping in the most acrobatic of ways. The youth, who was already shit-faced tried a few tricks, which I can only call utterly irresponsible. I guess they would have been saved, so it did not matter to anyone.
The Jolly Pirates where operating from the Highrise Hotel Area of Aruba. An area, whose name would normally repel me. I liked the Highrise Hotel Area, though. Particularly the Moomba Beach bar! The beaches around were fine if a little too crowded and the bars at numerous piers offered superb sea breeze sitting.
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Dec 30, 2005 07:00 PM Aruba - New Year's Eve
The island with a reputation of having the best beaches in the Caribbean (I agree!) suddenly became an island where I ended spending most of my time on this trip. Unintentionally! Aruba, a Dutch colony, with an intriguing status aparte off the Dutch Antilles.
This tiny island treated its autonomy with unprecedented seriousness. There were appropriate immigration and customs controls at the airport with all flights considered international. There were Arubian Parliament, flag and government but also a central bank issuing Arubian florins, a legal currency. All different from Dutch Antilles.
Of course it would have been better to have booked a hotel well in advance particularly in the festive season like New Year's Eve. However I must have thought my bloodstream needed some more adrenaline.
A few hours before the flight, I tried the internet but all hotels, apart from the USD 450 a night Renaissance Hotel, were full. So, I was surprised that a Spanish-American travel agent made me a reservation at one of the grand villas only to fail confirm it claiming that they were dealing with a few at the time and did not realise the hotel had no availability for the period I wanted. They chose to tell me this as I was already on my way to Aruba.
When I mentioned this to the immigration officer, she sounded very concerned and suggested a reasonably priced Holiday Inn.
When I left the terminal, a taxi driver took me to Hotel LaFayette (now called Hotel Victoria) on the main shopping street in the capital so I would not have too far for the New Year's actions.
From the air, Aruba looked very lively with many fireworks going off already at 7 p.m. Yet, on the ground it was surprisingly quiet. I spent an hour looking for a bar. I was getting increasingly concerned that I was going to celebrate the coming of 2006 too quietly. Eventually, I stumbled upon Scandals, which was closing at 10 p.m. shocking me further. A couple of guys there told me not to worry but cross the street and go to Chaos, which was opening at 10 p.m. I did.
I was the only customer there by 10.30 p.m. but the venue warmed up quickly and from 1 a.m. there was a band called Crystal Breeze playing live.
The streets were red from tons of red petard strings.
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