Category Archives: Travel Blogs

Family selection and extermination

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It has taken me a while to write this, what I mean to say is this is a motorcycle travel blog, I am not party political or even religious – but you need to see what I have seen… Auschwitz and Birkenau in south-west Poland. So here we have a place known to us all, renowned for all the wrong reasons, the site of the murder of over one and a quarter million individuals, people like you and me, our wives, brothers, sisters, mothers and fathers, 12,000 murders a day. So ask yourself, are you an enemy of the state, a communist, a socialist, a criminal, an engineer, a doctor, educated and professional, a church leader, an immigrant, a Jehovah’s Witness, a gypsy, homosexual, antisocial or Jewish – I would be selected on at least two counts.

One WayIcons

Little Blackall Street – Go Figure

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Stumbled across some excellent street art last weekend in Little Blackall Street in Shoreditch,London EC2. Turns out this little alley supports displays from RUN, C215, 616, Swoon and Alice Pasquini as well as Pichi and Avo, some of the original work is covered under hoardings but even those have been enlivened. Did a bit of digging and found some “whose watching the watchers” art on display and when I checked on street view I found this – the irony is not lost on me…

The KissSolo

الصحراء الكبرى – Sand gets everywhere

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After a really early start this morning, I fell asleep again in the sand of the eastern desert, on the edges of the great Sahara, awoken only by a strengthening onshore wind, I watched the sun rise. So close to the equator there is really no discernible length of twilight at either end of the day and sunrise to full strength takes a matter of minutes – pulling my self together I could not help notice tracks in the sand made by an unknown nocturnal visitor as I snoozed, seems he was not interested in me at all – I just like to think it was something small and fluffy…

Tracks in the Sand

I am certainly no Jacques Coustea

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I am certainly no Jacques Coustea but for the first time in years I have managed to get more than a few meters down to play with the fishes… I have forgotten how isolating the water is and just how big some of the fish are (or at lest seem to be through the misted lens of my Cressi mask) and having spent years riding a multitude of bikes this is the first time in maybe twenty years I have gone below sea level in any meaningful sense. Making a guest appearance with me today are a local Banded Dascyllus (centre stage) and in supporting cast, a Yellow-ear Anglefish.I may not be Jacques Coustea