Cooking a Kangaroo
Half way up the track we meet Tank, on his ATV.
“Looks like good eating” he comments, peering at the roo between the folds of the tarp. “I’ll give you a ride to the top if there’s a burger in it for me…”
Half way up the track we meet Tank, on his ATV.
“Looks like good eating” he comments, peering at the roo between the folds of the tarp. “I’ll give you a ride to the top if there’s a burger in it for me…”
“I bring to you giddy visions of the delicate and spectacular tendrils of narrative and prose that bind our universal consciousness!”
“What the..? Your claws are kind of hurting my scalp…”
“There are the same traps in Delhi as there are in every city in the world. In the west you’re used to having many things veiled. The difference here is that you can see clearly…”
Indian fruit is so much better than Australian fruit. Grow better fruit Australia!
I moved quickly, but only just quickly enough. I squatted in the humid toilet stall panting and thanking my good fortune to be in the railway station where public amenities are close by. I’d been lucky, but my confidence was shaken. India had been lulling me into a false sense of security. The game was on…
To be or to photograph? That is the question. Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and tomatoes of outraged pedestrians, or to drop your arms and not make trouble.
Nicky waves his arms and yells something Bulgarian at the driver. The driver brakes. He doesn’t have a choice. Nicky is blocking the road. As soon as the van slows down, Nicky is at the side window, bellowing. The van accelerates and drives away down the motorway ramp…
“Listen man, you got me at the wrong time. Normally I would try and have a conversation with you about this but I just hit my head really hard on the bathroom door frame, and I have no patience for your stupidity right now…”
Standing beside the road with a gun in my face is a bit of a Tintin moment… but not a good one. This is a moment from one of the darker, more political Tintin books, where the hero finds himself on the run behind the Iron Curtain…
Luckily for me I’ve teamed up with a hitchhiking super star for my journey from Belgrade to Sofia. Also, I met a very cute stray doggie..!
I’ve only been in Serbia two hours and I’ve been threatened with arrest for having a conversation. I know I have a talent for getting myself into trouble but this is ridiculous…
“It was called Hungarian salami, but… Australian salami is not so good. We have all kinds of different ones but they all taste kind of the same.”
Pasti frowns and nods. “You must try some real Hungarian sausage…”