Alex
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I like:
I (strongly) dislike: |
- travelling
- discovering the world - meeting positive & like-minded people - camaraderie - greek food - day dreaming - endless summers - vehicles on two wheels (...and one with four wheels) - sports: rock climbing, skiing, kite surfing, cycling - my tent - pointless small talk - screaming brats - noisy bars - (and above all): social obligations |
About me (in a nutshell)
Please don't ask me if I am looking to settle down, have a family, move to suburbia, purchase a white-picket-fenced house or, quoting the movie My Big Fet Greek Wedding: "get married, make babies!" (cIick here for explanation). Please don't come to me and say that "you don't want a kid? trust me, truuuuuust me, next year you will change your mind!"... well you trust me now, I have been hearing that for many years and I have finally come up with the wise words: don't want a brat? don't have a brat! I always wanted one/two/three but never realised the responsibility that comes with it, and quickly changed my mind after reading the following articles: article1 & article2.
Please don't be put off by these articles, they are not meant to change anyone's mind when it comes to having a family. Just print them, hang them on your notice board and highlight the following sentences:
article1: I'm now 50 and broke / article2: a survey shows that 8% of participants said they regretted becoming parents (ouch, that must hurt).
Now think of 12 friends. If their parents love them unconditionally then YOU could be that 8%. I most sincerely hope that I am totally wrong... well actually so do you! To sum it all up, yes screaming brats are great but some people can decide not to have these obnoxious, obfuscating offsprings tangling between their legs so let's just leave it as is.
Another thing that put me off is the fact that what comes up must come down. If you agree with this then you will also agree with the theory that what goes in must come out (Newtonian physics lesson 101). Well my friends, that is exactly what happens when you feed your baby, it will have to come out from somewhere whether you like it or not! Otherwise the baby will explode due to the simple laws of physics, more specifically due to conservation of mass. Or as Newton put it: for every tart, there is an equal and opposite fart. I'm sure you understand where I'm getting at. Now look at this retching, repulsive, revolting birthday cake and think twice before you act... Now if you do want a quiet life without screeming brats and don't mind being stigmatised by the word "bachelor", then take a note of the following rules:
1st rule of bachelor's club: do not have brats
2nd rule of bachelor's club: do not have brats.
...and if that doesn't convince you then go sniff a used nappy and... (the rest of the sentence has been censored due to strong language).
Philosophical sidenote 1: If you want to have grandkids so that they cansit on your lap for you to tell them stories about the war then you need to do the following things:
-start a war
-fight in it
-survive this war (this is hard, but not as hard as the next step)
-have kids / wipe their bum for 5 years / school them for ca. another 15 / spend all your savings on them (now THIS is the hardest part!)
-hope for them to get a job one day and become independent
-hope that they will in turn have kids of their own BEFORE you die (this is most important!)
-wipe grandson's bum for ca. 5 years
-put them on your lap and tell them how AWESOME you are with "back in my day" bullshit-quotes, e.g. telephones had a dial disc on them, bic pens were useful for rewinding tapes, and that you had to rewind the videotape before handing it back to the shop. If you are a millenial, or worse a post-millenial, you probably won't understand what I'm talking about, but that's ok . Now is the time to tell them how you single-handedly defeated a platoon of angry vietnamese soldiers while wielding a kitchen knife (just don't make it look or sound too similar to Rambo II because they will know that you are lying). If your grandson does not understand then he probably still can't speak so do the following: buy nappies, wipe bum for one more year, repeat. Just don't start your sentences "back in my day" because back in my day there were as many bullies, murderers, suicides, wars etc. as there are today, and no things were not better then because cars didn't have air-conditioning, there was no internet and dinosaurs roamed the streets killing innocent people. Also, back in my day, there was no #metoo so a lot of crimes were just pushed under the carpet. Although difficult to grasp, the world is getting better and world leaders are getting dumber, but thank god the latter has a very minimal impact to the world.
Philosophical sidenote 2: From my parenting experience of absolutely zero, I can only talk about about my experience of being a child for 18 years (yeah, as if I am an adult now...). I know that my parents went through a lot when trying to raise not one, not two but THREE spoiled brats at the same time. I can stand confidently on the fact that kids can sometimes cause severe pain in the back side, yes let's openly admit, we have all done that. We all know that our parents (at least the ones who chose to have a child) did it to give love and receive love, OK also so the next generation can generally contribute to their pension funds but let's just put that to one side for now. This give-take love sometimes ended up in fighting/screaming/hating everyone/emotions flying/I don't want to go to school/no desert for you/you are grounded young man etc... which they did for our own good, at least that's what they claim (how should I know, I'm not a parent!). But once you enter adulthood and receive your degree with flying colours, get a job, get your first paycheck, spend it on booze, lend it to a friend who never pays you back and stops being your friend for ever, stand up on your feet and become an independent adult, only then does a parent see that all this ca. 25 years of nursing, frustration and fighting was for a good cause. Of course our parents made mistakes in life but trust me those wouldn't even closely compare to the grave mistakes kids did to them. Come on, let's all admit it, we were all rascals. Today when a mistake my parents did in the past pops into my head, I remind them of it (e.g. I did not have lights nor a helmet when cycling) and add that this was a "parenting fail" but in the end all three of their screeming offsprings made it through childhood healthy and in one piece and we can now only thank them with all our heart. So I shall now ask the following two questions:
- For the parents: was it worth it? I'm sure they would say yes (except for that 8% who would say yes but mean no...)
- For the kids: was it wort it? HEY, I didn't choose to be born! But yes, of course it was worth it.
So for all those who had a great childhood and are happy with their life let's just all raise are wallets and pay up in our pension funds for parent's sake. Now parents can finally stop pointing the finger and say "I work so you can have food on your plate" because all kids can now finally rise up and point the finger back at them and confindently state that "I work for you to have a pension!". But now let's not forget, be nice to them as they are the best help you can get when in a difficult / shitty / sticky situation. They wiped your bum, rememeber?!
P.S.1 Here is a list of some of the parentings fails:
-was told that we were the most beutiful kids in the world. Yeah, my modelling carrer is doing just great, thanks!
-was told that we were the cleverest kids in the world. Hey, I even failed my driving test the first time!
-given a bicycle without lights, never wore a helmet, never wore protective gear. But hey, I'm still here! OK that was the 80's...
-was left to play in construction sites with naked cables, rusty nails and syringes all day in summer, and of course we loved it.
-was told not to touch syringes found on the street. Why, what's wrong with syringes?
-was told that if I didn't eat my supper the boogyman would be looking for me.
-was refused desert when mischievous.
-was refused desert when room untidy (when I moved out I never had to clean my room again!)
-drunk coca-cola untill our intestines caramelised.
-was told that butter was bad for us and that margarine was good (doctors revoked this opinion 20 years later).
-was told to take my vitamins & fish-oil pills becase they were good for me (most docrots revoked this too, some decades later)
-not enough emplasis was given on the fact that if you don't get a degree you will be condemned to work earning minimum wage for life (except if you become a successful footballer, DJ, robber, drug dealer etc...).
-was not told that you cannot possibly live on minimum wage for the life of you (unless you rob banks).
-that when you turn 18 you are legally an adult, so you should act like one, or at least try (this fact was retracted and later amended to 30)
-was told that babies came from mums' bellies. What about how/why/when... so many questions!
-was told not to break the rules.
-was told to be nice to everyone. NO! Be nice to nice people. To bullies, punch them in the face because they deserve it.
-was told to treat everyone equally. NO! You do not treat women (sensitive) like you treat your best mates (punches in the face)!
-once we got stuck in a lift, little brother was desperate to pee, was told to pee down the crack (which he did). Ever heard of live electric cables?!
-forgot to mention that we will spend ca. 8 years at school, 5 years in accademia and +/- 40 years working, but that we are definitely not slaves. Oh and... the people who built the pyramids were definitely slaves (which was debunked later, read here).
-was told every Sunday night while making full use of the fact that I was a child that "tomorrow you have school young man!". That hurt more than an arrow to the chest.
-when I found out that girls don't have a penis it was already too late! People in the past married at 16. Today they need sex education.
-was constantly told the biggest lie: "if you tell me the truth I won't get mad at you". This is why I have trust issues untill today.
-was not showed how to do a simple tax return and then unleashed to the big wide cruel world.... etc. etc. the list doesn't end...
P.S.2 Here is a list of kids' fails:
-NOTHING! We have done nothing wrong. We did not choose to be born!
Speaking on behalf of all kids around the world I think I would be right in saying that we were treated like kids (do your homework, go to bed early, don't misbehave, wash your hands etc...) but was told to act like adults! That's how unfair life is.
[legal declaration: no parents were hurt while writing this article, whereas all kids agree with the above statements].
Parent joke of the day: Dad, do you have a lighter? Son, you smoke?! No dad, I just wanted to heat up my spoon.
[Back to the subject] Apart from seeking adventures in far away lands, sleeping rough, going for days without showering, using the woods to relieve oneself soothing bowel pressure defying any possible inhibitions, prefer the thousand-star hotel to a five-star hotel, preferring bike trips to air-conditioned flight/car trips etc... I am just a normal person with a bladder and a bad temper when hungry.
After being told by fellow citizens of the earth that riding a bike is "pointless, useless, dangerous and stupid" (among other comments) I decided to listen to this free advice and do exactly the opposite. That is something all kids do when their mum tells them to brush their teeth or clean their room. Still being a kid, I decided on exactly that.
Q&As
When? When the time is right (quote by Tony Blair when asked "when will the UK join the Euro?").
Why? to prove to the flat-earthers that all their life is a fallacy (that is if we don't fall off the cliff at the end of the Earth).
Why? (seriously now) rehabilitation from the cruel, cooperative, catatonic, callous (and other c-words) world called work, sleep, repeat
How long? Till I run out of clean underpants.
Do you have a helmet? Yes.
Does your brother own a fishing boat? No! (click here for explanation).
What happens if you have a break-down? I have a Swiss pocket-knife and watched all episodes of MacGyver.
What happens if you break-down in the middle of the desert? I have watched the Survivor series and have Bear Grills on speed dial.
What happens if you run out of water in the desert? Bear Grills drinks his own urine, and desperate times require desperate measures...
What happens if you run out of food in the middle of the desert? I have mum's taperaki.
What's the purpose of this trip? The answer is obviously 42.
Can I join you on this trip? Yes, follow steps: 1.click here / 2.press print / 3.call us (bring clean underpants).
What happens if you panic? I click here using the appropriate sign to the specific situation / order T-shirt on e-bay/ problem solved.
What happens if you get arrested by corrupt police? I hand out doughnuts on request.
What happens if you confront a terrorist? After so many days on the road I will have acquired bad breadth and colourful language.
What happens if you are surrounded by terrorists from all angles? I do the Hulk-smaaaash.
What happens when disaster strikes? No need to worry, I have metal-petal.
Which country that you visited is your favourite? non other than Phaic Than
Which award will you be given if you fail your mission? None other than the Darwin award.
Are you serious? Dead
More about me: I have always been intrigued about travelling on two wheels. Born and raised in Greece, where most lads start riding on two wheels at a very young age (i.e. well before the legal age), be that a scooter or a moped, I obtained my licence relatively late. If you've been to Greece you will notice that many people on motorbikes don't wear a helmet / protective equipment because, quoting, "who needs it?" or another usual answer which goes "don't worry my friend, NO ONE ever falls off" with a lot of "truuuuuust me my friend I know!". Furthermore motorbike boots look like flip-flops and motorbike trouseres look like (you guessed it) swimming trunks! My fellow biker, I take it that you are not affraid of death so, actually, you deserve my deepest respect and sympathies. Swimming trunks give you the best protection, and of course look cool. But you needen't worry, Virgin Mary is always by their side at every inch of their journey because they have this in their car and this on their bike. This is an amulet used to deter all evel spirits with intent to harm. It's called a Nazar, in arabic and turkik countries, and in Greece it's called mati.
Sidenote: the Turks are even more organised and even decorate their airoplanes with a Nazar, see here.
[back to the subject...] My first piston engine ever purchased was (don't laugh) a Piaggio NRG 50cc (power = 8bhp, I said don't laugh) which I obtained at the age of 26 (summer 2006), while living in London. My neighbour at school had the same scooter when he was 16. Actually it is a vehicle for 16-year-olds but at the time my transformation from a spotty-faced teenager to a big boy had officially started. Not owning a motorbike licence I could only opt for a 50cc engine but at least I didn't have to stick an L-plate at the back. It had one drawback though, it had to be limited to 55km/hr which is pretty slow... Of course everything in life is relative. So me being an avid cyclist for ca. two of years prior to purchasing this little beast, at the beginning this 50cc scotter felt like a bullet. After doing some research I found out that one can remove this restriction by sitting a CBT (compulsory basic training) course. I passed my CBT in the summer of 2006 and took my scooter to the shop and instructed for the engine-restriction to be removed. By that time I was used to the way this scooter accelerated and it didn't seem like a bullet anymore. After removing the restriciton it felt again like a new and improved bullet. Of course this muscle feeling wore off a couple of weeks later as one gets used to the power. With piston-puberty behind me and suffering from road rage in the streets of London the fun didn't last as long as I anticipated as six months later the scooter was unfortunately stolen in Islington. At the time Islington was the 2nd worst place regarding crime in England, this information unfortunately came to my attention only after the incident. Talk about bad timing. This happended when I drove to a friend's place and tried to lock the scooter onto a lamp post, only to realise that the chain was too short. I confidently thought "I'm only staying for one coffee, what's the worst that could happen?". When I returned I was flabbergastsed, my first vehicle had vanished into thin air. Luckily it was insured so no damage done there, most importantly: lesson learnt. The irony is that it was a Piaggio, which means: hand made in Italy, hand stolen in Stepney (quote from Lock Stock & two smoking barels). Second irony is that together with my scooter, my possesions in the seat compartment (helmet, lock, chain & rain coats) were also stolen with it, i.e. lock-stock the whole lot, was nicked. No scooter meant that I was back on my bicyle again (power = 1 human). The following summer (2007) I was feeling the emptiness of not owning any pistons so I decided to buy myself a new scooter. In the meantime I had obtained a full motorbike licence, as of September 2007, so I was able to choose anything I wanted. I opted for the Honda SH300i (power = 29bhp) which advertised that it could do 100mph (I don't hear you laughing now, do I?). I did test this claim and ok it couldn't do 100 but it did touch the 90mph line so that was enough for now. Of course the acceleration again felt like a bullet (comparing it to the human bicycle again).
Obtaining a full motorbike licence was faster said than done. I did a two day course with a Honda CB400, a very light and reliable bike, great for learing. I was told that I needed waterproof boots and overalls, which of course I didn't bring (da!). Guess what happened on the first day... yes, it rained (da!). I then realised that 15 degrees is a very good temperature to walk around in a t-shirt but definitely very cold when it's raining and you are doing 50km/hr wearing cotton clothes. All bikers will tell you that being exposed to the elements makes the enjoyment of riding a bike totally dependant on the weather. Also, when it rains it's always cold. Anyway, every driving test centre has a website with pass/fail statistics. Unfortunately the one I sat the test at had a fail rate of 70% but I told myself "hey, I'm not one of them, I'm BETTER than everyone else!". After the two day course I went with my instructor to sit the test. The driving test works as follows: you drive there (with the bike), sit the test, fail, drive back... what a waste. As if passing the test would make you a better biker! There are some very elaborate manoevers required to pass. This includes shoulder-check/indicator on/shoulder-check again (before taking a turn), u-turn without putting a foot down, emergency stop without stalling, among other dextrous manoeuvres. All this takes place while the examiner is talking to you through a microphone and head-set which you wear under your helmet. Test 1: failed because I was driving a) too slowly on a straigt line b) stopped at a roundabout for too long to wait for the traffic to clear. If the examiner is reading this I hope he falls and breaks a fingernail. Test 2. failed because I drove off and the car behind me was a bit too close, he pressed the breaks to avoid "certain death" according to the examiner. Test 3. finally passed on the 27th of Sep 2007. I was't "better than everyone else" after all and also ended up contributing to that 70% fail rate. But I can confidently say that I was definitely better than a scotish guy who had come to sit his test for the 8th time (yes, 8th, not a typo). He was so excited about becoming a biker that he had actually bought the bike... but did not have a licence yet... what a waste! He convinced himself that "I'll get it, I'm bettern than everybody else" (sounds like me). This was in ca. May of that year. He was planning on buying the bike and obtaining the licence in the summer of 2007 and then driving up to Scotland to visit his son. In September he sat the test for the 8th time and... failed... again. Sorry man, I hope you get it soon. He always failed for the same reason: foot down while doing a u-turn. When he got back from the test he gave me the "foot down" sign indicating that this was the reason for failing again. Furthermore I heard that the bike he had bought was still in the shop (the same shop I had my driving course and where I bought my scooter from). I went to the shop to service my scooter a few months later and guess what... his bike was still at the shop! Shiny like new i.e. never left the shop. Poor guy, I hope he sold his bike at a reasonable price... Historical fact of the day: bought bike, rode zero miles, sold it like new. I don't think that has ever happened in the history of motor vehicles.
Advice about London: I once left my helmet in the panier and came back to see it bust open and helmet nicked. A few months later I left my helmet on my saddle while answering a phone call, only to turn around to see that it was missing. Once I left it parked on a pavement legally only to return and see that someone had tipped it to its side and broken a mirror. Another day I realised that my exhaust pipe was making a rattling noise. While inspecting I realised that 4 of the 5 screws that were holding the exhaust pipe were missing! Someone had tried to nick the exhaust and got stalled by the last screw which thank God was stuck. All in all the followig objects were stolen or broken just within two summers: 1 scooter, 3 helmets, 1 lock, 1 chain, 1 mirror, 1 panier, 1 jacket, 1 pair of rain coats, and almost 1 exhaust...and these are just the things that I remember! So London is an awesome city to go about on a scooter or motorbike but for the love of God/Allah (whichever the case might be) please don't. Just use the famous Boris bikes and if it gets stolen... who cares, it's not yours!
When Lehman Brothers collapsed in Sep 2008 it sent England in a dwindling spiral of utter financial chaos, which ended up in a large chunk of the employees at the company I worked for to be layed off, including... ouch... me ;-( . Together with a huge wave of redundancies around the country I unfortunately (and in a way fortunately) lost my job in April 2009 from my employer AKT. I did strike some good luck though and managed to get a job in Zurich ca. 2 weeks later (OK I admit, I was lucky). The notice period was 1 month so I was paid for the month of April from my UK employer but did not have to show up at work. In Zurich I started working in mid-April which meant that the last day of April I got paid two salaries from two employers. If the tax-man is reading this... sorry man... I'll make it up to you. In Switzerland it took time to understand their funny dialect, called Schwizerdutsch, but I did slowly come to terms with it (though I must admit that I still don't understand everything they say). A new life had just started for me in a foreign land. I took the opportunity to sell my scooter as scooters are only useful in cities, or like rude people say "scooters are for wussers", and buy myself my first proper bike, a bmw R1200R (power = 109bhp). This manifested itself into my official transformation from an android to a proper geeza. Dear reader, you may now stop laughing in my face once and for all. A new era was upon me. I bought the bike in London, as it was much cheaper than in Switzerland, and drove one-way to Zurich to start my new life. Why was it cheaper in the UK you may ask? Because the pound was falling like Newton's apple through a vacuum, the exchange rate of 2.2 Franks to the Pound had dropped to 1.2 making everythig in Britain much cheaper than everywhere else. The exchnage rate for Euros also dropped from 1.6 to 1.0. Buying a bike in the UK and driving it in Switzerland should be ok, I tought, the only problem was that the steering wheel was on the wrong side... wait what?!... don't worry, the steering wheel was stratigically placed in the middle. I had a bad omen on the way, for those who believe in luck. Guess what happened as soon as I got on the highway for Dover, yes, flat tire, on the first day of my first ever bike ride. You would never guess what happened as soon as I reached Zurich, yes, I kid you not, another flat tire... maybe a flat at the start and finish of every trip is normal? Maybe I shouldn't be driving a bike? Who knows? But Murphy's law doesn't always prevail. I was lucky from that day onwards as I didn't expereince a flat in the pursuing 5 years.
Sidenote: When I started workig in Zurich I was given an empty desk with lots of books, design codes, manuals etc. generally everything an engineer needs to work, which I gladly inherited. The phone rang a few times, the person on the other line asking for "Mr Mayer" who I had never heard from. One day my neighbour explained that Mr Meyer had passed away from a heart attack a few months before his retirement and that I was sitting at his desk and all the manuals I had inherited were his... lesson learnt, don't get too stuck up with work, don't let work take over your life, don't leave before you have lived. Mr Mayer, may you rest in peace. Oh, and thanks for the free manuals.
With my R1200R and officially becoming a petrolhead as scooters are for boys, I set a target travelling within Switzerland as much as I could. A year later (year 2010) I realised that Switzerland was much smaller than I had anticipated. It was time to take my bike trips to the next level. Although a crazy idea at the beginning, I drove to Greece and back. I continued this audacious trip every summer for the next few years choosing a slightly different route every time. I did sell my R1200R (big mistake) for a R1200RT (power = 110bhp) nicknamed "The Beast" and continued travelling to Greece and back every summer. This trip became routine, I soon found out that Greece is just a stone-through away from Zurich, so took travelling one notch higher, and travelled to all four corners of Europe. That took place in the summer of 2014 where I went to Lisbon, Nordkapp, Istanbul and finally Athens i.e. all the corners of Europe, all within the same summer (picture below).
Note: my teleport machine is a top secret. I will be filing a patent for it soon.
Please don't ask me if I am looking to settle down, have a family, move to suburbia, purchase a white-picket-fenced house or, quoting the movie My Big Fet Greek Wedding: "get married, make babies!" (cIick here for explanation). Please don't come to me and say that "you don't want a kid? trust me, truuuuuust me, next year you will change your mind!"... well you trust me now, I have been hearing that for many years and I have finally come up with the wise words: don't want a brat? don't have a brat! I always wanted one/two/three but never realised the responsibility that comes with it, and quickly changed my mind after reading the following articles: article1 & article2.
Please don't be put off by these articles, they are not meant to change anyone's mind when it comes to having a family. Just print them, hang them on your notice board and highlight the following sentences:
article1: I'm now 50 and broke / article2: a survey shows that 8% of participants said they regretted becoming parents (ouch, that must hurt).
Now think of 12 friends. If their parents love them unconditionally then YOU could be that 8%. I most sincerely hope that I am totally wrong... well actually so do you! To sum it all up, yes screaming brats are great but some people can decide not to have these obnoxious, obfuscating offsprings tangling between their legs so let's just leave it as is.
Another thing that put me off is the fact that what comes up must come down. If you agree with this then you will also agree with the theory that what goes in must come out (Newtonian physics lesson 101). Well my friends, that is exactly what happens when you feed your baby, it will have to come out from somewhere whether you like it or not! Otherwise the baby will explode due to the simple laws of physics, more specifically due to conservation of mass. Or as Newton put it: for every tart, there is an equal and opposite fart. I'm sure you understand where I'm getting at. Now look at this retching, repulsive, revolting birthday cake and think twice before you act... Now if you do want a quiet life without screeming brats and don't mind being stigmatised by the word "bachelor", then take a note of the following rules:
1st rule of bachelor's club: do not have brats
2nd rule of bachelor's club: do not have brats.
...and if that doesn't convince you then go sniff a used nappy and... (the rest of the sentence has been censored due to strong language).
Philosophical sidenote 1: If you want to have grandkids so that they cansit on your lap for you to tell them stories about the war then you need to do the following things:
-start a war
-fight in it
-survive this war (this is hard, but not as hard as the next step)
-have kids / wipe their bum for 5 years / school them for ca. another 15 / spend all your savings on them (now THIS is the hardest part!)
-hope for them to get a job one day and become independent
-hope that they will in turn have kids of their own BEFORE you die (this is most important!)
-wipe grandson's bum for ca. 5 years
-put them on your lap and tell them how AWESOME you are with "back in my day" bullshit-quotes, e.g. telephones had a dial disc on them, bic pens were useful for rewinding tapes, and that you had to rewind the videotape before handing it back to the shop. If you are a millenial, or worse a post-millenial, you probably won't understand what I'm talking about, but that's ok . Now is the time to tell them how you single-handedly defeated a platoon of angry vietnamese soldiers while wielding a kitchen knife (just don't make it look or sound too similar to Rambo II because they will know that you are lying). If your grandson does not understand then he probably still can't speak so do the following: buy nappies, wipe bum for one more year, repeat. Just don't start your sentences "back in my day" because back in my day there were as many bullies, murderers, suicides, wars etc. as there are today, and no things were not better then because cars didn't have air-conditioning, there was no internet and dinosaurs roamed the streets killing innocent people. Also, back in my day, there was no #metoo so a lot of crimes were just pushed under the carpet. Although difficult to grasp, the world is getting better and world leaders are getting dumber, but thank god the latter has a very minimal impact to the world.
Philosophical sidenote 2: From my parenting experience of absolutely zero, I can only talk about about my experience of being a child for 18 years (yeah, as if I am an adult now...). I know that my parents went through a lot when trying to raise not one, not two but THREE spoiled brats at the same time. I can stand confidently on the fact that kids can sometimes cause severe pain in the back side, yes let's openly admit, we have all done that. We all know that our parents (at least the ones who chose to have a child) did it to give love and receive love, OK also so the next generation can generally contribute to their pension funds but let's just put that to one side for now. This give-take love sometimes ended up in fighting/screaming/hating everyone/emotions flying/I don't want to go to school/no desert for you/you are grounded young man etc... which they did for our own good, at least that's what they claim (how should I know, I'm not a parent!). But once you enter adulthood and receive your degree with flying colours, get a job, get your first paycheck, spend it on booze, lend it to a friend who never pays you back and stops being your friend for ever, stand up on your feet and become an independent adult, only then does a parent see that all this ca. 25 years of nursing, frustration and fighting was for a good cause. Of course our parents made mistakes in life but trust me those wouldn't even closely compare to the grave mistakes kids did to them. Come on, let's all admit it, we were all rascals. Today when a mistake my parents did in the past pops into my head, I remind them of it (e.g. I did not have lights nor a helmet when cycling) and add that this was a "parenting fail" but in the end all three of their screeming offsprings made it through childhood healthy and in one piece and we can now only thank them with all our heart. So I shall now ask the following two questions:
- For the parents: was it worth it? I'm sure they would say yes (except for that 8% who would say yes but mean no...)
- For the kids: was it wort it? HEY, I didn't choose to be born! But yes, of course it was worth it.
So for all those who had a great childhood and are happy with their life let's just all raise are wallets and pay up in our pension funds for parent's sake. Now parents can finally stop pointing the finger and say "I work so you can have food on your plate" because all kids can now finally rise up and point the finger back at them and confindently state that "I work for you to have a pension!". But now let's not forget, be nice to them as they are the best help you can get when in a difficult / shitty / sticky situation. They wiped your bum, rememeber?!
P.S.1 Here is a list of some of the parentings fails:
-was told that we were the most beutiful kids in the world. Yeah, my modelling carrer is doing just great, thanks!
-was told that we were the cleverest kids in the world. Hey, I even failed my driving test the first time!
-given a bicycle without lights, never wore a helmet, never wore protective gear. But hey, I'm still here! OK that was the 80's...
-was left to play in construction sites with naked cables, rusty nails and syringes all day in summer, and of course we loved it.
-was told not to touch syringes found on the street. Why, what's wrong with syringes?
-was told that if I didn't eat my supper the boogyman would be looking for me.
-was refused desert when mischievous.
-was refused desert when room untidy (when I moved out I never had to clean my room again!)
-drunk coca-cola untill our intestines caramelised.
-was told that butter was bad for us and that margarine was good (doctors revoked this opinion 20 years later).
-was told to take my vitamins & fish-oil pills becase they were good for me (most docrots revoked this too, some decades later)
-not enough emplasis was given on the fact that if you don't get a degree you will be condemned to work earning minimum wage for life (except if you become a successful footballer, DJ, robber, drug dealer etc...).
-was not told that you cannot possibly live on minimum wage for the life of you (unless you rob banks).
-that when you turn 18 you are legally an adult, so you should act like one, or at least try (this fact was retracted and later amended to 30)
-was told that babies came from mums' bellies. What about how/why/when... so many questions!
-was told not to break the rules.
-was told to be nice to everyone. NO! Be nice to nice people. To bullies, punch them in the face because they deserve it.
-was told to treat everyone equally. NO! You do not treat women (sensitive) like you treat your best mates (punches in the face)!
-once we got stuck in a lift, little brother was desperate to pee, was told to pee down the crack (which he did). Ever heard of live electric cables?!
-forgot to mention that we will spend ca. 8 years at school, 5 years in accademia and +/- 40 years working, but that we are definitely not slaves. Oh and... the people who built the pyramids were definitely slaves (which was debunked later, read here).
-was told every Sunday night while making full use of the fact that I was a child that "tomorrow you have school young man!". That hurt more than an arrow to the chest.
-when I found out that girls don't have a penis it was already too late! People in the past married at 16. Today they need sex education.
-was constantly told the biggest lie: "if you tell me the truth I won't get mad at you". This is why I have trust issues untill today.
-was not showed how to do a simple tax return and then unleashed to the big wide cruel world.... etc. etc. the list doesn't end...
P.S.2 Here is a list of kids' fails:
-NOTHING! We have done nothing wrong. We did not choose to be born!
Speaking on behalf of all kids around the world I think I would be right in saying that we were treated like kids (do your homework, go to bed early, don't misbehave, wash your hands etc...) but was told to act like adults! That's how unfair life is.
[legal declaration: no parents were hurt while writing this article, whereas all kids agree with the above statements].
Parent joke of the day: Dad, do you have a lighter? Son, you smoke?! No dad, I just wanted to heat up my spoon.
[Back to the subject] Apart from seeking adventures in far away lands, sleeping rough, going for days without showering, using the woods to relieve oneself soothing bowel pressure defying any possible inhibitions, prefer the thousand-star hotel to a five-star hotel, preferring bike trips to air-conditioned flight/car trips etc... I am just a normal person with a bladder and a bad temper when hungry.
After being told by fellow citizens of the earth that riding a bike is "pointless, useless, dangerous and stupid" (among other comments) I decided to listen to this free advice and do exactly the opposite. That is something all kids do when their mum tells them to brush their teeth or clean their room. Still being a kid, I decided on exactly that.
Q&As
When? When the time is right (quote by Tony Blair when asked "when will the UK join the Euro?").
Why? to prove to the flat-earthers that all their life is a fallacy (that is if we don't fall off the cliff at the end of the Earth).
Why? (seriously now) rehabilitation from the cruel, cooperative, catatonic, callous (and other c-words) world called work, sleep, repeat
How long? Till I run out of clean underpants.
Do you have a helmet? Yes.
Does your brother own a fishing boat? No! (click here for explanation).
What happens if you have a break-down? I have a Swiss pocket-knife and watched all episodes of MacGyver.
What happens if you break-down in the middle of the desert? I have watched the Survivor series and have Bear Grills on speed dial.
What happens if you run out of water in the desert? Bear Grills drinks his own urine, and desperate times require desperate measures...
What happens if you run out of food in the middle of the desert? I have mum's taperaki.
What's the purpose of this trip? The answer is obviously 42.
Can I join you on this trip? Yes, follow steps: 1.click here / 2.press print / 3.call us (bring clean underpants).
What happens if you panic? I click here using the appropriate sign to the specific situation / order T-shirt on e-bay/ problem solved.
What happens if you get arrested by corrupt police? I hand out doughnuts on request.
What happens if you confront a terrorist? After so many days on the road I will have acquired bad breadth and colourful language.
What happens if you are surrounded by terrorists from all angles? I do the Hulk-smaaaash.
What happens when disaster strikes? No need to worry, I have metal-petal.
Which country that you visited is your favourite? non other than Phaic Than
Which award will you be given if you fail your mission? None other than the Darwin award.
Are you serious? Dead
More about me: I have always been intrigued about travelling on two wheels. Born and raised in Greece, where most lads start riding on two wheels at a very young age (i.e. well before the legal age), be that a scooter or a moped, I obtained my licence relatively late. If you've been to Greece you will notice that many people on motorbikes don't wear a helmet / protective equipment because, quoting, "who needs it?" or another usual answer which goes "don't worry my friend, NO ONE ever falls off" with a lot of "truuuuuust me my friend I know!". Furthermore motorbike boots look like flip-flops and motorbike trouseres look like (you guessed it) swimming trunks! My fellow biker, I take it that you are not affraid of death so, actually, you deserve my deepest respect and sympathies. Swimming trunks give you the best protection, and of course look cool. But you needen't worry, Virgin Mary is always by their side at every inch of their journey because they have this in their car and this on their bike. This is an amulet used to deter all evel spirits with intent to harm. It's called a Nazar, in arabic and turkik countries, and in Greece it's called mati.
Sidenote: the Turks are even more organised and even decorate their airoplanes with a Nazar, see here.
[back to the subject...] My first piston engine ever purchased was (don't laugh) a Piaggio NRG 50cc (power = 8bhp, I said don't laugh) which I obtained at the age of 26 (summer 2006), while living in London. My neighbour at school had the same scooter when he was 16. Actually it is a vehicle for 16-year-olds but at the time my transformation from a spotty-faced teenager to a big boy had officially started. Not owning a motorbike licence I could only opt for a 50cc engine but at least I didn't have to stick an L-plate at the back. It had one drawback though, it had to be limited to 55km/hr which is pretty slow... Of course everything in life is relative. So me being an avid cyclist for ca. two of years prior to purchasing this little beast, at the beginning this 50cc scotter felt like a bullet. After doing some research I found out that one can remove this restriction by sitting a CBT (compulsory basic training) course. I passed my CBT in the summer of 2006 and took my scooter to the shop and instructed for the engine-restriction to be removed. By that time I was used to the way this scooter accelerated and it didn't seem like a bullet anymore. After removing the restriciton it felt again like a new and improved bullet. Of course this muscle feeling wore off a couple of weeks later as one gets used to the power. With piston-puberty behind me and suffering from road rage in the streets of London the fun didn't last as long as I anticipated as six months later the scooter was unfortunately stolen in Islington. At the time Islington was the 2nd worst place regarding crime in England, this information unfortunately came to my attention only after the incident. Talk about bad timing. This happended when I drove to a friend's place and tried to lock the scooter onto a lamp post, only to realise that the chain was too short. I confidently thought "I'm only staying for one coffee, what's the worst that could happen?". When I returned I was flabbergastsed, my first vehicle had vanished into thin air. Luckily it was insured so no damage done there, most importantly: lesson learnt. The irony is that it was a Piaggio, which means: hand made in Italy, hand stolen in Stepney (quote from Lock Stock & two smoking barels). Second irony is that together with my scooter, my possesions in the seat compartment (helmet, lock, chain & rain coats) were also stolen with it, i.e. lock-stock the whole lot, was nicked. No scooter meant that I was back on my bicyle again (power = 1 human). The following summer (2007) I was feeling the emptiness of not owning any pistons so I decided to buy myself a new scooter. In the meantime I had obtained a full motorbike licence, as of September 2007, so I was able to choose anything I wanted. I opted for the Honda SH300i (power = 29bhp) which advertised that it could do 100mph (I don't hear you laughing now, do I?). I did test this claim and ok it couldn't do 100 but it did touch the 90mph line so that was enough for now. Of course the acceleration again felt like a bullet (comparing it to the human bicycle again).
Obtaining a full motorbike licence was faster said than done. I did a two day course with a Honda CB400, a very light and reliable bike, great for learing. I was told that I needed waterproof boots and overalls, which of course I didn't bring (da!). Guess what happened on the first day... yes, it rained (da!). I then realised that 15 degrees is a very good temperature to walk around in a t-shirt but definitely very cold when it's raining and you are doing 50km/hr wearing cotton clothes. All bikers will tell you that being exposed to the elements makes the enjoyment of riding a bike totally dependant on the weather. Also, when it rains it's always cold. Anyway, every driving test centre has a website with pass/fail statistics. Unfortunately the one I sat the test at had a fail rate of 70% but I told myself "hey, I'm not one of them, I'm BETTER than everyone else!". After the two day course I went with my instructor to sit the test. The driving test works as follows: you drive there (with the bike), sit the test, fail, drive back... what a waste. As if passing the test would make you a better biker! There are some very elaborate manoevers required to pass. This includes shoulder-check/indicator on/shoulder-check again (before taking a turn), u-turn without putting a foot down, emergency stop without stalling, among other dextrous manoeuvres. All this takes place while the examiner is talking to you through a microphone and head-set which you wear under your helmet. Test 1: failed because I was driving a) too slowly on a straigt line b) stopped at a roundabout for too long to wait for the traffic to clear. If the examiner is reading this I hope he falls and breaks a fingernail. Test 2. failed because I drove off and the car behind me was a bit too close, he pressed the breaks to avoid "certain death" according to the examiner. Test 3. finally passed on the 27th of Sep 2007. I was't "better than everyone else" after all and also ended up contributing to that 70% fail rate. But I can confidently say that I was definitely better than a scotish guy who had come to sit his test for the 8th time (yes, 8th, not a typo). He was so excited about becoming a biker that he had actually bought the bike... but did not have a licence yet... what a waste! He convinced himself that "I'll get it, I'm bettern than everybody else" (sounds like me). This was in ca. May of that year. He was planning on buying the bike and obtaining the licence in the summer of 2007 and then driving up to Scotland to visit his son. In September he sat the test for the 8th time and... failed... again. Sorry man, I hope you get it soon. He always failed for the same reason: foot down while doing a u-turn. When he got back from the test he gave me the "foot down" sign indicating that this was the reason for failing again. Furthermore I heard that the bike he had bought was still in the shop (the same shop I had my driving course and where I bought my scooter from). I went to the shop to service my scooter a few months later and guess what... his bike was still at the shop! Shiny like new i.e. never left the shop. Poor guy, I hope he sold his bike at a reasonable price... Historical fact of the day: bought bike, rode zero miles, sold it like new. I don't think that has ever happened in the history of motor vehicles.
Advice about London: I once left my helmet in the panier and came back to see it bust open and helmet nicked. A few months later I left my helmet on my saddle while answering a phone call, only to turn around to see that it was missing. Once I left it parked on a pavement legally only to return and see that someone had tipped it to its side and broken a mirror. Another day I realised that my exhaust pipe was making a rattling noise. While inspecting I realised that 4 of the 5 screws that were holding the exhaust pipe were missing! Someone had tried to nick the exhaust and got stalled by the last screw which thank God was stuck. All in all the followig objects were stolen or broken just within two summers: 1 scooter, 3 helmets, 1 lock, 1 chain, 1 mirror, 1 panier, 1 jacket, 1 pair of rain coats, and almost 1 exhaust...and these are just the things that I remember! So London is an awesome city to go about on a scooter or motorbike but for the love of God/Allah (whichever the case might be) please don't. Just use the famous Boris bikes and if it gets stolen... who cares, it's not yours!
When Lehman Brothers collapsed in Sep 2008 it sent England in a dwindling spiral of utter financial chaos, which ended up in a large chunk of the employees at the company I worked for to be layed off, including... ouch... me ;-( . Together with a huge wave of redundancies around the country I unfortunately (and in a way fortunately) lost my job in April 2009 from my employer AKT. I did strike some good luck though and managed to get a job in Zurich ca. 2 weeks later (OK I admit, I was lucky). The notice period was 1 month so I was paid for the month of April from my UK employer but did not have to show up at work. In Zurich I started working in mid-April which meant that the last day of April I got paid two salaries from two employers. If the tax-man is reading this... sorry man... I'll make it up to you. In Switzerland it took time to understand their funny dialect, called Schwizerdutsch, but I did slowly come to terms with it (though I must admit that I still don't understand everything they say). A new life had just started for me in a foreign land. I took the opportunity to sell my scooter as scooters are only useful in cities, or like rude people say "scooters are for wussers", and buy myself my first proper bike, a bmw R1200R (power = 109bhp). This manifested itself into my official transformation from an android to a proper geeza. Dear reader, you may now stop laughing in my face once and for all. A new era was upon me. I bought the bike in London, as it was much cheaper than in Switzerland, and drove one-way to Zurich to start my new life. Why was it cheaper in the UK you may ask? Because the pound was falling like Newton's apple through a vacuum, the exchange rate of 2.2 Franks to the Pound had dropped to 1.2 making everythig in Britain much cheaper than everywhere else. The exchnage rate for Euros also dropped from 1.6 to 1.0. Buying a bike in the UK and driving it in Switzerland should be ok, I tought, the only problem was that the steering wheel was on the wrong side... wait what?!... don't worry, the steering wheel was stratigically placed in the middle. I had a bad omen on the way, for those who believe in luck. Guess what happened as soon as I got on the highway for Dover, yes, flat tire, on the first day of my first ever bike ride. You would never guess what happened as soon as I reached Zurich, yes, I kid you not, another flat tire... maybe a flat at the start and finish of every trip is normal? Maybe I shouldn't be driving a bike? Who knows? But Murphy's law doesn't always prevail. I was lucky from that day onwards as I didn't expereince a flat in the pursuing 5 years.
Sidenote: When I started workig in Zurich I was given an empty desk with lots of books, design codes, manuals etc. generally everything an engineer needs to work, which I gladly inherited. The phone rang a few times, the person on the other line asking for "Mr Mayer" who I had never heard from. One day my neighbour explained that Mr Meyer had passed away from a heart attack a few months before his retirement and that I was sitting at his desk and all the manuals I had inherited were his... lesson learnt, don't get too stuck up with work, don't let work take over your life, don't leave before you have lived. Mr Mayer, may you rest in peace. Oh, and thanks for the free manuals.
With my R1200R and officially becoming a petrolhead as scooters are for boys, I set a target travelling within Switzerland as much as I could. A year later (year 2010) I realised that Switzerland was much smaller than I had anticipated. It was time to take my bike trips to the next level. Although a crazy idea at the beginning, I drove to Greece and back. I continued this audacious trip every summer for the next few years choosing a slightly different route every time. I did sell my R1200R (big mistake) for a R1200RT (power = 110bhp) nicknamed "The Beast" and continued travelling to Greece and back every summer. This trip became routine, I soon found out that Greece is just a stone-through away from Zurich, so took travelling one notch higher, and travelled to all four corners of Europe. That took place in the summer of 2014 where I went to Lisbon, Nordkapp, Istanbul and finally Athens i.e. all the corners of Europe, all within the same summer (picture below).
Note: my teleport machine is a top secret. I will be filing a patent for it soon.
It was now time to take it yet another notch higher and travel outside Europe, in order to see what it meant to cross a difficult border. The following year I decided to go to Persepolis, south Iran, which had been a distant dream for a long time. For that I required a Carnet, a Visa for Iran, an international driving licence and, most importnatly, pure boldness. Despite all the hurdles I did make it there and back. More infomation under "Trips Done/2015" tab.
The saddest day for two-wheels was June 2017 when I sold "The Beast" (see "Vehicles" tab) which left me bikeless. As mentioned though, I did this to save up for a much greater adventure. I will reconcile with my love for bikes very soon. (asdf insert picture selling bike)
Bikeless but not wheel-less, I decided to buy a hippie-bus to accommodate me and use it as shelter to keep me dry on the weekends. The decision was pretty swift after spending a few weekends in my tent through numerous terrifying thunderstorms that were trying to kill me throughout the night. I unanimously vouched for a vehicle that could provide me with shelter. OK Lamborghinis are cool but can you sleep in them? I haven't tested one as such, but I think not (objections to this claim are kindly accepted). I instantly fell in love with the yellow VW Caddy, which I named "The Yellow Submarine" for obvious reasons. This vehicle is 3 in 1 because: 1.commute to work on rainy days 2.recreational vehicle on the weekend 3.shelter over our heads during the night on weekends and holidays. You may now ask, why is it yellow? Well, it was owned by post.ch and as you can see on the website everything is yellow. Unable to suppress a smile we drove off with our new toy right after purchasing this element of pure awesomness. Key in, blue-tooth on, connect with phone, play music and drive off were our next moves. The first song that I played in this car was of course none other than the Yellow Submarine (asdf put youtube song) from the Beatles.
The saddest day for two-wheels was June 2017 when I sold "The Beast" (see "Vehicles" tab) which left me bikeless. As mentioned though, I did this to save up for a much greater adventure. I will reconcile with my love for bikes very soon. (asdf insert picture selling bike)
Bikeless but not wheel-less, I decided to buy a hippie-bus to accommodate me and use it as shelter to keep me dry on the weekends. The decision was pretty swift after spending a few weekends in my tent through numerous terrifying thunderstorms that were trying to kill me throughout the night. I unanimously vouched for a vehicle that could provide me with shelter. OK Lamborghinis are cool but can you sleep in them? I haven't tested one as such, but I think not (objections to this claim are kindly accepted). I instantly fell in love with the yellow VW Caddy, which I named "The Yellow Submarine" for obvious reasons. This vehicle is 3 in 1 because: 1.commute to work on rainy days 2.recreational vehicle on the weekend 3.shelter over our heads during the night on weekends and holidays. You may now ask, why is it yellow? Well, it was owned by post.ch and as you can see on the website everything is yellow. Unable to suppress a smile we drove off with our new toy right after purchasing this element of pure awesomness. Key in, blue-tooth on, connect with phone, play music and drive off were our next moves. The first song that I played in this car was of course none other than the Yellow Submarine (asdf put youtube song) from the Beatles.
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The Yellow Submarine Lamborghini (can't sleep in it)
The Yellow Submarine became our my home on the weekends. This is nothing else but a car that costs as much as a house.
Why yellow? No one wants a yellow car, low demand = low price How do you get in if you have back problems? Fork lift?
Bodywork made of carbon-fibre i.e. L-Plate won't stick.
Sidenote: Did I say waste of time? Don't worry as nothing compares to the Maginot Line, the most intricate fortification in France, which the German troops decided to just bypass, by passing through Belgium first. Or, in terms of waste of life, the gold medal must surely go to Hiroo Onoda, in a nutschell: he spent 30 years fighting a war that did not exist because no one told the poor fellow that Japan had already surrendered. You can read all about it in his book: "No Surrender: my thirty year war". What an utter waste of talent! Or what about Norio Suzuki, the man who found Onoda, who's greatest aspiration was to find a Yeti, the same non-existent creature who claimed his life as he was (quoting) "killed in an avalanche while searching for the Yeti". What a waste!
Advice of the day 1: before you marry someone give him/her a PC with slow internet and a ball mouse and study his/hers reaction.
Advice of the day 2: If a girl gets angry put a Superman-cape on her shoulders and then ask her "were you angry? well now you are super-angry!". Maybe she'll laugh, maybe you'll die, maybe you'll wake up in hospital like this guy (a moment of silence for our fellow citizen).
Advice of the day 3: If a girl feels sad embrace her with affection. If that doesn't work, take three steps back and throw chocolate at her. If that doesn't work either then you are probably already dead so any further advice would not be necessary. So, how's hell? Is it hot?
Advice of the day 4: Everybody makes mistakes, that's the reason why pencils have an erasor on the other side. The pointy side is for stabbing the person that frustrates you the most, preferably in the eye. A pencil sharpener is for inflicting maximum pain in case the damage caused was not enough (see Vlad the impaler for real-life examples). I bet you didn't know all this did you now? Please use this free advice wisely but don't forget Newton's law: for every action there is a female over-reaction. This is why Newton died a virgin (true story).
Advice of the day 5: I confuse left and right (there I openly admit it). I found a solution by stretching both my hands out, sticking index and thumb out. The hand that performs an L is the left one. Not so fast! The problem gets more confusing when I try to park. When reversing, if you turn the steering wheels to the left tha car veers to the right. I therefore stick both my hands out, turn them upsidedown, read which hands has the L... get confused... turn the sterring wheel at a random direction, car goes the wrong way, hit a lamp, turn it the other way, problem solved, yeeeey! I then blame my partner for not helping out. I also have full-covarege insurance so no harm done there.
Advice of the day 6: stop drifting from the subject and get to the point. Drifting is for cars.
When I met Alex I didn't even know what a combustion engine was! (not to be confused with compost). I have now mastered a number of difficult tongue-twisting terms including sequential gear-box, chassis, differential (not the equation) etc. and other important words relative to petrolheads. OK I admit that when he once said "we need to change the oil" I thought he was making a salad, but recently I have mastered alot about engines and don't look like a complete fool when someone asks me "what's a brake-pad?" (not to be confused with a mouse-pad). I want to prove to the world that changing oil and getting your hands dirty is not a "guy's thing", such clichés are just an excuse from girls who are afraid to break a fingernail. I have learnt to differentiate how many pistons a motorbike has just by looking at it, I know that Lotus is not only a flower, that a Wankel engine has no pistons and that a 2 liter car has nothing to do with how many coca-cola bottles it can hold. Confused? So was I.
My adventures in Switzerland started right after finishing highschool, the year 2005. That's the time when I left my dogs and my 1 bhp trotting motorbike (aka horse) behind me and moved onto something new. I moved to Zurich in search of knowledge, love and something else that I'm still trying to figure out. Things turned out much different than anticipated when adult responsibility hit me in the face with full wrath, but I'm still searching for that something else. What is it? I actually have no idea. I'm here for the ride and I'm enjoying the chase.
According to the film "My big fat greek wedding" there are two types of people: Greeks, and those who would want to be Greek. OK we all know that this is a bit exaggerated. Anyway, meeting Alex was an eye-opening moment to greek food and teleports. OK greek food makes sence, but why teleports, you may ask? The reason is that haning out with Alex made me meet other greek people who call you and tell you "I am on the other side of town and will be there in 5 minutes". We all know the meaning of those "5 minutes"... I was convinced that Greeks had invented the teleport and they were not sharing their invention with anyone else. Actually this is a phenomenon that occurs in the southern Mediterranean alot, so it would be unfair to point the finger only to Greeks [actually in south America this problem is on a different scale, see e.g. Brazil]. Furthermore, when I met Alex I was a vegetarian, just trying to do my thing for reducing our carbon-footprint. Of course this carbon-footprint nonsence gave way for great mum's mussaka and greek gyros so let's just forget the miserable days I used to eat rabbit food for the sake of the environment. Moussaka is here to stay and we will lavishly devour it to the last bredcrumb. We now enjoy repeated ravenous raids to all the greek restaurants in Zurich, stuffing our face with revitalising, rogue recipes of divine sustenance, the next day regretfully releasing reprobating flatulant wind possibly causing rhinal discomfort.
The Yellow Submarine became our my home on the weekends. This is nothing else but a car that costs as much as a house.
Why yellow? No one wants a yellow car, low demand = low price How do you get in if you have back problems? Fork lift?
Bodywork made of carbon-fibre i.e. L-Plate won't stick.
Sidenote: Did I say waste of time? Don't worry as nothing compares to the Maginot Line, the most intricate fortification in France, which the German troops decided to just bypass, by passing through Belgium first. Or, in terms of waste of life, the gold medal must surely go to Hiroo Onoda, in a nutschell: he spent 30 years fighting a war that did not exist because no one told the poor fellow that Japan had already surrendered. You can read all about it in his book: "No Surrender: my thirty year war". What an utter waste of talent! Or what about Norio Suzuki, the man who found Onoda, who's greatest aspiration was to find a Yeti, the same non-existent creature who claimed his life as he was (quoting) "killed in an avalanche while searching for the Yeti". What a waste!
Advice of the day 1: before you marry someone give him/her a PC with slow internet and a ball mouse and study his/hers reaction.
Advice of the day 2: If a girl gets angry put a Superman-cape on her shoulders and then ask her "were you angry? well now you are super-angry!". Maybe she'll laugh, maybe you'll die, maybe you'll wake up in hospital like this guy (a moment of silence for our fellow citizen).
Advice of the day 3: If a girl feels sad embrace her with affection. If that doesn't work, take three steps back and throw chocolate at her. If that doesn't work either then you are probably already dead so any further advice would not be necessary. So, how's hell? Is it hot?
Advice of the day 4: Everybody makes mistakes, that's the reason why pencils have an erasor on the other side. The pointy side is for stabbing the person that frustrates you the most, preferably in the eye. A pencil sharpener is for inflicting maximum pain in case the damage caused was not enough (see Vlad the impaler for real-life examples). I bet you didn't know all this did you now? Please use this free advice wisely but don't forget Newton's law: for every action there is a female over-reaction. This is why Newton died a virgin (true story).
Advice of the day 5: I confuse left and right (there I openly admit it). I found a solution by stretching both my hands out, sticking index and thumb out. The hand that performs an L is the left one. Not so fast! The problem gets more confusing when I try to park. When reversing, if you turn the steering wheels to the left tha car veers to the right. I therefore stick both my hands out, turn them upsidedown, read which hands has the L... get confused... turn the sterring wheel at a random direction, car goes the wrong way, hit a lamp, turn it the other way, problem solved, yeeeey! I then blame my partner for not helping out. I also have full-covarege insurance so no harm done there.
Advice of the day 6: stop drifting from the subject and get to the point. Drifting is for cars.
When I met Alex I didn't even know what a combustion engine was! (not to be confused with compost). I have now mastered a number of difficult tongue-twisting terms including sequential gear-box, chassis, differential (not the equation) etc. and other important words relative to petrolheads. OK I admit that when he once said "we need to change the oil" I thought he was making a salad, but recently I have mastered alot about engines and don't look like a complete fool when someone asks me "what's a brake-pad?" (not to be confused with a mouse-pad). I want to prove to the world that changing oil and getting your hands dirty is not a "guy's thing", such clichés are just an excuse from girls who are afraid to break a fingernail. I have learnt to differentiate how many pistons a motorbike has just by looking at it, I know that Lotus is not only a flower, that a Wankel engine has no pistons and that a 2 liter car has nothing to do with how many coca-cola bottles it can hold. Confused? So was I.
My adventures in Switzerland started right after finishing highschool, the year 2005. That's the time when I left my dogs and my 1 bhp trotting motorbike (aka horse) behind me and moved onto something new. I moved to Zurich in search of knowledge, love and something else that I'm still trying to figure out. Things turned out much different than anticipated when adult responsibility hit me in the face with full wrath, but I'm still searching for that something else. What is it? I actually have no idea. I'm here for the ride and I'm enjoying the chase.
According to the film "My big fat greek wedding" there are two types of people: Greeks, and those who would want to be Greek. OK we all know that this is a bit exaggerated. Anyway, meeting Alex was an eye-opening moment to greek food and teleports. OK greek food makes sence, but why teleports, you may ask? The reason is that haning out with Alex made me meet other greek people who call you and tell you "I am on the other side of town and will be there in 5 minutes". We all know the meaning of those "5 minutes"... I was convinced that Greeks had invented the teleport and they were not sharing their invention with anyone else. Actually this is a phenomenon that occurs in the southern Mediterranean alot, so it would be unfair to point the finger only to Greeks [actually in south America this problem is on a different scale, see e.g. Brazil]. Furthermore, when I met Alex I was a vegetarian, just trying to do my thing for reducing our carbon-footprint. Of course this carbon-footprint nonsence gave way for great mum's mussaka and greek gyros so let's just forget the miserable days I used to eat rabbit food for the sake of the environment. Moussaka is here to stay and we will lavishly devour it to the last bredcrumb. We now enjoy repeated ravenous raids to all the greek restaurants in Zurich, stuffing our face with revitalising, rogue recipes of divine sustenance, the next day regretfully releasing reprobating flatulant wind possibly causing rhinal discomfort.
