Hangzhou and the Thousand Island Lake Marathon

I made my triumphant return to Beijing (via Guangzhou for a two-week quaratine) back in August and it wasn't long before I was itching to get on the road again. 

Soon after getting back to China I started dating Hannah and she informed me that she was doing the Hangzhou half-marathon. She said that registration was closed now, so I seized the opportunity to sound heroic. "That's such a shame as I definitely would have done it with you! I'll be there to support you though!" I often make statements like these as I get to sound like a truly good guy without having to do any of the hard graft. 

I've learned not to say these kinds of things to Hannah any more as she often finds a way to make it happen. She contacted the race organisers, but was told what she already knew about the registration. Undeterred, she then contacted some of the race sponsors and found me a spot to enter. I was entered on behalf of China Insurance...I think. I had only known Hannah for a matter of weeks and now she has me signed up to run 21.1km! How do these things always seem to happen to me?

I had about 6 weeks to get fit enough to finish it. I wasn't aiming to break any records, my hope was just to get across the finish line without embarrassing myself in front of my date. Nothing puts a date off quicker than desperation and embarrassment, two things I have in abundance. 

I began with a 10km, then 15km before finally ratcheting it up to 20km a week before the race. They were long, cold nights of endless running. I really questioned how much I wanted to have sex with Hannah when I was putting in those kilometers. And these were Beijing kilometers where the air is not clean and the cold is unforgiving. I'm certain I lost a few months off my life expectancy during training. 

The race was due to take place on the morning of Sunday 1st December. We went down on the Friday night to explore Hangzhou. It's known for its scenic lakes and temples. It is truly beautiful there and continues to raise the question in me "why do I live in scummy Beijing?"

We got a good nights sleep for the race the next day as it begun at 7am. That should be enough to deter any sane people from entering. However, the people that sign up for long distance races are not sane. Each one of them had run hundreds, if not thousands of kilometers in preparation for the race. Running is their passion and this is what they train for. Running is my passion too but it usually means running from my problems. 

The race started and 10,000 people set off with an excited skip in their step. About 200m in and I realized I needed the bathroom. I had to pee at the side of the road like the dirty foreigner I am. I think I had a little too much excitement in me. 

In my training, I had managed to complete 20km in about 1 hour 55 minutes which was respectful but hard. Today, I didn’t care about the time. The run was a lot easier than the training as the adrenaline takes over. The air is much cleaner, the scenery much nicer and friendly people all around shouting encouraging words. 加油! Jiā yóu!

We did it together and when we crossed the finish line, we got notified that Hannah beat me by 0.2 seconds. Not that we’re competitive or anything. 

I thought that it was a great achievement as 400 days earlier I was lying in hospital with a broken leg wondering if I’d be able to run again (a bit overblown, I know). It allowed me to move on from that trauma and now I play football and run without any fear. 

When I crossed the finish line, I thought that it would be the one and only long-distance race I enter, but I have to say that I enjoyed it and would be tempted to do another one. In the end, I have to say thank you to Hannah for pushing me to complete it. There is no doubt that I would never have done it without her. 

The Italian Football Tour: Part 1 - Milan to Turin

If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go? Well, for me it's be South America for a football tour, but Jesus, that's far away. Luckily Ryanair do cheap flights to Italy, so it's a decent alternative. I looked at the fixtures and realised, with the midweek cup fixtures, I could take in 6 games in just over a week. Which single manchild who loves football wouldn't do that?

(As this is a football themed edition, I'll be including quiz questions.)

Quiz Question 1: Which teams made it to the final of the 2019 Coppa Italia?

Tuesday 14th January, 2020

Football Club Internazionale Milan 4-1 Cagliari Calcio

Things didn't go according to plan from the start. I had ordered a car and had planned to be driving around the northern Italian countryside in a Fiat 500, looking and feeling as suave as Andrea Pirlo. Instead, I got a Kia which made me feel out of place like Ashley Cole in a Roma team photo.

I arrived in Milan late, so all I wanted was dinner and bed. I had pictured a pasta dish and a glass of red, but the only restaurant I could find within hobbling distance from my hostel was a Peruvian restaurant. This wasn't the Italian adventure I had in mind.

Luckily, I was in for the worst night sleep I've ever had. In the hostel, I shared a room with 2 snorers, another who listened to music through headphones loud enough for me to sing along with, and an Italian who talked/shouted in his sleep. From 11pm until 2am I laid in bed as the loud snores filled the room, I tapped my foot along to the lyrics of Fatman Scoop and the fella above me would shout "Polizia! Polizia!" followed by more Italian that I couldn't recognise. I attempted to block out the noise by putting in my earphones, which worked somewhat but not effectively. I just couldn't sleep with them in. It was uncomfortable, just like putting in a buttplug and expecting to get a solid 8 hours in.

At 3:30am an alarm went off and the music man arose to pack his case and head off to the airport. For some reason he decided not to pack his case before he went to bed just to ensure more late night disruption.

Quiz Question 2: Romelu Lukaku has scored 14 goals in his first 18 games for Inter Milan. Who previously held the record for Inter with 13 in 18?

Milan is the fashion capital of Italy. It's the hub for all the luxury brands. If you're into shopping, you're in the right place. However, I was there for football and hardly fit in wearing in my Beijing Celtics hoody and wooly hat.

I first visited the Duomo Di Milano and the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II. Two of Milan's hot spots which took about 8 minutes to walk around. My leg is still on the mend so I was cautious about overdoing the sightseeing. A visit to San Maurizio al Monastero Maggiore would have suited someone with Christian virtues, but not so much for me. The paintings of torture were quite impressive though. I managed to kill the rest of the afternoon as I waited for the main event.

I made my way to the San Siro with plenty of time to spare. I was desperate for the toilet so went into the first bar/restaurant I can across which happened to be a Chinese restaurant. I ordered a pizza in a Chinese restaurant (so you know it was good) and I ordered in Chinese. It demonstrates how little Italian I speak if I opted to speak Chinese.

The Giuseppe Meazza was beautiful at night. When I walked to the stadium there was a mist in the air which made the arrival all the more romantic.

Quiz Question 3: The San Siro is home to A.C. Milan and Inter Milan. Which other club has used the stadium for their home European fixtures in 2019-20?

So many great games have occurred here, Arsenal's 1-5 win in 2003 against Inter comes to mind when Thierry Henry scored a hat-trick. Arsenal's 0-2 win against Milan in 2008 where Cesc Fabregas scored a 40-yard screamer comes into the reckoning. Another one was in 2018 in the Europa League round of 16 when Arsenal drew Milan. Massimiliano Mirabelli, Milan's sporting director said "I’m sorry for Arsenal, who I'm sure would have liked to have continued in Europe." Arsenal won 5-1 on aggregate.

It's truly a shame that they will be knocking the stadium down to rebuild a new modern stadium. I love the older 'run-down' stadiums so much more than the new modern ones. Maybe it's because I'm an Arsenal fan that I link their old ground, Highbury, with better days. Highbury was the first stadium I visited, Ian Wright scored a hat-trick at my first game, and to me it was a beautiful place. The Emirates is beautiful in a different way, but it still hasn't become a home because it hasn't amassed enough history yet. Sure, there have been a few. The great win over Barcelona in 2011, or Henry's goal against Leeds 2012, or the numerous thrashings of Spurs, but it's still not the same.

Maybe other supporters like the moves to modern stadiums, but I'm not one of them.

Inter won 4-1 with Romelu Lukaku scoring after 21 seconds. The game was over by that point. The real drama started when I tried to get back to the hostel. Despite their website stating otherwise, the Metro was closed by the end of the game. I didn't have any cash on me as no ATMs allowed me to withdraw any cash from my Chinese bank card. As I stood assessing my options a tram pulled up alongside the metro station. I jumped on it ready to play the old foreigner card "sorry, no Italiano." I blended into the crowd like Jason Bourne ready to obliterate anyone who came near me.

Wednesday 15th January, 2020

Juventus F.C. 4-0 Udinese Calcio

After a meander around Turin in the afternoon, I made it to The Juventus Stadium as the sun was setting. The mountains in the background and the pink sky made a great backdrop for an evening kick-off.

Quiz Question 4: Only 3 Englishmen have made first-team appearances for Juventus. William Jordan (1948-49), Stephy Mavididi (2018-19) and which other player?

The stadium itself was a major disappointment. The stadium only has a capacity of 40,000 or so (which for Juventus is incredibly small) and cost a mere €155m to build...and you can tell. It's not as if they can't afford it, they are one of the richest teams in the world in terms of revenue and are backed by the Agnelli family who also own FIAT. They spent €117m on a 33-year-old Cristiano Ronaldo for goodness sake!

The teams were released for the Coppa Italia game against Udinese. Ronaldo wasn't playing, but more annoyingly neither were Aaron Ramsey nor Wojciech Szczęsny! I was expecting a hat-trick from Rambo and a hat-trick of assists from Szczęsny. Was I not annoyed that Ronaldo wasn't playing? Not really, I've already seen him play. It was in 2005 when Manchester United played Peterborough United at London Road in Barry Fry's Testimonial, so not bothered.

I did get to see a true legend play that evening, Gianluigi Buffon. An actual legend of the game, not a legend like Nicklas Bendtner is a legend. His statistics and honours list speak for themselves and is in a calibre of players alongside Gordon Banks, Dino Zoff and Neville Southall. Buffon didn't actually make a save throughout the game, but the way he patrolled his area was sublime.

Quiz Question 5: Gianluigi Buffon has made over 1,000 professional appearances. Which 4 goalkeepers have made more than Gigi? (Hint: two Englishmen, one Brazilian, one Spaniard)

Juventus dominated the game from start to finish winning 4-0, they hit the woodwork twice and had a goal ruled out through VAR (the game's gone). I was stood in the Curva Sud with the Juve Ultras and they were in a jubilant mood. Here's a little fact for you, the Juventus fans love a bit of weed. And by a bit, I mean shitloads. The lads were blazing through the stuff quicker than the bush fires in Australia. After 90 minutes I felt higher than Ross Kemp.

Two games in and 9 goals. Who said Italian football is boring?









Answers:
1. Atalanta vs Lazio (Lazio won 2-0)
2. Christian Vieri
3. Atalanta
4. David Platt
5. Peter Shilton, Rogerio Ceni, Iker Casillas, and Ray Clemence

Alicante & Valencia, Spain: Suitcase and Car Troubles

To be honest, this is going to be a short one. It was my final stop on my Spring Festival holiday and I was joined by Karl, who had been on many adventures with me down the years.

We mainly chose these destinations as the cheapest flights we could get out of the UK at the time were to the south of Spain. With a quick check of the football fixtures, we were able to get to two football games over the weekend. With the exception of the fixtures, we left without much of a plan.

First stop was Alicante. The last time I had seen Karl was when we visited North Korea and I really didn't expect our next trip together to be to the seaside town full of British retirees.

The flight seemed no different than any other I had taken in my 29 years. I checked-in, handed over my checked luggage, made my way through security and immigration before boarding the plane. Karl and I weren't sitting near each other due to it being a short-haul cheap airline, so once on board, I put my earphones in and fell asleep. Once in the air, Karl tracked me down and asked if everything was alright with my case. I mean why wouldn't it be? The problem was that the airline had more cases than they had accounted for and were trying to track down the owners of the cases before departing. My name was announced on the tannoy and I was asked to identify my luggage, it's just that I missed all the drama as I was asleep. 

It turns out that as I hadn't claimed my luggage they had taken it off the aircraft. This was the second time in only a few weeks that my case hadn't arrived at my destination. I have never experienced such a balls up. How did they have extra cases? Why didn't they look up my seat number when looking for me? Why did they take my case off the plane when I'm sat on the bastard thing? 

Don't fly Ryanair.

In Alicante, we spent the day enjoying the sunshine. Karl's first idea was to head down the beach and dip our toes in the water. I wasn't too keen on this as I only had one pair of socks to my name and would have preferred not to have gotten them sandy, but life is for living, I suppose.

Afterwards, we headed up to the Castell de la Santa Bàrbara.

In the evening we made our way over to Elche to take in the first game of the weekend. Despite being a second division game there was still a good crowd of almost 10,000. The game finished 2-0 prevailing over the visitors, Extremadura UD. 

The following day we drove to Valencia. We parked up, dropped our bags off at the AirBnB, and sank beers as we made our way to the famous home stadium of Valencia CF, the Mestalla. 

It's a magnificent stadium which is so steep that it makes finding your seat fairly nerve-wracking.

In truth, the game wasn't the best. An eventless 0-0 draw, but a positive feeling can still be gained from the experience. 

We spent the rest of our time exploring the city and local bars.

When it was time to leave Valencia we encountered a problem. The trip was going far too well for Karl and I. Usually our trips are filled with mishaps which are often down to our own thoughtless behaviour. So far, we'd only had to contend with a missing case which arrived 24 hours late. Our latest problem was that the battery on the car was dead. We tried to call the SOS number for the rental company, but there was no answer. With a tight schedule and flights to catch there was little else we could do but bump start the car. Down the narrow back streets, Karl and I pushed the VW Golf. When we got it rolling Karl jumped in and I was left with the arduous task of getting up to an adequate speed. Karl lifted the clutch and we had power. Unfortunately, I didn't. That was the most exercise I'd done in about 2 months and was exhausted. 

And that was that. Austria, Macedonia, England and Spain all finished in a few weeks. I have a few days in Beijing to relax before starting work again, but those days will be filled with laundry, fighting jet-lag, and teacher training, so probably not all that relaxing.

Only 154 days until the summer holidays...

Vienna, Austria: Befriending Coked Up Germans

I couldn't wait to leave China. It's a country that requires its foreign residents to take regular breaks for their sanity. I was excited to leave, but Beijing had one final setback for me. As per usual, every time I travel in or out of Peking airport my flight is delayed, and this occasion was no different. When I arrived in Kiev I had very little time to make my transfer, but with my notorious super speed I made it with minutes to spare. I can now add Kiev airport to Kuala Lumpur and Doha of airports that I've sprinted through due to Beijing delays. While I was lucky enough to make my flight, my luggage was not. It remained in chilly Kiev.

In such a predicament I was overjoyed that Austrians have such a good grasp of English. I'm such an ignorant traveller as I can only speak English. My ability in other languages extend to ordering coffee in Chinese and chatting up girls in Korean - two very useful skills in my existence. I could attempt to learn another language, but I'm 29 now, which is middle-aged considering my alcohol and pork intake.

I meandered around town and marvelled at the architecture.

I awoke at 8am and the reception desk of my hostel confirmed that my case hadn't been delivered. I had been in the same clothes for about 48 hours at this point, so after breakfast I just had to go shopping. I started walking towards the shopping promenade listening to the latest On The Continent football podcast when a rather inebriated man approached me. He was nice enough so I talked to him as we walked in the same direction. His name was Toby, from Munich, and he and his friends were in Vienna for the weekend to party. It was about 10am and he was alone, so I assumed he was on his way home. I explained my drama with the missing suitcase and told him that I was going shopping.

He said "it's Sunday, there are no shops open today!" I paused while I took another disappointing blow. He then continued "well, as you're not going shopping, do you want to go to a club instead?"

"Aren't you going home?" I enquired.

"No, I got kicked out of the last club because the bouncer caught me doing a massive line in the toilets".

I wasn't aware that clubs were open so late, but when a coked up German asked you to go to a club at 10am the answer is always yes, in my book. I should probably get a new book. So, with a continental breakfast, and two coffees in my belly, off we went to Club Sass.

I soon realised that I was the only sober person to ever step foot in Club Sass. There were people off their heads on pills and cocaine, people were fighting, gay guys were kissing all around, and a girl with large breasts wearing a low-cut silk top and no bra was revealing a lot of nipple. It was probably the earliest time of the day that I'd ever seen a pair of tits. Toby and I got a few beers, he went to dance and I positioned myself opposite the girl with the tits accordingly.

Toby must have had a bladder issue as he was in and out of the bathroom quite a lot.

I stayed for a few beers, but eventually left. I made my way to the shopping street only to find out that Toby was right, every shop was closed. It says a lot about Austria that you can be off your tits on God knows what, but you can't buy a pair of underpants on Sunday mornings. Now, the only clothes I had smelled of cigarettes and alcohol. I made the most of the morning and headed to the Sigmund Freud Museum.

It was rather interesting to be inside the home and office of the father of psychoanalysis. Freud was the mastermind of the interpretation of dreams, jokes, and pleasures. Freud believed that events in our childhood have a great influence on our adult lives. I had originally only come to the museum as I'm a fan of the sitcom Frasier, in which Frasier and his brother Niles comically reference him.

"I should warn you that while Frasier is a Freudian, I am a Jungian. So there'll be no blaming Mother today!"

Niles Crane

When it comes to dream interpretation, I'm more inclined to agree with psychological manipulator, Dennis Reynolds.

"I hate listening to people's dreams. It is like flipping through a stack of photographs. If I'm not in any of them and nobody is having sex, I just don't care."

Dennis Reynolds

Upon reflection of my morning antics, I'd say that my decision to go to the club at 10am was controlled by my Id.

Sigmund Freud's waiting room. You can just imagine the nuts who've sat on this couch.

In the evening, I thought I'd go to the world famous Vienna State Opera. It may surprise you, but I have never been to the opera before. I didn't particularly pack the wardrobe for it, but the website said that in the cheaper standing area you could dress more casual. I tried my best, but ultimately I was still wearing a sweater, jeans, and trainers. I paid the reasonable sum of 3 euros and got myself a glass of wine as beer would have been far too white trash for such an event.

Most were dressed to the nines in their finest black tie and gown wear whereas I was rocking a look that would be more suited to a Wetherspoons. I'd have been the best dressed in the Spoons though, don't get it twisted. 10 minutes before the show was due to start I got another large red wine to take into the theatre with me. As I tried to enter a stuck up Austrian fella stopped me, looked me up and down, pointed to the wine and remarked "zis is not acceptable". I understood and replied "no worries, geezer. Wind your neck in." I downed the wine and found a good spot for the performance.

The show was rather incredible, but it's fair to say that I was a walking faux pas amongst the Viennese elite.

When the show started I didn't even know what I was due to watch. It was called Falstaff. I read the blurb of the show 30 seconds before it kicked off.

The opera house does an excellent job of accomodating the tourists by offering each seat with a screen showing the subtitles. The only trouble is that when you're standing you have to look at a 90 degree angle downwards in order to read them. This means that you can either watch the show and understand bugger all or look down at the subtitles and miss the performance. I tried my best to do both, but by Act 2 I was totally lost.

I started to watch the orchestra and they were phenomenal. It took me back to when I used to have violin lessons as a child. I started taking lessons in Year 3, which meant that I was two years behind Joe Roberts, David Cheng, and Suzy Wimborne. I tried to keep up with them, but the difference was obvious. When we were in Year 4 the four of us joined a county wide orchestral performance and I struggled to keep up. After the first few songs my violin instructor approached me and commended me on how well I was doing. At that moment I felt like a million dollars, but looking back on it now, as a teacher, she was just supporting a struggling child. I don't think I've picked up a violin since those days, but whenever I'm on a first date I always pull out the "I can play the violin" card. It's a safe bet because it makes me sound like an interesting person with many abilites and the liklihood of me having to prove it is low. I've yet to be called on it. By Year 5 I'd given up on the violin as anyone who played instruments instead of football was a dweeb. It's one of the many things in my life that I've regretted giving up.

Afterwards, my attention turned towards the actors and it's fair to say that they're all pretty hefty. Opera is the solution for singers who aren't beutiful enough to be a pop star but can hold a note. Just imagine an entire cast of men and women who look like Brian Blessed.

Would I go to the opera again? Only if it was in English. That sounds a bit Brexit. I suppose I want an English stage performance without the pretentiousness of an opera, which kind of sounds like a panto. Basically, opera is Italian panto with a better soundtrack.

"I don't like the opera. What are they singing for? Who sings? You got something to say, say it!"

Jerry Seinfeld

On my final day I went to the Albertina Art Museum where they displayed pieces by famous artists such as Monet and Picasso. I looked around the contempory art section which just made me angry. Walter Schmogner had an exhibition of his work which included painted pigs bladders. Another was showcasing the work of Erwin Wurm who had childlike doodles mostly of men with their cocks out. That's the sort of work I was doing when I was bored in maths class at 14 years old. 

I had a gander at the pieces by Picasso, he must have been a few sandwiches short of a picnic. Imagine Picasso offered to paint a picture of you, a professional artist bear in mind, and this is what he produced.

You'd encourage him to give up the painting and seek psychiatric help. Almost all the artists had the same story, homeless and penniless when they died. Well, yeah, I don't suppose there's much money in paiting offal and pictures of spunking knobs.

Anyway, that's Vienna done!  

Astana, Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan

The country of Kazakhstan is located between Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan, and assholes Uzbekistan. Why was I here? Well, I was on my way to my sister's wedding in Bedford from Beijing and decided to stop off in Astana for a few days. I had a jar of gipsy tears around my neck to protect me on my 2-day adventure of the nation's 20-year-old capital.

Although Kazakhstan is a glorious country, it has problems, too: economic, social, and Jew.

The city has only existed for 20 years since President Nursultan Nazarbayev decided to relocate the capital from Almaty to Akmola. I was 8 years old, fresh-faced, holidaying at Disneyland Paris, and coming to terms with starting Year 4. Since then Akmola has become Astana and I have become a stunner. 

I can't help but feel they were putting words in my mouth. I don't even know what an Anatsa is.

The reason why Nazarbayev moved the capital to Almaty was to reduce the possibility of separatism from the northern regions of Kazakhstan. Sure, the reason was logical, but beyond Astana there is merely grasslands and a former concentration camp, a really difficult sell for the travel brochure writers.

Straight off the plane I realised I hadn't packed accordingly. It was cold and I was wearing a t-shirt and shorts. Prior to my arrival I was advised that a taxi from the airport to the city should cost no more than 1500 tenge. The driver tried to charge me 3000 so we settled on 1700, but as we arrived he demanded 2700. I tried to argue but I don't think I was ever going to win an argument with an angry Kazakh/Russian. I threw the additional 1000 tenge at him and told him to "fuck off". I think that was the shortest time from arriving in a country to telling one of the locals to fuck off, a mere 25 minutes or so.  

After he sped off I worked out how much I'd been taken for a ride for. £2.28. That was it. I felt a little sheepish for how I'd reacted, but still, the bastard cheated me! 

It was my first time to use an AirBnB and while the location and the price were very good the convenience suffered. I arrived in the city at 7am and it was chilly, the locals were dressed up in winter gear like it was January 28th rather than May 28th. My data wasn't roaming for some reason so I went for a walk to find a cafe to get WiFi. I didn't have much luck. I considered taking refuge in an ATM vestibule, but decided to continue my search. My quest resulted in defeat, so I took a rest in a children's play area. 

Not how I had imagined spending the first few hours in Astana, chilling with a suitcase in the cold while on-looking parents thought I was a young Gary Glitter with a suitcase full of sweets and puppies. I found an Italian bistro that opened at 9am and ordered The Kazakh Breakfast, just the establishment that you'd expect authentic local cuisine. 

I finally got hold of the AirBnB host and met her at 10am. She showed me to the room. It wasn't quite what I was expecting, I thought AirBnB hosts offered their spare bedrooms for guests, but not this girl, she rented out her bedroom. I curiously looked in the wardrobe to find it full, her trinkets were all around and then I hit the jackpot - the underwear drawer. I felt a bit awkward staying there, but don't get me wrong, I had a fantastic wank after going through her unmentionables. 

Out in the city I took in most of the sights. It is a bizarre place where even in the city centre there are no people around. The atmosphere is surreal. A mere 25 years ago there was nothing here but grassland and now it's a big metropolis. The Kazakhs threw their oil money at the city and this is the result. It's very...gold. 

I took a wander to The Presidential Palace. Then over to The Palace of Peace and Reconciliation. Here they practice equality of religions and I'm totally on board with this in that they're all equally ridiculous. 

That's the president's gaff

I got a taxi over to The Museum of the First President of the Republic of Kazakhstan where they pay homage to Nursultan Nazarbayev. The exhibits were 95% in Russian and Kazakh, which wasn't surprising, but made the visit totally pointless for me. There aren't many people who build museums in their own honour while they are still alive. It's a short list consisting of Joseph Stalin, The Kims of North Korea and John Terry and none of those who ego-maniacs make you wear shoe protectors to visit their halls of greatness. Just imagine being the most narcissistic among those people. 

The following day I took a trip west to Kalzhir, a former Soviet labour camp which imprisoned family members of traitors to the motherland. Women were sent from all over the Soviet Union to the baron lands of the Kazakh steppe. These days the camp is surrounded by a township and the capital city is a mere 35km away, but at the time there was nothing but flat grassland. On the day I attended it was late May, but cold and extremely windy. I can only imagine what it must have been like to arrive in the middle of winter only to have dry reeds to sleep on to keep you warm at night. The minimum sentence at the gulag was 5 years for being guilty by association. 

My AirBnB host came home on my final night accompanied by her boyfriend. In broken English he said "My girlfriend. Don't touch". Which was a bit strange, I'm sure it was meant in jest, but Kazakhs aren't particularly known for their comedic delivery. If he had said "My girlfriend. You can touch...NOT!" Then there would have been no confusion that he was joking. 

I thought she had popped over to pick up a few things but she was actually staying the night which confused me as I was staying in her room. Was she going to join me? I thought I should invite her to share the bed, I am a gentleman after all. When I approached her she was clearing a space in the kitchen to settle in for the night. I was dejected. A hard, cold wooden kitchen floor is more appealing than sharing a bed with me. I returned to her bedroom and consoled myself with one final dip into her underwear drawer. 

My time in Kazakhstan was over and I headed for the airport, although I was slightly hesitant flying just in case the Jews repeated their attack of 9/11.

My final purchase in Kazakhstan was a beer and some fermented camels' milk. I'm not sure why, but it was an impulse buy. The beer went down a treat as I waited in the departure lounge and the milk was saved for an in-flight taste. 

We were 30 minutes in the air when I decided to treat myself. I learned something that day, that fermented camels’ milk will explode when opened. It went everywhere. On my jeans, on my chair and all I had was a solitary tissue to clean it up with. I tried to use my pillow as a substitute, but that didn't work. I took a crotch shot which looked like I'd had a romance explosion over Pamela Anderson. 

I don't know if you've ever smelled fermented camels' milk, but it smells worse than you're imagining. After that ordeal I didn't fancy tasting it either. Probably the worst £1.50 I've ever spent and I had six and a half hours left of my journey to sit with a moist crotch. 

Two days in Astana is more than enough. It's a bizarre place that was quite interesting to see and was worth the trip as I was passing though, but I wouldn't recommend anyone make a trip here with the sole purpose of seeing Astana. It’s a city in the middle of nowhere, which is most noticeable when you fly in and out. Beyond the city, you can see the vast Kazakh steppe which from the south extends 193km before you hit the nearest city. At 5ft7 big steppes scare me quite considerably.

I may return to the south of Kazakhstan to see the historical part of the country one day. I’d like to explore more of central Asia and the surrounding countries, despite them having inferior potassium. 

But for now, I've got a wedding to attend. Catch you on the next one.