Gin, Gozo and Guidos

Hi.

I am sitting in an internet cafe in Malta. It is hot as hell outside (anywhere from about 30 to a billion degrees - conservatively speaking), and we are doing some last minute bookings for Greece, which we head to tonight on a midnight flight. From there we ship out to Mykonos on the 15th.

Our trip to Malta has been pretty random - I was originally going to leave the boys and go to Athens, but decided to keep the good times going and join them in Malta. And I'm glad I did. Malta is a great little island, populated by quiet locals, windy streets, incredible pastitzis, rocky mountains and great beaches.

We did an Island tour 2 days ago for Matt's birthday. It was nice to see the island and go to a few different beaches. Highlights - getting stung by a jellyfish, totally failing at diving into the water (although I swear I put a hole in the ocean with a great bomb I did), and getting so black that there is no way my Mum will recognise me when she see's me at the airport. At the very least Native Title is always a bonus.

Now Malta is great, but there's one thing about the place myself and the boys can't stand. Everywhere you look it assaults you, when you're trying to chill at the beach with some new friends it wafts through, it drowns the music out of your iPod, around every corner, every bend, every street, pool, pub, club, beach, hanging out windows, inside rooms, on deckchairs, under umbrellas, posing at random places (whilst wearing speedos), whistling at every girl that walks by, being loud, obnoxious, disrespectful to the ladies. They are absolutely everywhere.

Italians.

Regardless, we haven't had to deal with them too much as we have created our own little crew with a few people we have met - German, Swiss and French.

Anyways, I have a few photo libraries up which you can access via facebook -

Bangkok

Arcos, Portugal

Porto, Portugal

Bob Sinclair - Porto, Portugal

Barcelona, Spain - The Party

Peace UP, A-Town Down.