It’s been a while…

What a difference a few weeks can make…

What started as a weekend trip to the beach finally ended 2 weeks later with a pulled muscle, a heap of new friends, an exciting discolouration to the shiny white skin and memories that will remain for a lifetime.

It would be fair to say that Fray is one lucky, lucky guy!

But first, as his authorised biographer, I would like to issue an apology on his behalf.  The absence of any reports was partly due to not stopping to blink for the past 2 weeks, but also due to an incident involving a mobile phone, a yacht and a breathtakingly green ocean… the 3 not being good bedfellows… who knew? Evidently not that dumbass Fray!

The first stop saw our hero venturing to Chichiriviche.  Oscar, his backseat tourguide pointed out all manner of sights and landmarks as they ventured through Urachiche, Chivacoa, San Felipe and Moron (much more on the spectacular Moron later). Boca di Aroa brought his first eagerly anticipated view of the ocean but it was far from the picture postcard views he´d dreamed of… it’s fair to say our lad was a tad crestfallen.

The surrounding town around Chichiriviche did little to ease his troubled mind (troubled because by now he’d consumed a frosty beverage or three).  Long dusty roads, shabby makeshift arepa huts and litter (more on that too later) assaulted the eye, with only brief snatches of beauty saving him from complete despair.

They turned another corner in the endless wilderness and on the horizon loomed the strangest of sights. In the middle of the endless wastelands stood a giant brick structure.  As they careered towards it it gradually grew, revealing itself to be a giant complex seemingly dumped slap bang in the middle of nowhere!  Very odd indeed.

Bags were dropped off and a quiet evening exploring the glorious grounds ensued. The next morning saw Team Chapman rise with the crack of dawn, jump on a motorboat and head towards……… HEAVEN!!!

Ever the English gent, always conscious of correct decorum and dignity, he greeted the dock with a stiff upper lip and a resounding “FUUU#####UUUCK ME! THIS IS FREAKIN AWESOME!!!”

Lathered up to the eyeballs in factor 50 he proceeded to splish and splash like a 12 year old girl.  Never had he witnessed such stunning, panoramic beauty. The following hours were divided equally between gauping like a moron and swimming/drinking/general frolicking. Then came the yacht.

As they strolled along the beach they heard a cry from the sea. The yacht in question just happened to be owned by one of Paul’s 4 billion friends. More beers were consumed as young Fray eyeballed the yacht with undisguised yacht-envy.  Somehow (it really is a mystery) the owners picked up on his lust and said: “Do you wan…” “YES! YES! SI, SI, SI!!!”  Not since the days of Blackbeard himself has a ship been boarded so quickly, but it’s probably historically accurate to assume old Blackbeard didn’t charge to the front and bust out the Titanic/Winslet pose upon hitting the deck… classy Fray… real classy!

After much posing and merriment, it was clearly time to depart the vessel and, as any gringo would do, he deemed the only reasonable way to leave would be the timeless classic, The Divebomb.  Now at no point during the few seconds of airtime, nor the swim back to shore did it occur to him that his trusty Sony Ericsson was not a great lover of the open ocean.  It was only when he made it back to shore and turned to take one last picture that he realised his phone’s true distaste for the salty sea…… oops!

Tears could have flowed, swear words screamed… but surrounded by such natural beauty, good friends and a comforting beverage he took it on the chin, giggling once again like the aforementioned little girl.

All too quickly it was time to head back… but Chichiriviche would never leave his heart