A Little Blue in the Face...

The worst aspect of the rainforest is, without doubt, the insects. Despite smearing toxic ´DEET´ over my body several times a day those pesky mosquitos always find a way of getting to my supple skin.

So imagine my sheer delight when Gigo, a member of staff working at Taricaya Ecological Reserve, told me of a totally effective natural insect repellant. We were checking on our butterfly traps deep in the jungle when he spotted some fruits lying on the ground. I was told that such fruits could only be collected two or three times a year and that, when mixed with alcohol, they produced a smell so strong that not even the most determined mosquito could bear to get within a few yards of you. To demonstrate the effectiveness of said fruit Gigo then proceeded to show me his arms which were, surprisingly, completely free of the marks and blisters that have become a trademark of mine.

I was very excited. Gigo also assured me that the repellant would be effective for a whole week. This meant that not only would I be protected against the critters, but that it would save me a lot of money too (manufactured repellant doesn't come cheap).

That night, along with about fifteen of the other volunteers, we prepared the fruit. We sliced them in half and then mixed the seeds with alcohol to make a paste. Then we all covered ourselves, not wanting to leave any skin exposed. Gigo helpfully rubbed the repellant all over my face.

Of course in hindsight I realise that everything about Gigo´s story sounded too good to be true. A free, natural, 100% effective insect repellant? Of course it wasn´t. A couple of hours later we discovered the real function of the devilish fruit - it is used to make the paint that people in this region of Peru use to colour their houses. And so now, along with practically every other volunteer, my face and arms are completely blue, and will be for the whole next week...

This week I have been mostly...

... struggling with sickness.

This has not been fun in the slightest. Before coming to the jungle I had been warned that it would be a common occurence but there still wasn't much I could do to prevent it. Despite the numerous pills I popped and gallons of water I drank nothing would stop my fever, headache and stomach cramps. I got quite delusional at one point, and if there is one thing in the jungle that you don't need more of I can assure you it is sweat.

One misguided fool back in the UK just told me she thinks it all sounds "quite romantic/film-like". I would like to show her my toilet bowl.

Aside from this near-death experience the week had a few highlights. I added to my growing list of fishing triumphs with four fish caught of the back of a boat with only a stick, piece of string and worms I'd pulled out of the ground, performed admirably in a sack race, had egg splatted in my face from thirty yards in the infamous 'egg catching contest', and planted cedar saplings for an indigenous tribe. So it's not all bad.

Amazonian Adventures

I really need to learn to read the small print of things. It's all very well signing up for a once-in-a-lifetime trip to the Peruvian rainforest to save baby animals but to be honest I wouldn't have done it if I'd known one thing.

Deep in the Amazon rainforest, two hours by boat from the nearest town (Puerto Maldonado) and staying in a lodge where water comes from a nearby creek and they only turn the electricity generator on for a few hours each day - there is NO internet access. Can you believe it? As such I can only get online once a week to update everyone with my news.

If, however, I can get over my impending technological solitude (sorry that sounds quite pretentious) I think I might grow to love this place.

I'm going to be living at Taricaya Lodge for the next two months. It's situated on the banks of the Madre de Dios River in Eastern Peru, a few hours from both the Bolivian and Brazilian borders. Along with about fifteen other volunteers (and a sprinkling of staff) my time here will be spent looking after numerous species of animals (most of them were previously pets) in order to prepare them for release back into the wild.

I've only been here a couple of days but already I've been introduced to a couple of huge tapirs (we want them to get frisky), numerous parrots, a couple of toucans, an otter called Sid who thinks he is a dog, a released owl who doesn't get the idea, and some small wild cats. There is also a jaguar who is too fat and comfortable to ever be released, but I haven't had the pleasure of meeting her yet. As opposed to the tapirs she is feeling rather raunchy and so wakes me up every morning with her mating call. I'm going to keep my eyes out for some males in the area...

I also have a roomate called Matt. He is a tarantula who eats all the insects in my room in return for lodging and my constant sense of paranoia.

So maybe I'll just leave my fantasy football transfers this week.

Postcards from Far Away

I´ve been feeling badly recently regarding my lack of blogging on my travels. And by ´lack´ I of course mean I have yet to write anything. And I´ve been away since January! As someone who aspires to have a career in writing this is not great news.

It doesn´t help that every travelling Tom, Dick and Harry have also written blogs on a nearly daily basis, and have made a point of informing me of this regularly, suggesting that I ´check it out´. I don´t want to check it out. I barely know Mike from Scunthorpe, and I certainly don´t want to read his overly-flowery description of the hostel I´ve spent the last four weeks in. I´ve seen the iguanas too Mike.

But I fear my guilt-ridden bitterness is shining through...

The most annoying thing about all of this is I have probably written more in the last month or so than in the previous four combined. First and foremost there have been the numerous emails, text messages, BBM messages (some function on my Blackberry that I still don´t really understand...) and Facebook posts that I have used to communicate with loved ones back in Blighty.

I´ve also spent quite a fair bit of time writing in my travel journal - a black Moleskine notebook given to me for Christmas. I´ve become a bit obsessed with it actually, perhaps inspired by watching ´The Motorcycle Diaries´ just before I left. I don´t like to compare myself to Che Guevara, but if there´s any chance I one day become a famous author I have to make sure the diary of my travels reads well!

Still, this is the only old-fashioned way of charting my travels that I have so far used. The Internet has completely revolutionised the gap year. I thought I was escaping everything back home (trying to find myself etc.), but in some ways I feel like I´m just as plugged in to what is happening in London as I was when I was living there. And I haven´t even started on Skype. Not only can I speak to my family but I can see them too! Admittedly I had never used a webcam before so this had added wow-factor.

And so, in terms of practicality, it seems like the age of the postcard is over. Nevertheless, it is always nice to recieve a little token from someone´s adventures. I have my fingers crossed that the Costa Rican postal service sorts itself out soon...

Movember!

Hello there. Those of you that know me may be aware that I like to do my bit for charity. I'm a giving guy, and always have been. I'll hold my hands up to that. Over the years I've done various things, but this Movember I faced my toughest challenge yet. Along with my work colleagues and thousands of men around the world I have been attempting to grow a moustache in aid of the Prostate Cancer Charity. Whilst some gentlemen may find such a challenge fun, stimulating, or even easy, this was not the case for me...

The one thing I was fairly confident I wouldn't have to worry about was the actual growing process. If you're lucky enough you may have witnessed the 'forest of love' that is my stomach you will know that follicley-challenged I am not. But this was far from my main concern.

When you think of Sam Priddy you think of two things: sexy football and sexy women. I was confident that my football would not suffer. If anything, I mused on a rainy late-October afternoon, my hirsute lip might strike fear into opposing defenses. I was more concerned, as ever, with the ladies. When you have a face like mine certain things are taken for granted, and adding a furry accessory could jeopardise my entire reputation. Whilst Movember has so far seen a continuation of the scintillating soccer that scouts across the world are used to seeing from me, the line of women that used to greet me outside my house every morning has dwindled, nay, stopped altogether. This has been a very hard time for me, and so any money you could donate to this fine charity would certainly help to cheer me up. I’ve done the math, and if every one of my Facebook friends gives just a pound we will have made £1,346,899. And people think that popularity is overrated…

In all seriousness though, whilst this explanation must have convinced you of my idiocy, the cause is most definitely one worth supporting. This charity works to provide support and information on prostate cancer, as well as funding further research into the causes of the disease. All the information you need to know can be found at www.prostate-cancer.org.uk, and if you want to know more about Movember head to www.movember.com.

To sponser me go to my justgiving page - www.justgiving.com/samgetshairy. Thanks.

Work Bonus

Got a new job which was nice. It's not bad either, pretty interesting work and my desk overlooks the River Thames (in London). If I crane my neck to the right I can watch the London Eye spin its way merrily through another day in the capital. And as I'm packing up my things to leave I'm greeted with the actual Waterloo sunset, the one the Kinks were always going on about. It's also paying for my amazing adventure around the world in January. So I should be pretty happy.

Alas things are not so smooth. Someone had the genius idea of creating a shelf and filling it full of books that hadn't been sold so that employees could have them instead. It has the intimidating name of 'the Pulp Shelf' and it is the bane of my working life. Don't get me wrong, at first I was over the moon at such a prospect. The people all around me told me of the old classics they had picked up, and I was worryingly excited when I managed to acquire a copy of that essential bedside reading 'The Fabric of the Cosmos' by Brian Greene. (It had a nice vintage cover).

For the last five days however I have dreaded going to the Pulp Shelf. Everytime I head down on the lift I allow myself to dream. For a few seconds there is a tiny glimmer of hope that all the best books haven't already been snatched up, and then, in a horrifying instant, it is shattered in the most humiliating fashion by Fern Britton's smiling face. She looks down at me from her autobiography and she mocks me. Every morning. It's a horrible way to start your day.

Moon

Popped along to the cinema with Little Girl Clark the other night and to our pleasant surprise twas 'Bargain Tuesdays'. We watched the Sam Rockwell film 'Moon', and I must say it was pretty darn good. If I went into any more detail it would wreck the entire plot.

But Kevin Spacey plays a robot.