17 Cultural Reasons why a European Never Wants to live in America

admin — Sun, 29 Jan 2012 00:13:07 +0000

Benny the Irishpolyglot,posted this a while back. I agree with quite a bit,excessive tipping culture pissed me off when I was there and the car culture mainly. But I reckon if I was born there it would just be part of the furniture so to speak. There's so much about American culture I'm drawn to,it outweighs the bad...but I don't know if that would change if I lived there. He's coming from a European perspective. He also states what he likes about the US....surprisingly for this Forum.. it's the girls Wonder how the Yanks feel about his take on the US? Might be easier to read from his blog direct: http://www.fluentin3months.com/no-usa-for-me/ This post is my rant about America because of all the places I’ve been, the people who always complain the most about the local country are travelling Americans. It has annoyed me so much over the years that I honestly feel like a lot of you need to hear a foreigner complain about YOUR country. Note that I’ve actually really enjoyed my last three months in the states, but there have been too many things that confirm that this really is not the place for me. I’m not interested in whining about foreign policy, economics or politics. This is entirely about my frustrations with day to day life in America. The United States is a huge country, and it’s impossible to generalise all 300 million of you, but the points below are my observations after spending: 3 months in upstate New York, 4 months in La Jolla/San Diego, 1 month in Chicago, 1 month in Nevada, 6 weeks in San Francisco, 1 month in Austin, 2 weeks in New Orleans, 2 weeks in Los Angeles, as well as several days among other cities like Portland (OR), San Antonio, Houston, Durham (NC) … (and visiting sites like the Grand Canyon). Over a year in total, most of which was in trying to live as a local rather than staying in tourist accommodation. Right now I’m back outside the USA (in Peru on another language learning mission; Quechua) and I feel like it’s such an improvement in so many ways when I see things I’ve been missing over the last months travelling in the states. While technically I’ve already “lived” in America [edit for clarity: when I say America in this post and in comments, I mean USA of course], each time was always a temporary visit. And when you read the conclusion, you’ll see that I’ll definitely be back. But when I do finally settle down it will not be in the United States and this post explains the many reasons why. Sorry if you find this post offensive, but I expect you to because… 1. Americans are way too sensitive Sometimes I wonder if political correctness is in your constitution. I found out very quickly in my first visit that I had to bite my tongue pretty much all the time, and (more annoyingly) that nobody was ever straight with me. It seems that speaking your mind to individuals is a major taboo. You can’t tell a friend straight when he has fucked up, nobody will ever tell you that you look fat (oversensitivity with not telling obese people to get their act together is a major contributor in my opinion to why there are so many of them in the states), and there’s way too much euphemism to avoid the hard truth. To a certain extent, I can understand it – America generally does a great job of preventing people from singling out ethnic groups and toning down hate speech. But it waters it down far too much at the individual level. A lot of Americans I met feel very lonely, and I feel this is a major reason. You may never find a boy/girlfriend if a friend who knows you well and supposedly cares about you, doesn’t tell you the hard facts of what makes you so damn annoying… so that you can change it! Being insulting for the sake of it is needless aggression. But constructive criticism is what friends are for. The one time in my entire last three months that someone was straight with me was when my friend Karol Gajda gave me some tips to improve my presentation in future after I gave a TEDx talk, while everyone else was doing nothing but massaging my ego. It was really useful advice but it caught me off guard because I was used to months of… 2. Everything is “awesome”! I really hate the word awesome. It used to mean “that which inspires awe”, but in the states it means nothing! It doesn’t even mean good - it’s just a word – a filler, like “um” or “y’know”. This is the stereotypical American cheesy word, and I heard it until my ears started to bleed. Too many over-the-top positive adjectives like this get thrown around so much that they really mean nothing. And when you ask someone “How are you?” the answer will inevitably be “great!” even if they are far from it. When you start using excessive positivity it waters down the meaning, and those words become neutral. Then what do you do when you need to express true positivity? Of course, when someone says they are “OK, I guess” then you know things are pear shaped! I don’t think “bad” is in America’s vocabulary. But nothing beats America’s over-positivity more than this: 3. Smiles mean NOTHING When I meet Americans abroad, one of their biggest complaints are along the lines of “nobody smiles on Prague’s trams!” “That waitress was so rude to me! She didn’t even smile!” Goddamnit America – I have the opposite complaint for you. You guys smile way too much. It’s fucking annoying! How can you tell when someone means it? And why the hell would a stranger doing a crossword puzzle on public transport want to look giddy? When people smile in Europe it means something. For example, because Germans don’t go around looking like an American toothpaste commercial when I was with them and they smiled, it lit up the room – you know it’s genuine and you can’t help but smile back, because you are genuinely happy. You’ve shared a joke, or a funny story or you are in love etc. But all the time? When you smile all the time in public it means nothing. Apparently a smile releases endorphins, but if your face is stuck that way I’m sure your dreams of a natural high will fade soon. I’d rather focus on trying to make my life better and have reasons to smile than lie to myself and the world. Despite how surly I sound in this post, because complaining is the theme of the article, the fact that I vent when I mean it, means that when you see me happy you know I’m truly happy. And that is indeed a lot of the time But not all of it! 4. Tipping While it’s a perk for most of you, for me it was terribly annoying to be in restaurants and having a waitress interrupt me every 3 minutes asking me if everything is OK. I’d have to feign a smile and thumbs up to make her go away since my mouth was always full. I really don’t see the point – if you’ve given me the wrong order or if I suddenly realise I’m dying from an allergic reaction to your food, you’ll know it long before those 3 minutes are up. Eating out is always an annoying experience because of this. In the rest of the world we call the server over when we need something. If this was genuine interest, or if the person was trying to be friendly that would be cool, but that’s not what it’s about. In fact, it’s all down to “subtle” reminders that this person wants you to tip them. This drove me crazy – I really think tipping as a means of waitresses and others earning the vast majority of their living is ridiculous. If I have to pay, say 15% anyway, then include it in the bill! It’s not a bloody tip if it’s mandatory!!! Once again, one huge complaint I hear in other countries is how rude waitresses are, and Americans claim it’s because they aren’t tipped. Instead of getting tipped they earn a wage like everyone else, and do their job and if they do it bad enough they’ll get fired. But apparently not pestering you every minute and not smiling like you are in a Ms. World competition means you are “rude”. I think the basic concept of tipping is nice – if someone does a top-notch job, sure, throw them an extra few cents or a dollar – but I just see it as a complex system of tax evasion for both restaurants and workers in the states. Some people ludicrously suggest that it makes it cheaper that the restaurant doesn’t have to charge more, but you’re paying the difference anyway. What it does contribute to is clear though: 5. False prices on everything Tipping is just the peak of the iceberg. It’s all one big marketing scam to make people feel like they are paying less. The price you see on a menu is nothing compared to what you’ll actually pay. Apart from tipping, you have to of course pay taxes. Now taxes are things that you simply have to pay on items you purchase – it’s how governments work all around the world. So why hide it from us? It boggles my mind that places refuse to include the tax in prices. The price they state is pretty much useless. It’s just saying “this is how much we get from what you pay, but you’ll actually pay more”. I don’t give a flying toss how much YOU get, I want to know how much I have to pay! How much money… do you want me… to hand to you? Do I really have to spell this out? The most laughable of all of these is the “dollar store”. We have this thing in Ireland called the €2 shop. You can walk in with a single €2 coin and walk out with something. If you have a single dollar, you will be turned away from a “dollar” store though. It’s a dollar… that they earn not that you pay. Do you follow? The only thing that matters is the business’s perspective. Airlines are the worst of all though. While in Europe some airlines are pretty bad with added fees, at least you’ll see them when it’s time to pay. The crazy thing for me flying in the states (since I have check-in luggage) was that I would pay… and then I’d pay again later. It’s nothing but a large scale marketing scam. Make the price seem cheaper, which is lying to people. One great way to get people in more debt is to make them feel like they are spending less, but add the rest when it comes time to hand over the cash. This is one big part of…. 6. Cheesy in-your-face marketing I feel like scraping out my eyes with toothpicks when I’m forced to endure advertising in America. Make it stop. Most Americans aren’t even aware of it – it’s on all the time so much that it becomes nothing more than background noise. And this means that advertisers have to be even louder to get through to people. It’s a vicious circle that drives any non-American not used to it bonkers. BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE! I decided to watch an episode of House one evening on TV. Up until then I had only really seen American shows online with advertising removed or back in Europe with European advertising inserted. Holy shit. Every few minutes you get torn out of the show and bombarded with irrelevant spam, and “awesome” images of people who practically experience orgasms as soon as they buy product X, that is (of course) on special offer just right now. And if it’s anything medical you get a super fast voice spur every kind of medical complaint you can imagine that his product will create as a side-effect. But at least the cheesy model is still happy, so it’s probably not so important. Some of my American blogger friends apply this to the online world and cover their site with flashing or aggressive banners, and a writing style that is psychologically very effective to make a sale, but damn is it annoying. One online pet-peeve of mine is email pop-up sign-up forms, which you can justify with marketing stats, as long as you ignore how much you piss off people you don’t “convert”. I’d recommend you install Randy‘s Stoppity plugin for Firefox or Chrome to turn those off. And here’s the thing: Americans are marketing geniuses. This can never be disputed. Every time I went to buy just a carton of milk, something about the supermarket that’s different to what I’m used to gravitated me towards some expensive garbage I didn’t need and I almost bought it, or did buy it, feeling very stupid as I walked out. If you are in Las Vegas you’ll see how skilled they are at this manipulation by how they design the casinos. No windows, no clocks, impossible to find exits, no way to get where you want to go without walking through slot machines, the slot machines themselves have lots of shiny lights and bouncy music to entice you. You feel like you are being hypnotised. They know exactly what they are doing and have the billions of dollars to prove it. But it’s still manipulation, and to those of us not used to the loudness it’s plain cheesy. Every corner of America is plastered with some kind of advertising or sponsorship, and I feel so at peace now that I’ve left. No more random phonecalls on any landline (including hotels I was paying for) with a recorded voice to try to pitch me something and no more spam promotional brochures taking over my physical mailbox. 7. Wasteful consumerism Some of the consumerism is difficult to avoid when you are flooded with advertising, but some of it really is entirely the person’s own fault for being so wasteful. The best example I can think of by far is Apple fanboyism. So many Americans waste so much cash to have the latest iteration of Apple’s iPhone, iPad, or Macbook. When you buy one that’s fine – I personally don’t like Apple products (I find the operating system too restrictive), but there are many good arguments for why it could be better. I also like to have a good smartphone and laptop for example, and I’m as much a consumer as you if you happen to have an Apple equivalent. The problem is when you replace your iPhone 4 with an iPhone 4S, and do it along with an army of millions of other sheep for no good reason. It’s pointless and wasteful consumerism at its best. I actually took advantage of this when I was in Austin this year. I waited until the day the iPad 2 was announced and as I predicted there were 20 new ads per minute on Craigslist in that city alone from desperate fanboys trying to sell their iPad 1. Since my laptop is so big (I consider it a portable desktop), it was worth my while to invest in a tablet and I convinced one idiot to sell me his with a bluetooth keyboard case for $250. (I’ve written a few blog posts on it in cafés so it was worth my investment) He was so desperate to have the latest version that was ever so slightly thinner and faster, and with a camera that makes you look like an idiot when you point your iPad at something, but otherwise basically exactly the same. Personally I only replace my smartphone when I break the other one from travel stress or dropping it in an ocean etc. I’m also a consumer though, and will occasionally buy stuff that I don’t need, but replacing something I have for something marginally better for a large price is something I can never understand. What makes it worse is that these people sometimes claim to not have much money and Apple products are added to their “necessities” list. The gobshite I bought my iPad from sighed when I told him what I do, and he said that he wished he had the money to travel. I wish he had the common sense to realise that if he stopped wasting his money he’d have plenty left over. 8. Idiotic American stereotypes of other countries Many of us have seen videos online of Americans arsing up basic questions of international geography. I went out of my way to avoid people that stupid – my beef is with the supposedly educated ones. Luckily, Americans you meet abroad tend to be much cleverer, but meeting those who haven’t travelled made my head hurt with the amount of facepalms I’d have to do. Now, I know there are 300 million of you, but I have had this exact same conversation on both the east and west coast, and in the mid-west and south: “Hi, I’m Benny” “Awesome! I’m X. Where are you from?” “Ireland” “Wow! You guys certainly know how to drink!” “Actually, I don’t drink” “Oh, you’re not really Irish then, are you!” Again, and again and again… and again. The same idiotic script – I knew it was coming every time. They demanded to see my passport, said that I’m the only Irish guy they’ve ever met who doesn’t drink (and very stupidly then admitted that I was the ONLY Irish guy they ever met!!) or had visited Ireland and spent all their time in Temple Bar (not even leaving Dublin), confirming that all Irish people are drunkards. This is just one of the many idiotic things they would say, which of course annoyed me the most. A few others I’ve gotten include: How was the boat ride over here? [Surprised that we have airports in Ireland - I must have arrived in rags in New York harbour of course] Too many people insisting that Ireland was part of the UK. They actually argued it with me!! Did I have to check my car for IRA bombs when I was growing up? (there were so many things wrong with this) Surprised that I knew more about technology than they did. Aren’t we all potato farmers in Ireland? Whenever someone said anything about Ireland I’d always try to change the subject immediately or they’d quickly find out how blunt I can be. Edit: If you think this is hypocritical, I’d argue that this post is NOT filled with stereotypes because it’s based on my actual experience in hanging out with thousands of you. Americans who stereotype us Irish (and other nationalities) have generally never been there, or at best “seen” (not spent time with) a couple of tourists. Stereotyping is based on hearsay and misinformation, and almost always from total lack of contact, or only superficial contact with the people you stereotype. I’m not talking about Americans being all loud and war mongers and only eating at McDonald’s and all being stupid etc. (typical American stereotypes), because these just aren’t true for many people. I’m talking about what I’ve actually experienced from normal people in every day situations after an entire year of living and working in America. 9. Heritage Every American you meet is not actually American. They are a fourth Polish, 3/17 Italian, ten other random countries, and then of course half Irish. Since Ireland is more homogenous, it’s hard for me to appreciate this, so honestly I don’t really care if your great grandfather’s dog walker’s best friend’s roommate was Irish. I really don’t. The amount of “Oh my gaaawwwd, me too!!” retorts I heard when I said I was Irish is quite silly. I use country adjectives more restrictively than Americans do, so this was quite the pet peeve of mine. I finally learned that “I’m from Ireland” means what I wanted to say to them better than “I’m Irish” does. I don’t want to say I don’t respect people’s rich heritage (a nice mixture makes a country more interesting; the melting pot of cultures and skin colours is one reason why Brazil is my favourite country for example), but when people start talking about it as if it were genetics and their Italian part makes them more passionate and their Irish part makes them good drinkers I really do have to roll my eyes. Edit: Commenters keep pointing out that it’s a language difference, so “Irish” actually means “Irish American” as I’d understand it. That’s fine, but I’m trying to convey that foreigners find this annoying. There is no right or wrong, but it’s important to realise that rephrasing it or saying “I have Irish/Italian heritage” may be more appropriate if you are talking to someone from that country. This is especially true if speaking other languages. 10. ID checks & stupid drinking laws Seriously, I promise I’m not 12. Please let me into the nightclub! I’ve even seen 60 year olds get IDed. Nowhere else in the world do they ID me now that I’m clearly in my late 20s. A few times I haven’t had my passport (the most important document I own that I really don’t want to get beer spilled over) in my jeans pocket and have simply been refused entry. I find it incredible that drinking age is 21, but you give 16 year olds licenses to drive cars and you can buy a rifle at age 18. And you can’t walk around outside with an open drink in most states (but apparently putting it in a brown bag while you drink it makes it OK). I don’t even drink, and I find these laws nonsensical. 11. Religious Americans Look – I grew up in a religious town in Ireland, went to an all boys Catholic school, and some of my friends in Europe are religious. Even if I’m not religious myself, it’s up to everyone to decide what they believe in. I find religious people in Europe to be NORMAL – it’s a spiritual thing, or something they tend to keep to themselves, and are very modern people with a great balance of religion and modernism. But I can’t stand certain Christian affiliations of religious Americans. It’s Jesus this and Jesus that all the bloody time. You really can’t have a normal conversation with them. It’s in your face religion, and they replace hard science with scripture in the classroom. They really need to tone it down. 12. Corporations win all the time, not small businesses While there are many arguments against everything working towards there simply being a bunch of large corporations competing with one another, my biggest problem is in terms of availability. When you get your food from Walmart or Wholefoods, and nowhere else, these places grow and will be separated by a reasonable driving distance for greatest scope. But between them? It’s a wasteland. I was in downtown Chicago one day and wanted to simply get a bite to eat, but after walking around for an hour the only affordable option I could find was Dunkin Donuts. There are plenty of excellent cheap places to eat in Chicago, but you need to drive to them, or be in a specific part of the city with lots of restaurants. There’s too much competition between the big guys for a large number of little guys to sprinkle themselves conveniently throughout cities. If you plonk me in any major city in Europe, I’ll find food in minutes. If you do the same in America, even downtown and presuming it isn’t a specific restaurant district, and don’t give me a cell phone or a car, I could starve to death. And this is a major contributor to what I feel is one of the biggest problems in America: 13. A country designed for cars, not humans One of my biggest issues in the states has been how terrible a place it is for pedestrians. It’s the worst place in the entire world to live in if you don’t own a car. On previous trips to the states I’ve had it rough – relying on sub-par public transport (which is at least workable in certain major cities, but almost never first world standard in my opinion), or relying on a friend the entire time. You can’t do anything without a car in most cases. With rare exceptions (like San Francisco), all shops, affordable restaurants, supermarkets, electronics etc. are miles away. You rarely have corner shops (and if you do they are way more expensive than supermarkets). I find it laughable that Austin is rated as among the most “walkable” cities in the states. Living just outside the centre, but within walking distance, meant that I had a stretch of my path with no pavement, and a little further out I had to walk on grass to get to a bus stop. What struck me as the most eerie thing of all is that I felt very much alone when walking in any American city. In many cases I’d be the only pedestrian in the entire block, even if it was in the middle of the week downtown! The country is really designed to get in your car, drive to your destination and get out there. No walk-abouts. Going for a walk to find food serendipitously (as I would in any European city) was a terrible idea every time without checking Yelp.com in advance. For this last trip, I did actually rent a car for most of my stay (I didn’t even have a driving license before this trip, which most Americans find hard to grasp), and everything was so much more convenient, but I really did feel like I was only ever using my feet to work the gas pedal, and I will not miss it at all. 14. Always in a hurry So many things in America are rushed far too much my liking. Fast food is something we have all around the world now (thanks America…) but even in a posh sit-down restaurant your food will usually come out in less than five minutes after ordering! There are also obsessions with get-rich-quick and lose-fat-quick schemes, pills that solve all your problems after a single swallow, people cutting to the chase in casual conversations far too quickly (after the customary empty “How are you? Great!”) People don’t seem to have the patience to invest time to slowly improve things, unless it involves some kind of monetary investment. Americans are also very punctual, because of course time is money. So many of them could do with stopping to smell the roses, and arriving late because they took their time. Despite all the false positivity, I find Americans to be generally the most stressed out and unhappiest people on the planet. Despite all the resources, and all the money they have, they are sadder than people I know who can barely make ends meet in other countries, but still know how to live in the moment. This rush to the finish line, to have your book published, or to have a million dollars in your bank account or to get that promotion, and to have that consume your life is something I find really sad. 15. Obsession with money I met far too many people who were more interested in their bank balance than their quality of life. People richer than I can possibly imagine, who are depressed. More money seems to be the only way they understand of solving problems. They don’t travel because they think they need tens of thousands of dollars, and they don’t enjoy their day because they may miss out on a business opportunity. 16. Unhealthy portions Apart from people not being frank with those who are overweight, the biggest problem is that portions in restaurants are grossly overgenerous. Any time I ordered even a small portion I’d be totally full. Small means something completely different to me than it does to Americans. If you sit down in most places and order anything but an appetiser or a salad, you will eat more than you should. I was brought up being reminded of starving children in Africa, so I feel guilty if I don’t clear my plate. This has been disastrous over the last few months and I’ve put on weight because of it! I should have asked for a “doggy bag” nearly all the time. I’ve learned to stop ordering a soda entirely, because when places give you free refills, I feel like I should drink more… it’s free after all! Ugh. 17. Thinking America is the best Finally, one thing I find annoying is the warped view of America’s situation in the world. Americans ask me all the time if I’m scared to be travelling in South America. I found it way scarier to walk around certain parts of downtown San Francisco or Chicago at night than I did even in downtown Recife (apparently one of the most dangerous cities in South America) – because at least there are people there. And I find it pretty scary to be in a country where pretty much anyone can legally buy a revolver. I also keep hearing about America being the land of the free – it certainly was… 200 years ago. Most of western Europe is as free or more free, with opportunities for people at all levels. America is indeed a better place with a higher standard of living than most of the world, but free speech and tolerance for all is the norm in the western world as a rule, not just in America. There is no best country. But those who go on about how America is number one, tend to be those who have never travelled or lightly travelled. How about saying America is great or “awesome”? I think patriotism is an excellent quality to have, and we should all be proud of where we were born. But nationalism (believing other countries are inferior) is a terrible quality. What I love about Americans Since this post has been a bit of a downer, I will balance it out a bit by saying what I love about Americans It’s been a frustrating three months, but I will indeed happily go back to America to visit for a few weeks next year. There are many reasons for this, including: So well connected; social networking and apps are so well integrated into America compared to other places I’ve been. Meetup.com is super active, and there is free wifi and apps made for your city nearly all the time. I love how much America has embraced the Internet to so many levels, and I hope we catch up in other countries. Conferences and conventions; while we do have some in Europe, we cannot dream of competing with the states in terms of sheer numbers of people with very specific niche interests gathering together. It’s been fantastic for me to attend blogging and travel conferences, and even a Star Trek convention! You have such specific conversations there with large numbers of people that you can’t normally do. American girls: While I find American girls to be a bit less feminine than they are in most countries, I do enjoy the male-female dynamic, and it’s even nicer for me since they have a thing for Irish accents… Many friends: What will always make sure that I keep coming back is that I’ve made some lifelong friends with so many people that I never would have been able to elsewhere in the world. Countryside diversity and so much to do: As well as some great people, there are some incredible sites – and you can get a whole world of climates within America. To this day, the Grand Canyon remains one of the most impressive sites I’ve ever seen. It’s also so much fun to visit any city – if you know the right people or even use websites like those I mention above, you’ll always have plenty to keep you busy! Open mindedness and diversity: Despite what I’ve said in this post, America is a very special country with so much going for it! I thoroughly enjoy my conversations with people there, and it’s one of the few places that I could write a post like this and still be welcome to come back later And I will! [Edit: from a comment reply: Some of my best friends in the world are Americans. I will come back - but when I share my thoughts I do it VERY frankly. You have to appreciate this. The cultural issue is that if an American complains about something they presumably hate it, but I'm just sharing my thoughts. Since my style is terribly blunt, you can indeed get the wrong impression that I "hate" Americans from this if you treat it as an American style complaint letter. The honesty issue is such a cultural difference. My German friends tell me without hesitation if I smell bad after dancing for a few hours, if I'm being too loud, tell me when something I've created is crap or that I have terrible taste in music etc. - they don't hold back. From an American perspective they are being assholes, but in fact they are showing how much they love me. It's constructive criticism. This post is actually because I care about Americans enough to be straight with them.] I hope despite the frankness that you’ll welcome me when I do come back to visit, even if we both know I won’t be there to stay! Of course there are many many other reasons I love America, but as you can see this post is long enough as it is! I can do much better by having some of you retrospectively look at your culture from a foreign perspective than I can by inflating your egos May the sea of comments, rants, retorts and insults… commence! *

Nigeria

admin — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 13:52:23 +0000

My name is Moma. I am a lizard hunter. Mid December last year (a month ago), I took my first trip across the pond in practically a decade. I went to what is considered the America of Africa, the country known as Nigeria. It served as a reality check for me and accomplished some of my needs which was to stop associating myself with a new favourite term 'white problems'. I felt that I was surrounded by opportunities and chances but just due to a clouded perspective I was unable to cash in on them. I have always been a person influenced by my environment and I always strive to travel as much as I can to make sure I have a varied source of experiences to draw from in how I think and how I act. I also felt that I needed to be in touch with my people and that I needed some inherited love instead of having to seek it from sometime lesser people. Before my trip, I got appropriate intel from family members in the states who travel annually there and gave me the lowdown on how to go, the sort of gifts to take and the general dos and donts of this country. I have never been to any other African country but from the reports of some of my friends who are of Nigerian parentage and those who are of other African countries, there is a unified consensus that Nigeria just does things differently from other countries. HOW TO GET TO NIGERIA FROM NORTH AMERICA One will need to buy their ticket. Mine went for roughly a stack and a half (1500 dollars). Again the Americans are fortunate as one can get a direct flight from NYC or Atlanta right to Lagos airport. I believe the journey is about 11 hours in total (including the 6 hour time difference between Nigeria and EST - Nigeria is 6 hours ahead of EST). From Canada, one has to go to either Paris first (a 7 hour flight courtesy of Air France) and then change for the 5.5 hour flight down. There is also the option of going via KLM which will mean stopping off in Amsterdam for the change. Again, this is a 7 hour flight from Toronto. France is 6 hours ahead of EST so on a parallel time frame with Nigeria. After the ticket is purchased, a Nigerian visa is needed for non Nigerian passport holders to travel to Nigeria. This surprised me since as it is a former British colony, I imagined that one could just flow into there either on a British passport (which I own) or just on a general Canadian passport (which I also possess). But I had to go through a confusing process to obtain the visa from Ottawa since there is no Nigerian embassy in Toronto which I think is a sin since Toronto is like a capital of Nigeria. The online process was a drawn out, tedious process and everytime I called the embassy, no one ever answered the phone or returned the voicemail messages I left. Preparation for my trip. I couldn't create an account for the online visa application process swglobal. Finally after a month of digging, I finally was able to get to the receptionist at the Nigerian embassy who was a Canadian born and raised woman of Nigerian and Jamaican parentage. She sympathised with my frustration and gave me clear instructions on how to complete the application process. I needed to enclose a copy of my yellow fever form (a visa will not be issued unless one shows that they have been vaccinated against yellow fever), I needed to show proof that I had enough funds to live there and not sponge off of the country (???) and I needed an invitation letter, a printout to show that I payed the online visa application (a confirmation number is generated with a successful payment) and 20 dollar money order for processing fee (for them to write up the visa and staple it to your passport). I also had to send my passport so that they could glue the visa into it for travel. This was to be sent in a return addressed envelope and the process would take about two weeks. It actually took only a week, kudos to the Ottawa Naija movement. I took shots for hep A, hep B (I planned on doing some kissing and fcuking) took some maladrone for malaria and some other vaccines covered by work insurance and that was that in terms of protection. I also went to the Condom shack and got some large Kimono condoms extra thin plus some Magnums. So on the 14th of December, I began my journey. My trip was an Air France affair with a stopover in Paris. I felt excited. I haven't crossed the pond in practically a decade and it was exciting to be temporarily re-acquainted with my ex-wife, Europa. Paris, Charles de Gaulle airport was a huge and rather complicated affair. Once you get into France, you are reminded that English is not this global language that must be spoken in all major airports. The French don't really care to speak English and have this condescending look on their face when they hear one bleat English. However, from my last trip to Paris, I was now prepared and I have been working my French on a major level so I was ready as could be for one studying French on his own. On the flight over (I had to go to Montreal to connect to Air France, I quickly picked out a black couple complete with child sporting a bad mohawk (no fade) and from some swift eavesdropping plus facial analysis, I made an educated guess that they were Nigerian. When we got to Paris, I asked them if they were Nigerian and they told me they were. Good. That means we are going on the same flight to Lagos, Murtala Mohammed Airport. In Paris, the Nigerian couple and I joined forces to try and locate the terminal plus gate for our flight. The Paris flight was delayed which meant that there was hardly any stayover before Air France. As I entered Europe, I was reminded how fat North Americans are. The amount of 200 pounders began to significantly drop and as I finally procured an airport employee who had some minimal English I was able to determine the terminal and made moves accordingly. Next stop: Lagos. For those lurking Nigerians on the forum, you know that Britain has a large amount of Nigerians. As I lined up to get on the flight and I looked around, I could hear British accents emanating from the black women in queue. I tried to request an emergency exit seat from the cat who checks your passport and boarding pass. He said the flight was fully booked and this wasn't possible but I did have an aisle seat. I was excited and scared. As I sat down, I looked around on the flight. There were a few white people going to Nigeria. Sitting next to me was a sullen male probably in his late twenties from the Ukraine (I know this because I asked him where he was from). He was going to Port Harcourt for work (there is a fair amount of oil companies there). To my left, was a group of British women, blondes. I know they were British because I could see their passports and I could hear their accents. They were not Londoners. My question was, why were they going to Nigeria? They didn't look like they worked in oil companies. I just didn't get that vibe off of them. And if they were going for some rough dyck, was it that sweet to do Nigeria? For those who know, Nigeria is not exactly a tourist destination. Here comes the passengers. The Air France flight crew seemed strangely subdued. Usually French people have attitude, I was met with terse statements from my flight from Montreal to Paris by various crew members including being eyeballed by the black female flight attendant. But on this flight, the crew seemed defeated and somewhat deflated. I briefly befriended a male flight attendant to query about an emergency exit seat for my long legs. He said the flight was fully booked but he had a friendly demeanour. He spoke perfect French (to my Anglophone ears) but his English didn't carry the usual Francophone strains that I hear from my other French friends. I finally asked him if he was a Brit and he said no, he is half German and half French but considered being mistaken as a Brit as a compliment. I looked around the flight at the people coming on. Here comes the Nigerians! Normally, French people, especially those emanating from Paris have a bit of an attitude and can come off as a standoffish to non French people. However, on this flight, the air crew were notably subdued. Nigerians are a resilient bunch of people who are seeminly unaffected by insinuations and other stuff. One of the air crew, a smiling female greeted each passenger as they walked by. Her pleasantries were totally ignored. Two surly males walked right by her point bank "Bonjour, good morning" and I made eye contact with her to express sympathy at the total ignorance of her cordial greeting by the two males. I saw another sullen stocky guy sit down with a piercing in one ear, short sleeved shirt with the name 'Chukwu' tattooed on his right arm. Chukwu means God in Igbo. The reason this drew my attention is because Nigerians are generally conservative by nature and you don't see them tatted up or overly pierced. I usually use this as a gauge so when I see a Nigerian lizard with tats, it means she is more likely to be DTF than others. The German French flight attendant came over and informed me that a shorter cat had offered to swop his emergency row seat with mine. Very nice of him. So I went to the new location and got the window seat emergency exit row, hemmed in beside a Naija cat from the Ijaw tribe who was going to Port Harcourt for Christmas and an Italian cat who was going to Port Harcourt to work on the oil plants. I had to go to the toilet and while I was doing my thing, I heard banging on the door. What the fcuk? I came out after completion, irritated and saw that it was a Nigerian guy who was hammering on the door. "Oga, you know other people have to use it!" he said impatiently. "What are you on, man?"I said irritably. "Can't you use the other ones?", "Noo, man", drawled the cat doing a mocking impression of an American accent heavily inflected by his Nigerian one. People always think I am American. The Italian remained buried in his Jack Reacher novel (printed in Italian of course) and the Ijaw male watched my response with a neutral expression on his face. Nigerians are very religious and with good reason too (you need oodles of hope and stacks of perserverance to survive in that country). There are three main tribes in Nigeria with about 230 other ethnic groups within the country. These main tribes are Hausa, Yoruba and Igbo. You can find one of the three if not all three all over Nigeria. The Hausa spawn from the Northern part of Nigeria which you can call Hausa land i.e Kaduna, Abuja (the capital of Nigeria from the former capital of Lagos), Kano to name a few and are predominantly Muslim. Yoruba spawn from Yoruba land Lagos, Ibadan the West of Nigeria. Yorubas can be either Muslim or Christian. Then you have the South Easterners, the Igbos who are spawn from Igbo land, Enugu, Owerri and Ebonyi for instance. Igbos are predominantly Christian. Now this past year, I had trained myself up for harsh environments by first visiting St Vincent in which the family that I stayed with had zero AC and the one fan that they did own offered minimal respite from the tropical heat. CUSTOMS This was a good thing in hindsight as Murtala Mohammed Airport (Lagos) was hot. They had no AC there but some ramshack ventilation unit that was doing it's best to cool down the heated and impatient passengers. There were two lines one for Nigerian passport holders and one for those without (myself). I stood there with a variety of folk such as a few Scots who were there for work, an Irish guy who was there to see his lizard, a gaggle of British blondes, two black American lizards and a Meditterean reptile holding a German passport. The line up moved at a gastropoda like crawl and I could only feel for the parents that had to wield and soothe their enfant children against the unforgiving tedious pace of the processing line. You constantly had Nigerians trying to push in and ease in towards the line which seemed to be a common Naija practice. I looked at a white lizard with North American like proportions (bloated) ushering along a gang of mixed race kids. Her baby father/husband was a darker skinned Naija guy with a hoop earring. The two Scots stood beside me with the older one holding more disbelief in his eyes as he ogled this woman. I, being desensitised accordingly by living in North America, barely noticed her. "Fark me", said the older Scot scathingly as he took in her girth. "How many fooking kids has she got then?" I chuckled softly. It was refreshing to hear the raw deal instead of having everything tailored by the North American PC machine. I enjoyed listening to the Scot's criticism of Lagos airport. I drank in his comments like a thirsty dog at a pond. "Call this a fooking international airport?", he continued to scathe, regarding a dilapidated advertising board that was peeling with parts of it coming off. "Where's the AC?", complained the Italian German lizard. "I can't stand waiting!" she complained. "There is a fan here," I said indicating at the ratty ventilation blowing in the corner. "But you need to stand real close to feel the breeze". "Fook me", scathed the Scot. "I'm sweating like a rapist". He pronounced the word like this - reeyeaapist. I chuckled again at his politically incorrect choice of words. In less than 10 mins, I'd heard more genuine nastiness spout from his mouth than I have in the years living in Canada. I saw the gaggle of blondles try to cut in towards the checkpoint. A number of various passengers including Nigerians looked on in annoyance. "Why are they cutting in line?" mentioned a woman in annoyance. "They do not have any children!" A sharply dressed immigration officer stepped in. "You cannot cut in line.", he said firmly. "Please go to the back." What were those lizards doing in Nigeria? Boyfriends? Why, Nigeria? Well, to be perfectly honest, in the UK, for those who love their dark meat, Nigeria and Jamaica has the market cornered. With 180 million blacks spilling out from Nigeria and bolstered by Jamaicans, most British lizards who have stepped outside of their comfort zone have been pounded by either a Nigerian, Jamaican or both. As we got closer to the line, I noticed that the officer was asking people where their address in Nigeria would be. Fcuk! I couldn't remember my contact's address off the top. All I could remember was his phone number. I hope this wouldn't be a problem. I tried asking the two Scots what hotel they were staying at. I just needed an address to satisfy the immigration officers. They didn't know and neither seemed all that chuffed to be working in Nigeria. The money must be smackingly delicious to bring them over. I tried shoulder surfing the irish man. "You got a hotel name, mate?", I asked. "I didn't know they'd be asking me this shyte". "Don't know," conceded the Irish man. I decided I would write the address of my work place in Toronto. I came up to the counter. Two males were going through the immigration forms that had been handed out on the plane. What I can say is that, these Nigerian uniforms are rather sharp. The guy, who had a few tribal slices on his face looked over my paper. "Where is this?", he questioned to the address I put on the form. I mumbled like I had a mouthful of sandwiches. "What?" asked the man in a stentorian fashion. "Wheeeyaah is it?!" P.S. Nigeria is the leading world supplier on noise. They export it in huge volumes and use it on a daily basis for all forms of transactions. Whispering is a cultural offense and use of this form of communication will result in social blighting. "It's in Canada", I finally admitted. "Who are you staying with?", roared the officer. "I can't remember", I said. "He should be just outside". "Put his number down!", said the officer handing me a pencil and turning to the next person in line. I scribbled my contact's number down on the immigration paper and handed it back to the man. He grunted and motioned me over to the second line of customs. This time, it was a male/female duo. Beyond them I could see a final line of officers and a conveyer belt with suitcases in motion. I was still concerned over all the phobia about Nigeria. Would someone grab my suitcase and make off with it? Would the baggage handlers slash the material looking for foreign gifts (Oga, do me Christmas?) Would I be denied exit from the airport until I bribed the officials? I primed myself as best as I can but compared to the third world, no matter how much of a bad ass we think we are in the Western hemisphere, Nigerian midgets will eat the lunch of a giant raised in the First World all day, every day. The man looked at my Canadian passport and passed it onto the woman. She sounded my surname out slowly and deliberately. I thought this was the premise of a shakedown and I tried to hold a stoneface as best as I could. "I said Mr ", said the woman looking at me. "Oh, yea that's me", I replied, my voice as rough and chalky as a Equadorian primary school classroom. She motioned me onwards and I passed through. That was it! No super wicked shakedown. My luggage came quickly and I dragged it outside of Murtala Mohammed looking for my contact. now outside of the airport. The hecklers. HECKLERS A rotund man wearing an African fez materialised out of the throng of busy people and asked if I need a taxi. I turned down this request with a sullen shake of my head. Another guy appeared a minute later asking if I wanted to change US for Naira. I declined. I scanned the mess of people frantically. This airport was insane. In the distance, following the road that lead up to the airport was some sort of bridge. Near that bridge, was a raging autonomy of noise and dusty vehicles. The traffic looked insane to a mutant level. WHERE THE FCUK WAS MY CONTACT? Suddenly a short guy appeared. "You need help with your luggage?", he asked. I remembered the advice of one of my Nigerian friends. The short ones are the most dangerous. FCUK! Nah, I slurred, trying to bring out my South London credentials street chats. In Nigeria, any accent that isn't laced with pidgin has the same impact of the voice of a college chick in an alleyway thriving with sex crazed convicts. Food. "Is somebody collecting you?", asked the short man. He had a shaven scalp and yellowing eyes. "Yea", I slurred again, scanning the sea of black for my contact. I wasn't even sure I would recognise him, I hadn't seen him since the late 90's. I had forgotten to leave my I-phone at home but I blocked all international calls when I got to Montreal so even if I wanted to bring out my phone in the midst of these predators, I couldn't send or make any form of communication on African soil. "Do you want to call him?", asked Yellow Eyes, producing a battered Nokia which is the cell phone technology of choice in Nigeria. It along with the Blackberry, monopolises the general Nigerian market. Fcuuuuuk! To reach for this phone, to accept his gift, was signing myself up for a whole heap of bullshyt. But I had no choice. I didn't know where to wait. The terminals in MM1 (Mohammed Murtala Airport 1 is for international flights) was a hodgepotch of confusing nonsense. Reluctantly I reached for the Nokia and dialed my guy's number (which I had fortunately commited to memory during the flight). "The number you have called is not available at the moment" was the friendly British female voice I heard. Not the type of accent I needed at this point in time. I needed to hear a strong accent of a Nigerian consistency coming from that phone. Fcuuuk! "Let me try it", asked the Yellow eyed one angling for huge tips. Deeeper....in..debt.... "It's not working", he said after punching in the number. "Let me try it again", I said and seized the phone from this cat. This time, I heard the reassuring voice of my guy. " ", he said. "I'm almost there! Traffic is crazy! I left 3 hours ago! Just stay where you are!" This obviously threw a spanner in the works of Yellow Eyes as he wished to steer me deeper into his gratitude for a larger tip. "Let me direct him to where you are", he said and took his phone back. As he began speaking to my guy, he discerned that he was Igbo and went into a swift torrent of Igbo with my guy giving instructions. Was this guy a genuine Igbo guy or just one of these Wayo guys skilled at using any language to sweeten their prey? It is not uncommon to have guys in Nigeria skilled at speaking at least two of the three main tribal languages there which as mentioned before, Igbo, Hausa and Yoruba. Even just like the Wayo (con men) of Montreal, speaking multiple languages is an essential staple to remain competitive in the dupe game. When he completed the call, he said to me: "Let's go over to the bridge. Caars cannot come hiiyah, it is easier there." I began to walk, eyeing this cat as he dragged one of my suitcases. Logic quickly kicked in. "Nah, I'm good", I said. Underneath that bridge at this time (it was beginning to get dark) looked like a tourist deathtrap. "You don't have to worry, we cannot do anything hiiiyah" assured Yellow Eyes. "Look at that, they have cameras everywhere" and he indicated towards some glass orb structure hanging from the ceiling structure. Fcuk dat. This is Nigeria. Does that shyt even work? Your only security is your wits and your DNA. We staying fcuking put. Yellow Eyes started hitting me off with some fast Igbo. I was too tired and not fluent in that shyt so I wasn't even hearing what he was saying. What I do know is that he was trying to sweeten the pot. The entire country is about transactions. Simple and put. "Oga, you know Nigeria is tough", said Yellow Eyes. "Please give me 20 Euros before your guy gets here" "Nah, I'll sort you out when he gets here", I said. This muthafcuka must think I don't know the conversion rate. 20 Euros will do you nice in Nigeria for a bit. "When he comes here, he won't give any money", insisted Yellow Eyes. "Do it now, biko" He burst off into more Igbo. I knew his ploy. My guy is born and bred in Nigeria and has been living in Lagos for over 20 something years. He'd chew right through that Wayo move like it were gourmet steak. No way would he break off any big Naira for the Yellow Eyes. "Nah, he'll do you, don't worry", I slurred still scanning. Finally, my guy appeared with another dude who looked remotely familiar. Thank Chukwu! I embraced both of them and they moved in, looking at Yellow Eyes with a casual Nigerian distrust. Each of my guys seized my suitcases and ripped off my Air France tags and hurled them to the ground. Now we went off to the bridge, with Yellow Eyes still trailing. Another guy appeared who apparently had a ride. Yellow Eyes said something quick in Igbo to my guy who looked at him once and reached out and broke him off with 1000 naira. Yellow Eyes disappeared. Under the bridge we got to this other cat's car (unregistered taxi). We began to load my suitcases into the trunk. "How much?" said my guy as we did so. "4000 naira" said the car owner. My guy began to take my suitcases out with the same pace as he loaded them. "Oya, now! 3000 naira", said the car owner and we loaded them back in. I sat in the back with my guy and the other cat sat in the front and we drove off. There was supposed to be a fee paid for all vehicles parked under the bridge as they left the hotel facility. The driver drove right by the woman collecting the money almost running her over. "I dodge am", said the driver, implying that he avoided paying the fee. Naijalicious! Finally I got to the place where I would be staying. I was greeted by my contact's wife and immediately hooked up with some garri and orah soup for dinner. I had to share the room that night with one cat from Enugu that was flying out the next morning. All my spending money was stored safely in my punani pouch which I had tucked below my waistline on the inside of my trousers. After ensuring the coast was clear, I tucked the wallet into my pillow and took it to sleep. That night I woke up to see a lizard darting across the room quickly. Garrrh! I woke up that morning and felt under my pillow. My punani pouch was adiosa! Shiiiit!!!! My fcuking 3 thousand American dollars...gone!!! So enough of this novel shyt...what about the fcuking lizards?? REPTILES If you are NOT into black lizards, then Nigeria isn't the place for you. The country is about 180 million deep and the most white lizards (7 in total) I saw was at the airport. As soon as I left MM1 (Murtala Mohammed 1 is the departure for international flights), I didn't even see anything mulatto. The further I went in, i.e as I spent two weeks in Igboland, i saw nothing white. I didn't even see mulatta. In the village during a masquerade session, I was actually saw one white lizard which was quite surprising to me. If you are into black lizards, then you will definitely find your pickings in Nigeria. A range of different looks from jet black to quite fair in complexion. Some got asses and some aren't so blessed. You will hardly see any of the ridiculous bumpas that you see in the U.S (and if you do, she is probably on vacation from the states). The black lizards range in complexion and size. Nigerian lizards can be quite a hefty bunch but they are still nowhere as big as the North American blacks even though the Nigerian diet consists of a whole heap of starch. Even the bigger lizards are still reasonable in size and are of course very strong. The dressing from what I saw was tasteful. Sluts are still condemned here and openly sexual acts are shunned. Even the ashawo that I tried to snap were more tastefully dressed than an average Toronto lizard on a random Saturday night on Spadina and King etc. I tried to snap (take some pictures of) some ashawo on our way to one of the Lagos islands (I think it was Ikoyi island) and they ran from the flash like a vampire runs from sunlight. Ladies are still ladies in this country and still appreciate and uphold their role. Nigerians seem to like big women. Every time I asked someone to show me what was up i.e where the lizards were at, they pointed me in the direction of a thick woman. I had to remind them that I was there on vacation and not for work. Big women require work and with all that hot ass sun, I wasn't in the mood to be pounding away at some hefty lizard. Too much sweat definitely spoils the broth. I think there is something in the DNA that signifies that a woman with size can be associated with wealth and will most likely give birth to healthy children. Remember that from a biological standpoint, which is what we humans operate from, the whole basis behind attraction is to find the partner that would give one an offspring with the best chance of perpetuating one's genes. Remember as a human being our two strongest urges in terms of ranking are immediate survival and then procreation is after that. From nature's perspective, no matter how much money you got or how strong/fast/intelligent you are, you have an expiration date (you won't live forever) so the best way to perpetuate your genes is to impregnate lizards so they can give birth to your child which continue to forward your genetic footprint. Remember that nature has certain hardwired programming in us. Fcuk an Iphone and a blackberry. Fcuk a degree. Nature doesn't know about societies and technology. In the past, we had so much predators (wild animals, other jealous ass humans, illness) that we needed to get our seed out there as soon as and give it a fighting chance. That was our only way to guarantee immortality from a human perspective. Based on that breakdown, I've always liked lizards with a generous helping of ass and bress and even some of the women that some Rooshians deem as disgusting (too much ass, too much belly roll hanging out), I would gladly fcuk and actually cum the hardest inside of. But I'll be dammned if I'll fcuk a lizard that I can easily access in Toronto (a fat lizard). LIZARD QUEST I guess due to it being the festive period and everyone returning back to their respective villages, I was finding it very difficult to find someone who was up for going to a club. I needed to hit some lizards and fast! I actually began to secretly scheme on my connect's house girls as I got more and more aroused. The house girl was a raggedy long limbed chick from his home village with short natty hair. She looked young but I reckon her Naija upbringing meant she could take the pipe. She helped with the domestic duties in the house with her younger sister. Younger sister was out of the question, of course. But this gangly one was fair game for a beggar. Problem was, I was never alone in that house. Being the variety wolf that I am, I was hoping to hit a reptile from each major tribe plus a bonus edo state lizard. That means I wanted to smash a hausa, yoruba and an igbo lizard. It was clear that I didn't have the time nor logistics to go through things the traditional route. He say/she say is big in Nigeria and the SNL thing didn't seem to be a free flowing convo over there. Sadly, it looked like I would have to get something arranged . Finally, push came to shove and I insisted to all peeps hosting me that I needed to make a lizard suffer. One of the guys I was rolling with who owned a distributor outlet in one of the markets in Lagos set me up with a friend of his, a River State lizard who was in university.I Obviously, she needed someone to help her "do Christmas" and I needed someone to put a first world ass whupping on. UNIVERSITY LIZARDS The gig out there is that you have lizards that are in university (education is HUGE amongst Nigerians) and it's up to you whether or not you choose to "help" them out with their studies. Her name was Princess and she schooled in Ibadan. I didn't care to ask her Naija name. Names like Princess, Queen, Majesty and Empress fly out of my head quicker than trashy soap operas. I only stored the name 'Princess' quickly in my shytty unlocked Nokia phone because I knew a datasheet was expected on my return. She was a nice looking lizard around 5'6, with a nice ass, and a scar near her gut and some kind of burn on her right arm. I bought her a large stout (Guiness) for about 300 Naira and we went into a motel room. When we went in the room, I began to undress, self conscious of my gut that was growing exponentially from all the huge Nigerian Guilders that people were obliging me to drink. But lizards in Nigeria don't show that they give a shyt. Most cats that I saw in Nigeria were sporting guts. With all the garri and stew, abs take a second set to abdominal fat. But these cats are strong as fcuk and could crunch the fcuk out of an elephant, don't get it twisted. I had all my Naira stuffed into my black dress socks along with several condoms. The only thing I had of value was my 200 dollar Canon that I bought at Futureshop before departure. That, I watched like a thirsty hawk. When Princess undressed, I was pleased at her body. I haven't pounded out a decent black lizard in a while who hasn't come along with a full package of attitude and this lizard was going to get it! I slapped her fatty with a smile. "You've got a nice azz", I said. "It's okay", she admitted. I guess men in Nigeria really go for the super duper excessive rear baggage holders. But to me, in comparison with the time constraints and lack of playas, this was more than enough. A fleeting thought crossed my mind about Naughty Nomad's tale of barebacking in Africa. I know the fact that I am from foreign and in Africa, everything foreign is good, I could probably speech her into letting me hit that raw. The ultimate experience..going raw into a queen from the motherland...FCUK NO! To my recollection, Naughty has irish blood which I don't possess. I'd expire like perishable goods if my naked glans even touched that gooch. Batting that foolish notion to the back of my head, I retrieved a Kimono from my socks, strapped up and aimed at her snatch. Miss, miss, miss, she reached back and pow, I'm in! Welcome to MTN! Bienvenue a Nigeria! I began to stroke her looking at her well defined upper back and her cute little onion quivering from my backstroke. I love backstroke..especially if the lizard has a small waist and an azz that fans out like a cobra's hood. I wasn't that comfortable though. I like to kiss while I am stroking from time to time. If the lizard has bad lips (thin) or throws too much teeth into the act, it detracts from the experience. I could hear noise in the corridor. I was also concerned about her pulling a wayo move so i wasn't relaxed. It was akin to taking a shyt at a nightclub, one can never feel relaxed when there's all sorts of noise going on. And as mentioned before, Nigeria has the cornerstone in the global market of noise. I could hear shouting and arguments in the corridor outside. I switched positions to missionary. This motel was hotter than a muthafcuka. There was some fan blowing somewhere, I imagine and the window was open. I just prayed that a REAL lizard wouldn't hop through the window. I can't stand those scaly muthafcukas. As I pumped up her pum pum, I rained sweat on her like Patrick Ewing in the playoffs. "Agh", she said. "My eye! Your sweat is burning my eye!" "Sorry", I said dispassionately and rolled onto my back. She straddled me and began to ride me after wiping her eye with the bedsheet. "AH, AH! wHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?" yelled someone from the passage outside to somebody else. I could feel myself fading. "Hey, I'll need you to blow me", I told her. "will you finish that way?", she asked, grudginly. Obviously shining mans (giving blowjobs) was not her favourite. "No", I lied. She took a sip of the large stout and began to administer fellatio. It was standard which indicated she was no pro and I knew that I would not be spurting from this. She had essentially turned my lie into a truth. Every now and then she broke the act to spit down at the side of the bed, obviously she didn't like my Canadian 'taste'. In my arrogance, I imagined my meat would taste sweetest to any lizard out there fortunate enough to snack on my snout. A nice experience in humility. My phone rang. I knew it was my guy checking on me. He wanted to make sure all was well. I picked up the phone. "Chairman!", he said. "Make you dey hurry up, we have to go soon, o!". Basically, we needed to be back because the dude I was staying with, was concerned at me being out till the wee hours of the night. I was getting bored of this. She lay on top of me rubbing her crotch on my naked tings. "Always use condoms, yes?", she said. I could feel from her tone that I could convince her to push it in raw. But Africa would beat my ass 8 ways from Sunday. "Always", I said. I strapped up again (she looked in amazement at the stash I had in my sock) and I allowed her to ride. I got up to leave and dropped her 2,000 naira. "Make sure you use am for book, o!", I informed her. She laughed at my weak ass pidgin and took another sip of the stout. FOOD My meals consisted of garri (eba/cassava), with ora, bitterleaf, egusi or okra soup. Some days I was hit with endomie (which are the kind of noodles that has been introduced by the incoming Chinese market). My varieties would be yam, African salad with fish or white rice with red stew. Nigerians like to chew their meat and when you are served meat in Nigeria, if it is easily chewed and digested, you have essentially insulted your patron. He/She needs that shyt to be rubber tough where you can chew it for 30 mins and when you swallow it, it goes down the same way it was when it entered your mouth...tough! Street delicacies can include suya (which is a beef on a stick type of treat usually done by the Hausa tribe). With all food in Nigeria, especially street meat, you have to be careful with where you purchase it. If a mofo prepares it wrongly (doesn't wash it properly or cook it long enough to kill the bacteria), you will be doing P4P...with the toilet. Due to the fact that running water is not a guarantee here, you may have to practice your shaolin squat in certain places or at the very worst, have to stop off in the bush somewhere to shit. If you didn't carry toilet roll with you, then you will have to locate a dulcet leaf somewhere or walk with a shytty ass until you can hook up a clothes change. The good thing is, if u shyt by the roadside, cats in Nigeria don't really give a fcuk. Peeps are on their hustle there. Watching you doesn't cut the generator on at night nor does it help put the kobo in a perp's pocket. I am good with Nigerian food and although I hesitated slightly when facing the grasscutter (bushmeat), I gobbled that mofo down with some African salad (pronounced sah-laaahd), singing an African ballad. I ate a banana there and it was much smaller than the ones I buy here but it tastes much better. Not so chalky as the ones they import here. Also due to the fact that the food there is natural, the further off the beating track you go, the more difficult it is to access food that is bad for you. As a result you will be stronger, leaner and sharper. I saw lizards there that couldn't spell gym if you spotted them the G and the Y, who ate heavy carbs all fcuking day and yet none of them reached the cottage cheese proportion of some of the hot yoga salamanders I encounter in Toronto on a daily basis. With the carrying of child in wrapper around back, balancing water on head, balancing on the back of Okada while wearing traditional attire, even the hefty lizards there were acceptable (in my eyes). NEPA Nepa is the power holding company of Nigeria. NEPA literally stands for National Electric Power Authority but it should really be Never Expect Power Always. Electricity has a very annoying going in Nigeria and one doesn't know when it will be returned. Due to this, you cannot have anything that is relies on a dependent and constant source of electricity unless you can bolster the outage with your generator. You can be having a party, watching a favourite movie or carrying some delicate goods up some stairs when all of a sudden, boom, lights out and you will be placed in pitch darkness scrabbling about looking for a kerosene lamp to light. You can't do shyt about this. You can't complain. All you can do is roll with the punches. Think you gangsta? You better be for real in Nigeria. JUSTICE There is no 911 or 999 in Nigeria (just 419 lol). Calling the cops is a fcuking waste of time. You better sort your shyt out yourself. If you are waiting for the law to show up, you better wait some more. Get your social connects right. That's the only way there. For instance, i was reading an article about a lizard that had stolen a guy's blackberry. His friends caught her, naked her (stripped her naked) and took pictures of them sucking her tits. Being the sick fcuk I am, I envied this act of justice and was tempted to bring out my Iphone as bait so I could naked a lizard and also suck her tits. Market thieves when caught will be stripped naked and beaten publicly. One jolly fellow relayed a tale of a woman who was caught stealing about 10,000 naira from one of the merchants a few days prior to my arrival. "They naked haar!", he said in excitement. "Then they flogged haar!". Translation: They stripped her ass butt nekid and then they beat her in front of the market people. Cats there have sharp eyes and reactions. I hardly saw tall people like I would in the Netherlands or Denmark for instance but believe me, these cats are athletes. Blackberries and Nokias are definitely the phones of choice in Nigeria. Every last person and their uncle owns one or the other. You have 180 million blacks in this country. How strong or bad ass you think you are, I bet you I could find a 16 year old that could tan your ass. Armed robbers there are treated with death. A guy I used to roll with got into armed robbery and smoking Indian hemp (elders frown upon those who smoke 'Indian hemp'). The cops cornered him in a shootout, wasted him and tossed the body. There are no dental records and plenty of creatures in that country. Believe me, there is plenty of vultures, bush meat and other various animals manning the day and night shift that will quickly dispose of a corpse. With all the wildlife there, I saw the roads barren of any roadkill. Criminal executions are shown on regular tv (not pay-per-view). One can see a group of armed robbers tied to the stake and being gunned down by a firing squad. No halfway crooks in Nigeria. They even have some armed robber executions outside some of the secondary schools. I saw a guy getting a group beatdown in the city (Enugu) for trying to steal fares by offering a lower rate than the consensus rate agreed by the other cabbies. My shrugged at that and said "Jungle justice" I saw more arguments and quarreling in the three weeks I stayed there than in all my years in Canada. Arguments and acts of aggression is a birth right of the Nigerian. Despite this, there is a lot of love there. A Nigerian will get upset in about 3 seconds argue with you furiously and then kiss you in another 3 seconds. It's a race track for public display of emotions and there are no speed constrictions. FINANCE Some say that money doesn't matter. Maybe if one resides in Canada, Denmark or the UK where you have all sorts of subsidies and programs that can be obtained to help one enjoy a reasonable living standard. In Nigeria, MONEY MATTERS. Everything costs money there. Water to bathe. Water to flush your toilet. Water to cook. Electricity. Money for Okada (motorbike taxi). Money for petrol (gas). Money for moto (car). Money for bread. School fees. Bribes (tax). Electricity Nice house, nice cars, respect (people calling you chairman). If you have money, you can get ANYTHING there. You can be the ogre that time forgot and you will pound the shyt out of your pretty model wife. It's a very paternal society. Can't get it up? That's your wife's fault. She can't bear any children because of your zero sperm count? Her ovaries are not attractive enough. Marry a newer younger lizard with wider hips and more magnetic eggs. You can enjoy your life well with money in Nigeria. My procured a visa to send his wife and kids to Europe first. They weren't feeling Europe so he hooked them up with a U.S connect. Laws are lax. They will never breathalyse you (such a notion was foreign when I explained it to my drivers), peeps don't pay car insurance, traffic lights are optional. You can drive as fast as you want and in whatever direction you want. If you encounter police, do them Christmas/New Year/

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