Qype Party and Tales of Adventure on the Bus

Yep, I actually finally made it to a Qype party. It’s a while since I’ve been out in the bar and drinks sense. I’m more of a walking round museums or watching something kind of person. And venues with wall to wall loud music have long lost their appeal. I used to go clubbing, many years ago it seems now. I got tired of the silence under the noise. Not being able to talk properly to people because it was such an effort to shout over the music, and maybe half the time there wasn’t much to say anyway once you got past ‘having a good time?’ ‘Yeah, it’s great!’

So I was a little worried I might find myself in a horror of pumping music and trendy youngsters still at the ‘Yeah it’s great!’ stage. In fact there was loud music. And there were pauses at the start when I found myself staring round the room wondering if any of those faces was PLEASE anyone I knew online, and digging into a pile of munchies and a free drink to distract myself (which, by the way is no comment on the person I was talking to at the time. He was great. I was nervous. Sorry I never got to say goodbye). But that didn’t last long. Pretty soon I was chatting away with lots of friendly people, some of them turning out to be people I knew off Qype, some newbies feeling even more nervous than me. And a great mix of people of all ages and all walks of life. I even had to discipline myself not to talk to the same person all night but to move on and circulate, and was glad I did as I found more people I’d already ‘met’ online, that it was great to meet in person. And of course others just as interesting, some not even on Qype but dragged along by others, and promising to join!

I’d told myself I’d not stay to the end, but of course I was one of the last out. Shortly before I left I somehow ended up telling someone how I’d come to London, and been homeless for 3 years living in squats. She thought I must be ‘well hard’! I did try and tell her they were, on the whole, very nice squats (I knew squatters who sanded and varnished all their window sills…) and I’d never been on the streets. She should have heard what I was to hear later… Anyway, finally I was leaving and wondering how I’d do a review of the venue since my eyes had been on people not it all night. A quick trip round including a diversion into the basement toilets took care of that, and you’ll find the review here.

Outside I walked off towards Tottenham Court Road, where I’d be able to catch a bus directly home. I diverted into Chinatown, to see if a sudden craving for a red bean paste bun could by any chance be fulfilled. I had my doubts and it turned I was right. Plenty of restaurants open, but no buns, or any other Chinese food you could just grab and eat as you walked. Gap in the market there maybe? Anyway, I was lucky and the bus came fast. I climbed aboard and upstairs, smiling at the group exclaiming with pleasure as they got the front seats.

That group continued to talk loudly, and even though I was halfway up the bus I soon found myself tuning into their conversations. One of them was talking about a mate who’d hitch hiked to Everest Base Camp. There was some debate as to whether it was possible, but apparently there’s a road all the way now. More tales followed… one woman had been in a remote cave with only a piece of corrugated iron for a door and either a bear or a mad man (she couldn’t say for sure which), attacking and growling at it. Two guys had spent a week alone up a remote Himalayan trail with nothing but some potatoes and a 3 foot long white carrot to eat (the girl enlightened them that it’s called mooli). Apparently now Nepal doesn’t let anyone go around without a guide. Though as one of the guys pointed out, you’re just as much in trouble if you get lost in the Pyrenees. As they once did… they found themselves walking up past people with ice picks and then scaling sideways along a wall with their backpacks on.

The conversation moved on, as one guy told about his experiences in Africa (and I looked round and saw that everyone else on top of that bus was listening too). He’d paid $50 to some dodgy guy to take him down the Zambezi in a canoe ‘they’ll do anything to get money down there’. Of course it’s the hippos that are really dangerous, crocodiles aren’t scary… Loud exclamations from his companions… well, crocodiles are scary, if you fall out of the canoe they’ll take your arm off, but they won’t attack a boat, hippos will.

He went on to talk about a place he’d been where (‘they’ll do anything to make money’) they took people walking with lions out into the bush. Not adult lions, but nearly full grown, and they want to play. They gathered them together before hand and warned them. They wouldn’t attack you, but they might try and play with you, and they might tear an arm off, just playing, not being nasty. You had to assert your authority. They gave each of them a big stick, and if any of the lions tried to play with them they had to hit the ground with it, and the lion if they had to. He said he had a picture of himself with this lion with this huge head, and his stick pointing at it…

After that things went quiet as the girl got on the phone with people they were trying to meet up with. I guess that story just beat them all. Or maybe they’d realised they had an audience!

And if you are doubting it was all true… the guy actually gave the venue of his lion walk, Antelope Park in Zimbabwe. I looked it up and it exists; http://www.antelopepark.co.zw/ Maybe one day… I am supposed to be ‘well hard’ after all.

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