Ingar

I shouldn't write this post as I first off have no control over who the fuck enters this blog, and second off it's quite unfair of me to range the women I've met so far as they're all beautiful, nice and good company (maybe the headline of this post should've been "to all the girls"?). The first favourite girl I got in Mexico was Alex who unfortunately went back to her native country far to soon. I would've wrote more on her and obviously posted a picture of the two of us together, but my enemy Father Time would simply not let that happen.

So this post is about the natural beauty Jazmin who rarely dresses up, most of the time she wears simple casaul wear. Imagine how she looks when she does dress up! Her sister Jaharia is constant dressed up, a hell of a beauty and a great flirt. But maybe she's one of those type of women who'd been told one too many times that she's a knock-out? There's something about beautiful women like Jazmin who wears her beautiness with such a natural sympathic attitude towards the world. Jazmin's not disillutioned by los hombres that I'm sure have drewled over her for the past decade. She doesn't wear that much make-up and don't use fake eyelashes like her sister. I'd go as far as to say I'd give up red meat just to catch a glimps of Jazmin in a bra. And my hermano Nicky told me he forgets his own name when looking at her.

Both Jazmin and Jaharia has got boyfriends (they would only know). Jazmin's boyfriend's a nice guy and I don't know if I'd prefer him to be a complete fucking asshole or if I'm atleast glad she's got someone good? Jaharia's boyfriend doesn't deserve her at all (kinda like AJ Soprano with Brenda) and Nicky and I will place him in a weelchair where he belongs sooner rater than later.

The sisters have indeed charmed me and besides, Jazmin did cry when I left Guanajuato ("so when I'm gone, don't mourn, just carry on"). So did Sarai, but my "feelings" for her are far more ambivalent.

This weekend I went on an excurshion to Veracruz with a company that co-operates with my University. I've been told that Veracruz is a really beautiful city by the sea and that they have excellent seafood there. I miss having a nice fish meal (the sushi here don't count as it sucks) and was as always happy to get out of D.F. for the weekend. Given the price for the exchursion and what I knew about Veracuz I packed clothes for clubbing and brought my lap-top; every hotel now a days has wireless internett, no? Unfortunatly I didn't get the to open the program for the weekend trip as I don't have the Office package on my pc and the program was enclosed in an Excel-file. If I had gotten to opened it, I would've seen that the trip was to Veracruz allright, but pretty fucking far away from down-town. In the middle of the jungle to be exact. I've never been to a jungle before, so I didn't mind, but my packing was ridicules. I didn't get to use my clubbing clothes (you don't need dancing shoes in the jungle) and the lap-top was simply a waste of space.

In the camp where we were at I got to do rappelling for the first time in my life, proper dangerous rafting for the first time and I got to experience a nice Aztec sauna. The jungle camp was over an hour away from down-town Veracruz and gave me a real "UV sommerleir" feeling, which was good as I couldn't be at sommerleiren for the first time since 1998. 

The jungle camp was near a river where I got to swim again, we all lived in a tents which I hadn't done for ages ("I went to the army, I never wanna be in a tent again!"). For two nights, sleeping in a tent wasn't all that bad, but our "camp-leaders" freaked me out with their talk of spiders. I have a slight arachnaphobia and I nearly went straight at this extremely large motherfucker's nest (picture above). I've never seen a bug that big in my entire life. And honestly; the spider had a skull (!) on his back! That's gotta be poisenous!

I'm no fan of heights and jumping down a mountain isn't really my cup of tea, but I liked the adrenaline rush and hey; a new experience is after all a new experience. And I had quite a few new experiences this weekend... The rafting went on forever in this rio grande and was a hell of a lot hell fun. The rafting I've done before have been too safe - dead tourists are bad for business obviously - and haven't given me the largests of adrenaline rushes. But this time it was different. I was sitting up front as I expected the rafting to be like a walk in the park, but all of a sudden I was thrown out of the boat. I love being in the water, but it was fucking scary to get stuck under the boat and not seeing or hearing a thing. After a few seconds that felt like hours I managed to get my head above the water, and if I was scared that was nothing compared to my fellow rafters. They quickly helped me up in the boat again and all I could hear was a bunch of people screaming "are you okay?!".

Later on we did a traditional Aztec sauna meaning extreme heat, darkness and prayers in the extinct Aztec language. We all had to say (en español) what we wanted from mother earth (IK Start winning the cup and Manchester United winning everything!) while we sat sweating in the darkness. Yes, complete darkness. The guides at the camp were of Aztec decent and believed in the spirituality of the sauna, and we all had to scream some ancient Aztec prayers he tried to teach us. I didn't feel anything spiritual, but I did feel this one girl's hand on my thigh. Spiritual enough for me! She was a great flirt (obviously), but it wasn't her I ended up shagging.



Saturday night we as always had some tequila and I ended up kissing one of the "camp-leaders" from the company I went on the excurshion with. I of course wanted to take the heat up a notch, so I brought her to my tent (that I shared with Kenya) and slept with her there. For some reason I couldn't manage the tent door, so we ended up making love bascially so everyone walking by could see. I hope no one did 'cos watching my white ass moving in rythms not to be misunderstood cannot be a great view. When we were done, Kenya, a German guy (extremely like Kungen) and a Mexican guy was outside waiting. Well, I don't care what they saw or heard, but they obviously knew what had been going on. Kenya wanted to get some sleep and ordered me to sleep on the same matrass as I'd been fucking (quite understandably) "du legger deg til venstre!". That was hilarious and I kept repeating that sentence the entire next day trying to impersonate her Bergen-dialect.

On the way back to D.F. our group was tired after a hectic action-weekend and slept in our mini-bus. Virri (Mexican names are a quite special, I know) the "camp-leader" and I were both horny and took advantage of the everybody else sleeping. Firstly I finger-fucked the hell out of her 'till she came, before she returned the service and gave me a nice wank-off 'till she finished me off with a blow-job. The latter kinda gave me guilty concience 'cos I hadn't had a shower since Friday morning and her breath instantly became disgusting. That was so bad I had to make the busdriver stop by a store so I could buy her some bubblegum. Gum or no gum, I felt it was so unhygenic that I don't know if I ever want to kiss her again.

I got home to Guanajuato Friday morning on my birthday at 5:30 and Nicky was kind enough to get up and lock me in to the house of señor Javier and señora Alma. My host-parents in Guanajuato had offered me to come stay at their house and celebrate my birthday with the family, an offer immposible to refuse! Obviously no one was awake at the hour I got home and I wanted to get a nice couple of hours sleep before opening the first bottle of a traditional Mexican tequila. At one pm some girl I hadn't seen before opened the door to "my" room and was clearly shocked by finding me there. She started screaming "Alma, Alma, it's a man in my bed!" and I heard señora Alma running up the stairs. Señora Alma wasn't shocked to see me, but gave me a wonderful welcome home smile and a hug while see congratulated me. Great to be back where I belong!

A couple of hours later Nicky, Manuel and I had the first of many tequila derechos (meaning shots). Nicky had bought me a bottle as a present and those shots him, Manuel and I had in the kitchen not long after breakfast really made the day going. We all went to a health club where we met up with the rest of the family (including Jazmin!) and I got to swin to the first time in many weeks. I loved being in the water where I belong, but it was extremely embarresing getting out of the water only to discover that my white shorts where see-through... And I didn't even have a towel to cover myself up in! Well, I hope the entire family didn't see my "hem". The weather was fantastic, as it always is on my birthday, and I dried up soon enough.
 

At night we went to Diro's house for a small party solely concentrating on drinking as many tequila derecho's as possible. As normal Ingar-procedure says, I always have to get annoyed of not feeling drunk untill it hits me like a rocket (not comparable to the actual rocket that hit me New Year's Eve). Nicky took some pictures of an extremely sweaty and wet me (what the fuck had I been doing?) and told me the next day that he had to hold my hair while I vomited between seven and twelve times before collapsing safely in my own bed. I'd like to write more on what I did on my own birthday night, but I honestly don't remember (again normal Ingar-procedure, or what Plummer?). Nicky's novia Alma was at the party, and so was Sarai but I hadn't any desire of giving her much attention. Maybe it has something to do with the "been there, done that/old cow, new cow" philosophy. Or maybe it's just that she annoys the living fucking hell out of me with her fucking nagging.

When I first had travelled to Guanajuato to celebrate my birthday, I of course wanted to make to most of it and go out again on Saturday night. When I woke up Saturday morning, I felt surprisingly fine, but I admit that the first tequila derecho in the evening was kinda hard. Firstly Nicky, Sweetheart, Sergeant and I went to this mediocre sushi place a bit out of town for dinner. I had their specialities without getting satisfied. Sushi is delicious, but I have been disappointed of the sushi in Mexico one to many times to try it again. At night I wanted to go to nearly all the clubs in little Guanajuato and have all the shots I could take without it getting as bad as Friday night. The first "club" I went to was "B-Lounge". A place I hadn't been to since the departure of all my friends from California several weeks ago. "B-Lounge" plays awful music, has awful interior, a beautiful girl behind the bar and cheap shots and beer. The trouble was that since last time, I've gotten to know good tequila from the bad (cheap) ones and the good ones as B-Lounge was fucking expensive. I couldn't live with double the price for my favourite brand "El Jimador" inside a place as bad as that and moved on to "El Capitolio" (a place I never gave up even after my experience with the crocked pigs) and later "El Grill" where I hadn't been before. Inside "El Grill" I met my fourteen year old hermano Abraham. Even he's such a young lad, Abraham's a hardcore player and pimp (and he doesn't even look like me at all!) and I do hope he scored with that girl I saw him dancing with. After "El Grill" (I'd still argue "El Capitolio" is a better club) I was drunk, tired and wanted to get home for a nice nights sleep before the start of the Premiership. As written earlier, Nicky locked the fucking door so I couldn't  get in and that basically forced me to visit the salsa club "Cuba mia" where I met up with my former hermana Karen's fat friend Antonio (you ought to seriously consider salads), had some Bacardi Razz for the first time in Mexico (believe it or not) while I watched some really good dancers in awe.

First week at host-University CIDE is over and thus marked the ending of the summer vacation. I admit that although I had Spanish classes everyday in gorgeous city Guanajuato, me and my fellow students had a sort of vacation attitude. But that's all over now. Just like at mother-University in Bergen, the first week don't mean shit at CIDE. All I had to do was to find four courses I wanna take ths semester. Several courses have been cancelled (manaña, manaña), but that's about everything that can be compared to what I'm "academically" used to. CIDE is a small University with only 400 students (my high-school had over 700) compared to UiB's 15 000 and everything's in Spanish. Luckily the international officer here speaks good English and she's helped me get a hold of things. She always point out that "I'm here for you", and I don't mind  spending time with her as she's young and hot. That really surprised me. I've yet to see a single hot woman working at the UiB, and I keep wondering how old the international officer is. I dare not to ask, but she cannot be more than 25-30 (she actually looks younger).

Every professor in every course I wanna take has to approve of me before I'm allowed to take their course and my impression of them so far is very good. I'm allowed to take my exams in English and I also have the opportunity to write my mandatory essay in English. I hope my Spanish is improving day by day, but still; writing academic in Spanish?! No way I'm good enough to do that. The courses I'm taking also have a lot of readings in English, which I'm used to, so I reckon I'll pass the exams all-right. Still, the classes are solo in Spanish and so far I'm not really understanding all that much, but I still have to be present in every class as this is a "high-school University".

The courses I'm taking this semester are:

The owner of my favourite café in Guanajuato, "Café Tal", told me that CIDE was a really good school and that only de crème de la crème of Mexican students go here. Plus some stupid exchange students, obviously. I have to write a short anecdote of the owner of Café Tal: He's an American (now Mexican citizen) who used to work at the University of Guanajuato, but got fired for questioning their misuse of  public funds and are now engange in a lawsuit against them (I only have his words for it). Nicky and I told him my story of the encounter with the police and after we had discussed the Mexican police, the society in general and after the Café Tal owner had told me how good CIDE was; he all of a sudden changed subject and told us how he liked to go to gentlemen's clubs. Nicky gave him the "what the fuck?" look, while I replied "yeah, tell of some classy ones - I wanna celebrate my birthday at one!". Then the Café Tal owner said that he din't like the classy ones, but preferred the cheap ones that smells like piss and where the women dancing aren't really that beautiful. I guess he wouldn't like the beautiful "Stringfellas" in London then? Needless to say Nicky and I ordered our coffees and ended the conversation with this polite, but really strange man. The next day the Café Tal owner tried to teach me to say "go fuck a dog" in Hungarian. Why on earth would I ever say such a thing (in Hungarian)?!

For the first time in my academic life I've experienced what I've been told really isn't that rare: Having a twelve hour day at school. Lessons, readings and eating at the school (CIDE's cafeteria is supposedly subsidised, the food's cheap anyhow). My visit in Mexico have made me realise who much I love pool and to my amazement there's a free pool table in the University's health club! I fucking love that. Imagine if I get home from a year in Mexico and don't speak Spanish, but play really good pool! Haha!

If I don't speak the language after a year, then I'll be to embarressed to come home. On one of my first night's in Mexico I had an awful nightmare where I got home from Mexico and my Spanish speaking friends back home where taunting me for not knowing the language. That cannot happen! And I'm sure it will not happen (fingers crossed).

My new host-family in Mexico consists of just an elderly women (I think she retired) and her 80-something mother. They're friendly, teach me some Spanish, have a bar in the livingroom and tell me I have absolute freedom in their house. I appreciate all that, but nothing compares to señor Javier and señora Alma of Guanajuato. They are the sweetest I've ever met and I miss having some young guns around like I did with señor Javier and señora Alma's kids Javie, Manuel, Abraham and Leo. The latter is according to Nicky getting fatter by the day as his broken arm hasn't healed yet, so all he does is sit in his boxer-shorts, getting fed and play Playstation. I wish I could live a life like that!

It's nothing new that everyone that doesn't support United hate United, but Paul Scholes' and Wayne Rooney's three match ban for incidents taken place in an abroad friendly tournament is another disgrace by the Fucking Arseholes. Especially when scousers Steven Gerrard and Neil Mellor didn't get any ban at all after being sent off in the same tournament two years ago.

This was posted by Snowdog on the Red News VIP forum last night:

[...] "I was wondering though whether they would consider funding a programme entitled “Worst FA Decisions Made Against Man United.” They could include these few beauties for starters:

 

1) 1995 – Eric Cantona’s ban. They banned Eric for 9 months and fined £20,000 for booting Matthew Simmons up the dirt-box at Selhurst Park. Despite United suspending him for the remainder of the season, and lets not forget that this happened in January, the FA in their infinite wisdom saw fit to ban him for the first two months of the next season. Jamie Carragher only got a three match ban for throwing a coin into the Arsenal fans when the dippers played at Highbury in a 4th round FA Cup tie in 2002.

2) 1999-2000 FA Cup. In their desperation to persuade FIFA that they could organise a piss up in a brewery, the FA ask us to take part in a tin pot competition given the rather grand title of the World Club Challenge in Brazil. The FA thought that having United as standard bearers would do their bid no end of good. “Sorry though boys you will have to withdraw from the FA Cup”. United thought long and hard, considering the benefits hosting the World Cup would bring to England and the kudos this would bring United and agree to go. The FA then leave us out to dry saying it was the clubs decision to withdraw from the competition despite us being implored by the FA and the Government to go to Brazil and being told by the FA that we could not defend our trophy if we went.

3) 2002 – Roy Keane and Alf Inge Haaland. Roy’s autobiography gets him in deep water as he admits being rather rough with a fellow professional in a game at Old Trafford the year before. The FA ban him for five games and fine him an astonishing £150,000. I seem to recall Alan Shearer stamping all over Neil Lennon at Filbert Street just prior to the 1998 World Cup in France. Don’t recall him being done, oh, hang on, it was an accident wasn’t it?

4) 2003 – Rio’s missed drugs test. OK, we all know he was daft enough to go missing, but the fact remains that he returned the following day and passed a subsequent drugs test. All the experts at the time were quoted as saying any recreational or performance enhancing drugs would have still been in the system and 24 hours would not have made any difference. This held no sway with the ABU board at the FA who slapped an eight month ban and imposed a £50,000 fine on him. Compare that treatment to these examples of FA justice against non United players - Mark Bosnich only received a nine month ban for testing positive for cocaine whilst they sentenced Adrian Mutu to a paltry 7 month ban for failing a drugs test. In Italy both Japp Stam and Edgar Davids both tested positive for the performance enhancing drug nandrolone. In Jaap’s case he was banned for 5 months whist Davids served less that 4!!!

5) 2006 – Gary Nev’s goal celebrations. Everyone loves celebrating a goal and certainly when it comes in the last minute against your most hated rivals but thanks to a media storm of hurricane type ferocity the FA saw fit to charge Gary with improper conduct and fine him £5,000. Blobby Fowlup runs towards us at every opportunity he can to wittily remind us of the dippers scabby European Cup wins whist earlier in the same season both Gerrard and Carragher had run along the length of the touchline after a goal at Goodison goading the Everton fans. The FA were very quiet about both of these instances weren’t they.

Today’s decision to ban Rooney for 3 matches for a non challenge against Porto in the Amsterdam tournament just reinforces my and I believe most United followers conviction that there is one rule for United and one for everyone else. I cannot for the life of me see how a panel has looked at that video and seen fit to enforce a ban. My personal belief is that the FA have had it in for us since Sir Matt ignored their bleating in the 50’s that English clubs should not enter into European competitions.

Fergie should withdraw all his players from the squad for tomorrow nights game against Greece and inform the FA that he will not be releasing them for any further friendly internationals until further notice and David Gill should have the balls to stand up and tell them to play their shitty internationals at some other ground."

Under regimet til "landsfaderen" ble samene tvangs fornorsket. Deres språk og kultur ble forbudt.
Under regimet til "landsfaderen" ble taterne tvangs sterilisert.
Under regimet til "landsfaderen" ble psykisk syke tvangs sterilisert og mange tvangs lobotomert.

Under regimet til "landsfaderen"  brøt norske myndigheter menneskerettigheter systematisk og uten sidestykke i historien. Ettertiden har fordømt denne mørke tidsalder, utallige senere statsministre har bedt om unnskyldning.

Tidligere i sommer ble det alle visste bekreftet: Sønnen til "landsfaderen" blir DnAs byrådsleder kandidat i Oslo under valget neste høst nok en gang. Den evige taper har tapt tre av fire valg og jeg vedder halsen min på at etter 2007 valget blir det fire av fem. Da lillegutt satt som byrådsleder i 1995 fikk han mer enn ti tusen strykninger  og fikk færrest stemmer av alle DnAs byrådskandidater. Godt gjort!

On my first day in D.F. I met up with Kaja (Kenya en español), my Norwegian partner in crime here at the CIDE Univercity, and the two of us wanted to see a bit of the city and get a few drinks. In a Irish pub we met Jorge; a nice guy Kenya decided to make out with while I was pissed drunk and wanted to go home for more than an hour. Unlike me, Kenya lives down-town and after Kenya went home, Jorge offered to drive me home; "from here to your house it's like a 100 pesos in a taxi!" - the correct sum is actually 200 pesos. I live far away from down-town but close to my Univercity. Jorge didn't know where the fuck my colonia (neighbourhood) was (no one does) and I managed to give him the wrong adress. Jorge and I drove all over D.F. for more than three (!) hours trying to find my casa. When I first got into his car I was a bit nervous that Jorge would call his friends and tell them "I have a gringo, let's rob him", but Jorge didn't and he told me that if he were new in a town he'd apreciate it if someone did the same for him. I gotta say that's a fucking good life-philosophy, and there's no way in hell I ever could take advantage of a foreigner in Norway after meeting him. Because of my somewhat mistaken driving dirrections I didn't get home untill at eight o'clock in the morning. I didn't care 'cos I hadn't any classes the following day. Jorge, on the other hand, had classes at one pm...

I've lived in DF since Wednesday and Friday Sarai and her friend Alma from Guanajuato came to visit me. We all went out for a game of pool and a few drinks (as in we did every night in Gto). Sarai told me that she and Alma had got fired from bar Alcatraz (the reason I couldn't understand), but also said it wasn't important 'cos all she wanted was to be with me. After our bar visit we again couldn't find my home, so we ended up getting a hotel room down-town. Alma used to live in D.F. for three years and knew the city, but I still think it's amazing that we got such a good hotel for just 350 pesos for the night. Sarai and I wanted to be intimate and Alma didn't mind sleeping in the same room, so she took two chairs together (like bro Duvall in Manchester 2002) while Sarai and I had a huge double-bed by ourselves. To my knowledge, that was the first time I've slept with someone while someone else could hear and see the whole act. I don't mind dirty/kinky intercourses, and because I was raised in God's own Sørlandet sex will always be dirty! And now Kevin and Nicky can welcome me into the "I've been with a bar Alcatraz waitress" club. The next day, Sarai and Alma went to Alma's family in the state of Hidalgo and that was a good thing 'cos Saturday Kenya and I decided to go out to destroy the city again.

 

On my way down-town to meet Kenya I saw this gorgeous girl sitting right in front of me on the subway. I gave her my "how you're doing?" look moving my eyebrows (not to be mixed with the Plummers "what the fuck did you just say?" look when he's moving his eyebrows) and started talking to her. Turned out, her friend has a birthday on Monday (today) and Kenya and I was invited to join the whole gang celebrating her. How many times have you invited someone to join your party after meeting them on a public transportsystem? Obviously not that many. The Mexican friendliness is beyond anything I've ever experienced and worthy a blog post of its own. The only bad people in this country are the police and the psychos who attacked my hermana in Guanajuato. A short example of how nice the people of Mexico are: Sunday I was in sort of rush and at the metro there where a line from hell to buy metrotickets. Out of nowhere this girl approached me and gave me a ticket! She said something I didn't understand and smiled before she disapeared. Thanks!

 

The girl from the metro took Kenya and I to the club El Ciné where the bounzers wondered what the hell my Norwegian Lypsyl was (looking at it, smelling it and finally giving it back to me before allowing me into the club). Citlalli (my girl from the metro, try to pronouce that name) is another one of those extreme my type of women (appearance talking) and I therefor wanted to make a move as soon as I saw an opportunity. Unfortunately, I saw her with this one guy I thought was her boyfriend and decided on being a gentleman and leave them (her) alone. What kind of sick fucking logic is that?!

I hadn't really planned on going out, just to have a few drinks with Kenya. I therefor didn't exactly look as someone who'd go to a club...I hadn't shaved, didn't wear any cologne and wore my Roy Keane "rage is temporary - class is forever" t-shirt. Luckily no one seemed to care. Citllali's crew was filled with gorgeous women and a couple of (behaving) fags, and they all thought Kenya and I were exotic given our Norwegian inheritance and all. The birthday girl, Elisabeth, was hot as well and I wouldn't mind giving her a hard package as a birthdaypresent... Elisabeth fed my ego by saying "you've gotta a sexy voice, speak to me again!". But what I ended up doing was to make out with another one of the hot girls, one who couldn't speak English at all, but didn't mind my so-called Spanish. What's there to do when all you know in a different language is said and done? When you don't understand anymore and all you wanna do is either to sit in the bar drinking or grab your company's ass? You make out! As said as done. Her name was Daniela and I had to promise to call her (blah, blah, blah). To my amazment I saw Citlalli (aztec name, by the way) dance by her self, sit by her self and in general looking like she wanted me to come over. I'm aware of the rules of women; "make out with one of my friends and you'll never be able to touch me" ("no, no drama, you don't want no drama"), but no rules without exceptions though. An opportunity missed. For now.

 

I find it hilarious to dance in Mexico. Every woman loves it and they never take no for an answer. I always point out that "yo chupo en bailar" making them laugh, as the sentence isn't really a sentence in español. They never care and always tell me that they'll teach me. Good luck with that! Daniela and I "danced" for several hours, but in reality it was more grinding than dancing. Thanks to Dalia for teaching me that when you cannot dance, you grind. Up untill now in Mexico I haven't met a single women who didn't wanna dance with me after discovering that I suck in dancing. And that's a great compliment.

Today was my first day of school in D.F and because my Spanish still is on the new beginner level, I couldn't really understand much. Luckily the international officer here is fucking hot and she speaks good English. There's a chance of me getting thrown out of the country on Monday, 'cos my tourist visa reached its expiration date today and if the immigration officials wants to be cunts, they can. That would be extremely embarressing, but atleast I've had a good time here. And Sarai's here for the weekend.

My name is one of those names you really need to concentrate to fucking pronounciate correctly. The people of God's own Sørlandet and most of the east-coast dialects of Norway can. In student city Bergen on the west-coast of Norway, most people couldn't. They'd call me either "Ing-ar" or "Angar", the latter is the way my three year old niece calls me. If you're not three years old, what's your excuse? Stupidity? Fair enough.

British and American guys have no chance in hell of saying my name the Norwegian way and for simplicity reasons I therefore go by "Inge" or "Ingo". The latter is my name here in Mexico. Some Mexican's insist on saying my name the Norwegian way, but end up calling me "Ignar". That is actually not that bad, and my Spanish teacher thought  "Ignar" was "such a cute name".

When I was a kid we'd wrote our names backwards and see what kind of fucked up names we could make of them. My name backwards is "Ragni" and we'd laugh at it saying "that actually sounds like a strange womens name!". In Bergen I met two women named Ragni and both of them were utter cunts I hope fucking die. A coincidence? Their feelings for me are mutual by the way. As a result of my fucked up name backwards, Kringla, her cutie friend and the gangstarrs she knows started calling me "Rægnhi", which I think of as kinda like Eminem and his alter ego "Slim Shady". My wrongs in this world are Rægnhi's work, not mine! It would by the way be a sort of miracle if Kringla's gangstarr friends (I'll scratch your back if you scratch mine) knew what I'm really named.

Getting a million American friends has been nothing but a pleasure and I like it that they give me all kinds of nick-names all the time: Big I, Easy I (pronounced as the Norwegian and Mexican "I") and Inglewood are just examples.

Writing this I have now started a whole new life in Mexico City, supposedly the largest city in the world (by population? by mass? by people pr. square meter?). The four weeks in Guanajuato flew away and I cannot believe I've already lived in another country for about a month. Yes, I've travelled before, but living in another country is something else. Different culture, different language, different people, different police, and most welcome; different women. It's wise getting Mexican girlfriends to practice the language with (among other things). And it's so relaxing that Mexican women take initative towards me, so I bascially don't have to do shit: Leticia picked me up inside a club and Sarai (picture above) picked me up outside a club. The latter told me she'd seen me make out with this American the day before and at first I thought she was angry or just plain jealous. But the very same night I took her and her friend to "Barocho" where Nicky and I played the best pool games of our lives. We literally beat the crap out of these German tourist whilst screaming "this is for World War II!" in between the kisses Sarai gave me. Great night! The American's I've been with here have...well, let's just say I really fucking hope it's true that all American college girls are on the pill. The ones in my host-family that I've wanted to be with have been such a bunch of beautiful teazers, that once I know the language I'll definately smoothtalk my way into their bed...erm heart!



The last night in Guanajuato I again went to the bar "Alcatraz" where Sarai works and needless to say she and her friends where giving us excellent service. In Mexico City I've recived a bunch of text messages from her, but I don't know if I wanna meet her again that many times, given the fact that the bartenders and waitresses at "Alcatraz" have quite the reputation...or what do you say, Kevin? Kevin's flatmate for the first weeks in Guanajuato introduced me to this whole gang of beautiful women (some of them dyke's) and they  where all at "Alcatraz" on my final evening. One of them (name?) where introduced to me by Brandon (one of my pool mates) as "she loves foreign cock" and as I talked to her she revealed that she's one of the MillerGirls (picture above). Now, there's an interesting connection in the States!

In Guanajuato I've met so many great guys and girls from all over the world (meaning the US, afterall the US is the world, right?), all of them friends I do hope to meet up with again. My hermano Nicky tells me he wants to visit Norway next year (you guys from back home will love him!) and I just got an e-mail from Alex saying she wants to visit Europe next summer as well. I've always wanted to see the "land of beauty and splendor" (thanks to daddy for not bothering inviting me to my Godfather in New York in 1994, remember this Duvall?), but in the aftermath of 9/11 the genius in the White House decided to make new passport rules for foreigners and thus I cannot enter the US untill I get a new one. For spite, I'm not gonna get a new passport untill my perfect passport for every other country in the world reaches its expiration date in 2012. See you guys in the US in about six years!

Nicky told me this hilarious story from his first day in Guanajuato - on the very same day our youngest hermano Leo fell through a six meter high skylight and broke his arm by the way - when my Austin hermano Joey told Nicky about me he said; "yeah, Ingo kinda parties a lot". Nicky thought Joey said "Inga" and then thought to himself "dude, I hope she's a hot Swedish blonde!". Haha!

Yesterday I actually felt homesick for the first time in Mexico. Not homesick to native country Norway, but homesick to little city Guanajuato. I love my familia there and I got some many friends and local amigas I'll miss as hell. Nicky, Sweetheart and Sergeant will surly visit me in D.F. but it's not the same not being able to hang out every day. After a month in a small city like Guanajuato I got to know it pretty much inside-out and the only thing it doesn't have is a beach (just like wonderful Manchester).

Monday morning I'm leaving local city Guanajuato and fucking off to ciudad de México. I'm quite nervous ahead of my year in "Chingolandia" as every local I've talked to have warned me how dangerous, poisonous and enormous the city is. I don't know a living soul there and it's pretty fucking far away from good ol' Norway, but hopefully it'll be as easy as in Guanajuato to get amigas.

Guanajuato city has about 80 000 inhabitans and is thus quite small. Down-town it's virtually impossible to get lost and I keep meeting everybody I know all the time. That's a good thing, considering that in Mexico we don't just send a text-message whenever we wanna meet. The four weeks here have sort of reminded me of how life used to be before everyone got a celluar phone. Hearing this, cell phone nerds from back home?

Guanajuato city is on the United Nations World Heritage List and at first I couldn't really get why. But after some time I fully understand. The city has a rich history, today reflected in the countless museums (aztek, mummies, whatnot) one can visit. There's a whole bunch of local legends ("it's an old mexican saying") and the architecture is beautiful. As in former student city Bergen, the people of Guanajuato paint their houses in sharp colours without it getting vulgar at all.

My family in Guanajuato is absolutely fantastic and I'll definately come back to visit 'em. Saturday a week ago mis padres had a 25 year of marriage anniversary, and held of course a major fiesta. In the morning we all went to church where (I think) mis padres re-newed their promises to eachother. It was a beautiful ceremony and though I didn't get much of what the priest was saying (my family is Catholic, by the way) I enjoyed being in church and no doubt does the Catholics know how to make a ceremony! Later we all went back to the casa and the whole family was there to celebrate señora Alma and señor Javier. Some of señor Javier's friends (who weren't even invited!) came with far to much tequila for them to drink alone and obviously they wanted to share with the viking living in the house. It was a great party and I discovered even more gorgeous women in the family (five cousins in the picture below - the one to the far right recently did a nose job). If I do impregnant one of them, I don't mind marriage at all; my kids will look fantastic! When I earlier wrote about my family I forgot to wrote that my Mexican father played profesional football in the Mexican Premier League back in the seventies; respect! And the Mexican league is better than the Norwegian one.

The only problem with attending a language course in Guanajuato (expect that the teachers suck) is that as soon as you get to know someone they're off to their native country. I miss hanging out with the Americans from California that left two weeks ago, I miss the "maybe a bit to young" Robyn who left after just a week, Laura (another one from the US) who also left after a week, Tamala from London left yesterday after just two weeks, my mate Kevin from Wyoming (a true man of his words) left early Saturday and my hermano Joey left on the day of our padres anniversary. A shame you missed the party, mate. I miss discussing politics with Joey, learning Spanish of him and his calm presence in general. While everyone's leaving I'm still here and probably more than 30 persons have sworn they'll come visit me in D.F. Well, I'll believe you when I see you. I'm gonna stay at another host-family for a month or so to practice español, but then I wanna get a place of my own. I might even buy a dog. After Duvall have visited me of course, we don't share the passion for dogs - but we share the passion for United! Someone I'll miss as hell is my girl Leticia who picked me up inside "El Capitolio" last Thursday. She's not from Gunanajuato, but a neighbouring city (don't remember the name) and beautiful as hell. I would've posted her picture, but as I seldom take my camera out the only one who had a picture of us was Michelin from Amsterdam. Unfortunately, he has a memory as a goldfish and some locals took advantage and stole his camera (the police?).

Speaking of "I'll definately visit you" bullshit from a million people; why is it so that literally everyone asks me for my e-mail adress? Are you actually planning on keeping in touch? I don't fucking believe that. If you wanna do global business after graduating and want a connection in Norway (like my new hermano Nicky), I totally understand asking for my e-mail adress. If not, don't bother. Hell, even one of my teachers asked for my e-mail adress!

I have never felt like a European before, but here I get reminded of where I'm from all the time. When Bai'che and me went to visit Kit in Shanghai I just felt "western", not European. On Kevin's farewell party me and this Swiss girl where toasting "for Europe" a bunch of times, talking shit of the Americans behind their backs and totally agreeing on that the European wine is "soooo" much better than wine from America. You can take a guy out of Europe, but you cannot take Europe out of a guy. By the way, the American version of "The Office" stinks!

Just as we Europeans have tons of stereotype ideas of the Americans, they too have a lot of ideas on how we are. Por ejemplo my hermana told me that she'd been told that Europeans don't like women who do pedicure. Ehh? The more annoying stereotype is when someone actually believe that European women are not that hygenic and don't bother shaving certain areas. Come on! The posh ones always know what to do. I've also been told that "you Europeans are so experimental"; meaning sexually... But I do think it's sad when Americans I meet apologise for their president and asure me that "I didn't vote for him!". So what? If you're a nice person I'll still talk to you, no matter what your politics are. Imagine if we Norwegians had to apologise for our shit-face government everytime we went abroad? Oh my god, I would never leave the country. Although I will take the opportunity to apologise for the awful cunt Åslaug Haga ("når vi ser Åslaug vil vi ikke pule").

The dreams I'm having here is really messing me up. I'm not used to dream a lot, but here I keep having the strangest dreams. The other day I dreamt I went back to San Sebastian and met up with long lost girlfriend Evita and all her friends. I remember the places we went to perfectly and the dream was astonishing real. And we're talking about a girl I haven't seen and a city I haven't been to in three years! After this year, maybe I will visit her again. Atleast the language shouldn't be a problem.