The unspoiled continent – Part V – The party at the glacier

So, yeah, that whole thing with the Ukrainians was pretty surreal. A pub in Antarctica? Are you kidding me?

I mean, what’s next? Being woken up by a dinghy with a crazy dude in a kilt in it, playing bagpipes and inviting everyone to a party on board British marines’ sailing boat, where I’d meet an expedition trying to conquer Forbidden Plateau, National Geographic Antarctica-kayaking-crew and arguably the best solo sailor of the world?


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The unspoiled continent – Part IV – Ukrainian vodka and Highland fling (nsfw)

There are many things one envisions about Antarctica.

A pub is not one of them.

I thought it was going to be cold and it was. I thought I might see the whales, the seals and the penguins and I did. I thought sailing might be tough and it was going to be. But, it never, ever crossed my mind that I could spend an evening in Antarctica drinking vodka and playing billiard, translating small-talk from Russian to Spanish to German to English to Russian, all while listening to The Sundowners’ Colonial Classics.

Yet, there I was.

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The unspoiled continent – Part III – In which words (mostly) give way to pictures

Sure, there were specific things that happened and that remain. Like drinking vodka in the southernmost pub of the world, all while being celebrated by Ukrainian scientists because your countryman shot a goal that sent English soccer team home and Russians to the big stage. Or drinking Laphroaig on board UK military expedition boat, while chatting to National Geographic crew and Sebastien Magnen. Yes, that Sebastien Magnen.

But, more than anything else, Antarctica leaves a series of continuous and interlaced impressions in one’s mind, interchangeable puzzle pieces in the big picture of possibly the last pristine place on Earth.

Here are some of mine.

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The unspoiled continent – Part I – The journey to the end of the world

So, there I was, standing at the end of the world.

Of course, there is many a place around the globe that calls itself that and I’ve been to my share of Finisterres, Finistères und Fisterras before.

Yet, this one felt different. That wooden sign in Ushuaia’s port said “Fin del mundo” with authority and there was no doubt that it really was saying the truth. Further south, one could just sense it, was nothing even remotely similar to anything I have ever seen, nothing I could recognize or relate to.

I have, indeed, come to the end of the world as I knew it. And I had no intentions of stopping whatsoever.

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Domaća zadaća je gotovo završena i osmogodišnji Peru već cupka na stolici. Kao i većina vršnjaka, Peru se manje zanima za probleme iz matematike raštrkane po radnom stolu, a više za sport i njegove misli već polako lutaju treningu koji ga čeka navečer.  No za razliku od dječaka svoje dobi širom Europe, on se neće zaputiti ni prema nogometnom stadionu niti prema dvorani za košarku ili rukomet, već prema jednom od brojnih frontoia. Peru živi u Baskiji i njegov je san jednog dana postati igrač eskupilote, tradicionalnog sporta sličnog squashu u kojemu igrači tešku, tvrdu kožnu lopticu udaraju golom rukom.

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