Still alive...

Right, well. For all of you nay-sayers that thought this little piece of Mr Lee couldn't last, I have an update!
The last we heard from this intrepid soul was a lot of whinging about being back in Australia and working. Well as you might imagine a lot has happened since then and to cut to the end credits for those short on time, I'm in Ethiopia currently wondering if I'm getting paid enough to get shot at by ONLF rebels. In a little place called Shilabo, (not even the bulk of Ethiopians know where it is) flying a couple of weeks of survey behind a wall of two foot thick sandbagged walls. A three course dust meal is standard and sleep only occurs once the sun goes down and the sweat stops dripping off my elbows. All in all a charming place, if only for the 300 odd army soliders stationed around us to ensure we don't add to the body count of 2007.



Back tracking a little, (yes it's a way back) I had a pretty uneventful Christmas and New Years, most of which was spent in the motherland eating copious amounts of wonderful food and pretty much doing whatever I damn well pleased.
Click foward a couple of weeks and I'm back in my most favourite of African haunts, Centurion, again eating copious amounts of wonderful food interspersed by sessions at the local powder range. Managed to catch up with a few new/old friends from my last tour there before shooting off to the ass of all places, Mbuji Mayi in the DRC.
Man I thought Kananga was bad. This place made Kananga feel like a Bahaman holiday retreat in comparison. Hand over fists with the green paper Benjamins and we mangaged to start work so we could the get F out of there as soon as possible. But of course as is the way in this God forsaken land, delays and extra flying caught us for a good 2 and a half weeks there.

After managing to escape with almost all my undies, it was off to Dar es Saalam for a quick tune up to the plane and then off to Ehtiopia. Sorry? What was that? Forgot to factor in the Africa time?

Well a scheduled 4 day stop blows out to almost 3 weeks, with bad head winds, Mr Leader of the Free World and landing permits all contributing to the extension. Did get a rather nice stay in Zanzibar out of it though. Just think Thailand where the resort staff have seen waaaaay too much sun, and the patrons are waaaaay to Gucci and you've got a picture of what North West Zanzibar beaches are like. Seems that the Italian run and owned resorts there are a draw for all those bronzed bodies seeking something a little less salsa and a little more rumba for their annual summer sojurns.
What results is one thinking they've teleported to a parallel universe where all the establishments on the Amalfi Coast source all their staff from up and coming East African nations. Actually, it's probably not that far off reality really...



So finally after some wonderful days of beach and salty water, we're whipped off to another kind of sand and salt water. Just this time without the cocktails and thong bikinis.
"If the camp does get sucessfully raided, don't run around to get shot. Knee down in the corner of the camp with your hands up and show that you're not armed. You're no use to them dead."
Hmmm I think there was something missing from the office breifing that I got. Actually there was no office briefing. And here's me without my kevlar undies.

Wind back a year, 14 chinese nationals were killed when the ONLF raided a Petronas owned and run sesmic camp in North Eastern Ethiopia. Ramifications of this raid resulted in heavy action from the Ethiopian army, 'cleansing' various areas of Ogaden and ONLF supporters resulting in a standoff situation where potential trouble could occur, but no one knows when or where. Slide Google Earth a few hundred clicks south and you'll find a little town called Shilabo where another unrelated Malaysian oil company hoping to strike the oily pipes of wealth. Of course before you go randomly pounding the ground to find echoes of oil, you want to get a general idea of where to deploy the big toys. Enter stage right the aerial survey company and of course as my work history would have, I'm thrown in with about as much prep as chef making a green salad and expected to swim.
So yes, lots of sand, lots of salty water (table water is brackish) and no, no bikinis. Although considering that I'm about 2000 kms away from anything that I would remotely want to see in a bikini, I'm counting my blessings.
Not much else here expect for the snakes, spiders and scorpions, none of which I have seen. The highlight so far was building an inclinded set of monkey bars from eucalypt trees which although looks great and sounds promising, I am totally too fat and unhealthy to utilise properly.

Back to the top for a re-read and you're up to date (more of less, I'll save the really cools stories to share over a Coopers Pale).
My only sanity is that we should be out of here soonish, and I'll be on to Morocco before getting some R&R back in Sydney around late April.

Oh and to the bugger who stole my wallet from my hotel room WHILE I was in it having a shower, may the food you buy with my money give you the squits, the gifts you send be lost, and the riches you hope for arrive in in the form of a falling safe. Allah be with you, coz if I ever get my hands on you, you'll want all the help you can get.

Back in the saddle

It's a hot sunny day here in little country Cleve. The main street hums with activity as the locals from around the countryside wander in to town. They meet, shop, chat, laugh, chat some more in a weekend ritual that seems to have been practised since the dawn of man.

Mum's scurry, cars buzz, kids trail happily along munching on whatever sweet bribes their parents have bestowed in order to get a few moments peace.
There's a slight breeze, only enough to tickle the cheek and dry the sweat of the farmer, busy packing his ute for the week of work to come.
Wispful clouds arch high and back into the sky, blazing a trail for dreamers and flyers a like. It's a good day to be embracing the sun.

Despite all this, I sit here in my little cubby hole of a room. Airconditioning droning with it's endless 'ruuunnnuuu, ruuunnnuu, runnnuu'.
Being on side street, the sounds of activity seem a world away, with only an ever persistent fly to keep me company...

Well, I'm back at work. Currently down on the Eyre Peninsula in a little town called Cleve. It's a quaint little town with a fair bit of infrastructure despite having a population not over 200 people. It's basically a massive farming area and one could see how busy this place would get given the right amount of rain. Right now the ground is parched and brown, dust blowing around everywhere when the wind gets up. It s a welcome change from the usual red dust of outback mining towns and the oysters here are yes 'cheaper by the dozen'.

It's been a week or so now back at work and I'm slowly getting back in to the swing. My break was an exhausting one for various reasons and it's good to get back to some sort of routine again. Of late, well in the last few days anyway there's been the moments of reflection on this job that seem to come up every now and then.
Same questions. Same answers
Where is it going?
What is it for?
What after?

Does there need to be any reason at all anyway or can it be like any other soul plugging away to make a living?

I seem to have a great ability to make my life a lot more complicated than it needs to be and coupled with a tendency to seek meaning in things that don't neseccarily have any, I tend to get lost in what I do from time to time.
One thing I have realised more and more with this job is that the way you view it will determine the things you do and hence what you get out of it.

As a job, it's a pretty cruisy one, well paid and varied. As a job one could plug away happily for quite some time, catching up with loved ones whenever break rolls around.
As an opportunity to adventure and explore however you tend to live in the moments a bit more. Place a little more meaning to what you do. Also the time you spend in the field stretches out until there's a reason to get on break.
Right now I'm seeming to swing between the two. On one hand it's a lot easier to see it as a job. Get on with things and do what you need to get to the next break where you can spend time with friends and family. On the other, I set out on this with a sense of purpose, of travel, adventure and it would be a shame to loose that shine, that spark. The downside is that it is a very lonely path to tread, one where relationships that exist get put on hold, and new ones that come up only go so far. How happy I am with this I am yet to determine.

I put a lot of value in the people I choose to keep near me on an ongoing basis. There's a constant nagging thought that I'm missing out on memories and the experiences with them that make them the friends that they are. Especially when they're in a new phase of life, somewhere I may be headed one day, namely children. One friend in particular has had a head start and is working on number 2. I had grand notions of visiting often. Seeing, watching, getting involved. It's because of opportunities that I miss that I question what I do.

Seems silly in the overall sense. Choose something, do it well and be happy with what you get. That's the way it's meant to work. In all it's altruistic glory. But I'm too greedy for that right now. I want it all. To see it all, to live it all, have them all as memories, not as stories I've been told.

Don't know where I'm really heading with this bit of a rant, but it's an insight to where my head and heart are right now. In flux, between settling now or continuing the chosen path.
There is more to the story of course. Much more. But considering the purpose and the reading audience of this blog I'll leave it to tell on an individual basis.

Lastly for the day, I don't know how many of you are still reading this after that initial flurry of interest. But to all those who drop by, thank you. From the deepest part of my soul thank you for being an audience to this particular show. It would means a lot less should you not be here.

Sleeeeeeep

Well it’s finally happened. The shine of travel has hit the inevitable and is starting to wear thin. Like the clear coat of paint on my Pajero, the repeated exposure to the elements has left me tired and wishing for some rest. Too many airports, too many planes, too much moving around. Apologies to those stuck in their offices reading this but try taking 11 flights in the space of one and a half months while on break knowing that you’ll have more of the same when you get back to work and you’ll see what I mean.

Sitting at home and doing a lot of nothing is sounding really good right now.
In any case I’m sitting in a café on St Kilda beach killing time until a friend finishes work so we can go have some dinner. A different friend is having a 30 tenth birthday and I decided to make the hop over to the rival city for a few days to send my wishes in person.

Time for a quick back track to cover the past few weeks.

Climbing in Thailand did eventuate, if not for a few transport issues. The only flights left were to Phuket rather than Krabi so a few days in tourist town had to be worn before the real fun could begin.
Steep walls, big jugs. Sounds like a bad porn movie but that about sums up the attraction to climbing on the Phra Nang Peninsula. Tired, unfit and out of practice people need not apply. Despite fitting all of the above I persevered and managed to fart my way up half a dozen so climbs over a few days.

All the whining aside I had a good time and it is a beautiful place. The scars of the tsunami are still evident but things are recovering slowly. Being isolated as it is, it serves as a bit of a time capsule where life is simple as are the pleasures to be had.
One pleasant surprise of note were the people of Thailand in general. Warm, curious, friendly people who offer help with a smile. Sure there are the odd sharks as you would find in any country but overall it’s a welcome change to constantly having to watch your wallet and back.
My time there ended too soon, I had only just started to unwind and get into the flow. A return trip would see at least a week to chill, a week to ease back into the climbing, and another week pushing hard.

The rest of my south east asia sojurn was spent between the shopping malls of Kuala Lumpur and the rain forests of Miri in east Malaysia. Eat, shop, eat, shop, that’s about the summation of most people’s memory of Malaysia so I didn’t disappoint. I really must try doing something different next time I’m there.

Coming back to Sydney was more surreal than the trip back from Joburg. It didn’t help that they had changed the arrival terminal and customs at the airport leading me to think for a moment that I had flown into the wrong city. “Same, same but different” As quote from a local Thai in reference to a comparison of Thailand and Malaysia. It could be used to describe a lot of the world though. People essentially want the same things, they just have different ways and priorities of getting them .

Rain, mud and elephant poo

I am alive. Sore and a little tired but alive. The unusual rain for this time of year persisted for 3 of the days that I was out trekking and resulted in much mud and general wetness as well as the death of my near new MP3 player.
Yes, yes I was asking for trouble bringing electronic gear to the jungles of Chiang Mai and the dumbest part of it all was that I had multiple dry bags in tow and I was only dunked for a second. However, as many a canyon newbie has come to realise, if you don't put your stuff in the dry bag before you get wet, well you can guess the result. That was a cost I wasn't quite expecting to pay. And yes, as seasoned canyoner I should know better.

Anyhow, as mentioned 3 days of mud sliding and river crossings ensued. The hill tribes were interesting in as far as seeing rural asian living but wasn't anything new to me considering I'm from Malaysia. What was fun was smoking a corn leaf rolled bark cigarette with a local sharman before getting 'blessed' on my journey. All in all very farang type experience, but at least my legs hurt by the end of it. My fitness level is of non-existant standard and it was very demoralising seeing the guides trot along wearing bits of plastic for shoes, puffing away at a cigarette the whole way. But do that trip day in day out and I guess you get used to it.

Having come out of the DRC for 3 months I've also noticed my time there has tainted my view towards the world a little. Not quite as glossy and innocent as before and there's a tint of cynicism in the way I see things. It is a shame on one hand, but I'm glad to have seen the other side of the coin. One of the 'village tours' was nothing more than a meat market with every foreigner getting mobbed by kids chanting 'Hello ten baa, hello tan baa' while waving the ubiquitous woven wrist band. Unfortunately for me this was a solo tour so running down the street with 10 kids in tow made things a little more interesting. In the end, for the ones who hung on the whole way, I just bought them all an icecream. Yes it cost '10 baa' a piece anyway but I'm a firm believer in not giving young kids money. At least they got something for themselves rather than disspearing to whoever ran the show.

Well, food is beckoning so it's off to hassle to locals for some chow. Trying to stay as authentic as possible so it's off to the food markets again.

Hopefully, a week or so of climbing is beckoning. I'll update the next adventure as it comes around.

It's all about timing

For the last month or so here in Chiang Mai the weather has been a toasty 25 to 30 degrees with clear sunny skies. The very day I bomb in to do a 3 day hill trek it starts a monsoon rain. At least I won't be sweating too much...

As far as interesting places go Chiang Mai is pretty cool. It's a lot like small towns in Malaysia but the people are friendly and less abrupt. I've also seen more foreigners here in one day than my whole 2 months in the DRC. A refreshing change to say the least.

Cost of living for a farang is also pretty good. The boutiquy hotel I'm in is only 1000baht a night. About $35 aussie at current rates.

Had a wonder down to the night markets tonight. There are 2 different sections. The first one where you'll struggle to see one white man, is the local food area with roadside stalls and fruit vendors. Makes for a great dinner location. Chilli lime squid, dumplings, fresh juices.
To my amusement, I get treated as a local (initally anywhay) so I get to move around without getting hassled too much.
Down in the next section however, is where all the local trinketry is sold and where you'll find the grazing grounds of the 'Great White Tourist'. You'll see them milling around their favourite food dispensers of such variety as 'Burger King' and 'MacDonalds'. Kind of defeats the whole purpose of a culture change if you ask me, but no one is so moving on...
The foreigner radar was a bit keener down there. What was funny was looking at vendor faces and seeing them trying to work out whether I was a local or not and what language to start in. One industrious lady covers it all and produces a version of "Hello, hello you look see" in 5 languages all in one breath.

Bearing in mind I've got a 3 day trek ahead of me and I'm carrying everything I've got, I restrained from buying too much. So I only escaped with 3 pairs of cotton pants, 2 silver neck chains and a silver ring. I reckon I did alright.

End of Chapter 1

It's 9.00am and a bright and sunny day here in Lusaka. My morning has involved nothing much more than stuffing an already full stomach with a buffet breakfast and seeing off the crew of a 2nd plane that was here.

My time in Africa is drawing to a close. I'm outbound to Joburg on Sat and then out to Sydney on the long haul on Sun.

It's not quite time to get excited yet, still a couple of days to go.
I'm 'home' for a couple of days then off on a long awaited break in Thailand and Malaysia.

So while I wait for the time to pass, I might as well pop my introspective up now. What follows is my little slice of what I've seen in the past few months.

Before I got here, Africa was just one big country. Kind of like Australia, big in size, but where ever you go people would pretty much be the same. After all, an Aussie is an Aussie whether from Sydney, Perth or God forbid Brisbane. So why wouldn't all African's be the same?

Well that got shot to pieces very soon after I got here. Africa is as diverse as places as the likes of Europe and South America. With as many differences and troubles as any truly multi-national continent would have. Within it there is a scope of living and people that range from the chaos and fighting of Mogadishu in Somalia, to some of the most decadent coastal communities near Capetown in South Africa. There are so many things, and so many issues going on here that it's almost an impossible task to get a grasp on it all. So like any stubborn male, I'll have a go.

Firstly I want to separate the countries that are getting somewhere and have a clue about what they're doing. Places like Botswana with their tourism. South Africa (to a point) with primary industry, tourism, modern living and healthy exports. Zambia, an up and coming country who has a big potential for tourism, business and export.
These places and the people who lead them understand the value of what they have as a country. But more importantly they seek to educate themselves and are willing to build the infrastructure required to make the most of it.
They understand the place they take in the wider world and understand the balance between national identity and foreign trade.

Now this brings me to the other 75% of Africa, the people and in particular the leaders there. This is the scenario. You have a tribal culture, where most of your day is spent just trying to get by. Food, shelter raising kids and the like. For the most part, if that were all there was, there would be nothing wrong at all. People like the Kalahari bushman, the native amazonians are all seen as intersting and rich cultures that can be studied but otherwise left alone to exist as they should.

Now however, put several billion dollars worth of gold, diamonds, minerals, oil and gas under them and it all changes very quickly. No longer are they of novelty value to the western world, they are now obstacles in the way to getting very, very rich.
So what do you, pour in 'aid'. Help 'lift' their standard of living. Show these people what life is like on the other side, but by the way, let us dig up those little bits of glass that you have no real interest in. One thing though, don't want to pay everyone, just enough people at the top of the ladder to get things done.
After a while, people catch on to what they're sitting on. They start to like what they are getting in return for these bits of glass and now they've got the weapons to take over other areas and start working on a 'to kill one day' list. As long as you keep the money and guns coming you can keep digging.
A few years and CNN reporters later, the leaders of the western world develop a concience and sends in support to the 'government' to combat the bad guys who are getting out of control. The shit starts to rise and 'aid' starts pouring in to help the people on the bottom end getting shot and starved. Handouts, food, endless freebies. After all, the guys at the top are getting fatter, so the bottom should as well.
Given enough time, it prevades the culture. Instead of being happy with who they are and what they have, they embroil themselves in conflict, fighting over all the cash that's flowing into the counrty. Little do they realise, if they just got together, organised their resources and built some infrastructure they'd have more money than they could ever know what to do with. But at the end of the day, tribes are tribes and what's mine is mine, and if I can get yours as well, even better. The idea of co-operation and the common good is non existent. They are still just living day to day, only instead of spears they have guns. Instead of horses they have cars. Instead of growing food, they can now just import.

This situation, although taken from what's happened in the DRC is represented through so much of Africa. It's caused a situation where children are growing up expecting to get a hand out from anyone who isn't a local. The moment someone sees you, the hand goes out as though you were expected to give them something and those that have heard the words utter 'Mister, mister, money money'. Interesting at first, but infuriating after a few months. I never thought one could know what an ATM feels like. You can see people trying to work out where the money is on you and how to get it out.

The thing is there is not silver bullet. While there are riches to be dug up, the western world will want it. While there are freebies being flown in every day, people won't want to work. While everyone is trying to grab the first thing they see, their nation will continue to suffer.

Let me throw some statistics at you. Year round rainfall, rich soils which extend in some places as much as 10 meters. An abundance of minerals, metals and of course diamonds. And a river so vast and so powerful that with a proper hydro scheme, could power the entire continent of Africa. Imagine having that amount of resources in Australia. Imagine the wealth and the standard of living we could have. Yet they choose to live in straw huts next to concrete buildings. Drive around potholes instead of fixing them. Ask every foreigner for money instead of learning how to earn it for themselves. Dig half hearted diamond mines instead cultivating land.
It is a shame and it makes you sad, angry and frustrated all at the same time. They could live the lives that they dream and see us westerners living, but they just don't realise what they have to do to get it.

Having said all that, there are some great people and some amazing places here. My experience has seen more dark than light, but I do know there is a lot that this continent can offer. You could come here, and see none of what I've just talked about, and most people will do just that.
They'll do the safaris, stay in the lodges, buy a few pieces of endangered wood. For them Africa will be the sunsets and sweeping savannahs of the National Geo's. And that's fine.

For me though, I'm glad I've seen what I have. To have lived it, breathed it, swore at it.
I can jump on a plane and book a tour anytime. But to see the real Africa. The Africa most people here live. The Africa that will ultimately guide the future of the whole continent. That was worth all the heartache and pain. And to be paid all along the way, even better :)

At the end of the day there is still a lot more to see. More dark, more light and I think I'll be coming back for more.

A different kind of paradise

Here we are, back again. In the paradise of all paradises the DRC. The moment I stepped off the plane I was reminded how bad a shithole this place really is. It seems in the week or so I was away, everyone got a bit more arrogant and a bit more corrupt. Trying to get a car into the airport was harder than getting a hooker into heaven but eventually after much swearing and gesturing we got through. The problem? I simply refused to pay the 'entrance tax' to the airport guards especially when we were getting charged drive on fees from the airport officials anyway. The guards simply wanted their lunch money.

Someone told me it takes 2 days for a tourist to become a racist in Africa. Well it took 2 months but I'm really sick of the hoops you have to jump through to get anything done. The DRC is a real fuckker of a place and I can't wait to get done here.

The upside it that we've moved to a nicer place where there's 24 hour electricity and decent food. Cheaper overall as well so the powers that be should be pleased. Also, we've managed to fix 90% of the equipment to the point where we can do some work and the weather seems to be holding out as well. So with any luck, I'll be out of Kananga and into Mbuji Mayi in a week or so. Sometimes you have to walk through hell to get to heaven.