Africa Veteran

It's a strange thought but I worked out the other night that I had spent more nights sleeping at the Protea Centurion than I have in my own bed since I started this job. The idea of new day new place carries forward when you think about it like that.

Right now I'm sitting in my undies (again in the Protea) about 2 hours before we head off for the next adventure in Northern Mozambique. Thus far this trip has already covered a small stint in Namibia to calibrate some equipment. A summary of that trip would be a lot of alcohol, quad bikes, go carts, brushes with the local law, rental car abuse, oh and a little bit of work.



As far as places in Africa to go, Namibia is definately in the top 5. Botswana, Zamiba, Mozambique, and Egypt/Morocco being the others. (Ok that's 6 but anyway)
Other than getting accosted by the local 'parking watch' on a regular basis, Namibia is a generally friendly place where English is spoken eveywhere and there is plenty to see and do. Walking around you feel a lot safer as well. Having only 2M people in an area almost as big as SA might have something to do with it.

This shift is looking to be quite cruisy compared to where I've been of late. There is a crew right now back in the DRC and I smile to myself every morning that I don't wake up there.

My break after London was a brief stay at home. Didn't involve much other than catching up with the usual suspects, oh and getting half way up a multi-pitch climb in the dark. Ah, the epics. Keeps life in check.

Anyhow, need to get clothed and off to the flying fridge. Lookup PAC750 XL and you'll get what I mean.

On the plane again

Well well well. It’s been a bit of a whirlwind end to this shift. Having completed the Shilabo job without any other major issues I ended up back in Addis to try and organise entry into Morocco for the next job. Easier said than done.
I’m still on a Malaysian passport and despite Morocco also being a predominately muslim country, I needed a visa.
No problems I thought. Letter of invite from the client, a few days to process and I’m in. Lol. As usual with Africa, no such luck. The resulting drama ended up with me scouring the city for a non-existent Malaysian embassy for half a day. In the end it was dumped in the too hard basket and I found myself on early break in Eastern Africa.

What to do? Well I had made numerous promises to numerous people about dropping by London if I was close enough. In fact I was already planning to head there after the short Morocco stint. The only issue was me being $500 USD further away in airfares, oh and it was snowing in London and the warmest thing I had in my kit was a long sleeve shirt.

Ah fuck it. Book the ticket and see what happens. It would be good to see some old friends anyway…

Sitting on the tube from Heathrow along the Cockfosters line, (yeah I had to put that in. I still laugh when it’s announced on the tube) I was beginning to wonder whether I had gone to the right city as I still hadn’t heard any English being spoken for 15 mins. Then much to my relief, a couple of spritely young teens got on (whom I later discovered would be labelled ‘Chavs’) ending each sentence with the ever endearing “Ya know wha I mean yeh?” Bliss.

Had deliberate intentions to avoid most of the touristy crap in London and focus on seeing friends. Almost suceeded, but I ended up with some time to kill.

The next week revolved around catching up with various souls some of which I hadn’t seen in years. Then the weekend hit where by I spent the next week recovering and getting ready for the next weekend.

Somehow in that first week I managed to catch the first 4 days of beautiful spring weather where the sun shined and the mercury hit a massive 18 degrees. Then it snowed. Then it hailed and rained. Then it did all 4 in one day for the next week after that. Now I get what all the whinging was about.

All in all I had a blast in London. Other than getting sick as a dog (and subsequently passing on an eye infection to the friend I was staying with… sorry) and eating a terminally bad kebab on my 2nd last night (which I am still passing out now) I really had fun catching good friends and generally running amok.
London is a really cool place to have a few friends and party hard when dropping by.
God forbid I ever live AND work in London, but as somewhere to visit regularly or be based out of and work abroad, it’s pretty cool. At least I understand the exodus now from Sydney now. Curious thing those for those that haven’t been, London seems to be the exception to the rest of the country.
There are people from all over the place and the most of the Brits you do find in London have families in the outer areas, living in the city during the week and heading out on the weekends. Either that or mommy and daddy have bought them a flat in Clapham to get to work from.

So here I sit, in Dubai again (I’ve been through here 3 times in the last 3 weeks) waiting to get the last leg home. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I’m really getting sick of planes and airports. I actually started my leg home at 2030hrs on the 15th and I’ll end it at 0605hrs on 18th. Hmm… there’s 3 days of my life I’ll never get back.
SIGH…… ANYWAY. Enough whinging for one morning. I’m looking forward to going bush for a few days when I get back and touch rock again. There’s also a certain friend I have in Sydney who needs a good kick up the ass. You know who you are. Travelled all over the US and ran amok in London, now sitting at home doing jack-diddly-squat.

Life is good. Hopefully I live long enough to tell the grand kids about it.

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.