Clouds, smog and the occasional blue sky.

So yet again, I find myself in my undies, sitting in a strange room with the same ceilings pondering the last week or so of my travels.

China is big. Big in the sense that, sure it covers a lot of land, but there is so much packed into each and every piece.

The past 10 days I’ve been here has mainly comprised of hanging out with my old man, shopping, eating and taking the occasional photo.
One of the many stories passed to me, is that come New Years, 10 million people pack on to public transport to head west to their respective villages. Then 8-10 days later, 10 million people get back on public transport, head back east, to spend the next 355 days working in and around the cities. 10 million. Yes that’s just under half the entire Australian population. And we thought CityRail had issues.
When I say 355 days, I say that without a hint of exaggeration. The average person with a job, those of course lucky enough to have one, work every day, of every week, of every month, year in year out with the exception of the aforementioned 8-10 days.
And we complain about a 40 hour working week.

Guang Zhou, Fo Shan and Nan Hai have been my hangouts thus far. My father lives in an apartment complex bordering all three of these regions. Nothing but villages and farmland existed here not 5 years ago, but it’s now matrix of modern apartment estates, popping up with construction going on 24/7. And again I mean 24/7. There are no noise laws here. The developers control the money, who in turn have the ears of the local officials, so be it 3 o’clock in the afternoon or 3 in the morning, sounds of cranes lifting, pylons being piled and trucks honking can be heard.
Transport from these estates to the main centres, rely on curtesy buses run by the developers. They hope to drive more sales by bringing potential buyers out into the sticks. Either that or take the ubiquitous 125cc motorbike taxi, precarious for the uninitiated, but reasonably safe.

One thing I did see here that I missed on my last trip, was the often under appreciated blue sky. Between the weather and the industry smog, see clear sky is almost rare enough an event to begin a ritual sacrifice.
I have a theory actually that if you wanted to feel what global warming would be like right now, head to southern China where the CO2 levels will keep you nice and toasty.

Floating from place to place, having the benefit of my father’s knowledge and far superior Chinese language skills, I realise what a melting pot this area is. Provide work, and people will come. From everywhere. That’s the next indicator of how big China really is. The main languages around here are Mandarin and Cantonese. But throw in about half a dozen other dialects, all with a unique sound, one begins to understand that Chinese aren’t all ‘Chinese’. There are a mix of so many Chinese ethnicities it’s almost impossible to keep count. It takes a while to spot, and one needs a bit of background knowledge about the different areas of China, but once you work it out, it’s quite an interesting game of working out “where are you from” before actually asking.

Around here, I do tend to blend in appearance, but as soon as I open my mouth, the truth falls out in often odd tones. More often than not, it’s seen as a novelty, which actually helps in creating rapport and bargaining power while shopping. But it’s a good way in to get talking to people and learning more about them. I guess for them it’s the usual case of, “you look Chinese, (maybe on steroids), but you don’t sound like any Chinese I’ve ever met. What’s the story?” Chinese do tend to be a curious bunch.

Following from that, I finally have some validation for the month of suffering I endured earlier this year, aka Cambridge CELTA.
On more than a few of occasions I’ve found myself giving an impromptu English lesson in places ranging from a bus stop to a restaurant after dinner. For those in the know, yes I did cover MPF.
My ‘save the world’ type reasons for doing all this in the first place have come full circle, as the idea of teaching English as a career occurred to me in China on my last trip. Most people earn a living from trading/sales or tourism here, so a small amount makes a big difference.
Everyone together: ‘ohhhhhh…… isn’t that nice’. Sorry, that’s the 18 months in Africa sarcasm/cynicism coming out.
But on a serious note, it has been rewarding and fulfilling, floating around with something you can continually and spontaneously give. Something that people, especially around here, are ever so grateful to receive.
The situation with the restaurant unfolded just tonight.

After struggling through a dinner of essentially fine boned fish boiled in chilli oil (Se Chuan style), I noticed the owner’s niece doing some homework, filling in answers to questions in English. I couldn’t help myself so a few corrections later and an impromptu pron session, I was astounded at the level of articulation this 12 year old had. As with any language I guess, learning it early makes pronunciation so much easier.
Now if only my dear Elementary students could grasp that, no, I shouldn’t compare students, or children for that matter. But still…. if only….. =)

So, I’m off on my next leg on Sunday. UK/Europe for the next coming months. New territory, new conditions, an exciting section to look forward to.

P.S If you’re wondering why the photos are still of me in Africa, it’s because the powers that be here don’t really like international criticism so sites like blogspot are off limits. I managed to post through a proxy, but such luxuries as photos are not included.
I’ll update when I get to slightly less policed abodes.

What 5 months in Sydney will do to a man

Ni hao! I'm sitting in an apartment where my Dad is staying, on the border of Guang Zhou and Foshan provinces in southern China. Air temp is around 30 degrees C and humidity is a killer around 60%-70%. I'll be sweating my way through the next couple of weeks while I spend some quality time with my old man before heading off to hopefully less sticky climates in Europe and the UK.

Ok, backtrack time. Last thing you might have read, I was heading back to Sydney for an extended break with a plan to do an ESL teaching course and then head off for another series of adventures. While that plan has held mostly true, the intentions behind it and the end goal has changed somewhat.

So, what has happened?

Bombing back into Sydney on New Years Eve day after 40 hours of travelling is either going to result in a lot of sleep that day or a lot of sleep in about 2 days time.
Taking up an invitation for an extended New Years party, I headed up the coast to Avoca beach for a few days of frolicking and festivities. It ended up being a mostly chilled out affair for me, passing most of it wearing bright red Thai fisherman pants, smoking cigars and drinking 8 year aged Cuban rum. I couldn't have asked for much more.

The next month was passed sleeping in, eating well and doing a whole lot of nothing really, while I geared up for the "Course from Hell".
Ask anyone who has done the full-time CELTA course (Certificate of English Language Teaching for Adults) and they will tell you it is one of the most intense, if not THE most intense course the have ever done. Go on, ask someone. I guarantee you'll get that response.
Anyhow, the typical reaction to this claim is always 'oh it can't be that bad, c'mon, you're just learning how to teach English, how intense can it be?'

HA! Don't knock it til you've done it!
I have to admit that I had the same reaction but just in case I was wrong, I cleared my schedule for that entire month. Nothing to do but that course.
It turns out that my hunch was well based. For 4 weeks I did nothing but eat, sleep and breathe English teaching methodology and practice. 1 am finishes and 6 am starts were a norm as I had to trek to the city every day. Between learning effective teaching methods, applying it that same day AND doing the assignments based on reflecting and processing the last week’s experiences, there wasn't time for anything else.

I figure if I'm going to bother to do something, and pay $3000 for the privilege, I might as well do it well. Which is exactly what ended up happening and I kicked butt in the end. Yay me.
So much so that I found myself back at the school a month later recruited as a teacher for their growing General English program.

So from the start of Feb 2009 to the end of June 2009 IH Sydney was my life and I say that without a hint of exaggeration.

Which leads me to this particular couch now.

One of the seven in our uni group is getting married soon so it was decided between Z and I that we should have a weekend away to celebrate. Only catch is that Tarks' is in London and we were in Sydney. So after umming and arring we booked flights and dates and here I am on another trek through various customs halls.

Boys weekend away, 25th to 26th July. Engagement BBQ following weekend. In the weeks before that I'll either be in Italy or Paris. Following that, funds permitting, I'll travel a bit more and hopefully end up with a teaching job in Berlin for the European summer. Current plan is to stay abroad until November when I have best man duties to attend to back in Sydney. Thailand for a few weeks on the way back is also on the cards. I've even packed my snorkel and mask.

Phew, so we're caught up and just at the start of the next phase. It's really the first time I've travelled alone and free (as in independently) so it should be interesting. As always, I do need a reason to do things however flimsy, so I've gone and spent a ridiculous amount of money on digital camera gear and plan to capture my life in images as I go along. Once things are up and running properly, I'll link and web photo site I'll be uploading to as well.

=)

De-Africanised

Have you ever known me to not whinge about long haul? Well here's another. Left Bamako Mali on the 28th Dec, arrived Sydney 31st Dec. 15 hours layover in Paris IN the terminal because I didn't have an exit visa, then Dubai - Bangkok - Sydney. Thank God for cheap Valium...

Well, I'm back. Back in the Anywhere But. I'm sure there are many books, many shelves even written about the curiosities of reverse culture shock but here's my two cents.

When one gets a chance to travel the world, to see life from the eyes of people whose values, beliefs and lives are so different from their own, often they have a hard time integrating back into the society they've just come from.
Be it developing a broader sense of one's self. Be it an understanding of where their lives fit in the world, sometimes coming back home is as foreign as the places they go.

Usually, when I get back, I sleep, sleep and do absolutely nothing for about 5-7 days. I don't call anyone, don't see anyone, just a) re-adjust the bio clock and b) let my body and mind switch off and to a reboot. It's necessary to do this because the operating mode that I have abroad, particularly at work, it’s completely different to and out of place back in Sydney. There's no one to bribe, there's no logistics to think about, there's no one shooting at you (not on an ongoing basis anyway). This switch over is my "De-Africanisation Process" but it might as well be called the "De-Travel Process"
I'm due to catch up with a friend who initially struggled with this idea and how I was so withdrawn sometimes when I returned home. But having just done a few months of free willed travel herself, she understands the effects of coming back to Sydney.
The thing is it's not about elitism, it's not about I’m better than you because "I've been there seen the world and you haven't", it really just comes down to the things that one finds significant.
I found living in Sydney things like lifestyle, appearance, friends and belongings made the list of things to be thinking about. Where to live, how do I look (actually I’ve never really care too much about that), what’s the next toy and ALWAYS “What’s the next upgrade”
One other thing, to go anywhere of significant culture change from Sydney, to go somewhere where the culture is really different (Mt Isa doesn’t count but some would argue that) it takes at least 6-8 hours of flying time and at least $1000AUD. Considering there are a heck of a lot of Sydneysiders who haven't even crossed a state border, it’s not surprising that their list of important things looks a bit different to mine.

For right now anyway. That’s where I’m getting to. This year is open and free. It’s always been in the back of my head that I’ll be coming back to Sydney to think about all the above, I just didn’t know when and I wanted a stack of cash to be in the piggy bank as well. It’s expensive to live nicely in Sydney. Simple as that. So what to do? Savings are ok, not as flash as they should be considering what I’ve had coming in, but travel does cost and I have been spending most of it on that. Life education in a way.

So what’s next? More of the same? But maybe with less travel, more saving? Maybe settle back in now with what I have?

Well I don’t know. I do know that by the end of March I’ll have an answer. One that’s going to be what I stick with for the next few years. I’m getting old and farting around for years on end can only last so long.

So, my next entry is going to be a little while. No longer than usual I guess though. Most of you who are reading this though I’ll see in the coming months and for those that I don’t, I’ll be thinking about you. I’ve got my TESOL course in Feb, got to wait for my Aussie papers to come through and then we’ll see.

Adios til then.

Sand, sand everywhere as far as the eye can see.

We've finally made it to Erg Assedrem about 500km south of the Algerian border in Mali, right in the heart of the Saharan Desert. It's about as much as I expected, only more of it. Sand that is.
I'd heard stories of how it gets really cold at night in the desert but wasn't really prepared for it especially after my stint in the Ogaden Desert in Ethiopia (average of 35 degrees during the day). Man was I in for shock. Night temps are down to less than 10 degrees and with the wind chill factor it might as well be minus. So much for the thousand dollar aircon unit we bought for the aircraft. So much for walking around in shorts and no shirt. Silly thing is due to the wind and the dryness it's still too easy to get dehydrated. Out here, if your pee isn't almost clear, you're not drinking enough. Reminds me of a pee colour chart we got during our induction when I was in the Ogaden. Should have kept it.

We're flying nights here due to the heat turbulence during the day. This of course means an odd starting day at 2000hrs, sleep, wake up at 0400 hrs to pick up the pilots, sleep, then wake up at 1000hrs to answer emails and start processing work. Not all that different to my normal hours, just the painful wake up period happens at the end of the flight not the start.

I'm on my last couple of weeks out here actually. After being holed up in Bamako for so long there hasn't been much time to immerse myself in the wilderness before it's time to head home. There's a bit of a tight flight schedule to get home and hopefully I'll make it back early Jan. Otherwise I'll be really pissed at losing three thousand odd dollars of pre-paid course fees.

There's been a quite a few pensive moments over the last few nights, sitting on top of a 20,000lt fuel tank, staring at the stars. End of year, end of chapter. What next for this wondering soul? There's also been a mighty number of strange dreams from parking an airplane in a Westfield shopping car park to arguing with friends who don't work with me about things at work. What it all means? No idea, I just reckon I'm sleep deprived and need a break.

Hmmm... so there ends another semi baked update. It was really more to post something new to push the last few entries of drivel down the page. Sure I could just delete them but that wouldn't be true to what I'm trying to do here. Writing about ones' self on the Internet is nothing more than a self obsessed exercise in narcissism anyway, so I might as well be true to me about it.

That didn't take long

As the title might suggest, my little spat of sadness is pretty much over. I'm too lazy to mope around much and there's always the realisation that the world is going to move on regardless of how pathetic one might feel. So it's time to pick up my nuts which had been throughly kicked and keep on walking. I'm going to be on this world for a while so I figure I might as well do something useful while I'm here.

Really looking forward to getting home and getting onto some rock actually. As mentioned, will be back for a Sydney summer which is always a good thing. Awefully temping to go visit Brisbane as well seeing as there is a growing number of long lost friends there.
Oh I forgot to mention, I managed to get some climbing done in Africa this shift around. Believe it or not, there's actually a growing climbing scene here in Bamako, started by a budding group of French climbers. They visit every year to put up more routes and check on existing ones.
So below are some shots of the terrain (which I might say is awefully similar to the Blue Mountains in Oz) and of me falling and farting my way up a couple of climbs.

Two emails, one phone call and a handful of hours

It's amazing how quickly and suddenly life can change direction. Unexpected change always bears the greatest emotional toll be it saddness or elation and everything in between. Such is the weight of this emotional toll that more than a handful of souls wander this planet in avid fear of changes in life. Others like me experience unexpected change so often that it almost starts to define an existence, evolves into an addiction for the new, the unique no matter how possibly twisted or destructive.

So, what the hell is going on now you ask? Well everything that I had mentioned about 2009 for me 3 entries ago is out the window. Gone is the idea of settling down for a while. Gone is idea of companionship. I had typed an explaination of events here, but after a highlight and a delete, I'll just give you the end game.
I'm not going to KL anymore. I'm not settling for a while. It wasn't my choice, it wasn't something I wanted. However it's a situation I'll accept out of trust and respect.
At the end of the day there's only so much one can do, and only so much one can take. It's at this point that walking away is best for all. It just sucks that after all this time, after all the effort, the tears, the anguish and pain, that it all comes to naught. But ce la vie.


What now? Dunno. When I work it out I'll let you know. Either way, I'm fully paid up for the CELTA certification so that will go ahead in any case. I'm thinking of South Korea as a destination to go teaching. Maybe it might be a good time to do that China overland trip I have always been thinking about.
Right now, I'm torn between re-attaching, re-connecting to those I care about and finding some semblence of care and warmth.
Or revel in the pain and emptiness. Dissapear completely off the face of this planet for a while. Live life in amongst strangers in estranged places.
Time will tell, as always.

Turning brain cells into spak filler

How does one begin to describe the mind numbing decent into insanity that waiting around in Africa for weeks on end causes? I don't know, so I'm not going to try. The remedies however I can narrate.
Some have attempted living in a perpetual state of alcohol narcosis. Some have gone native indulging the more than willing locals in a bit of rough and tumble. Me however (considering my disdain for spending money here and my wish to enjoy my retirement without HIV), I've decided the often misunderstood art of human hibernation is the answer. Save for the most basic of bodily functions most of my time is spent observing the back of my eyelids and trying to avoid my blood pooling too much on one side of my body.

Forced hibernation though is not as simple or easy as it sounds. You need an absolute abscence of light, almost zero amibient sound as well as a dogged determination to fight off the bodys natural tendency to arise after about ten hours of sleeping. One word of caution, one that any nurse of veterency will tell you, turn often and avoid lying on limbs lest you wake up to find 'mystery bruises' peppering your body.

Sure I could do other things you say. I could read, I could learn a new language, I could wander the streets and appreciate the African middle ground in which Mali's society sits. But at the end of the day, it's a lot simpler and a heck of a lot less sweaty to just sleep the time away.
Cause behind it all, I really just want to get the fuck out of here. Every waking moment taunts me reminds me that I'm still in a forgotten land, miles from where I'd choose to be.

Yes life could be worse for me. I only have to look outside my window and at the blurb of this blog to realise that. But then again, life could also be a lot better. The only thing worse than getting stuck somewhere you're not too fond of is when you're stuck there with somewhere much better to go.

High ambition, impatience and stubborness are not good stable mates let alone a formua which to live life. One invariablely stumbles from one experience to another, never truly happy with the current state of affairs. Ask any parent what occurs when their seemingly happy child see a new toy and you'll get the idea. I guess some of these kids grow up and mature, others just get older =P.

So, dawns another day. Much like every other for the last month and a half. At least I managed to get another whinge session out to the wild blue yonder. Laugh when times are good. Endure when times are bad. Complain like no tomorrow when in between. Hah! There must be some British blood in me somewhere.

Back to Eeffrica

Packing for a trip overseas has now been reduced to a matter of grams and kilos. Under 20kgs is the target, but still taking enough to keep me alive, healthy and entertained. One duffel bag, one leather briefcase and a matching man bag. Lovely.

Going from Sydney to anywhere in North Africa is a pain. Not other way to describe it. Sydney – Dubai – Paris – Bamako. 14hours – 6.5 hours – 6 hours. Not fun.
The Lords were shining on me this time though for I got an empty row in a new 777 on the Dubai – Paris leg and a mystery upgrade to business class on Air France on the Paris – Bamako leg. Hah! Little consolation considering the destination I was headed to.
On the way over I got talking to my business class neighbour who was heading over with a European Commission delegation to run a debate about controlling the emigration out of Bamako into Europe. Hmmm, having a debate with Africans about getting out of Africa? Ah, ‘preaching to the converted’? Ok, ok I’ll leave the cynicism and snide comments aside for a moment. Just a short moment though…
The story is that West and North Africans are pouring out of Africa in anyway possible right now partly due to the shambles the current exit system is in. The idea is that they’re going to float, fly, swim or run over anyway so there might as well be a proper system to find out who’s coming over. Whether this is administrated by the local Mali government or should be taken over by the EC is the current debate. As it stands Mali has received 10 million Euros to build such a system.
Hmm, if you gave me 10M Euros to manage an exit program, every bugger leaving this place would be printed, photographed, police checked and tracked with a GPS beacon up their cracker for life. Lol. 10M bloody Euros.

Stepping off the plane, there was that unmistakable waft of Africa to welcome me back. Part sweat, part dust, part rubbish and faeces. Mmmmm good to be home.
It’s always a battle to come to terms with local exchange rates now considering all the places I’ve been. From 4900 Kwacha per US Dollar in Zambia to 3 Pula per USD in Botswana (it’s more like 8 to 1 now), counting zeros and converting it back can get confusing. Confusing to the point where I ended up tipping the airport porter approx $25USD. Not a good start.

I’ve been a lot of places in Africa, and one thing they have in common is how hard/long/expensive it is to get anything done. But I have to say Mali has to take the cake.
What was described to me as the client ‘having everything sorted out’ turned out to be ‘the client hasn’t sorted anything out’ by day two of my 3 month shift.
As I write this, I’ve been here nigh on 3 weeks now, and not been able to do a single days work. You name it, we’re waiting on it. Jet fuel, accommodation at the survey site, lighting for the airstrip, the plane, the gravitometer, the permits … actually there isn’t much that has been sorted out. So it’s been a case and worryingly for the company an increasing one of me sitting around sleeping and eating too much while being paid for the privilege. But it’s not all shits and giggles. Well actually it’s been a lot of the former and none of the latter. Something about the food here doesn’t like my stomach or the other way around as I’ve been pretty ‘Mr Whippy’ since I got here. No amount of antibiotics has been helping much either and I’m getting concerned about my penicillin resistance. One day I’m going to need a magic shot of the stuff and it’s not going to work. Still another reason to f*^&# the get out of here. (sic)

Bamako (capital city) itself though is not too bad to get around as a tourist or someone not trying to get anything done. There’s a variety of questionable food, a smattering of even more questionable bars and night spots but all in all it’s safe to wonder around and people will help if you ask.
Dust off those French 101 tapes though because English doesn’t get you very far here. The French truly have their hold around these parts, ranging right up top in Morocco and Algeria to down past the armpit of Africa itself in Gabon and the Congo. Fortunately the age old method of Charades and Pictionary communication can get you by. Hire a translator for anything more than ‘where’s the dunny and where can I buy toilet paper?’ though.
Oh the other thing it’s hot. Damn hot. And somehow we managed to get one of the few jet black exterior with jet black leather interior cars here are in Mali. Sweat doesn’t even begin to describe it.

We have been out to the camp for an inspection though. My compatriot had done a previous inspection a few months ago and was rather appalled by the standard of the kitchen. ‘Plates of unwashed dishes piled up sitting under the chef who was casually smoking a cigarette’ was what made the initial report. This time however there was a new coat of paint, not a dirty dish in sight and a lot of nervous cooks standing around. Seems like the report got back to the camp managers. Good.

If you want a comparison, scroll down to the Ethiopia job I did. Same heat, same sand just more of it, same middle of nowhere setup. Only difference is we’ll be living in style. Portable trailers with aircon and ensuite. Bliss. Thank you whoever is looking out for me.

So yet again I sit in a non descript hotel room in my undies punching out my life story to those who would care to read. It’s almost a last hurrah for a while for a) I’m going to have to do some work tomorrow as the plane is finally getting here and b) Once I’m finished said work for 2008, I’m getting out and not coming back for a while.

It’s been pretty full on ride. It just started to define who I am which is a good reason and a perfect time to take an extended break. I’ve have fun along the way, learnt a heap and ultimately fulfilled my blurb to the right. Anywhere But Sydney? Hah! Well I couldn’t have picked a more different spot. Cheers to the next chapter.

From Sydney to London to Thailand and back

Ah right. Well here’s another much belated update to the wanderings of Mr Lee. There’s been a fair going on since my last entry, not the least that I’ll be moving to KL for a year, but more about that later.

Post Mozambique was another trip to London as mentioned. A quick catch up with friends and more fishing for offshore work ensued. Had a really good BBQ at Tark’s house btw. Cheers mate. Had a ball.
Unfortunately not much has turned out from the trip to London career wise. It seems it’s a bit difficult to get noticed in the UK unless you’re actually based there at the time. Stands to reason I guess as there’s plenty enough people there to pick from.

Oh well. It was back on the plane for a nightmare journey home. London – Cairo – Johannesburg – Perth – Sydney all in one hit. I hate airplane food as it is but having to survive off it for 40 odd hours? There was a bit of flatulence after that trip believe me.
Anyhow, I ended up with a few days in Sydney not doing much but washing undies and repacking etc. Next stint I ended up rolling around inner Western Australia for the most part. Had the emotional stimulus of watching paint dry and I swore never to do this job in Australia again.
The shift actually started in Victoria Tyabb of all places. What was scheduled to be a 3 hour, fly in fly out job ended up being 10 days of wind, sleet, rain and frost.
Yeah. Send us down to the southern most point of Australia in the middle of winter and expect us to get some work done…. anyway, it got done in the end gripes and tempers from the client not withstanding.

4 odd hours flight over the Western Australia then. Again who the ??? plans a survey in the middle of winter anywhere south of Canberra latitude? Yes it was cold.
There’s something I was told about WA that I never could really imagine until I saw it for myself.
When sitting in a car, the head and vision of the average driver is about a metre and a half off the ground. The thick salt bush that obscures any chance of scenery also grows to a metre and a half usually right next to the road. What this results in is a really long, really really boring drive around the WA inland and coastline. All you see is red dirt, tarmac and brown/gray bush. Some of the most spectacular scenery this country gets completely lost due to Mother Nature/God/Allah (choose your divinity) having a twisted sense of humour.

My WA trip started in Perth as would be expected, driving out to a place called Lake King, about 600kms north of Esperance. As far as remote places go, this was a cracker, with not much else but a pub with a dozen or so rooms and a service station/grocery store. The airstrip was a good 100m wide by about 1.5km long though and all dirt which gave me a great opportunity to test the traction control settings on the hire car. Ah, the things we do when insanely bored. After a couple of weeks here it was off north again to another bush town but with 3 pubs and a great big service station. The airstrip here was even better as it was pretty much just a line in the middle of a great big salt lake several kms across. And yes, it was another good opportunity to see how well the traction control on the hire car was going. Ahem.

My shift finished with a short 3 day stay in Wiluna, which to be completely frank is an armpit of a place. One pub, a small general store and a pretty reasonable airstrip. The only major issue is the abundance of indigenous folk stumbling around town and sleeping in front of the pub. I won’t get drawn into a debate about the plight of the aboriginals in Australia, however I will say that the ones here are not the ‘fight for land rights’ or ‘paint and carve for a living’ type. The second night there I heard all the doors of the pub accommodation being tested to see if they were locked in the middle of the night. The next day one of the pilots was missing his jacket. Enough said.

I was ever so happy to see the Beech 1900 pull in at Wiluna knowing I was getting the F out of there and off shift.
Having done this job long enough, my actual time spent working has been reduced to about 2 hours a day, with the rest of it spent sleeping, eating, watching TV and staring at the ubiquitous white motel ceilings.
I WILL NEVER DO THIS JOB IN AUSTRALIA AGAIN. Well for the moment anyway. Not while there’s a world out there to see.

All in all, did get so see a fair bit of southern inland WA. From sprawling canola and wheat farms to salt pans and endless miles of dirt. I did manage to see Wave Rock as well, which is a lovely sandstone rock formation carved out by eons of wind and rain. Interesting to see, but I’ll be buggered if I was to drive 6 hours from Perth as a tourist to see it. That’s one thing you start to discover about Australia after a while. The Ken Done photos you see plastered all over the offices of travel agents around the world are just as spectacular in real life. The only thing is you spend a lifetime trying to get between them all. With the amount of driving I did on this shift, I could have driven from London to the southern tip of Italy. I know where I’d rather be…

Now the other reason I was so excited to be getting off shift? THAILAND!!!! YAY!

Annoyingly, African countries have a habit of issuing visas that take up a whole page in your passport. Couple this with the often randomness of entry stamps ESPECIALLY going into Australia, I only had 1 and a half pages to go in my current passport to go. Seeing as I didn’t have the documents needed to get my passport in Canberra, a trip to Malaysia and to Thailand was on the cards. Malaysia to sort out my passport and a little bit of my personal life, and Thailand to get back onto rock and the beach.

I must say, Thailand was AWESOME. Ohhhh, one of the greatest places in the world, southern Thai beaches were a much needed break from the insanity that my life had become. Towering limestone, azure blue water, milky white beaches. And of course heaving and grunting up a slab of said limestone with a length of nylon rope attached to my nuts. Z met me in Phuket and we caught the ferry over to Railay and Tonsai. For those of you avid Alex bloggers (chuckle) you’ll recall me having done this trip before. We actually followed the same route there and stayed in the same place but this time around the whole experience was a lot more in tune with the vibe of the place.
Wake up, decide whether to eat, sleep more, climb, chill or go for a water melon juice was pretty much how each day started. We managed a couple of meaningful climbing days including one where we kayaked out, climbed for the day, then kayaked back in at dusk. Needless to say we were pretty buggered by the end of that day. Food never tastes as good as when you’ve spent the day climbing yourself silly.

On the way back we stopped over in Koh Phi Phi for a bit more of R & R. We booked a half day island tour to the place where they filmed the ‘Beach’. You know the one, with Leo and that jump he had to make to get to the fabled hidden nirvana.
Well, there wasn’t a jump per se, nor was it that inaccessible. There was however a crawl through a small cave and a short walk to the other side where the beach was. There’s actually an entry tax to the beach which is well policed so the ever industrious tour operators drop us off on the other side of the island and we have to walk. Funny, and makes for an interesting swim back.
A general community health announcement: Don’t pick up interesting sea animals with bare hands. They’ve got a few millions years of evolution on their side and the human skin is pathetically thin. Yes, I tried picking up a sea urchin and was sent packing with a sharp jab of poison on the top of my thumb. Silly yes. Funny in an ‘I didn’t die so it’s ok kind of way’. There was more such silliness to come however.

On the way back to the main island a storm blew through, chopping up swells of a metre or so. Nothing life threatening, but in a wooden long tail boat it does become a bit sporting. I don’t know what idea I had in my head (or lack thereof) but I decided running up and sitting on the bow of the boat to ride it back would be cool. Well it was a good idea at the time. I got launched off the side after about 10 secs and I never realised how quickly someone can disappear after that. I was damn happy that a) I didn’t get run over by the boat and following propeller and b) I managed to get back on board. The photo below is of me about 10 seconds after I went in. Luckily I had the bright orange vest on as I kept disappearing behind the swell. Trying to swim in a life jacket in storm swell sucks balls by the way. Just doesn’t work. In any case the incident made for a great story for the long tail boat driver who was laughing both at me and with me as we pulled in to shore. It’s always a good feeling bringing a smile to someone’s face…

The rest my trip there passed without further incident. I flew back to Kuala Lumpur a few days later to make amends with my pseudo girlfriend having only seen her for two days then running off for a climbing holiday without her for 10 days. ‘Not happy Jan’ was an appropriate response.
Amends were kind of made, the big distinction though was that one of us would have to make a move if we were ever going to have a chance. Considering my vagabond lifestyle was really starting to strain, I made the choice to quit work at the end of the year, move to KL, take a couple of months off to chill and find some work there after. Then we’ll see where we end up at the wrap of 2009.

For those of you going huh? Wtf? I guess this would be a good time to insert a missing link in the story of my travels.

I was in Malaysia for my grand father’s 80th birthday about 3 years ago. My ticket was booked for a 10 day stay and all the festivities had wound up by the first weekend which left me with 5 days in KL and not much to do. There’s a local climbing gym near my aunt’s house where I was staying and I thought it would be good to see what indoor climbing in Asia was like.
Well not too bad as it turns out. Perched on top a shopping centre with about 1600 metres square of area and about 20m of internal height, the gym turned out to be quite the surprise. There was a mixture of tradition plastic, a ‘natural’ feature wall, bouldering area, taller lead wall and an intro wall with a few auto belay devices setup. I was later to discover this wall not only had the role of training newbies to not drop their climbing buddies, but also a good place to find a buddy to climb with or as it turns out to do other things with as well.
Anyway, after an afternoon of flopping about on plastic I decided to call it a day, stopping at the pro shop to get some much needed tape for my hands.
And this was where it all started.

She had just started her shift manning the shop and I strolled in looking for said strapping tape. Feeling pretty after a good pump session and not having much planned for the ensuing days, I some how managed to squeeze a phone number out of the now irate and annoyed shop girl. Plan was to show me around KL’s night life as I had only spent time getting overfed at relative’s places on previous occasions. After a bit of quick thinking and in absence of all shame, I got around the ‘ooops I must have written the wrong phone number down’ trick and we ended up doing a lot of walking around KL for the next few nights. A lot of walking actually… The time we spent was good and wholesome, with a feeling of freedom I’d never felt before.
It all ended a bit too soon and before I knew it I was back on the plane to Sydney not really knowing whether to make anything of it. Little was I to know the epic that it had started.

Completely useless. Absolutely and utterly useless. That was a very apt description of my state of being when I got back from the trip. My heart it seems had fallen in a way I did not know was possible and I spent the next few weeks making soppy phone calls and feeling like a right twat. Somewhere along the line I manned up and decided that things were never going to work considering the distance and I proceeded to get it and her all out of my system. Well, it kind of worked for a while….

Fast forward to the top of this rant. I’ve made the choice and lined things up to give things one last try. In the 3 odd years that have passed between that fateful climbing day and now, I’d seen her twice, been on and off again about the same amount and caused a lot of anguish and pain in the meantime, the details of which I’ll spare you here.
So it leads to my next step in this journey, where I’ll be living in KL for most of 2009 teaching English and spending time with the girl whom I love and reduced me to mush so many years ago.
In between, I’ve got one more shift in Africa and one month of intensive TEFOL training which I’m looking forward to. Then off for a simpler life for at least a year.
It’s always interesting the way things work out. In my life anyway. It could be simpler, but then it’d be no fun would it? =)

Not a common occurance

Insomnia. Suffered by many around the world on a regular basis, lucky I'm not one of them. Except tonight. Most you who are reading this would be familiar with my seemingly infallible ability to sleep anywhere, anytime. However having slept most of the day, and just after dinner, I find myself staring at the laminated plywood wall of my cabin planted in Northern Mozambique just outside a town called Tete. What else to do but update a much neglected blog I guess.

Music is on, a mix of chilled jazz and upbeat cafe tunes. Cheezy mood music would be another accurate description. It's the type of music that puts me in a reflective, somewhat pensive mood. So sticking with the tone of thought, I must say life is pretty good right now.

I've got a steady if somewhat random job. Friends around the world. Somewhere to stash my stuff. And a younger if somewhat naive brother to offer the odd bit of guidance to about a world outside computer pixels.
It's not that often that I look back or even at the right now of my life. Usually it's a perpetual case of 'whats next'. Always in a rush to get to the next step it seems. So it's a good change, and a bit of comfort and validation that all that effort has actually gone a way getting somewhere. I consider myself lucky actually, to have this kind of fulfillment. Something not seen all that much in the world that we live in.

Hmmm thinking about it, I tend to write about things that are coming up and what I'm heading to next rather than what's already been. I guess I feel that I've already lived it once so why go back and dig through it all again? Unfortunately I don't have a real time scribe to post with (idea for next big thing) so events tend to get glossed over. Probably makes for pretty boring reading. Oh well, I don't mind an audience of one.

Ok, now the head stuff is out of the way let's cover the travel part. I'm inland Northern Mozambique as mentioned right near the border of Malawi. A former Portuguese nation it's a reasonably friendly place with scattered development outside the main cities. There are still a lot of the National Geo type shots of mud huts, giant baobab trees and little kiddies playing 'roll the hoop down the street'. I'm here in a capacity to help a mining company dig up vast amounts of the black stuff to be shipped off to the super industrials. All in the name of global warming of course. Actually it's quite a laugh introducing one's self as a full time "Raper and Pillager of the Earth' to the various 'Save the World' types that frequent places like this. They either evil eye you and walk away, or if there's no escape say on a plane, there's a tirade of moral and conscience abuse to be dealt. Lol. If they had any idea how useless a lot of what they are trying to do is, they might not be so smug.
Anyway, I digress. I'm situated in one of the camps of the aforementioned R&P. It's quite well setup as would be expected with everything from aircon cabins, to unlimited booze and a swimming pool. I'm told the gym is on it's way. Far cry from the sandy crust of land known as the Ogaden from my last stint.

Days here now that we're setup and in a routine involve the usual early dawn starts, but settle (for me at least) into a day of sleep, drink, idle entertainment and more sleep. 9 to 10 hours a day to do diddly squat. Again it's not a bad life.

Hmmm 6 paragraphs and the insomnia still kicks on. More rambling then.

I have started to wonder about the longevity of this life style in recent times. Shifts are long, breaks are short, and the money earned during is spent on the not. Need to start thinking a bit further ahead. There is a change on the way however. Same job description more or less, but with shorter shifts, longer breaks, pay all the way around and harder work. Seems too good to be true but it's there and it's just a matter of time til I make the move. Hopefully a more meaningful existence can ensue. Relationships (and I'm talking in a general sense, not the candles and moonlight walks type) have somewhat gone on hold. It's turned in to a case of glimpsing the interactions rather than participating in them. The line, "sorry we didn't spend much time, but I'll be back in a couple of months is" starting to wear a little thin, and the need for a bit of social significance steps in.
Thing is, at the end of the day, as much of an Indiana Jones movie my life is right now, it's still work. I spend my days around 2-3 Kiwi pilots (I know I know how do I not shoot myself I will never know) and that's about it. The building of new friendships, the expanding of circles just doesn't really happen out here while at work.
So really, yes, the summation is that breaks need to get longer. More needs to be done in them rather than the nominal dinner banter, and participating in other people's lives rather than just observing is a must.

Lol. There is one person I know of in the world who is in utter pain at the moment reading this. A wandering, aimless, verbose script of words, interspersed with medium level literacy to purvey a sense of intelligence to the average reader. Ha! Too bad. My blog not yours so there :P

Sigh, anyway, on to the a preview of the next chapter. Back to London for a short stay, more to try and land an interview but also to fulfill a promise to come back soon from the last trip. Then back home for a few days before repeating again.

Somewhere along the line, I'll catch up on where I want to be and just enjoy life for what it is now. Promise to let you know when that is, coz there'll be a party at my house.

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.

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.