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.
=)
The Tick List
Tuesday, 23 June 2009
Saturday, 10 January 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, 14 December 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, 25 November 2008
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.
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.
Saturday, 22 November 2008
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.
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.
Monday, 17 November 2008
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.
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.
Thursday, 23 October 2008
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.
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.
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