If I were young, I'd flee this town

A work in progress.

Why do I always take on tasks like this at 10pm on a school night?

Who knows, but just in case you are wondering, yes, I'm alive, yes I'm super unreliable in my blog posts and yes - its something I will fix!

Bis später dann!

So I was browsing one of my usual web haunts recently when I came across an old project I worked on which I figured I should share. Not because I want kudos, but more to make a point and introduce some of you to the phenomenon that is strawbale construction.

About 2 years ago I volunteered with Amazonails to help with the construction of the Sworders Fine Art Auction Rooms. Basically it was a 4 day training course where you 'volunteer' to help with the construction of a strawbale building in return for gaining valuable sustainable building experience.

This project was by far the largest strawbale site I've ever worked on. A monster by usual strawbale standards. But it represented a milestone in construction in the UK, with Amazonails working with the architects to develop this showcase sustainable building.

During the course we were educated on the challenges strawbale builds face in the world of 'conventional' thinking that is mordern architecture. Whilst the strawbales could have provided the support for the structure, the architects sadly insisted that a timber framework be included in the construction. This in itself introduced some issues later on in the construction. Issues which were conveniently accomodated through the flexibility of strawbale building.

For me, this building represents change. The change necessary in conventional thinking in order to progress and discover. Architects, in the context of this build represent the conventional thinking that we adhere to because it's, "what we know", where as the introduction of a sustainable building material(straw) represents the inventive and progressive approach we need to take if we are to make the changes necessary to improve the ecological state of this planet.

Respect to Sworders Ltd for taking this step. As ever, my thanks and respect goes to the good folk at Amazonails. I look forward to working with them again.

The atmosphere and attitudes that Amazonails bring to a construction site are a massive shift from the norm. Something that I cannot fully cover in words. But I have to say that working with them was one of the finest working environments I have ever been in.

Before - the tidiest construction site in the world! http://www.strawbalefutures.org.uk/Stansted.html


After: http://www.sworder.co.uk/pages/new_saleroom.mhtml


And to put this building method into a language you can properly identify with, here's a wonderful home designed & built here in NZ (NZ showcase)

Labels: my Thoughts, strawbale, sustainable building

I've been putting of writing this post as I wanted to really reflect on the magnitude of the task before committing it to the inter-web for public consumption. OK, lets not dramatize things...Let me start at the start.

When I left Microsoft midway through last year I had time to think about what I'd done with my life over the previous 7 years. Whilst there was alot to consider one particular tally stood out above the rest.

Recreational spending...Basically, over 7 years of having a regular paycheck paid into my account, I could quite easily estimate, (rather crudely but amazingly accurate), the amount I spent on socializing over the years. Before I get into the figures I'd like to point out that I'm not an alcoholic( haha, alcoholism denial jokes here we go...). I don't think that I drink more than my friends, although I think my particular spending pattern was flawed in the very fact that I just drank in pubs/clubs as opposed to drinking at home during the week.

So here goes, over 7 years, assuming that I went out once a week and that on each of those occasions I spent 100euros( this is a sum estimate so that accounts for weeks where I went out more than once or when I attended a major social event, Xmas, weddings, funerals..) the total spend would be:

7*52*100=36400.....36 THOUSAND EUROS!!!

Yep, I was stunned too...I mean honestly stunned. It still pains me to arrive at this figure. I'm pretty confident this figure sits comfortably between conservative and exaggerated - meaning its as accurate as its going to get!

In my hand now it could buy me -
A 2nd hand Porsche 911 or
A Phillipe Patek watch or
1.2 Kgs of pure gold..

(Don't believe me? http://sharetabs.com/?moneywellspent ??)

Certainly, in my hands now the money could buy me any one of the above, but since I've already spent that money there's not much point in speculating on what it could have bought me. ( As the saying goes; If my aunt had balls, she'd be my uncle..)

So whilst mulling over this on the Trans-Siberian( plenty of thinking time to be had on that epic trip) I came up with the only solution I'd be happy to pursue.

To spend the next 7 years fundraising for charity with the goal of raising an equivalent sum. As I've already selected Room to Read as my cause of choice then it looks as if this will be the beneficiary of the majority of these funds.

When I succeed in raising the 36400 Euros(41000 USD) the money will be spent on the following : http://www.roomtoread.org/involvement/adopt.html

So whilst I've been planning this for some time, today marks the true beginning of the project for me. I'm not sure this will be an entirely solo project, but I guess it will have to be to begin with.

And so here goes: http://amillionwordsforcharity.blogspot.com/. Funnily enough completing a marathon is part of a longer term goal for me, so it makes perfect sense to use this as a mechanism for generating cash. The million Words concept just ties into an existing channel and is going to be appearing on the side of my backpack as I run my wee legs off around Wellington over the next few months.

Roll on December 31st 2009, and having a respectable reason to raise a glass!

As promised here's the lowdown on what I've been up to over the last few months of 2008! What a great year it has been and the last few months were no exception.

As December drew to a close I decided it was time to get my ass in gear and make my way to New Zealun(as its pronounced here). I booked flights from Saigon to Bangkok and then from Bangkok to Brunei and then from Brunei onwards to New Zealunnn. the journey was spread over 3 days without much break time between flights. That didn't stop me taking advantage of my time in Saigon to get royally smashed with some travelers I'd met along the way. Waking up 50 minutes before my flight was due to depart was enough to have me muttering Lethal Weapon cliches such as "I'm getting to old for this shit".

Due to the savoury hangover I instigated in Saigon the next 2 days of travel were somewhere between unmercifully uncomfortable and mildly tolerable. Although I did have a stroke of luck in Brunei, they were screening folks for Visas, and sending you back if you didn't have the proper documentation. I met 2 Canadians who were unlucky enough not to have been born with the irish charm. It was a bureaucratic nightmare for them, but they made it in the end. All the while I smiled and cursed Vietnamese whiskey breath..

I arrived in Auckland and quickly made my way up to Anne and Red. Pretty choice situation really, as they live in Mt. Maunganui. A beautiful coastal town on the Bay of Plenty. ( Mr. Cook has alot to answer or his ridiculous naming policy..) My time with them flew by and I made my way down to Wellington.

Once in Wellington I found a room at the Nomad Hostel. An enormous building right opposite the Train station. It's an okay hostel although unless you need to be near the train station I'd recommend getting a place closer to town. Sharing in Nomads was my first experience of a western hostel. For some reason I felt more conscious sleeping there, as if the gutter-slum places I'd stayed in in Asia encouraged one to abandon all adherence to social conventions, and now that I was back in the real world I wasn't so sure what was acceptable.

So on my first(and only) night I went to bed later than the others in the room. About an hour after I fell asleep I woke to the sound of the girl above me sleep talk. Amusing and quaint I thought to myself I returned to the land of slumber. Little did I realise that the next time I woke it would be to the sound of my own sleep talking, except mine wasn't so quaint. In fact, I'm pretty sure it was a string of profanities I'd *somehow* heard somewhere.....Needless to say I'm sure the other inhabitants of the dorm were delighted to be sharing with Elvira the Ranter and Richard Tourettes. So I promptly found a more permanent place to live ;)

I ended up getting work with the Ministry of Education here in Wellington. Working as part of their Interoperability Team. It was a great contract and opened my eyes to a totally new environment having spent years working for Microsoft. Some of the things happening in the education space right now lie somewhere between exciting and downright frightening. But nonetheless the nerd in me enjoys being part of new technology and seeing cool solutions come into play. Although...I can;t say I'd like to be a student in school nowadays. Parents being equipped with online access to you latest homework results - eek!!

Once contract finished I decided to take a little break from the 'real' world and head down to the south Island. Somewhat randomly I ended up booking a trip to KaiKoura. Easily one of the most beautiful places I have ever visited. Nestled between a snow capped mountain range and a crystal clear sea, the town is certainly a candidate for the very definition of the word haven.

I stayed in a hostel called Dusky Lodge, which was homely, happy and had such essential facilites as a swimming pool, Hot tub and Sauna...hmmm...I ended up staying there for 12 days. Meeting some really cool heads and eventually meeting up with those I'd end up ringing in new year with.

ducky lodge ahs a great view over the hills around KaiKoura and one morning whilst sitting eating my breakfast the idea came to me that I'd really like for my neices to see this palce someday. Alex and Isabelle are 6&3 respectively right now so it'll be a while before they can travel anywhere on their own. But nonetheless I thought it'd be sweet to give them an incentive to visit this place, if my words of praise were not enough for them.

So I bought them some gifts and decided to bury them in a prominent loation in Kaikoura. Funnily enough the clouds came in nice and low on the day I choose to complete this task, so I got to complete my work under the cover of a thick fog cloud. It felt somewhat Lord of the Rings like to be honest. It was a great day and I truly hope the 'treasure' stay in its rightful place until the intended recipients come to collect it. The idea of reading a note from me to them, written 15 years previously is very exciting, i just hope they like the gifts! :)

I spent Xmas on an island off the south coast of the south island. Stewart Island is home to 10,000 kiwi birds and 370 human inhabitants. Its a fantastic place, but you really need to spend a few days there to appreciate it beauty. I didn't see a single kiwi by the way...sheesh! Apparently they were all at some sort of Flighless Bird Package holiday convention. I did however see KaKas, the native parrot like bird with a rather distinctive cry. The can be seen swooping all over the place, clumbsy in the air, they fly like how I imagine prehistoric creatures did.

All in all its been an amazing few months. A really fantastic round off to 2008. Lets hope 2009 can be even better.

Happy 2009 All!!

Labels: travel

Hey! Happy 2009 all! One of my resolutions for this year was to get straight back onto my blogging soapbox and revise this beast that represents my antipodean (nice word eh? Thanks Anne) antics. However this post is just an intro into the new blog-tastic me. There's more to follow...

Having spent the last few weeks trekking/tramping/hiking around I have now finally returned to Wellington to resume the adventures of Richard. First things first - new home! And so here it is, my Wellington lair (yes it looks rough, but its such a class place!) -


View Larger Map

So there's a song running through my head at the moment thanks to the current Vodafone ad on TV. Funnily enough its a Scottish band who are behind the pleasant little ditty.




Their name? pearl and the puppets Enjoy!

Hey hey! After an exceptionally long break I'm back in the digital world. My little asus(eeepc) died when I was in Vietnam and therefore left me unable to publish my ramblings to the world.

As you can see from the video below - I wasn't totally idle...

I spotted this article in the Viet Nam News today and thought it was worthy of a post given what I've seen on my travels and casual comments made by me in previous posts.

http://vietnamnews.vnagency.com.vn/showarticle.php?num=02SOC260908

Agent Orange victims fly to US

(26-09-2008)

HCM CITY — Representatives of the Viet Nam Agent Orange group will travel to the US on Saturday to speak in various cities about their lawsuit against American chemical companies that used the toxic chemical dioxin during the war.

Speaking at a press meeting on Wednesday, Dr. Nguyen Thi Ngoc Phuong, vice chairwoman of the Viet Nam Agent Orange/Dioxin Victims’ Association (VAVA), said two AO victims, Dang Hong Nhut, 72, director of the HCM City Vocational Training School for Orphans and the Disabled, and Tran Thi Hoan, 22, a student at HCM City Huflit University, would be joining the group.

VAVA’s first lawsuit filed in January 2004 was dismissed by the US District Court and the US Court of Appeals turned down the group’s appeal in 2007.

VAVA seeks compensation from 37 chemical companies that supplied US troops with Agent Orange 30 years ago.

The group will visit 11 cities in the US to hold talks with various organisations and concerned citizens.

According to VAVA, there are more than 3 million Vietnamese AO victims nationwide, including 150,000 children. — VNS

My thoughts:

The figures alone in this article should speak for themselves. I know I was completely ignorant of the true damage done until taking this trip and my sympathies grow as I read more and more in the daily papers and in books about the war.

I hope their trip succeeds in getting the attention and appropriate response it deserves. This is not an anti-America post, but accountability must be taken when war crimes are committed. How can a country honestly excuse their use of chemical weapons and so blatantly deny those affected the compensation they deserve.

Whilst working in London I had the pleasure of working with on Avipaul Bhandari. Twice a week we sequestered ourselves to an office in 'the land of ladies' to work on projects related to web accessibility. Little did I know that I was in the presence of a living legend. Whilst he mocked the irish I took great pleasure in mocking his people...Hounslow folk mate, they're rough as a badgers arse!

Anyway the combination of desi music and funk is a nod to Prince and Avi's own roots!

A new style being carved out by a great soul.

Check it!

I know I've put this song on the blog before. But as my time here in Hoi An closes and I realise that the banality that wracked my brain for a while was really nothing more than everyday energy levels.

Well today is one of those days where the energy is a little bit higher than most.

So here's yet another tribute to the legend Mic Christopher. ( he does bear an uncanny resemblance to Michael Sheehan!)

Hope you all have a Hey Day today!

So after much deliberation I have decided to arise from my Facebook deathbed. I know, this will incur the giddy wrath of all those I piously mocked about Facebook in the past.

I'm back on Facebook for a few reasons. Doubtless its going to help keep in touch with those I've met along the road and have left behind....it is for these reasons alone that I return. And I promise not to poke a single soul!

I'm not sure whether I'll stay - but I guess once I've reopened Pandoras box its not likely I'll go closing it again even if I wanted to...

ohwell....I'm smiling through it all..

A while before I took to the road a friend(Cillian) sent me a youtube clip that had a profound affect on me. I can't imagine anyone I know who wouldn't be affected by it and as I prepared to go on my travels I decided to take some of the inspiration from the experience and wear it on my sleeve.

Hence, on the right hand side of my blog you see a list of goals I wished to achieve in the following months. Some of these may seem banal or facile. But to be honest if it was all that I achieved in those months and then the unspeakable were to happen, then you could rest assured I died a happy person.

So back to The Last Lecture, Randy Pausch was in his own right an exceptional person. And given the nature of humans, when we meet an exceptional person we either A) aspire to be like them, B) resent them or C) admire them, but think that they are made of a different salt than you or I.

For your information I fall into the A category.

There is not a whole lot of reason to for me to give background on this man, if you watch the clip you'll know as much about him as I do( well not quite, but theres always wikipedia!).

The presentation basically introduces the idea of achieving your childhood dreams. The beauty of this presentation is that it is not preachy, it is not one of those "you gotta be Alphamale to get to the top" speeches. Infact, its not a speech its a presentation. A presentation of one mans life through his eyes and and explanation of how he has fulfilled his childhood dreams.

Sadly for me I can't recall my childhood dreams, I can recall situations from my childhood that make me happy and through those I can extrapolate possible dreams.

Some of which that spring to mind -
1. I wanted to be a farmer ( much to the laughter of those in my class, possibly because Siobhan C. offered to be my wife).
2. I wanted animals, lots of animals in my life - I should open an abattoir perhaps?.
3. I wanted the cute girl,(shallow at age 6, eesh!). I always wanted the female lead in the play.

So anyway, these are my truths and possibly my dreams. As childish as they seem they are quite likely still true today. To be honest though I have formulated more concrete dreams in adulthood which stand on top of those childhood dreams. In the Last Lecture, Randy presents his dreams in a list and one by one goes through how he achieved each.

For me, the beauty of the presentation is that as he talks about his dreams he shows how dreams can grow, how dreams are not just one singular goal but a space we aim for to explore and digest once there. It is encouraging (for me atleast) to see that dreams are more than definitive words. They are a nebulous concept which we aspire towards. So at any given point along the way to your dream you are infact closer to the reality than you realise. As soon as you take the first step you are stepping into that cloud and therefore already living that dream, even in its most discrete essence. That isn't to say that you stop as soon as you roll the dice for the first time, keep rolling and keep going. If you watch the clip then you'll get a better understanding of what it is I'm trying to explain.

I do understand that to reach our goals we need focus and stepping stones, I'm not arguing against that. But I guess I'm trying to sell the idea that our dreams are always there for the taking even if they've been dormant for bluergh'ty something years.

So its a while since I left Nha Trang, but I figured I should pen down some of my journey before I commit the memories to the grave through excessive partying.

I decided to take a 3 day motorbike tour to get from Dalat to Nha Trang. On the way the guide stops off at many beauty spots and many interesting locations. The trip involvd me sitting on the back of a motorbike for 3 days ( roughly 6 hours a day) earning myself one of the finest 3rd degree sun burns on my knees the world has ever seen. I now refer to it as the EasyRider knee. I eventually covered them up with a bandana( thanks Jacinta!) and a torn t-shirt. So the rest of the journey was a pure joy.

Cruising through the countryside, stopping off along the way to hear about coffee plantations, the history of highway1, where the americans unleashed the much reviled agent orange. Its clear to see still the areas that were affected. The trees lining the route are obviously younger and of a different breed than that which would have originally existed there. Agent orange takes a while to leave the soil, and as such the legacy of the chemical scarred the land just as much as it did the people. BTW, the American government has yet to apologise for the use of agent orange. They cite the need for scientific proof...as if generations of mutated children isn't enough...such is the power of the Chem. Industry.

Further along the route we stopped to watch local children (bonafide ethnic Vietnamese) harvest bamboo. Filling baskets made by their own people, (each basket unique to their own local group) with the fruits of their labour. With the end result being a basket that weighed around 50kg. If you check the picture you'll see a particularly menacing looking Richard with said basket on his back. I look more like an axe wielding maniac than anything else, but the kids didn't seem to mind - we'd bought their trust with sweets. ( mental note - must inreduce, "Danger Stranger!" concept to Vietnam).

Throughout the route as we rode through roadside villages and mountainous regions the people went out of their way to give the broadest smiles and "hellos" they could muster. I quite frequently threw the bike off balance as I turned 180 to wave at the folk we'd just passed.

Along the route we met men cracking rocks for a living, by choice. Hammering away at boulders the size of your average mini car and splitting them in short time. I can't recall the exact rate of pay, but for them it was quite lucritive if not exceptionally backbreaking business. I opted out of picking a fight on this occasion - they looked a little frazzled from all the strenous muscle building work!! Seriously, these folk were built like - well like brick houses...

Further along the journey my guide Hong stopped off at various places just to let me soak in the country. I really appreciated that. He didn't prattle on about history or any such nonsense. We just sat in silence and soaked it in. Frogs chirping like birds, birds cawing like the sound of trees being felled and those friggin beetles...man the noise they make - I need to check if they have ears and if not, then god gave them one of the most annoying and useless skills on planet earth. The gift of a 130 decibel humming noise that couldn't possibly be used to attract a mate. Now that I think of it, maybe its the communication method *after* beetle marriage....hmmmm

At one point I had the opportunity to ride an elephant( put your puerile giggles back in their adolescent bags this instant!). As I was on my lonesome they paired me with this Vietnamese girl who mentioned as we took to the road in a Hannibal'esque caravan, that she was prone to travel sickness. "No fear here love" I thought, its an elephant - not a JJ Kavanagh bus. But no sooner had our Elephant made his way into the lake( oh yeah, the elephant trekked us through a lake, suhweet!!) than my new colleague started barfing over the side...onto the side of our Elephriend.I can't imagine he was too happy, and I think I caught a snap of him glaring at me. As if i'd do such a thing....puking on an elephant, thats such a Kilkenny thing to do! ;) ( just testing to see who actually reads the blog!)

There are countless other memories to recollect, too many details to write in the blog and to be honest I dare not fall foul of that damn Formatting error again.

Arriving in Nha trang wasn't much of a thrill, and its funny - the gut instinct was too subtle to properly perceive on arrival. But by the time I left I was
delighted to put the place behind me. It was the closet to Ibiza I've ever gotten in my life. That said its nothing like Ibiza. But the party atmosphere there was a little too much in the end. And although the younger me got sucked in, ah the folly of a 29 year old! :) the older me now knows better....ummmmmm yes...yes he does!

Check the photos for some nice shots along the route from Dalat.

Curious fact for the entrepreneurs out there - 4 rubber trees produce 1kg of rubber a day. 1 kg of rubber sells for 10$. You can plant 4 trees in a 3 metre sq'd area. So given my rough estimates you could plant atleast a million trees...okay not a million, I'm shit at working this kind of thing out. But lets say for arguments sake that its 1000 trees(it is more like 1300 me thinks). You've got a daily yield of 250 kgs of rubber a day! which if prices remain static that equates to $2500 a day. You can harvest for about 200 days a year. All that from 1 acre! Money does grow on trees apparently..

Feel free to work out the real amount of trees you could get in an acre - but needless to say it seems like a damn lucrative business. Also, the trees are very robust, you hit them a kick and they just bounce back! Arf! Arf!

so I've noticed a lot of traffic hitting my blog due to the fact that I named it after a very popular Beirut song(see below). Seemingly a few of you out there appreciate the lyrics of one Zach Condron (Irish surname *by* the way!). so over the next few days I'll try to transcribe my understanding of the lyrics for The Elephant Gun as I hear them...This will take time as he over samples his voice in a few places during the song! Plus he likes to sing like he's taken a shot or two of whiskey...

Seemingly the young lad is quite fond of whiskey..Or so he claimed when I saw him play Glastonbury in 2007.

The Elephant gun

If I was young I'd flee this town,
I'd bag my dreams, underground,
As did I, we drink to die,
We drink to ni-i-i-ight!
Far from home, the elephant gun,
is takes them down, one by one
but lay it down, its not been found, its not around

let the seasons begin,and all was right
let the seasons begin, take the done
let the seasons begin, when the world was right
let the seasons begin,

	Beirut - Elephant Gun
	Found at skreemr.com

So when were you going to tell me? I kind of expect news from time to time. Not from BBC, not from google - but from my friends!!

So Ronnie is dead! Shit, that's massive news. A legend of our time has passed on. Mr. Dublin( not like Damien Dempsey the wannabe prick) is gone. Last night I was in a bar, funnily enough there was 90% Irish there and we had a right old knees up in his honour. The Vietnamese Dj was a little put out, but we're bigger than he so he had to take a back seat.

Anyway, here's to you, Ronnie Drew you goddamn legend! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9T7OaDDR7i8

In my opinion( subjectively speaking!) I think he represented a league of Irish poets that Ireland is losing on scale that equates to an artistic famine. What made Irish musicians and artists fantastic in the past was a true feelings of repression, suppressed emotions and troubled thoughts that could never be expressed in common language.

We no longer have the fuel that feeds true expression. Greed on a massive scale, obsessive notions on the latest threads,cars and mortgage rates. Where are the people who remember walking through a field (barefoot if you want to get romantic) and actively talk about it. Where are those who yield to latent memories of a childhood spent in the woods, the fields, the marts of good old Ireland?

U2 gave their best work in the eighties, when Ireland was crippled with an economic recession and lost it as soon as the bubble began to rise. And so the trend continues..

We have the likes of Paddy Casey, curly haired and fond of the drink - does that cover it? Does that fill the void? Not half enough. We've lost it. Nil muid fos in an caint as gaeilge, nil muid fos in an labhair leis ar teanga nadurtha.

Anyway, this is just a little rant - indulge me! To the end of a legends life! Rock on Ronnie!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3M7e_Z0BXuw

Hi again, its been a while since I've updated the blog regarding anything travel related. I guess I got tired of thinking about the blog as I traveled around, tired of thinking about how to describe the place each time I arrived somewhere new. It is preferable to experience a place and write about it in reflection.

I've also reached a new milestone since my last travel update, turning 30 last Monday, I am now officially 'socially dead'. Any dancing I do on the dancefloors of bars will be met with head shakes and displays of disgust from the svelte young things slinking about in their 20something frames. I'm really happy about it to be honest( the age change, not the scowling) - I needed a good excuse to stop making a tool out of myself in bars. Apart from Sinead and Jacinta I now think all my friends are in their 30s. Jesus....How did that happen? Ohwell, best take it with dignity.

So anyway, since Saigon I have have been traveling up north stopping off at various places along the way. I took an 8 hour bus from Saigon to Dalat on the hope of catching up with another traveller I'd met earlier. They disappeared off the proverbial radar and I took the hint. ;) Never mind, I was glad to leave Saigon behind.

Dalat is located in the Vietnamese highlands and as a result the climate is temperate. Nothing like the melting heat of Saigon or the searing heat of other places I'd visit. Its called the Paris of Vietnam, its nothing like Paris, but I guess its more to do with the fact that the French colonials took to the place as a retreat from the rest of Vietnam. I stayed in Dalat for about 5 days. Zooming around on a scooter, sometimes tailing the 'official' tourist guides I'd meet on the road in the off chance I'd end up at a cool and hidden beauty spot. More than once I ended up at one of their homes. Another time I followed a guy for 25 km on the motorway before losing him in some convoluted intersection. I suspect he spotted me and pulled a Steve McQueen on me. Bastard..

Dalat the town is centered around a lake, (which comes equipped with crass pedal boat swans,) - its quite a popular tourist spot for Vietnamese and for that reason has a nice air to it. There is the usual plethora western tourists, but they're not as visible in the Vietnamese-tourist mass. I stayed in an amazing hotel whilst there, which served up a breakfast so vast that I reckon I gained a kg or two rather than losing it to this damn heat.

I decided early on in my time in Dalat that the next leg of my journey would not take place on a bus. So options such as cycling to Nha Trang presented themselves. Then I came across an alternative, taking the EasyRider Tour. Dalat is the base for a group of enthusiastic motorbike riders who are willing to drive you up north for an agreed price. Along the way they stop off at seemingly random places to explain to you a little about the history of Vietnam or to introduce you to some locals harvesting bamboo. I took 2 tours with Easyrider. The first was a tour around Dalat, where I earned myself the easy rider mark of distinction - super sunburned knees. Dalat may be temperate but boy can that sun burn you! The first trip was a great taste of the trip to come.

We visited flower farms(is that what they are called?), silk factories and a stopped at a load of amazing beauty spots. The silk factory was especially interesting. Watching the girls drop the cocoons into warn water to find the thread and then hooking it up so that it could be extracted from the cocoon. Seeing the machines they use to create the fabric, giant machines with elaborate punch hole cards that cycle through the device. Preventing or allowing certain needles to pass through and thus create the patterns in the silk. The larvae themselves are pretty tasty too. Kinda sweet, but crunchie at the same time.

We visited a Elephant waterfall, named so because of the rock formations at the bottom rather than for the presence of actual elephants(that would be later!). I tried my damnedest to kill myself by climbing around the waterfall trying to get a compelling photo. I ended up with some standard shots. Thats the problem with waterfall, the damn things don't like to be captured.

Then finally we ended up at the Crazy House in Dalat. Designed by a Vietnamese woman who spent most of her life in Russia, the house certainly lives up its name. Without denigrating it too much it is a combination of Gaudi like organic shapes and strange animal themes. The house is also available in a hotel capacity although I can't imagine anyone really wanting to stay there. While the building is a sight to behold, the macabre style in some of the rooms is not something I personally would like to wake to. See for yourself!...


P.S Happy birthday Cillian

Labels: travel

So I heard on a phone call home recently that our neighbours dog had died. Small news you might think, but everyone of us that leaves home on a trip ponders before each call what the bad news could be on this occasion.**

For me on one of my more recent calls it was the fact that Molly had passed away. Molly was no ordinary dog, although she was the 'property' of our neighbour she was a pet for everyone who live on our street. From a young age Molly endeared herself, along with her owners, to the inhabitants of Sharon Avenue. Allow me to explain...

Molly, was a cross breed - daughter of a sheepdog and a laborador she was a right-off on the Krufts circuit, but she was meant for greater things. She looked more labrador than anything, with a coat so sleek and so black she looked ten times the pedigree her lineage allowed. I've no idea if the family knew what they were letting themselves in for when the arrived with this bundle of joy undertoe.

Molly would without shame make her way from house to house reeling off her latest tricks. But all that came after she unleashed her intro trick. Dropping a tennis ball at your heels and prompting you to kick it off for her. She would chase that ball with such velour that I to this day wish I held any passion of similar strength. Things progressed and the games grew. Introduction of a tennis racket (later a cumain) and a 200 yard strike were no deterrent. She'd chase that ball till the end of time.

After a day of ball chasing she would do her collection round. Popping by with her latest tricks to wow us and earn a treat. Opening our backdoor was not an obstacle, sitting our kitchen chairs whilst doing the beg wasn't even a challenge. She worked us like a circus audience, not looking for an untoward gain, just innocent demand and supply. We lapped it up..as did all the residents.

I guess where I'm going with this is that Molly, in my mind was a special dog. While her passing has no affect on my current context it is news that deserves reflection. She grew old with pride. Took deafness on the chin and remained a distinct part of our family until the day she last ' called round'.

I'll miss her inquisitive sniff as I exit the car next time I get home.

This story isn't meant to insult or detract from the gravest of news one could receive whilst away from home. Quite honestly, if this is as bad as it gets I can live with the longing for loved ones. But sometimes its good to reflect on the state of affairs, today I'm reflecting on you Molly.

WooF!




**Note: this is possibly an Irish thing! So indulge me!

Years ago I read a great short story about a couple who fell in love as a result of their love of numbers. It was fiction of course, but the depth of research which the author used gave a sincerity to the tale which stood with me for years. To this day as a matter of fact.

The story revolved around around a guy who found special significance in dates. Or at least the format of dates and the uniqueness they carry. Today is one of those dates. I doubt many of you will see this post before this 'significant' date/time arrives. But today at eight minutes past eight we will experience a date that occurs once in a lifetime.

08.08.08 08:08:08

In the story they referred to it as a repeater, there are a few in every century, but few of us will get to experience more than 10. So that makes today pretty special. For me I have chosen to take dates like this as an impetus to do something different.

On my 10,000Th day on earth I took the day off and had a special birthday( in the process I got sunburned at Dun Laoghaire docks). Not a wide step into the wild, but a celebration nonetheless. I'm not sure how I'm going to live differently today - smile at a stranger, take a cooking class? The prospects are wide open!

Today is a once in a lifetime day( as are most days) but use the significance of the numbers we apply as reinforcement that you should try something new today. I will report back with what I got up to.

What did you do with yours? :)


Note: Inspiration for this story came from a short story in a book called Beast, published by Granta (63). I cannot recommend the book enough!

As some of you may know I've been hinting at relocating to China in September as opposed to the planned NZ trip. A big sidestep from what I had originally planned for my world travels but a response to a deep amour for a land so rich in history and culture.

Sometimes our simplest decisions carry with them a payload of complex factors that turn them into what feels like a conspiracy or a mistake. I chose teaching as my prefered role. Having entertained the idea of aiming for a job with Microsoft again I decided that this would merely be a repetition of the life I'd been living previously. Nothing ventured nothing gained and in this case teaching was the (ad)venture that would afford me a whole new world of experiences that seemed attractive and complimentary to my personality.

So I set about applying for jobs while I was there.**(See note.) Getting an interview was easy enough, getting an interview with a school/company who could help get you your visa was a whole other matter. The government were restricting the flow of visas to foreigners( visiting and those already in the country). The oft cited excuse was 'security in and around the olympics'.

I woke this morning thinking about the situation and decided to do a little sniffing around. I didn't trust the promise of a government so adept at lying to its own people. I came across the following article and whilst I cannot verify the assumptions I can sense there is a truth behind it.

So for now my chances of a future in China look bleak. I will persevere as this is an opportunity I feel would serve me well. But once again it leaves me with a question mark on my lips when the question - "So what next?" is directed at me.

I'll keep you posted..but please read on as the subject is quite interesting.

"Something extraordinary is happening in China...
and we are not talking about the Olympics. Rather, Chinese officials have been clamping down on visa applications and implementing bureaucratic impediments to new and renewed visa applications under the guise of pre-Olympic security.

In some ways, Beijing’s plan for a safe and secure Olympics appears based on the premise that if no one shows up, there can be no trouble. But placing restrictions on the movement of managers and employees of foreign businesses operating in China, even if for a limited time as Chinese officials have been at pains to reassure, makes little sense from the standpoint of gaining political and economic benefits from hosting the Olympics. Something just isn’t right" Continued here...

Credit for this article goes to : http://www.stratfor.com

(NOTE: I can hear some of you ask what the hell qualifies me to teach english? Apparently being native, with related experience and qualifications entitles you to a role teaching the English language to the youths of China. I'm currently hammering through my TEFL Qualification whilst trying to correct all those poor speaking habits I've developed over the years. )

I arrived in Saigon on a white knuckle airplane ride from Malaysia. Taking a seat at the emergency exit I was in no way putting my life at the mercy of Asian queing policy should the unspeakable happen to the plane. It didn't but the zero visibility and lightening storms on touch down in Saigon Airport had e nearly kissing the tarmac in pope-like reverence.

Saigon is a hot, hot city with more motorbikes on the road than I've ever seen before. Crossing the road became second nature once I learned how to place myself in 2d form and dodge between bikes like a leaf in the wind. Walking around the city was fun but happening upon the irish bar was one of many mistakes I'd make whilst there. Needless to say that particular day ended in my waking up fully clothed, with a shaky hand grappling for the water/ibuprofen.

As cities go there are tonnes of things to see there but for me the most enjoyment was to be had hanging out in the park in the centre of the city watching the locals play keepie-uppie with a hackie sack. The simple pleasures I guess...

Having grown restless hanging out in city I decided to make my way to the Cu Chi Tunnels. That was a pretty amazing experience, seeing first hand the depths of Vietnamese ingenuity. Sadly there was the option to fire a broad range of guns there. Most likely guns used in combat, as the sporadic sound of shots rang out in the distance i imagined how it must have like to be in the middle of that all those years ago. 19 years of age in a foreign land here without choice, with no option other than to try there damnedest to make it out alive. The mostly male tourists using the guns now were strange echos of the men who were stationed here during the war.

The following day was the I'd been eagerly waiting, it was the day I was to visit the RoomToRead schools. Room to Read is a charity that funds a broad range of educational facilities in underdeveloped countries. This ranges from sponsorship of children, to the building of libraries and schools. I'd been volunteering with them in London for tha last year having read about their work online. Coinsidentally the man who founded the organisation was an ex-Microsoft employee. You can read more about John Woods and his book, Leaving Microsoft to change the World on the Room to Read website http://www.roomtoread.com. I was very excited about this visit as they are organised on set dates and there are only 3 dates open for the entire year for Vietnam . This sounds convoluted and it is somewhat, but I respect their need to minimise distraction and disruption at the schools. Anyway, this visit was one of my personal goals for this year. Something I'd thought about long ago and arranged as far in advance as any other aspect of the trip. This year is the 5 year anniversary of th London chapter and I was looking forward to sending them fresh photos of the schools they'd built.

I woke early and was ready to leave an hour in advance of the appointment. Taking the address I'd been sent from the US organiser( yes, all visits are managed via a contact in the US. No direct contact takes place between you and the schools.) I hopped on a motorbike taxi and nipped through the city. Bleary eyed I sat through the morning commute that is Saigons rush hour - hectic!. Arriving in plenty of time I hopped off and began my wait. 45 minutes later, having paced up and down the road I slowly began to realise that there was something amiss. In the end 30 minutes after the pickup was due to have taken place I decided to call it a day and make my way back to the hotel. I was truly gutted that this had fallen through, not sure whether it was an error on my part, a problem in communication lines with the school or just poor Vietnamese time keeping. In the end it was a communication error. They'd recently moved office and my contact had not received the updated location. Balls to that.

On the upside they have been very helpful and we are currently trying to organise another visit outside of the usual schedule just for little ol' me. So for now goal number 3 is in a postponed state. Ohwell!

All in all my time in Saigon was a great experience but I was glad to leave it behind. The boozey tourist culture is a bit over the top along with the seedier side of latenight clubs there. Somethings haven't changed that much since the war - "me love you longtime" as a quote is amusing, when heard for real its a little disturbing. I guess thats what I get for drinking in a bar called Apocolypse Now...

So I'll admit, I've been a lickle bit slack with the posting recently. Giving you more insights in to my own degenerate mind than into the goings on of my bodied self. So here's the latest...

Since leaving Hangzhou( did I write about that already? hmm if not I'll drop a post in later) I have met up with good friend Tom in Malaysia.

I arranged a cheap as chips flight with Air Asia from China to Kuala Lumpur. I know this goes against my original plan to travel by land as much as humanly possible but after the Belerussian visa fiasco I had to nip that rule in the butt. Anyway, rules are limiting. Boo to rules I say. Although I wouldn't go about saying that too loudly in Malaysia.

Arriving in KL 2 hours late I screwed my meeting arrangements with Tom. Actually everything about our meetup went belly up. My flight was delayed. Tom ended up getting pissed on the beers he bought for us to share on the train down to Singapore. The hotel we arranged to meet in didn't exist as it was in my imagination. In the end free KFC internet and my EEEPC saved the day. We finally managed to check into the same(!) hotel and proceed to celebrate our reunion.

Moving down to Singapore the next day on luxurious bus #1 we settled into a pretty cool hostel on the recommendation of an Irish girl we met on the bus. The tiny but friendly Melissa. Staying in Little India in SG was pretty slick. A true immersion in an Indian environment. This included everything from places of worship to the local superstore being called the Mustapha Centre.

Another indication that we were in little India was the fact that come three or four in the afternoon the streets would fill up with more Indian men than I have ever seen in one place. Infact I have never seen such a concentration of men anywhere, not even at Scissor Sisters at oxegen last year - maybe 200:1, man to woman ration. Ther very definition of a sausage fest. I did briefly think of emailing my friend in Mongolia, but then thought realised that we never got round to the whole email exchange thing. Aww too bad!

Singapore is a city that needs to be visited to be believed. Between the vast construction projects underway and those finished specimens already gleaming in the skyline. For me the highlight was standing at the foot of the Petronas Towers. A truly inspiring creation.

It was fun going out in little India. We met up with a deaf guy who claimed he was a writer/photographer with National Geographic. A guy with some amazing stories to be sure. But also a pretty strong penchant for booze which led to him becoming a bit of a dick by the end of the night. A Dream shattered, I'd always thought National Geographic writers would be like mini David Attenborough, almost floating on a cloud of blissful awareness and heightened dinner banter abilities. My suspicions became aroused when he started boasting about the women he'd slept with.

It was all fun though and truly amazing to meet up with a friend after such a long time. Tom went on his separate way on an early morning flight to Oz while I spent my last day in SG seeking out a luxury coach even better than the one we took from KL.

Needless to say the Tv mounted, reclining massage chair with our own trip hostess pouring drinks was a tad on the opulent side. But what the hell I was feeling sorry for myself being back on my own again..*sniff* ;)

Next stop Saigon..

I found myself listening to Bonnie Prince Billy(Will Oldham) the other day and was not paying too much attention until the following song came on. As I listened to the lyrics I began to smile and figured it was certainly worthy of a blog post. As corny as it is to have a musicians lyrics decribe you own situation it amused me no end to hear him croon along. (especially given the fact that Will Oldham is a little bit of a weirdo.)

I cannot say that I'm his biggest fan, but when visiting Brendan in Chicago 3 years ago I did go to see him in concert. I spent the evening listening to his new folk songs and also took the time to go up the front and take some photos. At one point I remember taking his photo and at the time him looking directly at me and smiling all the while singing along. It was a minor moment but a pretty cool one nonetheless.

Anyway, if you've not heard of him - go check him out. Alternatively you can watch the movie Old Joy. But be warned to the untrained eye its a movie where nothing happens.

Anyway, here is the song -

Oh, 'tis sad to be parted from those that we love
Strange faces we see every day
Each heart string of mine is broken in time
When I think of those dear ones at home

Goodbye dear old stepstone, goodbye to my home
God bless those I leave with a sigh
I'll cherish fond memories when I'm far away
To roam o'er this wide world alone

I stood on my doorstep one evening and morn
The wind whispered by with a moan
The fields may be whitening, but I will be gone
To roam o'er this wide world alone

Goodbye dear old stepstone, goodbye to my home
God bless those I leave with a sigh
I'll cherish fond memories when I'm far away
To roam o'er this wide world alone

And I stood on my doorstep when school time was o'er
And I wished for the time to go by
Now it has passed, and I stand here tonight
To bid this old stepstone goodbye

Goodbye dear old stepstone, goodbye to my home
God bless those I leave with a sigh
I'll cherish fond memories when I'm far away
To roam o'er this wide world alone
To roam o'er this wide world alone

Labels: my Thoughts

About 6 months ago called over to a friends house on a social visit. When I arrived Rory and I launched into our usual conversation i.e. media exchange.

"Have you seen..."
"Check this out.."
"This is the latest from.."

Anyway, Rory gave me a quick taster of a movie called Ghenghis Blues. As he went about making tea I got sucked into the film. The story of a blind blues singer who ended up teaching himself how to throat sing, progressing to a level which enabled him to compete in a national competition in Tuva and taking one hell of a trip to get there. Read more about the movie here "http://www.genghisblues.com/".

Needless to say the movie is pretty amazing! Not only for the story line but also for the wonderful sound which it exposed me to. On hearing this music I decided that it had to become part of my trip. While i wanted make my way to Tuva to hear the music, practicalities meant that I would have to make do with the Mongolian strain ( in all reality they are just regional versions of the same style).

My first night in Ulan Bator I managed to find a show (having spent many hours in the previous weeks searching online). I arrived at the gig early and having the time to spare went and got some food. I picked what i thought looked like something light. It turned out to be enough food to feed a small army - it was a challenge I chose to accept. I proceeded to stuff my face, intermittently gulping down coke to cool the inevitable burn from all those spices. In the end I finally had to accept defeat and roll myself out of the restaurant, head hung low. Thanks to my greed, ego or stupidity I was 5 minutes late for my gig of a lifetime( yes this even comes close to beating that Kraftwerk gig in the Olympia back in 2004) .

So I had to be ushered into a darkened hall and given a seat near the front, not a bad reward for my undignified behaviour inthe restaurant 10 minutes earlier. The theatrics around the show implied that it was targetted at tourists. But nevertheless it worked and quickly set the mood, as each performer came to the stage to do their piece the accompanying lighting work intensified the focus.

As soon as the first notes hit the air the mood in the room changed. I felt an electric charge skip up and down my neck and although completely focused on the performer I couldn't help myself from looking around at the other guests to see if they were experiencing what I was experiencing.

To give you an idea of the style of music I'm talking about take a look at the following clip. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DY1pcEtHI_w.

The music I saw on the night went even further than this. One musician at one point inverted his loudly projected voice, giving the impression that he was singing the exact same tune but was somehow now performing from deep deep down inside the belly of a cave. A true spectacle. Sitting there experiencing this show was certainly a pinnacle moment in my life.

Two things that save Mongolia from entering into my life book of Dislike & Disdain are its countryside and my experience of throat singing. If you *ever* get the opportunity to hear this music live jump at the chance with arms and legs a flailing. However, try not to gorge beforehand, sitting through the experience of a lifetime whilst bursting to go to the loo is not something I recommend.

Labels: travel

I have a few other posts pending at the moment, but this story on the BBC homepage compelled me to post outside of my queue.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/england/london/7487126.stm

Yet another 2 innocent people have been pointlessly killed in London. In what appears to be a bungled burglary two individuals have been robbed of the chance to live out their lives. It is beyond sad to imagine the infinite number of potential experiences of which they have been deprived.

23 - so young. London - so cruel.

New Cross, my home in London for half of my time in the UK. I walked those streets. I bought beer at stupid hours of the morning, I walked girlfriends to the bus stop confident that the city wasn't, "as bad as all that". I didn't hate New Cross, I accepted it as it was.

I think its the violence of this attack that shocks me most. While people will say that there is violence everywhere, that doesn't however excuse the act or reduce the sense of sadness every time I hear of yet another incident.

This kind of story highlights everything I hated about London, the persistent state of ill-at-ease in which you found yourself when moving around the city. I spent more times than is possibly healthy standing on tube platforms wondering if there was a psycho looming in the background readying themselves for a random attack. Paranoid yes, but trust me its out there - in all its festering glory. These 2 men were safe in their own homes when they were set upon, I'm not trying to spread fear, I'm simply pointing out that it *is* a fact of life in London. Trouble can and will come find you.

You may ban booze on the tube, (in what is one of the most token of token gestures I've seen in politics in a long while,) but how about tackling real crime. How much money will be spent on reports commissioned to highlight the success of this latest mayoral expression of genius? I guess it's not really relevant. These two young men are dead, killed in a savage fashion - robbed of the gift of life, deprived of the right to a peaceful death.

Looking back, I've never been happier to leave a place behind - even though moving there was one of the best decisions of my life.

I arrived in Beijing 23 days ago. I had someone meet me at the station so it was a stress free ride to my accommodation. No trudging through the rain, no misinterpretations of my phrasebook, just plan sailing...makes for boring reading really...However the sights were pretty amazing for me. It all seemed so foreign at the beginning, little did I realise that I'd be making my own way there on foot in the not to distant future.

Looking back, most of what happened in Beijing is a bit of a blur. I guess I was very much caught up in the life there - too caught up to blog at least. The hostel ( 9 Dragons Hostel) is one of the best I've styed in to date. The staff were super. Really friendly and happy to cook me my required 3egg breakfast. I sucked up all the sights from the city and have to say that the vibe on the street is what made Beijing special for me. Walking through Beijing as the rain lashed down was a great experience. Warm rain and Chinese people doing everything humanly possible to get avoid it( let them taste an Irish sumer and see how they like it. Actually given the service most of them give in the shops in Dublin I reckon its pretty obvious how they feel bout Irish weather).

I was stunned at how easy it is to get by in a city where I know only 2 words of the language (thank you and hello) . The Metro makes it easier I guess - that and obscene amounts of smiling and nodding. The Beijing accent is quite unique, loads of rrrrrrrrs - imagine a growling dog sucking on a marble - I love it. Most everyone I met hated it. I think its the Chinese equivalent of the Dublin accent ( except I don't love the Dublin accent).

I took a 10km hike on the Great wall with two Chinese speaking Americans. It was a great day and although I wasn't that excited about the trip the night before I was euphoric by the time we finished up - looking back over that vast expanse of wall. We celebrated by taking the flying squirrel back down the mountain side. I did my bit for global marketing and drank a Coke Cola(thank Microsoft for that particular dependency) on this thrilling ride.

The excitement wasn't to end there. On the way back to Beijing our taxi driver managed to make a friend on the road. He cut someone off, the person he cut off weren't none too happy about this so they decided to over take us and then pull in front of us and start jamming on their breaks. This drove our driver insane and well the nutty driving that ensued was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. What was initially just a display of Chinese bravado soon turned into a James Bond'esque car chase - without the Austin Martin, instead we were travelling in the equivalent of a breadbin on wheels. It was surprisingly nimble, which added to the terror. There were some classic maneuvers such as - the triple car overtake - so at one point there was 4 vehicles driving down the same road( not a motorway!!) in the same direction heading towards the same crane/truck/bus. Take your pick as the quadruple was just going to be one of many he'd pull. There was also the undertaking a crane on this inside as we came round a bend - I call that the tickler, because I'm pretty sure we tickled the cranes front wheels as we finally shot out past its massive berth. This went on for about 20 minutes. Not even the drivers wide could calm him down( yep she was there too, this fool was ready to take us all to hell with him). He eventually caught the other driver by ramming him off the road. They had a polite exchange of words and fists as we sat in our mini van facing oncoming traffic on the wrong side of the road. At one point the police appeared and then simply rolled by. Didn't seem to be enough of an issue for them......possibly on the trail of some free thought that they needed to suppress.

Another highlight of my time in Beijing was Bei Hai park. It is simply beautiful and a definite must if you are there with a partner. Beijingers congregate there(as they do in other parks) and socialise like no other culture I've experienced. There is singing, game playing, talking, walking, people sitting together holding hands, kissing - all in all a really precious place to be.

In total I spent 10 days in Beijing - third of my entire day budget for China. Its hard to put into words what I liked so much. I think the best word to summarise would be alive - hot, humid, cheap, smelly, busy, crazy. these words simply don't do it justice and only give you pointed definitions for such an experience rich place. Could I live there? You betcha! Do i recommend it as a place to live? Most certainly! You've not lived until you've taken to the streets of Beijing on a bicycle!

I'm not sure what you are waiting for - this city has it all and is far more accessible than you think. If you get lost you can either get the metro to a station you recognise or just grab a cab( worst case it'll set you back 5 euros....not exactly Dublin rates!!)

Onwards to Shanghai! ( oh wait I'm wring this retrospectively - I'm already in Shanghai!!)

Memorable things I saw/did/experienced in Beijing-

• A short movie( propaganda) featuring Mr. Mao projected onto a fine spray of water outside the Forbidden city


• A trip to the White Rabbit, arriving at 2am, bopping about with more ex-pats than locals and leaving the next morning more worse for wear that I'd care to admit. Music (although techno) was dull. Not something I would recommend to the true affectionado


• Staying in an old Brothel which is now a hostel


• Getting to the aforementioned hostel on foot in torrential rain. Walking through the hutongs(alleyways) laughing our heads off


• Squat loos...

Labels: travel

Latest update - I hate conditional CSS. Managed to get my old tempalte back and have decided not to tinker with it until I'm in a place where I'm willing to put more time in. Possibly a beach in Laos ;) So for now i'll keep the posts short and sweet.

UPDATE: So I f*cked my blog over by updating to the new blogger beta. Damnit, I loved that old template. I'll try to get it back up and running asap. But for now its sunday night and I'm having a beer so progress will be slow at best...

Caused by a conflict between the template I'm using and my excessively long posts! I'm working in it!! :)

For your ongoing patience in this matter I reward thee with the ancient and secret Irish tradition of Summer Love.

Summer love

• Throw a can of Guinness in the freezer until it reaches a thick slush stage.
  
• Then, release the gas so it forms a head in the can.
  
• Pierce the bottom of the can and insert the stick.
  
• Return the can to the freezer and let it freeze solid.
  

Now get the hell out of here and go enjoy your first Summer Love ( aka the Guinness Popsicle)

Labels: Blog tasks, Technology

On August 11th 2007 I committed facebook suicide. This actually coincided with alot of online articles about others doing the same. While I arrived at the point of self destruction( digitally speaking) on my own it seemed as if others throughout the interweb were also going through the same lifestyle resurrection.

I was a casual facebook user, I briefly maintained 2 accounts in an attempt to separate my personal life from my work life. I think it was when these two accounts began to overlap that I realised it was time to end it all. I'm not a particularly private person ( I'm writing my thoughts online for the world to read aren't I?) but I do enjoy a certain degree of separation between worklife and private life. The idea of 'watching my step' in the online world really bothered me. Possibly because I worked in a corporate environment and was surrounded by colleagues rather than life long friends. ( Not saying that some aren't friends now..but you all know what I mean)

Facebook sells itself as the mechanism for establishing and maintaining friendships. Users build a list of people whom they wish to remain in contact with and then proceed to 'poke', 'shuffle', 'tag' or whatever them whenever the thought occurs. I don't enjoy this redefinition of friendship. For me a friend is someone who chooses to be in your life, enriches your life and is someone whom you trust enough to let go should they go 'silent' for a time.

The services Facebook provides are of the lowest calibre of contact. A nudge here, an open party to everyone in the 'cool chums list' invite there - In my opinion these 'services' do nothing to feed the human soul infact quite the opposite, only serve to feed our innate fear of being alone. A friend is someone you should have no expectations of, someone you can relate to but not need anything in particular from. In Facebook you send a poke and you expect one in return - otherwise we're at war, right?

The dilution of the friendship definition will (once again my thoughts, my speculations here) will only serve to increase the neurosis conditions that drive us loopy in our day to day existence. Time and time again I meet people who question where their time goes. Think for moment when was the last time you just sat, by yourself and truly experienced time. No distractions, no communication - just you and the infinite space of the universe around you? This is the true sense of time, the true meaning of here and now. Whilst Facebook is just one facet through which our lives are being clogged up and robbed of time it is one so prevalent I personally chose to cut it out.

There is so much to write about with this subject, another example would be the removal of friends - an in your face denial of your previosly 'solid' relationship. People post delicious photos of themselves onto facebook in the hope that everyone will see them as they are( a minor celeb right?). Someone everyone wants to add because they've got a catchy tagline..

As I travel I'm beginning to feel the pinch. People I've met readily exchange facebook details and vow to keep in touch. I'm left on the outside and quite frankly I like it that way. If you want my friendship then I'd like something more that a 'poke' and 'smiley'. My life is too precious to while away hours scanning someone elses Facebook for photos of us 'Pissed up in Ulan Bator'. I'm not above Facebook, I just recognise that my nature is particularly susceptable to its darkest side and have tried to nip such an indulgence in the bud.

Yesterday I spent an amazing day climbing the Great Wall with two others(read more in my Bejing blog entry), we didn't get to exchange emails yet I consider the memory of that day (and the conversations about our life experiences) a richer reward than yet another 'add' on my Facebook profile.the fact that our contact ends there leaves this chapter closed. An encapsulated experience for me to enjoy as opposed to an open 'sore' in the world of Facebook.

I honetly fear the worst for society as the Facebook definition of friend becomes the norm. I think about my nieces and wonder what the hell kind of world they'll mature into. I can't help but think of the book A Brave New World, but whenever I do I promptly try to shake such thoughts from my mind, but they remain there all the same, silent - feeding my Facebook denial.

"take me back to the old skool,
cos i'm an old fool who's so cool,
if you want to get down let me show you the way,
WHOOMP there it is! "( sorry, i couldn't resist!)

Labels: my Thoughts, Technology, technophobe

Having arrived in Mongolia in the early hours of the morning I was not very surprised to have been greeted by some pretty unwelcoming weather - I imagined it to be an unforgiving place, the weather confirmed this. The locals however were quite friendly and representatives from each of the local guests houses were there to pick up their clients..that is, all the guest houses except mine. Not to worry though, I plodded on through the rain( in my cool new allweather sandles I may add.) After multiple misdirections I eventually came across my hostel, one by the name of Mr. Gomez ( not exactly a Mongolian name is it?) I took a quick stock of the situation and realised that Mr. Gomez wasn't my kind of place. It was so shitty not even the stray hell-hounds( of which there are many here) would even take shelter under its canopy. I flagged a cab and thought myself lucky until this 'decent' fellow clocked the situation for what it was and read my indecision on a destination as a big green Go sign to fleece me. Eventually we agreed on a location and a price. I wasn't exactly happy with either. The guest house was in a location not too different from how i imagine the Ballymun flats would look after a nuclear war. Anyway, to cut to the chase, the guest house was infact an apartment. (Which unknown to me is the norm here.) Initially I was going to bail but figured I'd check it out atleast. I'm glad I did because no sooner had I knocked on the door than I was given a nice pair of slippers, promptly offered breakfast and given a chance to freshen up. Score! Thank you fuckhead taxi driver, you may have won the battle, but i won the war! ( btw, those dollars are not legal tender anymore - according to my Russian border guard colleague that is ) Mwahahaha!


Not long after I'd finished breakfast I met one of the fellow guests. A Scottish guy named Hugh who was(given the time of day) surprisingly full of beans. He spoke about his time in UB and also described a place he'd visited which sounded pretty interesting. Based on my intial impressions of Ulan Bator( its a massive shithole) I decided I wasn't going to stay put for long. I spent the next 2 days ducking and diving through traffic shopping for various wares. The cars seem to adhere only to the Mad Max rules of the road. To be honest it was kind of fun nursing my balls in my throat each time I crossed the road. So having stocked up on camping gear and having gotten over my 5 days on a train I set about spending 12 hours on a bus. Had I known it was going to take that long in advance I can't say I'd have gone ahead with this folly.


I'm still not sure how I managed to get a ticket for the bus as the ticketing system seems to have been masterminded by the safety planner for Aeroflot, his mate Jeb who has a ferocious case of tourettes and possibly one of the criminal kids from Mad Max ( there'll be lots of Mad Max references in here - tough shit if you haven't seen the movies. But its the closest approximation I can find.)

···So the wheels were set in motion at the cost of maybe 6 of the seven gears the poor bus had available. Not far out of UB the 'road' turns into a dirt track, "wow, this is quant I thought", for the first 10km. Another 100km and I was beginning to grasp the enormity of my own stupidity. -- Actually, let me put this trip into context, although it sounded cool the idea of it scared the shit out of me. Hugh had mentioned that he had encountered wolves face to face on one of his trips out into the wilds. I also had my own fears, greater than the mere fear of wolves - I was worried about the locals :) Couple this information with the time lines involved, I had 3 days to play with, 2 of which were going to be eaten up with bus journeys. All in all I calculated I'd have 2:1 hours of funtime to shit time. Oh how those figures were grossly under estimated :) -- So now you have context. About 2 hours into the journey the bus took on another load of passengers. The girl I was sitting beside recognised one of them and in true Asian neglect for human personal space invited her to join us. I say that as if its a bad thing, this girl had a smile that left a person feeling as if the first ray of morning sun had just washed over their face. They chatted and I thought about how much more comfortable I would be if I'd ignored all those prompts to eat more food and allowed myself to dwindle into a 5 stone willow tree. swiiiishhhhhhh.... So we took turns dozing, on the seats in front, the window, each other. Eventually the new girl started chatting to me. By chatting I mean we managed to establish in 20 minutes what would normally be written on a nameplate in Starbucks. Nevertheless we persevered. It was a worthwhile endeavour and while we couldn't really discuss our own feverent opinions on the Chavez regime(for example) we did manage to pass the time.


So time passed, 8 hours more to be precise. ( by the way - the bus stopped only once throughout this entire journey) I arrive in Tsetserleg and find my guesthouse. A place called Fairfield, run by two expat brits. A decent place with a strict set of rules for its customers. " Rule 8. Rooms shall not be rented by the hour" - just as well, sitting on my arse for 12 hours had left me jaded, I had a wee stroll and then slept until morning.

Tseterleg is a truly beautiful place. It reminded me of the Black Forest, but then again it's a world apart. Ovoos( piles of stones placed by shamans as offerings to the gods) scattered the landscape, trees had lengths of silk tied to them (more offerings), blowing lazily in the wind. Wild marauding dogs carrying with them a menace usually reserved for serial killers or angry primary school teachers. Gers( typical Mongolian nomadic circular homes) mixed in with more permanent structures - the latter a definite sign of the changing of ways here in Mongolia. Anyway - my first morning in Tsetserleg I set about exploring the place, meeting some locals and trying to get a grasp on what life there must be like. It's odd, people sit around as if they have nothing to do, however all the while its looks as if they are doing something - small trades of goods, waiting for a pickup to bring them to the next town or even eyeballing the latest westener to happen into their village. I had a plan for the day. To scout around in the mountains surrounding the village in search of a good place to camp that evening. I spent most of the day in the north of the village following dirt tracks that led me to herds of yaks. At about 5pm I decided I'd faffed around enough and went east, ignoring all my earlier days work :) As I walked up through the village (no matter where you go you always have to walk a hill. Thats what happens when locals thoughtlessly settle in a valley) I was chased by a few of the aforementioned hounds of hell. I recalled my rabies jabs from earlier in the year and drew upon them as if they gave me some sort of magical forcefield. My simplistic denial of the dogs potential human shredding ability seemed to have worked and after one or two staring matches I was left to go on my way. Grrrrrreat!



As i walked with intent the clouds above me also made their own intentions clear. With a force I've never witnessed before they sucked themselves upwards into one dark ominous bastard of a cloud. Lightening flashed and I thought to myself whether it was such a good idea to have paid homage to so many shamanistic and buddhist shrines in one day. I hoped whichever side I had most appeased was in control of the weather dial. I climbed onwards, determined that my personal journey was not going to be cut short by some a trifle such as poor weather. As the rain grew in intensity I decided to hedge my bets and set camp under a rock face in order to gain some wind protection. I set up camp, digging a trench around my tent in preparation for the imminent doomsday rain and lit a tidy little campfire. By this time it was 7pm and the weather looked a if it was easing off. The sun came out and I gave thanks to Buddha, by eating a snickers. 9pm rolled by and I decided to call it a night. Cimbing into my tent my total lack of camping experience came into play. I had bought a nice new mattress to protect me from the permafrost lying wait beneath the soil, thinking all the while, "what a clever clogs I am". Little did I realise that when I lay in my sleeping bag inside my tent( which was pitched on a 45 degree incline) I would take on the attributes of a snooker ball in a sock. I tried to convince myself that this was a tolerable way to sleep and held space for about 10 minutes. Eventually I decided that enough was enough and went about relocating my camp. I guess in my own way I was staying true to the nomads, moving camp no matter what the time, in response to the weather or the movement of their animals.

Camp number 2 was further up the mountain on a cliff face. Perfectly flat but close to the edge of the mountain. I relocated my fire too as I figured it would provide a nice background noise for me to focus on as I slept. (Better than the imagined howling of wolves or stomping of bears). All went well and I was asleep in no time. However about 2am I woke to see little airy lights flying by my tent. Like glowworms only lighter in movement and more orange than green. Once the noise of my beating heart subsided I figured out that the wind was picking up again and that it was whipping embers from my 'extinguished' fire. My first fear was that the tent might get burned and thus break my impenetrable barrier, my only protection from any potential rain. This fear was soon overtaken by the fact that the wind was now pressing my tent to the gound like a giant finger trying to pop bubblewrap. Never fully going ahead with the motion but seemingly enjoying the interim pleasure just as much. For about an hour I tried to doze through this storm. Thanking every kilo of my body weight for keeping this desperate kite grounded. Once again this test of my will eventually subsided and I managed to doze off. Sweet blissfull sleep.


I woke to the sounds of birds I'd never heard before. ( imagine, not a single starling to be heard!!) I packed up camp and set off back down the mountain. Secretly delighted that I'd gone ahead with this challenge, also freezing my knackers off because Mongolian weather doesn't favour westerner fashion folly. Shorts?? Honestly Richard, what were you thinking?

the return to UB

I woke early in order to get to the bus stop in time. Arriving there like some smelly campfire hound the locals seemed to be amused to see my skinny white legs at such an early hour of the day. Atleast thats how I interpreted their grins. They might all have also shared a joke just before I stepped into view - markedly less likely...

So I hopped on the bus and nestled in for the long trip ahead. 12 hours and counting. I dozed for a short period once we set off, but the bumpy route quickly had me sitting upright. I was looking around the bus and I noticed the guy sitting opposite me gesturing to move over one seat. I presumed he was being friendly but declined as I didn't want to lose my window seat. He seemed to understand and left it at that. Then a few miles down the road he hopped over and sat in the seat next to mine.

We started off with the usual exchange of pigeon English/Mongolian. Hitting the limits of our abilities in a pretty short space of time. Although pretty wrecked from a rather sleepless night I decide this is a nice opportunity to flavour my experience Mongolia ( oh how right I was there!). I produce my Mongolian phrasebook and we start rattling through the small talk section. I now recall thinking how nice it was to encounter someone with such an interest in a foreigner.( I've become increasingly disillusioned with my 'fellow' westerners - ignoring one another seems to be the norm on the road. Even despite my winning smile:)) Once we'd finished the small talk section I let him loose on the book to see if he could come up with any other conversational pieces. I remember he pointed to the phrase "I have been raped", and wondering what the hell kind of sense of humour he had. Putting it down to that of an adolescent I let it drop.

I started to doze as we journeyed on, waking every now and then for a drink or a snack. We chat again and he has found the relationships section of his new bible. He quizzes me about my situation and I mention that I'm single ( although point out that I had a girlfriend before I left..just to be safe.) He holds on that page for a bit and I figure I know whats coming next. He eventually points the the word "Gomeks" which is, yup you guessed it...homosexual!! Huzzah, we'd broken through the linguistic barrier and figured out I'm straight and he's gay. That was that, so I thought.

Further down the road he asks me if I want to visit his home. I assumed (as the message was pretty clear) that he knew I was straight and that this was an innocent expression of hospitality. An invitation to a Ger I thought,"cool", but not willing to mix things up and given that I had to get the train in the morning I declined. He "casually" persisted with the invitation until I eventually looudly and clearly said, "NO!!!".

"Great", I though , now I've offended him. But he didn't seem phased. In fact not long after he quite openly offered to let me bum him. "Fucking nightmare!!" I thought. He also made some other gestures, which I won't describe - but suffice to say my freak out factor was now at maximum. I wholeheartedly declined and tried to visually display my dissatisfaction, as the language barrier was far too great to explain how I was really feeling. Bloody offended, if you are wondering. I have no problem with homosexuality, in fact some of my best friends are gay( ok I'm kidding here, I just love to throw this bullshit statement into conversations. Such as on being called a racist you retort with "why some of my best friends are black"..but thats not the point...) Sooo...anyway, I'm rattling my brain for an escape plan. Making a point of avoiding eye contact with Captain Lewd of the Mongolian Hospitality Brigade.

Whilst sitting there thinking about the situation a thought occurred to me, (as I didn't either have the inclination nor the physical presence to smack him upside the head) I wondered if this is how girls feel when they are the focus of unwanted sexual attention. I lament the aggressive nature of man. If I had the option of either speaking Mongolian or being built like Stallone in Rocky, I'd gladly opt for the former as I would love to have had the chance to explain to this tool exactly how badly he'd offended me. I guess it was my own naivety that left me open on this one.

Once we arrived at UB I quickly found a taxi and threw a few dollars at him to get me the hell out of there before our friend caught the scent. I do regret one thing though. Early in the trip, as a gesture of good faith I offered him my phrasebook - (What the hell, Mongolian isn't going to be on the junior cert curriculum anytime soon)..I've equipped this tool with the ability to hassle other tourists in future. Maybe I should have eaten those pages from the book...

My night ended beautifully, me with a double bed to myself - bed bugs don't count do they? Soooo loooong Ulan Bator.

Labels: travel