Byron and Emma do Sri Lanka

Melbourne... four seasons in one day.

2007-04-25T20:55:00.000+10:00

As many of my avid readers may be aware, or not, I am currently back home with my fam and Embo in Melbourne (or check this out). And after a decent stint in Colombo (I like Sri Lanka, but Colombo's a whole different story), I can officially say it's good to be back home! The old addage of "four seasons in one day" still holds true - you need to wear boardshorts under your jeans, and a t-shirt, jumper and jacket.. because you may leave the house and it is beautiful and sunny, and despite the huge drought it could be raining by lunch time! Though the great thing about Melbourne at the moment is definately the Melbourne Comedy Festival and the beginning of the Australian Rules Football (a.k.a. Footy) season. I saw a comic the other day, and here is one of his jokes (mainly for Aussies I think).

Australians, sorry Aussies, like to shorten everything. When I first arrived, I said to a guy that I was going to the Melbourne Cricket Ground, and he goes "Nah mate, we call it the MCG". When speaking to another bloke, he goes "Nah mate, it's just the Gee". Soon it's going to be known as the G. Ever thought about buying a Vowel!?

The sad thing is, however, that Aussies really aren't getting in to the cricket this world cup. And for those who saw some of my obsession in Sri Lanka, they would understand the significant life change I have gone through and the huge void in time it has created. Part of the reason is that ti is not on free to air TV (except the Australian matches). Last night I saw one of few matches, which was Sri Lanka beating New Zealand. But because it starts at 12:30am, the pub I was at (which had cable TV) closed at 3:00am and I was forced into early retirement only seeing three quarters of the Sri Lankan batting innings. 24 hour watering holes are few and far between, with the Casino prolly being the only one and that's still 10km away from my house.. so yeah. Go Cricinfo.com! Tonight is Australia v South Africa in the semis, I'll be trying my darndest to stay awake for that!

One thing before I go. Sri Lanka made the Aussie papers the other day, I think for the first time in the past two weeks. It was in the "odd spot" of my local newspaper, which is a random funny event from around the world they publish each day to appease the lowest common denominators. I enjoy it. Here it is:

Saturday April 21, 2007
Sri Lanka's Finance Ministry is trying to convince children to open their piggy banks to help ease coin shortages. The scheme aims to bring up to 4 per cent of Sri Lanka's coins back into circulation to help avoid the cost of minting new ones.

I thoguht this was hilarious.. the piggy banks of the children of Sri Lanka is going to fund the next Kfir jet! I think if we tried this in Australia, we might finally get enough money to actually buy a vowel!

On a side note, a drunken guy in the pub last night (who was interrupting my viewing of the Sri Lanka cricket destroyers!) tried to convince me if I melt down a 50c coin, the nickel in the coin would be worth around $1.20 at current prices. So I gave him two 50c coins and asked him to buy me a beer at $2.40 - he wasn't none too impressed. For the curious, the 50c coin is made of 75% copper and only 25% nickel - so his calculations are way out. They used to be made up of 80% silver, but because so many people melted the coins down in 1966 they changed (go WIkipedia!)

Take care all, and hope to catch up with you soon ont he flipside.

Peace, Love and Shirt-Fronting Ball Ups,

B.

P.S. Yeah, my camera hasn't moved far since I got back... maybe next time.

Colonialism Nots Dead, It's On A Golf Course

2007-03-27T21:20:00.000+10:00

Some of you may have heard that the LTTE now officially have an airforce, consisting of two home made planes it must surely be the world's smallest airforce. Considering they are up against Kfir Jets and the likes, the rebels surely must be hoping for an upset on the scale of Ireland beating Pakistan or Bangladesh beating India in the World Cup Cricket. Many of you may know that I am a big cricket fan. Some of you may not realise that for the past three odd weeks and for the next four weeks I will be living in a state of perpetual lethargy. The games are on at a good time here in Sri Lanka - they start around 7pm, just after work and The Simpsons, and finish around 3-4am. So obviously, the only thing that is suffering from all of this is my work... meanwhile, the streets of Sri Lanka (and Bangladesh) are buzzing with an amazing vibe. According to the BBC, the only sort of street rallies currently allowed in Bangladesh considering all the political strife is that relating to the ellations of the Bangladesh Tigers. And the only reason for that is the police are joining in the same street celebrations. Sri Lanka is not quite at the same level, but if you don't know how many runs Sangakara made or if you don't know who's wicket Murali took - you ain't worth your salt!

On the weekend past, a dozen of us travelled up to Kandy to play some cricket, many of us blury eyed from watching Sri Lanka beat India the night before (and what a game that was!). One of the good things about Sri Lanka, is that people work in all different sort of positions.. and Richard a.k.a. The Jelf works for a tourist company, and he definately came through with the goods this weekend when he organised the golfing trip away! So off we went, in convey with a jeep and a mini bus...

Lara, Andy, Martine and Katrina.. all wondering "When the F*%^ are we going to get there!?". A three hour drive turned quickly into five.... but it was worth it. The gold course is set on a huge piece of land next to Lake Victoria (a large hydro dam actually):

First stop on arrival? Check out our challete's on the golf course and tuck into a quick beer before we hit the practice fairwair.

The practice fairway.. not a bad view. Below (out of sight) there were buffalo we were aiming for.. completely unsuccesfully I must add. But in the picture, if you squint and tilt your head, you can see my ball flying into the mountains....

Sam (left) teaching Andy (right) how to hit a ball. They're both about to leave Sri Lanka in the next few weeks, so best they get an ass whipping sooner rather than later.

After we hit our 150 balls, two guys ran around picking up the balls.. in the meanwhile, we decided to play frisbee with the bucket lids. Martine takes safety very seriously!

That night some of stayed up until 3:30am to watch Australia beat South Africa. But that was not going to get in the way of the big day. At 10am, we were ready and raring to go. Sam, me and Andy and our three caddies.. and out of sight were our two ball finders who spent much of their time digging around in the bushes and rough looking for Andy's ball. :-)

The Glory Shot. A 100 yard, par 3, 4th hole. In the background you can see the tee off area, and this was the outcome with my 8 iron. Like a Tiger!

Poor Andy, on the same hole he had a bit more to go on his second shot.. say about 100 yards more.

Thankfully, my caddie had a handicap of 5 so he could give me some tips on the green.

Meanwhile, some of the girls decided to sit by the pool and lap it all up.. Ali who is currently staying with me while she is doing some research, welp she is from England and got fried as one would expect of the English when they see something resembling a big yellow ball in the sky. Her knees are still in pain...

Some of the others played tennis under the floodlights.. me? Nah. I will stick to badmitton.

Overall, it was an awesome weekend. I shot 100. Sam beat me on 99, taking the honours on the last hole. The bugger. Andy, well even with his caddie throwing the ball for him, he still got 135. The other group had about the same amount of luck as Andy. Fantastic weekend though. I felt like a real colonialist with my caddie and ball finders.. now I know what it's like to be a Tiger!

I haven't written in a while, so I thought I might just put up some random photos from previous weekends down south.. this is when I did some big game fishing. Unfortunately, the largest fish we caught was Nemo. The beach was quite nice though.. Unawatuna.

Peace, Love, and ex-Colonies

B.

ECO2027: Tuk Tuk Environmental Economics

2007-03-08T22:52:00.000+11:00

Ahh, the ol' trusty stead: the Tuk-Tuk, the Auto-Rickshaw, the Three-Wheeler, or whatever you may call it. They're always there (except when you need one), waiting to depart you from your hard earned money. They cry poor, and live rich. The tuk-tuk drivers themselves claim they know EXACTLY where you want to go, and then take you to several altenrative destinations first: No, not Borella, I said ROSMEAD PLACE! NO! NOT Galle Face Hotel, I said CRICKET CLUB ON QUEENS ROAD!

"Bagatalle road"
"Kandy?"
"BagaTALLE road"
"Ipswitch?"
"BAGAtalle road"
"Washington DC?"
"Baga-fucking-talle road!"
"Oh, BaGATAlle road".
"...ass muncher...."

Welp, for all their good and all their bad, they are the mode of transport in Colombo. Some of you may feel a bit of de ja vous, and think I have been here before. Well that was ECO1011: Introduction to Tuk Tuk Economics, and since then, We've Graduated!

Living in a developing country, with minimal enforcement of any laws (unless of course they expect you to pay an "on the spot fine"), and with insufficient capital to invest in maintaining eqiupment and infrastructure, you can imagine that - well there's lots of pollution on the roads and lots of shit-box tuk tuks hanging about. And so, unsurprisingly, the President who doesn't like traffic because it slows down his convoy from his home to the nearest airfield, decided to improve the situation he would unilaterally impose a new law:

All Tuk Tuks Must Run On Compressed Natural Gas

I thought, "This is great!" when I first read about it. There's an environmental problem, solve it by just demanding new technologies be used, right? I mean, in Enviro Eco 101 you learn this is one of the most inefficient methods because you aint using the "invisible hand" as Adam Smith put it (i.e. the market). But that's cool, nothings going to change without some form of drastic decisions. It turns out there are a lot of Adam Smiths in this world, here's a few of them:

This one may have just been released from Jail...

This one looks almost as lucky as me on Friday night when I was da man on the roulette table in the "foreigners only" casino!!

I just liked this one's name....

But there's a problem in all of these over simplistic calculations (and thus the second year level subject!). In fact, it can actually be very difficult to reconcile these problems. Firstly, there are 300,000 tuk tuk drivers in Sri Lanka. Let's take a conservative estimate, and say that each of the breadwinner is from a household of 5. That's 1.5 million people who depend on tuk tuks for at least some, if not the majority, of their household income. Put it another way: 7.5% of Sri Lankans rely on Tuk-Tuks for their income! If the average tuk-tuk driver say takes 10 passengers a day (even on a bad day he will do better than that!), that's 15% of Sri Lankans rely on Tuk-Tuks for their daily transport!

Let's move on from the socio-economic perspective, and look at the politics. There are 300,000 tuk-tuk drivers. I will assume that all are of voting age, which is probably quite close to being true. Each one has a spouse, who relies on this income. 600,000 votes. They probably support another two members of their household of voting age that will also vote with their hip pocket. 1,200,000 votes. Please, feel free to stop me if you think my calculations are wrong. Nothing? Ok, I'll continue. Many of the people who use tuk tuks hate the fact that petrol prices are going up and making tuk tuks more expensive, if the policy makes prices of tuk tuks go up let's say 20% of them will also change their vote. 1,800,000 votes. Now, we need to subtract the three people who vote based on environmental issues, that The President will gain. 1,799,997 votes of a total 13,320,000 voters. That is, 13.5% of voters will vote based on the price of tuk-tuks in Sri Lanka. A swing of 27% as most vote for the incumbent.

So, unsurprisingly, The President has decided not to pursue the agenda. Now I could go on a rant why democracy sucks, and explain the benefits of having me as be ultimate dictator, but I am not sure if this blog is the right forum for that: I think I need to be on Dave Letterman instead.

So what do you do? Do you kow tow to the social and economic pressures that tuk-tuk drivers would face and allow them to continue using gas-guzzling tuk-tuks? Or do you try to reign in the air pollution problems (that create health costs, reduce people's happiness, and other externalitities) and then get unelected as a result?

It's a difficult question, but how about if I put this to you: In Bangladesh, a country much much poorer than Sri Lanka, since 1982 they have started using CNGs (compressed natural gas tuk-tuks) and almost all are now convereted.

Peace, Love, and Tree Gugging Pinky Socialist Left Pinky Punks,

B.

Some Mothers Do 'Ave 'Em

2007-03-02T14:40:00.000+11:00

You know, watching Michael Crawford in this british sitcom I used to think that this over the top comedy was exactly that; too over the top to ever verge on reality. Well, last night at a BBQ at an unnamed persons place in an unknown area on the edge of Colombo a not to be named person proved that Some Mothers Do 'Ave 'Em (1). My golly golly gosh, at first I was so sure she was joking - it wasn't until the questions kept coming over and over again with this blank look that I realised this girl is serious.

I know I can get in a lot of trouble by saying things like this, something about it not being PC or blah blah blah. So I feel I ought to justify myself. Sitting around, drinking some beers, and talking about green energy (one does tend to get surrounded by tree hugging pinky socialist hippies in this gig), she asked what a wind mill was, "Oh yeah, we got heaps of them back home in Oreogon". Explained a lot of things, but not enough? "Why can't we catch waves and, like, never run out of wave energy?" or even better "When I'm in a boat we make waves, can't we just drive boats passed them?".

This is why I liked Jacqui, because she took no prisoners when it came to people like this. She probably would just start groaning in front of them from the weight of stupidity. I must say however, I am a huge fan of Plato for this precise reason. He did believe that at certain levels of stupidity, it ought to be a crime and more importantly you should not have the right to vote.

The most scandalizing aspect of Plato's political philosophy today is his argument against democracy. Scholars like to think of Plato as one of the greatest minds of Western civilization, but few contemporary thinkers feel comfortable with the philosopher's dismissal of the idea of popular self-government. His apparent contempt for ordinary folks is an embarrassment, and his deliberations on that topic seem hopelessly out-dated or even in bad taste. Yet, a closer look at Plato’s reasoning quickly reveals that his remarks are by no means irrelevant for an analysis of contemporary politics and society.

It's sort of like the Darwin Award's, though instead of being something as minor as propegating the species, this is about electing governments. But essentially, it's all about survival of the fittest and natural selection. As a species, if we continue to allow people that think China is "some sort of dishware" to vote, we will die out. We will end up killing ourselves from global warming whilst relying on a cup full of water to create enough ever-lasting wave energy to electrify the world. Stupid people shouldn't vote (2). Stupid people shouldn't breed. And less they drink, stupid people should not drive.

Peace, Love, and Plato Is Not A Planet Or A Dog,

B.

(1) I emplore anyone at that party to name and shame this person. Lack of intelligence may not be a crime, but goddamit it ought to be at such low levels. It's like radiation. A little bit of stupidity is okay, but in high doses it's dangerous to all those around.

(2) Is it not hilarious that if you google 'stupid people not shouldn't vote' you get Google Scholar with a list of published articles. If only the stupid people knew, their would be riots outside of WalMart the world over

I don't know a title, you be creative ya twit!

2007-02-23T22:50:00.000+11:00

It has been a while since I last posted, well a month to be precise Virgo - not that I am a virgo, and not that I believe in that codswoddle, but if I was and did then that would be the case. In the meanwhile, the blog has been attacked by unscrupulous comment spammers with their lolita stories. And Emma has come and gone from Sri Lanka, destined for bigger and better things in Melbourne with the onset of her studies in Masters of Public Health. Master Emma, I like the ring of it. I always find Master a funny title, because it is what Geeves calls you when you are like 12. Anyhoot.

My street became famous two days ago, featuring on BBC News. At the end of my street, a group of monks are protesting against the governments's refusal to withdraw from the Cease Fire Agreement with the LTTE. Yesterday was its 5 year anniversary. The monks want more war, from what it seems. They also have signs at the end of my street which I pass every day, like "Claim Back Our Independence and Remove Tiger-Supporting NGOs". It saddens me to see Sri Lanka, such a beautiful country with so much potential, continue fight amoung themselves.

I wish I had more to talk about, but unfortunately it is Friday, 5:30pm, I am still at work and I can smell the beer. Talking about beer, in this week in 1935 the first canned Beers were produced. And in this week 2007, Byron found an importer of VB stubbies - and at US$18 (AUD$22ish) that's cheaper than Australia! Some would say, "Now all you need to do is find a meat pie importer and you'll be set" - beat ya to it! Boscastle pies taboot. And with that, I'm ready for the 2007 Cricket World Cup in the West Endies: BRING IT ON!

Before Emma left, we managed to travel quite a bit around the country. One of the things we did was go to Yala National Park and Bundala National Park a fortnight or so ago. It was pretty cool, though Emma got really annoyed with me taking so many photos of stupid birds, "When I met you, you didn't like birds. I feel ripped off". Welp before you feel too sorry for her, this is what she got to see on our adventuring:

Little Green Bee Eater doing his thang...

Grey Langur munching on some leaves. If you see a pack of these dudes and you are in a safari jeep, get the guy to rev his engine loudly - they go "ape shit". Punny aren't I?

Elephant. Enough said.

Just a drawing I did while on the trip...

Homo Embo Wallerus in her unfamiliar territory.

Did you know there are peacocks, peahens, and they are all part of the Peafowl species? I thought they were just all peacocks... here's one doing a dance anyway.

Nimal, my trusty driver, came with us. As Emma would say, "He's a dude!". And that he is.

An injured Intermediate Egret we found while on a boat. In the background, you see it I know you do, yes you're right, it's a $2.50 COIN SLOT! Love the crack.

We visited Nimal's house on the way back, and this is a funky looking bird (Hornbill?) having a dig at the papayas.

A mean looking Crocodilus ... if only Steve was around, I am sure he would have shoved his thumb up it's clacker to piss it off - just for kicks.

This is a Stupa (Buddhist monument thingymajig where you can pray). This one is in Tissamahara, Hambantota, and is really old.. like 2500 years old.

I know I have shown photos of me at the eye surgery before, but Emma liked this photo. These people are waiting to have cataracts removed...

And finally, this is a mason on a housing construction site.

To all those that have moved countries recently, (Chris, Caz, George, Phi, AYADs) and to those applying for Aussie citizenship - you know who you are - I wish you the best of luck!

Peace, Love, and Tweety Pies,

B.

The best thing one can do when it raining is to let it rain.

2007-01-31T22:53:00.000+11:00

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow had bastards for parents, as surely as it rains in Sri Lanka he got beaten up at school for a name like that. But he did provide the aforementioned quote that I name this blog entry after. When it's raining, theres nothing you can do but let it rain - and that is even moreso the case in Sri Lanka, for when it rains it may not stop for some time. Embo and I decided to get out on the Australia Day long weekend, and headed inland to a little place called Dambulla. Just outside of that skanky town is a beautiful resort called Kandalama, designed by a famous Sri Lankan architect Jeffrey Bawa. To put it in perspective, he's Donna D'Cruz's favourite architect. I don't know who she is either, but that's not the point. He is fantastic at blending the surrounding environment into the designs of the hotel... and Kandalama is his best. It's 1km long, 7 stories tall, and barely noticeable hidden within the rocky hills behind, the forest in between, and on the the Kandalama lake/weir. Trees grow within the hotel, monkeys walk along the balconys scarying unsuspecting Emma's, and the infinity pool trails off so it appears it is part of the lake. If you're ever in SL, definately make sure you spend a night of luxury in Kandalama..

As mentioned though, unfortunately, it rained rained and rained some more. Our plans to climb Sigiriya? Washed away. Our plans, ahem, my plans to go birdwatching and walking through the forest? Rained out. But where there's rain, there's a rainbow.. and Emma and I did play a heck of a lot of ping pong, and abused the buffet as bad as the jacuzzi.

This is what our view looked like.. often we would sit on those chairs and have monkeys walk along the barrier. They weren't exactly nice little monkeys, they wanted to seek revenge on us for taking over their oasis:

Here's the tacky entrance to Dambulla caves, a holy site for buddhists or something or rather. they claim that's the biggest buddha in the world, but there are like 6 bigger in Sri Lanka. It was donated not too long ago by the Japanese:

Inside the five caves is pretty cool.. lots of frescos and statues, some are over 700 years old or something:
Outside the caves, the monkeys are getting jiggy withit doggy style (feel free to include monkey style in your repportoir boys, sounds more animalistic!):The thinking monkey, "How am I going to seek revenge on Emma.....":

You thought I didn't take any bird photos., yeah? yeah, right! There was this one morning where it stopped raining for a couple of hours and I jetted outside.. unfortunately, it started raining shortly after and I ran back squeeling like a baby, "My camera, my new camera, god dam you gods of rain!". This is a funky funky dude with electric eyes I spotted while pondering on a rock, the Ceylon Paradise Flycatcher:

This dude was haunting me, but I finally got close enough to the Common Iora to get a quick snap - even if the bushes were in the way:

Up above were Brahminy Kites flying all around. Due to the grey skies, hard to get the brown and white of the bird to stand out.. so I messed around with the photo on Adobe and this is what I came up with. I kinda think its cool... whatchyareckon?
These dudes were everywhere. No, its not that time of the month, it is a Red-vented Bulbul eating a jungle rodent:

Here's another R-V Bb taking a dip:

My little friends, the Little Green Bee Eater hanging about.
After all that birding and twitching, it was back to work. And although I don't have a PhD so I can't technically be a "Doctor", it didn't stop me from scrubbing up on Monday to check out some cataract removal operations at the Colombo Eye Hospital. The PJ's were a little bit small for me; I think I might need to consider donating some smocks as part of my next project.
Welp, that is all from me my ardent readers. Tune in next time for some more racially and gender insensitive comments.

Peace, Love, and Scrubbers,

B.

Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego?

2007-01-23T23:37:00.000+11:00

Carmen Sandiego is a fictional criminal in a computer game that I used to play lots at school. You would have to solve the clues and try and track her down. Yes, mum, that's where your school fees went.. in to buying high tech computer equipment that essentially made board games playable in an anti-social climate with "funky" graphics - VGA baby! Well, Carmen Sandiego reminds me of my blog.. I have this funky new tracker where I can now spy on all you people who spy on my writings. Well, while my instincts that suggested to me people come, check out the photos, and leave have been verified (I know you only stay for an average of 18 seconds, you fickle ADHD procrastinators!) - but what I did find interesting was the array of countries where you come from.. Singapore to Senegal, Sri Lanka to Australia (well they are obvious), UK to US / Canada (whatever), Japan to Korea (south, North have officially banned me), Poland, India, and others.. It turns out that I use a lot of keywords people are searching (generally for porn, and think my blog has free photos of girl on girl, missionary, anal, and headjobs). But what possesses some of you to actually read this dribble? Beyond me..

Anyway. On the weekend Embo and myself were supposed to climb up a mountain for hours and hours only to watch a sunrise. Welp, bugger that. We decided to drive to Sinharaja forest instead and go for a leisurely walk in a sub-tropical / primary rainforest a couple of hours south east of Colombo, with two mates Ian and Caroline. Anyhoot. It was an excellent walk. Unfortunately, Byron is a doosch and did a Joel - yes, I had a slight accident in the work vehicle, three times. Each time I hit the left mirror into a bus pulling over (not far enough obviously!). By the end of the trip, the mirror was broken and there were some scratches.. at least I didn't kill any motorcyclist.. but there's always next weekend!

Here's a picture of us happy go lucky group atop of Sinharaja forest...

While we were there, we did see this FANTASTIC bird. I reckon it has to be one of the most beautiful I have ever seen. This is the endandgered endemic Sri Lanka Blue Magpie.
The one on the left supports Collingwood.... (not the English cricketer, who even his mum has decided should be dropped):

Taking off because he saw my ugly mug?

Nesting Sri Lanka Blue Magpie
These little tackers fly extremely quick, so I was quite lucky for one to stay still long enough for me to get a happy snap. The Yellow Browed Bulbul:

I've shown you bee eaters before, well there are three types that look very similar. The one you saw before from Yala has a range closer to the ground, the Blue Tailed Bee Eater sits atop the canopy:

These little fishy were in all the muddy rivers.. I didn't like my photo so thought I would accentuate the colours and see what happens. The blue is the shimmer atop the water, and the red is the dirt at the bottom, and the yellow are my little fishy.. Cool or Drool?
Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuude. Aint he so cute you just want to dip him in batter and deep fry him? Mmmmm..
Waaay too many spiders for my liking.. but I do like the web.
Unfortunately, walking through any forest has its risks. And in Sinharaja, the risk is leeches (allegedly killed more British colonialists in the 1800s than any other piece of nature bar mosquitos). Welp, i had two, the one on the two got really frigging big. Their anti collagulants mean your feet don't stop bleeding... even after like 4 tissues!

Welp, after being attacked by leeches, attacking busses, it was still an awesome weekend! Thankfully, this weekend is Australia Day Long Weekend, so will head off somewhere else with hopefully some more photos then! Have a great Aussie Day, wear your flag with pride at the BDO, and start riots in protest of not being able to riot or protest at music festivals.

Peace, Love, and Oh So Blue Birds,

B.

Forget the chicken darling, it's turkey hunting season!

2007-01-19T21:47:00.000+11:00

Gone are the days when classic sayings like those were part of the average Jo Blow's lexicon.. now we rely on watching Homer Simpson go kung-fu master in snake whacking season. Ahh, to be canadian with a little c would be Grande with a big G. But I have a gripe to air. And it's to do with war, tourism, and silly telephone operators.

WARNING: If you don't like longwinded stories with no plot or ending, then skip this and just go look at the photos.. or delete this page from your bookmarks as it's doubtful it will ever improve.

For those humanitarian workers in Sri Lanka, I'm sure you have seen that there is a noticable decline in the number of tourists - on any given weekend, you can attend your favourite beach resort and not have the "traumas" of other people invading your space. No families with kids running around. No grandparents remembering the time of when they were the colonial masters. And rarely any backpackers - maybe the odd few that have been living in Ashrams in India for six months or more and have not read any newspaper to realise that heck, there's a war going on. Despite all of the noticeable differences in tourist numbers from this year to last, the official statistics show that tourism is up 10,000 odd people from 2005 to total 550,000 in 2006. But somehow, someone forgot to tell the tourist operators this. Or the bastards in the hotels are lying to me and trying to screw me for more money.. either way. So what went wrong with the numbers?

Well, this is not a political statement as much as an econometric exercise. You see, 2005 sucked for tourism because a huge wave came and thwacked the place in 2004, right? So poor baseline information. Tsk Tsk. And are the 2006 tourists REALLY tourists? Of course not. Most of them are Indian rebel fighters claiming to be tourists while secretly trying to reclaim the motherland while the other half are 'volunteers' in the North and East that can't get working permits...

So what's my point? I don't know if I have one or ever did.. I'm just peeved that there aren't enough wealth ladened western tourists to overpay Tuk Tuk drivers and so they're all hassling me.. meanwhile, I call the Maldives to try and book some acommodation, and one person says "2007 or 2008?" and another THREE hotels 'politely request me to call back in 10 minutes as the reservation line is full'. Surely, the millions and billions of dollars lost in foreign exchange and jobs and livelihoods is worth more than a hilly piece of dirt?

ENOUGH ALREADY!

Alright alright. It's after 5pm on Friday and I am still at work belting out jibberish. So I'm just going to post a few photos (some from this week, some from Europe that didn't make it before).
This is New Years Day in London.. proof that I did see the happy couple Joel and Katie on their honeymoon (while the girl on the second left is Katie, the honeymooning Katie is the one holding the camera - you think you're confused? I went to uni with them!)

Driving along, and what do we see? Oh yeah look, there's Stonehenge. The one on the right? Nelson.

Boxing Day 2006, and Embo and I are off to see (Wigan Ath)Latics play against Manchester United at Old Trafford in front of a HUGE 76,000 people. Awesome. And the best part? They have massive hot dogs!

Roooney ya fat bastard.. make a run to the box! This is what old trafford looks like at capacity!

There's nothing better than telling a story through the art of hotdog pornography... the footlong hotdog will always have its place as long as KY Jelly and Ansell are still in business .
After stuffing a big twelve incher down ya gob, there's nothing more masculine than being on site with oversized Tonka Trucks! Bigger Bigger! Flatter Flatter! WE NEED MORE COMPACING SCOTTY! FASTER Pathamananthanana Wickramamasingh!

Nimal is a dude. I spend a lot of time in the car from site to site, and Nimal is my #1 Driver. After six months, he has finally stopped asking me about the price of things in Australia followed by a shock "Shahh!". He is also the most informed Sri Lankan on Aboriginal rights... as skewed as that might be.
Okay, so on the weekend I attended a meeting with a commnuity we are constructing a potable water supply system.. The meeting was in Sinhala and my normal translator was sick with Chickungunya (Yes, that's the name of a real disease.. kind of like Dengue but not deadly, and the name means "Bends over" in Swahili, because when you get it you are in such pain you bend over). So while everyone else chatted about important things that I rarely got the insight into, I decided to go to the playground and hang out with some kiddies. Nothing tells a story better than a) a crying baby or b) a smiling mini adult.

And another thing....

Peace, Love, and F#$%ING B@!$#$%*T STATISTICS!

B.

Rendezvous in Paris? Well, how about Northern England instead...

2007-01-09T23:52:00.000+11:00

Wow, what an absoloute gut wrenching couple of weeks. I think I am about to explode. Emma and I have managed to spend two weeks travelling around Europe (England, Wales and Italy), basically eating and drinking our way around between family, friends, and random romans. It's been a fantastic Christmas and New Year holiday!

I will let the photos do the talking.. because I am still jet lagged.

After we arrived in London, we went straight to Wigan (via Oxford) and caught up with Granny. She's doing bloody well for her age, kicking on and still ready to have a go at anyone at the ripe old age of 94. Go Grans.

After a chrissy with the fam, we had to go see the sights of Wigan. An hour and one photo later, we were done:

P.S. The story goes Wigan Pier is where coal moved between Manchester and Liverpool, made famous by some dude called Orwell who wrote a book about the Road to Wigan Pier. Oh yeah, and Uncle Joe makes mint balls there and they sell them in airports. Famous.

En route to everywhere we went, Embo and I spent most of our time staying in pubs, eating breakfast in pubs, drinking pints with our lunch at pubs, and eating dinner at pubs. By the end, Emma was sick of the pubs and I was socially enebriated for a long enough time that I was willing to move on too.. here is one of the many pubs we ate and drank at (awesome food here):

Here's the smallest house in Britain. It's so small, it shouldn't even be on the map.

In Northern Wales, we went to an absoloutely gorgeous little town called Conwy (pr. Conway). It is a walled city (as in, there is a castle and walls around the city). Good ol' King Edward I built the castle after he smashed the Welsh in 1280ish, and it was for British settlers. To this day, any Welshman caught in the gates after 7pm can legally be shot. At the George and Dragon pub we stayed at, John said it should also include Australian convicts.

Wales is also in the World Rally Championship circuis, which I have on my PsP. I thought these roads looked cool, so I tried a bit of rallying too.. until Emma told off and I almost made her carsick.. almost.

Anglesea in northern Wales is also famous for its beaches.. I don't know why: their cold, they're made from rock and not sand, and the sunset occurs at about lunchtime.
Driving along, we gate crahsed into this castle which looked pretty cool.. but it was closed (thus the gate crashing bit)

After the smallest house in Britain, we went to Wells the smallest city in Britain. 10,000 people + 1 cathedral. This is just outside of Westbury sub Mendip where Bill lives in the Somerset shire. It was a really cool area of England in the South, where they make cider.. so we drank that at the pub while being served by a beautiful polish bartender. Oh, and this was the market emma and I went to:

Emma and I then proceeded to London for New Years party at Zhera's place. was really awesome. Someone had the great idea of passing the time before midnight by playing games (I voted for more beer). Game 1: Let's see if we can pick up a cereal box from the floor without touching the ground with our knees or hands, and when everyone does that, you rip some of the box off...,
After about this level, it got quite inappropriate to take more photos in low cut tops and dresses. Hmm.. Bob was actually the champion, able to pick up a quarter with his teeth. Almost.. game 2: Of course, it's 7 Famous People. I refuse to explain the rules in case others out there may start playing too.. this Emma getting right into it!
And here's bob getting in to it... he also cleaned.

And from the window, we watched the fireworks over london. Woo.
Then after a day of rest in London with Joel - trying to get over a hangover.. Emma and I went over to Rome. ahh beautiful. We found more food during the day (by golly dam those Italians can cook.. oh la la, gelato!)

And I thought I would kill a few romans .. I never liked aquaducts anyway..

And by night, we travelled around the steets looking at Tevoli fountaions and the such..
And of course, we popped in for some Eggs Bennedict XVI at the Vatican (he was actually there giving communion the day we were there, so it was friggin packed full of nuns and stuff.. took us like 3 hours to get to the Cupola, which I later found out was a dome in the big cross shaped building). Here's emma in front of a Mozaic.

The end.

For all those who I haven't contacted yet - everyone that is as I haven't done season greetings this year - Happy Hanukkah, Eid Mubarak, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, Silly Season Greetings, and Ahoy Aethiests. As a good Indian friend said to me the other day, may your tears of 2007 be joyous and you learn from your failures.

Oh, now it's The end.

I like birds with long legs.. and short skirts

2006-12-23T00:02:00.000+11:00

I sit here at 7pm on a Friday at work, with a dude loitering around and wating for me to leave so he can follow suit, and to top it off a plane with hopefully me on it is to depart in a few hours - and I ought to pack at some time. This could all lead to a "So I better be quick and make this short and sweet - happy new years merry christmas let's get drunk". But no, that's so not my style. Instead, I'm gonna make that loiterer wait and earn his money! The longer he looks at me, the slower I type..

As some of you may know, I had huge plans for the weekend past. I was going to spend it in the south-east corner of Sri Lanka and soak up the atmosphere of migratory bird species at two awesome national parks (Yala and Bundala). Unfortunately, Murphy and God decided to kick me in the nuts.. Cartmen style. Yep. It rained - the entire weekend. To put it in perspective, as one the only Delegate in that region of Sri Lanka for the Red Cross, I was giving weather reports as the RC was preparing for flood / humanitarian relief. Can you believe it? I'm happily on my weekend wanting to voyeur on some birds, and work is calling - the mobile phone is very disrupting for twitchers you know. To top it off - the migratory birds weren't there either. None of the thousands of flamingos could be found. The late rains has meant the birds are late too.. so I was stuck. In a flooded region, with nothing but a new camera. Fortunately, there was a little island in the middle of a lake that had a huge nesting population of Ibis, Spoonbills, Comerants, etc - so I went to the jetty...

and took a photo of some nesting birds...
The next day I decided to be stupid and go to Yala national park in the rain...

Plenty of wading birds around...

Peacocks are cool.. especially these males with their feathers. Yes, feathers on a bird!
These were some mating king fishers... awesome blue KF's here.
Spotted deer...
I am a huge fan of parakeets.. but they can be hard to spot sometimes!
And this the peace resistance (more appropriate consider the war situation to say it like that). When I was buying my camera, I joked to my brother who was wondering why I was wasting my money - it was all for the bee eater. I just wanted a photo of the bee eaters here, they're cool. First outing baby, makes it all worthwhile! (almost)
Monkeys had the right idea.. being in the air and not in the flooded waters...
A lizard.. wow.
This dude was cool, he walked around for ages kind of eyeing me, and kind of eating the entire lake...

A rarity.. spotting these huge owls...

Is this not the most stupid looking wild buffalo you have ever seen?

And outside of the park, I saw a squirrel.. I just like the fact the dragon fly flew into the photo.

I got bogged in big four wheel drives twice last week. Once on site, where the driver aimed for a huge hole and the front left vehicle dropped so far that we were resting on the chassis. 5 villagers came and helped us out.. I was taking photos (next blog, maybe). The second time was in yala, when the truck literally floated away at one point. Me and my italian mate had to wade out of the vehicle while he accelerated into a bigger hole - luckily, he got out.. luckily, we got out.

I was going to go to Bundala the next day.. despite the rain. The park was closed.. all the roads were being washed away. The RC was giving away rice packs though. I got stuck in my hotel. Boooooooooooooooo.

I also went to Ampara this week for some work. I don't like to post too many work photos, work already does that here, here and here. But with my new camera, how could I resist.

This was a really nice family in Kalmunai. The guy on the right spoke excellent english, and his parents couldn't stop smiling - of course, until you pull out a camera, at which point all Sri Lankans put on this look that has absoloutely no facial expressions. His dad was cery photogenic though.
I kept getting harassed by kiddies, all wanting to touch my new toy..err camera.. and pointing at my earing. To shut them up, I took a photo of them.

Sites like this really make me peeved off. *Did I just censor that? Fucking hell* This was a river that flows through the coastal community and to the beach, where they steal sand. Blatent disregard for the local environment.. anyway, cool crow in the bottom right.
And that's all folks. Have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Drive safe. And i will roger back from the UK hopefully with some photos of FOG! Yay!

Peace, Love, and Furry Animals,

B.

The trouble with the rat race is, even if you win, you're still a rat.

2006-12-13T21:53:00.000+11:00

I am in two minds. Both of them are quite empty and hollow at the moment, but still, two minds nonetheless. I am at work and bored, and of course this provides the opportune setting for some blogging. Unfortunately, I have done nothing interesting since my recent post – oh, Marie came over and cleaned my house on Sunday and finally that HUGE pile of clothes that had been washed has now also been folded, but still sits on the spare bed. I don’t know why I have a closet, I never use the thing.. it goes from washing basket, to washing machine, to bed.. wait a while.. then on my back, only to be discarded into a washing basket again. But back to where I started, two minds. Should I blog, or should I wait til sometime after the weekend when I plan to go to Bundala National Park and take some well wicked photos with my new big ass camera of the migrating birds through the wetland on the South/Southeast coast of Sri Lanka? As you can probably tell, I decided to do the former and blog.

I personally don’t have any interesting photos to throw up on the blog. BUT, a good friend in Melbourne has been working herself busy, diving into the depths of the Tasmanian, Victorian and other oceans to voyeur on some of the finest fish, corals, grasses, seahorses, underwater mammals, and what not. Agnes really does have some cool photos.. check them out here and here. Unfortunately, as with many other budding amateurs with an expensive camera (like me), Agnes likes to post all her photos – which to a marine biologist could be interesting, but to a layperson like me that goes “ooer, orange” it’s a bit much. Sorry Ag!

Another interesting website to fill your boredom and procrastination with is Sam’s. Check it out here. Sam is an Aussie living in Colombo who usually I bump into at The Commons, Odel’s, Deli

France

, The Cricket Club, or any other delicatessen / pub / restaurant in Colombo. Tonight he will also be frequenting Inn On The Green, where a team of us plan to lose once again in the weekly trivia. Anyway. He has just come back from a cool trek in

Nepal

with some funky photos.. unfortunately, he too suffers from the “amateur photoitis” something like 60 photos of

Nepal

alone. Not to mention 120 of

Thailand

, then

Sri Lanka

, blah blah blah..

If anyone else has some interesting blogs / websites to keep me entertained, feel free to send them to me – may just write about it. And of course with Emma being away, feel free to send me porn Chris, but Joel let’s keep the farm animals to a minimum shall we?

Oh by the way, a HUGE CONGRATULATIONS to Joel for getting Married, and then deciding to hire a car in Vietnam while on a honeymoon only to crash into a motorcyclist. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have a blog and refuses to send me the photos of the guy writhing in pain whilst floored.. but if you would like to laugh at him as all his friends have, feel free to email him at: jozza_the_hippy_backpacker@yahoo.com.au [He’s not really a hippy backpacker.. at best he’s a flashpacker – yes, he has a backpack, but he also has a hairdryer and stays in 4.5star hotels]

Finally, if you care what music I am listening to at the moment: Currently it is Anti-Flag which I am led to believe are touring Australia and thus are all over JJJ. My radio as of tomorrow will be tuned into the Ashes where the third test will be starting, and with any luck The Ashes will be finished by the time I get to the UK. If you have any interesting music that you are listening to, drop me a line always looking for something new and “developed”.

Peace, Procrastination, and stupid roadside checkpoints!

The title of this blog: "The trouble with the rate race is, even if you win, you're still a rat" - Quoted in C. Hamilton, Affluenza; originally by Lily Tomlin (American actress whom played amongst many things President Bartlets second assistant in West Wing [Deborah]).

Whirlwind trip to buy toys and porn...

2006-12-08T23:18:00.000+11:00

Unfortunately, I forgot the porn. Unless you count FHM, though soft porn really isn't porn (accordint to a judge that said Zoo was "smutty but not obscene"). Though my trip to Melbourne did include many many cool new toys. For the dedicated readers of this blog, you would know that I fancy myself as a twitcher cum photographer - but without the patience or the skill. Welp, I have completedly compensated for all that lack of ability with a brand new camera. Woo. If you would like to know what I bought, click here and here. And I also travel lots, and what better for the frequent traveler than a PSP (PlayStation Portable) - I am not sure what's more fun, playing the thing or on airplanes have little boys behind you sticking their head through the seats to try and get a peek, only to then decide you would rather listen to music than him going "Dad, I want one too!". Yes. I am now officially geeked out - broke, but geeked out nonetheless.

There are two things that best set the standard of my trip. A) My shopping spree which you have heard of. And B) going directly from the airport to a bucks party, where the buck died in the ass at around midnight and Johnny and I partied til about 4 in the morning. Hard core? Not quite.. jet lag works wonders. I tried to keep the jetlag (i.e. sleep in late, go to bed late) for as long as possible - I initially tried to keep it for the full two weeks to I would be fine when I got back to Sri Lanka, though that didn't quite work. Heck, I still got called a piker for passing out in bars at like 3am!

I could write an itenerary of things I did.. but that's no fun. And to be honest, I couldn't remember half the things I did. But some highlights were chillaxing with mates, seeing my new baby nephew Bails, being bagoobled by the buildings in the big smoke, hanging with my bros, going for a drive through the wide open spaces (ignore the fact that it was destination Bendigo), eating my way through town.. oh and of course seeing Emma and going to the Wedding which was the reason for my whole visit.

I got told I write too much on the blog. Generally, people said "I am illiterate, please don't write I just want photos". Unfortunately, I don't believe in lowest common denominator. But I hears ya. So from me, tada, and from my camera, hallo hallo.

This is my home town, Melbourne:

Here is the steps of the state library where people in suits try to get their two minutes of "nature" during the summer.. the rest of the time, they are in AC or heated cubicles acting like drones.. poor suckers (yes, you!):
Here is me, embo, and some friends (not sure why this photo of the 400 made it.. but anyhoot):
Here is an alley that had cool grafiti, near to Yen which has the best noodles in a box!

This was my favourite piece of grafiti:

Not sure what happened with this photo, but cool hey?
This is my brother. Yes, he may look like a tool, and that's because he is.. but at least he has clean teeth! This was one of my first photos with my new camera.. SWEEET.
Emma and I went for a drive to the country, Bendigo.. I liked the open spaces.
This is the guy I went to see.. lucky it was only 2 hours to get there! Hi Paul!
This is my first bird photo.. a Rosella.

If you are in a cubicle in the city, these are the closest things to birds you will see in Melbourne. Pidgeons and Seagulls (rats with wings):
I liked this photo. When playing with my new camera, I took random photos.. this is the lemon tree in my parents' back yard. SOUR!!!

This is the beautiful bride and bridesmaids' getting ready on the day of the wedding (I got to be paired up with Karen on the right - she's like me, a tree hugging hippy pinky lefty socialist bleeding heart, and thus we made a great team):
Unfortunately for Katie, this was the boobie prize: The groom on the morning of, you think he was wigging out? You'd be wrong, he's usually like this.
Peace, Love and stupid little packets of peanuts on airplanes,
B.

I was walking down the street wearing glasses when my prescription ran out...

2006-11-10T00:07:00.000+11:00

You know, there aren't a lot of "famous" quotes in the world that contain the words 'glasses' or 'spectacles'. The one above is by Steven Wright (1955 - ). Supposedly famous, but thats only because he can afford a PR person to design a webpage for him. If I was a "Comedian slash Actor" I too would have a webpage, but that wouldn't make me famous. But from now on, in this blog he will be famous, because he wears glasses.. like I did, except for the weekend before last.

One of the reasons I like being Australian is that we have the ability to laugh at our selves... I suppose the Englishmen and Germans and Americans can't afford that luxury, otherwise they would spend their lives rolling on the ground in fits of uncontrollable laughter. But anyway..

This weekend I managed to stumble across some pals, and get very very drunk at an ItalianI was pretending to be working in the South when I figured it would be a good idea to go for a break and head to Unawatuna, a beach resort. And for those who know, I tend to end up on my party with some Norweigans and others, but by the time I was leaving - I was not on my feet. Walking home in the monsoonal rains, drunk as a skunk, I fell - on my ass in plain view and into a six inch muddy cesspool. Being a trooper, I trooped on.. only to wake up in the morning going, "Dude, where's my glasses?". I went back to the scene of my ass whallopping, but nope.. not there. I couldn't even look for them, for I had no glassess and I am quite blind. To make matters worse, I drove myself to Unawatuna with a colleague who couldn't drive. We were stranged on the beach for another 36 hours before a driver could be delivered to us.. and instead of going feet when I travel around SL as I have lots of friends in different places.. but not this weekend. back to the South where my work was, I made an emergency stop in Colombo. thankfully, my dark dodgey underworld connections paid off. It had been 48 hours without seeing, but I had a pair of spectacles.. for free.. and almost as clear as my other ones (except I had to compromise on the lens a bit). Two days of headaches, I had adjusted!

Usually there are morals to stories.. if there was one for that, I think it would be "If you are going to get drunk, I mean REALLY drunk, bring a spare pair of glasses" (c) Byron Pakula (1980 -).

But life isn't all clear sailing being on a tropical island.. I am actually working hard because II get asked a lot, "So, whats life without Emma like?". I like to think that 6.5 years doesn't make you joined at the hips, though being seperated for a lil while does make you wish you were. Heh. have not much else to do (heck it's 7:30pm and I am still in the office, but that's mainly because my apartment is dirty and I don't want to have to front it!). This is me without Emma:

The main reason for me being in the South for past few weeks and next week is to do some urveys of beneficaries. It's lots of fun actually, walking around the site giving commands to the volunteers working on the project and hanging about atop of the water tower at sunset. Oh, a born dictator am I. This is a cool nightshot of the area....
.... and some of the volunteers. R-e-s-p-e-c-t as Ali G would say.
And then the work finishes, and off on the road I am again to somewhere else. Last weekend I went to Nuwara Eliya and Ella in the hill country / tea planation region of SL. Way wicked. A lot of people say that this area reminds them of England, I guess it must be because it is always cold, overcast, rainy, and people whinge whinge whinge as they walk around wrapped up in scarves. The trip there and or back reminds me of Melbourne personally, four seasons in one day from tropical heat to chilly mountains. Either way though, it's a very beautiful part of Lanka, a region I haven't nearly explored enough. Here is a photo of a cool waterfall...

... and you see the top of the "mountain" in this photo? That's where Maria, Anniken (yes, anniken as in "Use The Force Luke"), and I walked up.
And walked up some more...

We walked along the railroads...
Past some flowers....

... more flowers

Picked a random dude along the way...
Saw a wicked butterfly from the top...

And from underneath (what a poser flutterbyes are)...

And was held up by the military in town...
And tomorrow, off I go again to the South. This weekend, Yala National Park where I am going to hunt down some leopards and sloth bears, throw them in a cage and see who comes out first. The winner gets to challenge my 42 cambodian midget wrestlers I keep under my desk!

Peace, Love, and Tree-hugging-hippy-weekends,

B.

P.S. Donald Rumsfield, Fuck you. You deserve it you slimy weasily little bastard. Next stop, Canberra.

Oprah Makes Great Chocolate Milkshakes... is that racist?

2006-10-22T19:08:00.000+10:00

I sit here in Oprah Winfrey's Harpo Productions & Entertainment's cafe, The Commons.. sucking down a great chocolate milkshake with cigarette in the other hand. Here's a free tip for all you dairy loving smokers: it aint a great combo. A weird looking woman comes up to me in an empty cafe for all but me and the waiters, "Is this seat taken?". I look around and see every other seat free, but no, she wants to hustle in on MY coffee table, "No, go for it". She smokes even more than me, to the point where I don't even feel like smoking. She also smokes strange looking chicky cigarettes, you know the ones that are a little bit longer & thinner? We both have our laptops out; she is using an apple mac and I can hear South Park in the background - did I tell you she is a weird looking elderly woman, prolly in late 50s and in need of a nip and tuc and maybe a hair dresser? Well she does. I've never seen a woman with bi-focals hanging off the tip of her nose watching South Park, but what can you say.. she has taste. I sit here with my IBM think pad that doesn't like to think too much, but prefers to crash.. doing work (sigh). Jack johnson goes on and on and on and on.. I come to this cafe most days as it is around the corner from work and has free wi-fi. Without fail, they are playing Jack johnson's on and on. It's an ok album, but FOR FUCKS SAKE OPRAH - GET WITH THE TIMES! This could be the location of the next cafe-massacre in vein of the Port Arthur Massacres. He prolly got sick of listening to local yokel folk music and decided to off everyone.. good for him.

Now that I have managed to put off side the blacks, the women, the elderly, and the anti-gun lobby, I think it's about time to get down to some phlogging.

I haven't blogged in some time, and phlogging's been even further behind. With Emma being in India for two weeks and having my camera; me being busy at work and in the field; and then Emma having her last week before departing... I just CBFed. Though since our last rendevous, I have done a couple of interesting things. My brain however is mush from too much chocolate milk shakes (yes, just chocolate milkshakes, thankyouverymuchmum) so I can't be bothered elaborating on the story too much. Besides, Lyle says I write too much and should get a pen pal rather than subject all of you to it. Maybe he's right.. or maybe he's just an illiterate doosch that can't appreciate good literature. I am sure one edition of Penthouse will change his mind on literature with langauge!

After spending time in Colombo, I get edgy.. I get real edgey, and what to beat up tuk-tuk drivers and waiters at fancy restaurants. When the police arrive, that's when I know it's time to hit the field. I returned last week from a two week stint in the south and the east, organising beneficiairy surveys, looking at water infrastructure, and pretending I know something about housing construction. Here are some photos from the construction site... this is the construction site:

Here's an obligatory photo of a beneficiary with bricks in the background...

... and this dudes a baker - I think he's eaten one too many of his fly infested rolls.

And this is me hanging around like a bad smell...

When I drive down South, I always pass this sign of a housing site funded by the Victorian State Government (for those who don't know, my home state's government in Australia). I had a bit of time to spare, so this time I figured I might check out what my tax dollars (if I paid tax...) was going to. As you can see, not much is going on. Allegedly it's very difficult to get money disbursed when a government is dealing with another government.. two forms of bureacracy's a bitch!

This is a temple that I passed. It looked old...

... What I liked best was the dude climbing up a tree to get a cocnut for the monk.

When out for such a long period, there is plenty of opportunities to spend your weekends doing some touristy things. I generally try to link up my trips with a weekend on the beach down south, or in this instance at Gal Oya National Park in Ampara - somewhere I never actually managed to visit when living in Ampara, so I went to make ammends. I drove out there with a bunch of people, and we just walked around this "tank" (a.k.a. lake).. beautiful scenery shots!

And this is a weird statue of a dude just hanging around nearby the hydroelectric dam.

And this is another weird dude that liked to creep in to people's artistic photos. Thanks Mark!

Pace, Love, and Monuments Wearing Pink Flowers,

B.

Stock Take

2006-10-05T13:06:00.000+10:00

Wow 2000 hits.. that's the most amount of hits I've had since I was in grade 4. Cool. I can't believe that so many people have wasted their time coming to visit this lil' ol' site.. I can hear the groan of managers around the world, "... must blame Byron and Emma... lower work productivity ... lower profits ... not the interest rates fault, Mr Howard ...". I am sad enogh actually to throw a party in honour of this momentus occasion, with Caz being the honorary guest that couldn't make it and me being the only invitee.. what a party I had.

And anyhoot.. enough self grandising. Afterall, its just procrastination, right?

A popular question around this neck of the woods is, "So.... (eerie silence after introducing names and recognising your beer's almost on empty)... how long have you been here for?". It doesn't matter if you're a traveller and two weeks seems like a long time, or if you're an ngo worker glued to the beach and you reply in months.. this question is always asked, and the answer determines a lot more than the course of conversation - it also determines whether you can refill your beer! When I first arrived, it was almost shameful to whimper out "ahem.. 3 weeks". People would just go "Oh..." and walk away. Being the newbie on the block sucks - unless of course you arrived right after the tsunami and there were hundreds of newbies. But everyone talks about how great this person was, and then starts talking about some other random person you've never heard of.. it's as if it's your fault for just arriving, and the person you are talking to never "just arrived" but arrived after being here for 6 months already.

But I've recognised something. And it probably has taken me this long to recognise it. I am no longer that newbie. When people ask me "So.... (eerie silence after introducing names and recognising your beer's almost on empty)... how long have you been here for?", I embelish and say "about a year"... that's my standard now. After replying "9 months two weeks three days and a few beers worth", I decided that preciseness doesn't add jack shit. So "about a year". And after that, I like to think that they look at me with adoring child like eyes wanting to learn the magical ways of Sri Lanka.. but the reality is, if they were anything like me, their eyes would have rolled to the back of their heads and they mutter clear enough for everyone to hear "Not another one of those wankers that refuses to leave the tropical island... bloody aid workers". After that, i start ratteling off names of these great people that they never knew and never will. "My god, [insert random name] was such a nice person.. everyone liked them... etcetera and etcetera".

So, having been here for "almost a year" with no end in sight, I've seen a fair few people come and go. And the funniest thing to see are people that do nothing on their weekends for months on end, and then decide they need to everything in the final month, "I can't believe I haven't seen the sitting down buddha!", "I can't believe I haven't seen the standing up buddha!",
"I can't believe I haven't seen the lying down buddha!" or "Not another friggin beach!". But I'm going to be different. I'm determined. I am going to plan ahead.. and the first step: A checklist of my accomplishments thus far after "about a year":

Kilometers Travelled: 50-100,000? Too many to count.
Districts Travelled Through: 18/26
The Score: Cats Killed: 0
Dogs Killed: 0
Snakes Killed: 1
Beaches Visited: 20?
National Parks: 8
Buddhist Temples: 3 [You can see where my prioties are...]
River cruises: 1.. in a round dingy down rapids
Tea Plantations: 1
Breweries: 1

Diahoreaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh: The only place on my body with no hairs is my ass.
Centipede Bites: 2
Hospital Visits: 1

Biggest Animal Seen: Elephant.. real close (too close for Em, screaming on the floor of the jeep)
Most Common Animal Seen: Squirrels.. rats with charisma!
Coolest Animal: Monkey wanking himself; or dogs getting stuck together. You choose.
Leopards Spotted: 0
Pets: 3 ducks at my work.. Embo has 2 rabits at her work. Mongoose in roof in Ampara.

Cups of Tea: atleast 600 [2 per day, everyday]
Cups of Coffee: 50-100? [My blood is thinning...]
Rice and Curry: 500 odd meals worth
Chicken Parmiganas: 0
Meat Pies: 0
Whoppers in the middle of the night after a big piss up: 0
Rotis in the middle of the night after a big piss up: 2

So after about a year, my biggest accomplishment is being bitten by a centipede and getting electrolosis on my ass. I think in the next year, I need to get drunk at some breweries and run over some dogs on the way home....

Peace, Love, and Fluffy Green Newbies,

B.

You Can't Google Whack Byron!

2006-09-21T15:08:00.000+10:00

Miss Pringle started it all. I had never bothered to do it. It wasn't something that interested me that much. Often I would do it to my friends, but that's because they seemed, well you know more into it than me. It's not that I have a big ego that I started doing it.. of course, I aint saying I got a small ego either - kinda like patriotism, you aren't patriotic til you're out of your home country and have a few beers in ya. Anyway. I did it. First time. Miss Pringle told me that I was at the top of her list. She googled all the Ambos and added me too, and I topped it. After she googled me, she started asking weird questions.. I had to check it out. So I did. I googled myself. This is what you get: "Byron Pakula". 24 hits. Not bad I figure. Definately not a googlewhack.. what? You don't know what a google whack is? Well my friends.. why don't you google it? Googlewhack. For those who are too lazy.. it's putting two words into google and coming up with only one google hit. If you're a googlewhack, perhaps the world wide web is passing you by?

I've got two more hits coming up soon with my new gig. One of them is a bit boring, just a description of my role - blah blah blah. But the other one is kind of cool. I never get an opportunity to talk about work on my blog, for I like to keep it a bit seperate and am worried that a boss one day will track me down and give me the sack (not that I've got anything bad to say, of course..). But now, my work and my stories is in the public arena. Check out this story I wrote on an Australian Red Cross project we are doing. We are doing another camp in Galle in a week or so, I'll be there again with my camera by my side and pen in hand. Just making sure it's all going swimmingly.. hehe, I said to the doctor in charge of this project at IOM that it was going swimmingly, he got back to me the next day after consulting one of his associates, "What does swimmingly mean.. I thought the project was going well!". Ahh, we drank tea, and laughed out loud for hours on that comment. Dr. X, you are a funny funny man. Anyhoot.. I've never really done communications before, but it's kinda cool.. goes well with the other stuff I have to do. There'll be an installment on the ARC website every month on a different project we do.

Finally, my brother and brother in law got their behinds into gear and sent me some more photos of my newphew Bailley. My other brother Ash is already starting to call him Bails - he wants to turn him into a cricket fan. Here are some more photos of the lil' tacker.. but I promise, after this no more unless he is doing something cute, like throwing up over himself or bowling his first googly.
And here is the little tacker about to lose part of his little tacker. Ash doing the best he can not to drop him:

Pass the Parcel: Lyle's turn to concentrate on not dropping him...
My dad holding him while the Rabbai looks for the excess skin:
Two other things: One, does anyone know how I can archive my previous months worth of blogs to speed things up? I have tried setting it to monthly archive and it don't work. Two, we have almost reached two thousand hits. WOW! I would just like to take this opportunity to thank my adoring fans.. Emma, who hits it every day to give me hope that people are still reading it, and to all the weird dogs and insects and other things out there that I have taken photos of. I luvs ya all. If the 2000th hit can comment so I know who you are when it happens, I will make sure to give you something special.. like a reference!

Peace, Love, and 2000Googlewhacks,

B.

I Want To Be Uncle Ted!

2006-09-19T22:02:00.000+10:00

One day at the end of class little Billy's teacher has the class go home
and think of a story and then conclude the moral of that story.
The following day the teacher asks for the first volunteer
to tell a story. Suzy said, "Sunday we load the chicken eggs on the
truck and drive into town to sell them at the market. Well, one Sunday
we hit a big bump and all the eggs flew out of the basket and onto the
road." The teacher asks for the moral of the story. Suzy replies,
"Don't keep all your eggs in one basket."

Next is little Lucy. "Well, my dad owns a farm too and every weekend we
take the chicken eggs and put them in the incubator. Last weekend only
8 of the 12 eggs hatched." The teacher asks for the moral of the story.
Lucy replies "Don't count your chickens before they're hatched."

Last is little Billy. "My uncle Ted fought in the Vietnam war; his plane
was shot down over enemy territory. He jumped out before it crashed with
only a case of beer, a machine gun and a machete. On the way down he
drank the case of beer. Unfortunately, he landed right in the middle of
100 Vietnamese soldiers. He shot 70 with his machine gun but ran out of
bullets, so he pulled out his machete and killed 20 more. The blade on
his machete broke, so he killed the last ten with his bare hands".
The teacher looks in shock at Billy and asks if there is possibly any
moral to his story. Billy replies, "Don't mess with uncle Ted when he's been drinking."

You may ask, what this long joke has to do with this blog? Not much you may think? Well, you're wrong. Uncle Ted is my hero. He fuck's with little kids and is not a priest; he also is a drunkard, which if you push the boundaries of the dictionary not so far could incorporate me too. When I grow up, I want to be just like Uncle Ted!

Now all I need to do is change my name to Ted, as since September the 11th, the fifth year anniversary of little Jimmy who turned five, oh and two big buildings falling, I am officially an uncle. Yep, my sister Candice and her lovely hubby Mr. J had their first born, a bouncy baby boy in the red corner of the super super feather weight division weighing in at 3.4kg. Here's a picture of mum and baby Bailey Ashton Lewin (this is before the ol' snip snip, he doesn't crawl around with a smile on his face anymore...):
And here's a picture of my mum and baby Bailey Ashton:

Anyway. I am just looking forward to the day baby John Doe is old enough to understand knock knock jokes, is ready to build his first slignshot, and when he is old enough for Uncle Bozza to give him his first joint. Ahh, the joys of being THAT uncle; the irresponsible outlandish uncle that parents hate and nephews/nieces love. Yes, my role in life is coming to a climax.

And other events...
Last week I was brainwashed. It was an exciting time held by all. And afterwards, I got a certificate and ended up drunk in a pool. Not significantly different to any other week really..

And before that Emma and I went to a forum theatre thing where elite Colombo singhalese people perform and show that they are against the conflict and segregation of their community. I may sound cynical, because I am, but it was a good night actually. Some really good actors..

On Saturday Night, Emma and I went to an 80's party. I went as someone living 26 years in the future, and Emma want as an 80's drugged out rock chick with track marks up her arm, green and silver punkish hair, flourescent t-shirt with ripped black top over it, and tight black jeans. We danced to Michael Jackson wearing one glove, and I danced to futuristic music that hadn't been released. This was a going away party for all the Australian Youth Ambassadors who are in their final month or so here. Here's some happy snaps of the evening!

OH MY GOD!!! A Ball! A Boon! A Ballabaloon!

The two punk rockers of the eveninng.. wow the 80's were sexy!
Is it MJ? Is it Gareth? Who knows!

And yes of course, no evening is complete without LIMBO! Amy won the event, and this photo shows why.. she could limbo while holding a plastic cup full of booze!! Two thumbs up from me!
Awww.. and here's AYAD Intake 14 (what's left). From R2L: Mingers, Nic, Jaqs, Gar Man, Embo, Amyz, and Lauren.

Finally, Emma is planning her overseas trip to India, and I'm planning to take advantage of my personal time by becoming a member of Belagio's Casino. Now all I need to do is retrace my previous druknen steps and try to find it again..

Peace, Love, and Dodgey Uncles With Too Much Time,

B.

A grasshopper walks into a bar...

2006-09-06T22:32:00.000+10:00

and the bar tender says, "We have a drink named after you!". The grasshopper turns to the bar keep, "You have a drink named Fred?"

Boom Boom Chink.

It's been a long time between drinks for this Blog.. longer than I would like anyhoot. Though, I like to think that my lack of quantity implies a higher quality.. gives you a longer time to soak it all in. I also live in a fantasy world where the best things in life come free, like cable TV and air conditioning and dad's car. I've spent a lot of time watching west wing, my life surely is on the up.. and between episodes, if I am not too lazy, I sometimes I get up and look out the balcony to see other rooftops and hear the mongrel dogs downstairs barking and yapping away. There are lots of rats in Sri Lanka, no doubt about it.. just look at the number of road-side stalls selling "meat". But the other form of rat here is not the rat with wings known as the pidgeon, no.. they do have crows, but not quite the same. The other rat is the squirrel. It's a cute rat, but I still aint going to eat it or go near it. here's one outside my balcony during season 4 episodes 5/6 of west wing:

I like to try new things.. sometimes they work, sometimes they don't. I was at the supermarket trying to get the dude to explain what this weird shaped and even stranger coloured fruit thingymajig was. They call it a dragon fruit (oooer, so friggin' scary!!). After about 8 minutes of me saying, "I don't get it.. " and shaking my head slowly from side to side, I bought the stupid thing. There's no taste to it, but it looks really cool on the inside.. kinda like a Kiwi:

A few blogs back I posted a pic of a bright red draqgon fly. Since then, I have been speaking with my legal team about that day. They said there was nothing they could do for me.. sp I epoke with my public relations crew, and they said I should be upfront about things and put it out first.. need to beat the enemy, otherwise it looks like I am hiding things (and as per the photo below, you can see I don't hide much). I have a problem. I like crack when I am taking photos.. I'm sorry mum, I can change.. promise!!
NB: That is purposely low resolution. I don't want any strange crack fetish people out there downloading the photo and cropping it to just my $2.50 coin slot, blowing it up and then blowing themselves off. Though for $9.99, you can subscribe to byronandemma.xxx.blogspot.com and get the high res version.

While reminiscing.. here are some more photos from Ange's (AYAD Ange, not Kiwi Ange) going away party. Here's a fun story.. when I first met Ange I was drunk as a skunk outside the Aussie High com after a second thursday of some random month. I was introduced to Jo and Ange

[THIS STORY HAS BEEN CENSORED BY THE DICTATORS CENSORSHIP BOARD OF THE UNITED STATES OF WOMEN WHO SAY "OH, YOU CAN'T SAY THAT!".]

I actually wrote a really funny story that would have made everyone bar one person in this world laugh. However, after having it posted for less than 24 hours, dearest Emma read it and threatened to remove m two hairy balls with a tea spoon and some fishing wire. Now I don't know about the other guys out there, but I have become quite attached to my saggy hairy ball sack for many reasons, and I don't feel like losing them over some dodgey internet blogger story. So I've been censored. But everybody knows that censorship can't work forever. The emotions behind that story still boil within my body, and on top of that I now have resentment for women with fishing wire and spoons. This is not over.. oh hell no. This is not over by a long shot!

[AND BACK TO THE STORY...]

We've had many beers since.. ahh what good times. But now she's gone. This is everyone having fun at Zanziba at her going away...

Erm sadly, she's not actually in any of the photos. Oh well..
And so life goes on in Sri Lanka. Despite the conflict and everything else that's going on.. there's still sports. Sri Lanka has some weird sports, but one of the ones Emma seems to like is indoor volleyball. Sorry, no beaches on this tropical island (go figure). So at the rest 10th South Asian Games held in Sri Lanka, Emma and Amy whipped off to see the volleyball. I packed for a pending field trip. Emma's short, so her view looks something like this:
Later, they went court side with an awesome view and even got sweated by some of the players.

And last week, the reason for me not blogging is that I was on a week long field trip to the south and east. Was pretty cool. When I was in Hambantota (South), the weirdest thing happened though. I've never seen this before, nor my driver who has been living there his entire life. These huge winds were coming from the interior over the shrubbs and across onto the beach.. it's very dry inland , and it was ripping up the soils and creating a sand storm. This is what we had to drive through.. only for about 12 minutes before it died down:

I wasn't the only one stunned by this though.. here's our friendly grasshopper that hangs out in the office (he's standing on a divider between cubicles.. I think that's a political grasshopper with a social commentary!):
So the South might have been windy and dirty and shit, but the East is sunny and hot. This is the first time I have been back to Ampara since.. since well I don't know when, but a long time (3 months?). I stayed at Bills place, as per usual. And I met up with some of the gang. Killed some aliens or something on Playstation with Nelson. Drove some wicked cars doing some awesome takedowns with Thandi. And ate some chineese at Ol' Chineese. Oh, memories flooding back.

I did do some work though. I don't usually post about work or field trips (well not as much as I could). Basically, I try to exclude my politics and work and limit my writings to dogs having sex and other weird things. But here is a funny funny dude.. he's a mason at one of the housing sites, and he was sitting there sifting through the sand (I dunno). And all he wanted was for me to take his photo. He spoke no english, but made a lot of noise and kept smiling and shaking my hand. The photo for work I sent out is him working and sifting sand.. the photo for you guys is him two seconds later smiling and waving. I know he couldn't understand, but I did promise I would blog him:

I had a different driver this time round. He's a nice guy, and we had some beers. All good. But he's driving.... man, he's stop and go and accelerate and brake and jerking me backwards and forwards. I couldn't sleep in the vehicle, and I even brought Hank, my pillow. He likes to drive fast when he can, but not too fast for Mum to worry. But at one point we were in stop and stop traffic, and he was edging as close as possible to the car in front. Suddenly, the boom gates go down, and unlike the car in front we didn't make it across. This is a dodgey wooden boomgate resting on our big nissan patrol.. we all felt stupid that day:

I like graffiti. Here's some really nice stuff from Moriaketoria down south, at a fishing village. I think it says it all.....

Peace, Love, and Ooey Gooey Graffiti,

Byron

Less Ranting, More Raving.

2006-08-27T18:19:00.000+10:00

I have taken a leaf out of Zehra's wily blog and decided that the only true way to post your thoughts is to sit in a cafe with wi-fi and do it the New Jersey way.. so here I am, at The Commons owned by The Oprah Winfrey herself, abusing her wi-fi and filling out my stomach with the yummiest chocolate milkshake ever to hit this planet. With all this plumfort (not quite plush, not quiet comfort), do I feel like a true Blogger of the 21st century? Hell yeah baby, hell yeah...

A fly just flew into my chocolate milkshake, it is now a chocolate protein shake.. Mmm.

The life of Byron continues on unabated and unbashful as ever before. The grindstone of work attempts to churn the life out of life, and the when the weekend comes the batteries charge for one more week. The daily or weekly slog of life is the same the world over. Don't kid yourself. The grass IS greener on the otherside, so everyone thinks. But the reality of life is that computers will rule your world for every and a day and so will your boss. Throughout this wonderful exciting planet we call Earth, no matter where you reside you will still eat, shit, work, breathe, spend, earn, rack up credit, hate politicians, attempt to fuck the system, be part of the system, and drink coffee thats never quite right. You will bitch about your friends. You will be glad you have friends, wherever you are and whoever they are. You will press Snooze when your alarm clock goes off. You will drink too much and regret it in the morning. You will cough up your lungs by midday the following day, and promise to quite smoking. You will live to work, and fein that you work to live. You will watch TV. You will bitch about what's on TV. You will listen to the same music, be it DJ Punjabi or Britney Spears, it's still pop. You will be part of the daily grind. And that's life.

This is where I like to pretend I say, "But not me. I choose life". And recount about how I watched Trainspotting throughout the week, and then Click with Adam Sandler and it all made sense. Not me, I choose life. I am going to live life to the fullest and not be part of that daily grind. Well, bullocks. I fucked the system. I fuck the system. But I still get fucked by the system just like Darrell hair who upheld the system. It's all a matter of degrees..

I like my job. I like my life. I really don't have a heck of a lot to complain about. Afterall, I am sitting in Oprah's cafe typing on my laptop and communicating to millions of people around the world (well, maybe tens of people via this blog, but whatever). I am listening to funky music that makes me want to type quicker. I am over consuming and over compensating for every other aspect of my life. And I love it. Work will always have components in it that are not enjoyable, and referencing myself, that's why they don't call it funtime. But you can get stuff out of work. I love going to the field and talking with beneficiaries, or even listening to Cat Empire while I journey through some well wicked scenery. I like looking at the projects we do and always being amazed by the good work that goes on here. I don't like writing reports or getting on other people's nerves by making them submit reports. I love my social life too. I like going out and having fun and spending time with Embo. It's about getting the right mix of both..

So if you have something that you want to bitch about.. bitch away my friend. Bitch to whoever will listen. Bitch like you have never bitched before. But goddamit, bitch like it's the last day of your life and stop fucking bitching and get back to enjoying it all.

I don't know why I ranted on about that.. the obvious answer would be that I am sick of people bitching to me about work and life. Maybe its because of the realisation that life is the same no matter where you are, and people expect it to be different because I live next to a war zone on a tropical island. Whatever. I think I will leave it to Frued who always puts it best, "It's because you want to have sexual relations with your siblings and parents".

And now, The Artistocrats.

Here are some photos for y'all. This is Emma and Jacqui being Rockstars at Zanziba (dodgey small nightclub where I lost my wallet) on Friday night. They are rockstars. I'm sorry Ken, but here is photographic evidence of your beautiful daughter smoking. Just in case you didn't know...
And this is Mark. He spent way too long in the Navy and has come out a bit scarred, but we love him to bits anyway. He has just been flown to Thailand because he had a kidney stone that loved Marky so much that it refused to leave it's new home.. kind of like a beneficiairy not wanting to leave a transitional shelter. OH BYRON! That's so wrong it's fucking funny.

This is one of the dude that works at the diving/aquarium place. We borrowed their boat and went snorkelling together one weekend.
This is a photo I love from the South. It's in a cool wetlands called Bundala. And yes, even there the dogs roam free.

This is a lady and her baby standing in front of a new house being built by the organisation I work for. Usually I wouldn't post this up on a blog.. I don't even know the ethics of it. But I am sure she wouldn't mind. I just like the photo. The house will be finished by the end of August.
And finally, a dragon fly photo. I don't know why I like taking photos of these insects, I think it is because they love posing for the camera. They tend to stick around quite a while and let you get really close.. and they can't bite you which is always a bonus, especially for me who is considered quite taste by insects. This is the view from the side.

And this is the view from the front.
And on that note, ta ta.

Peace, Love and Fluffy Rants

B.

Colombo, Casinos and Cricket

2006-08-15T23:25:00.000+10:00

I had a pretty big weekend involving the Three C’s, which usually refers to Canadian club and coke but not this time. It all began on Thursday. Yes, my weekend officially starts on Thursday once a month, when the Australian’s of Colombo converge on the Australian High Commission for a bbq (not free, dodgey bastards) and beer. Every month, second Thursday. Conveniently for me, the high.com is across the road from my office. As I write this blog, I am actually looking at the patriotic flag of

Australia

dropping in the monsoonal rain. Not that it was a huge night on Thursday; not by the Byron and Emma standards of Olde. But it was definitely a merry evening filled with clinking of fosters (they ran out of VB.. tragic, blasphoemic, traitoric!) with US marines and internally displaced volunteers/humanitarian workers from the North and East. The last time I was there and my boss turned up, we ended up walking out of a the nightclub R&B’s at like 4am. He also kicked my ass in pool, but to this day I assure you I was letting him win because he was my new boss.. and because I was drunk and had no option.

The following evening after a dodgey dodgey morning filled with staff meetings and (gulp) work, Embo and I decided to chill back. Besides, Wendy was flying through from the Philippines on her way back to Ampara. We left the key under the mat, and in the morning we woke up to the sounds of her new karaoke machine. Note: This is the third machine in Ampara, and I am very distressed that we are no longer residing in the karaoke capital of Sri Lanka. I did get my quick fix though.. Nirvana, Come As You Are. I too want to be a Rockstar Supernova so I can travel the world doing the thing I love, drinking.

On Saturday, Embo Bill and myself all went and bought prescription glasses together. I think we all walked out there going “WTF, how am I going to wear these schlogs for the rest of my life?”. Bill went and bought the same glasses the English Ministry of Health distributed for free during his childhood… now that’s retro!

After some shopping, food, and even squeeeeeezing in some playstation (oh my.. feel the power in your hands.. just thinking about it makes me want to.. ughhhh) we did something else that didn’t really matter. But what does matter is how it all ends. So after doing the thing that didn’t matter, we wanted to do another thing of no relevance; but sadly, that nightclub was closed because they didn’t pay their electricity bill on time. I reckon they didn’t bribe someone on time, but whatever. So brainstorming all the cool places to go, we choose none of them and decide on a dodgey casino down some back alley. It’s called Roxy’s, the casino not the alley. The alley is called something else completely random that has no bearing on this story.

For those who know me, I am not much of a gambler. Flutter here, flutter there, whatever. But put myself, Nelson, Helen and Bill in a line, put some cards in front of us a a dude standing behind a green table with a wry smile on his face, and we are electrifying. Hit. Hit. Stand. Lose. Hit. Bust. Hit. Win. And so it goes on and on. Everyone has their system, even Nelson who’s system is to ask Bill what’s going on. Emma and some others were none too impressed, while Nelson lost too quickly, so in the end they all went their own ways while Bill Helen and myself decided to continue to lose our money. This placed rocked. This place gave free drinks continuously.. and I mean serious drinks; like 80% whiskey, and the rest air or coke colouring. Bill drank his fast and ferociously. I diluted mine with ice and speed. Helen.. well by the time I went to check what Helen was drinking, I could barely see the little ball spinning around on the 37 sectored wheel let alone her drink. Simpson was a nice guy though.. he served us the drinks. I thought a dodey casino in Colombo would be, well more dodgey. Everyone told me about prostitutes and the like, but I didn’t notice much of it. It was quite loud and people would jump over you to throw their money on lucky number 17, but that was about it. We eventually got too drunk for that, and went to the Blue Room: double stakes high rollers with noone but us three and six other people: the guy to watch you place your bets, the guy to count out the winnings, the guy to spin the ball, the guy to serve you your drink, the guy to manage the previous four, and Felix. Felix managed it all. He doesn’t smile much, but he did like the fact we weren’t winning and weren’t annoying too many people. Bill wanted to put 500 on the outside, but the minimum was 1000. He tried about 4 times, in like 10 minute intervals. He wasn’t malicious, he was just drunk and forgot that he only wanted to bet 500 but had to bet 1000. I played the inside, 100 minimum per number. 1000 a spin was my game, spread. I won back all my losses from Black Jack earlier on; I then lost them all and some more. Oh well, Felix knows I’ll be back.

The next day was an all you can eat brunch at the hotel where the South African cricketers are staying. Most people had the all you can eat champagne too; Bill and I meanwhile were in a grumpy mood sipping the water. Water was good, but you had to serve yourself half the time. I saw Tom Moody, coach of Sri Lanka; and Sean Pollock floated around too. I think I saw some others, but I didn’t care at that stage of the morning.

I feel I should interlude my weekend discussion with a bit about cricket. South Africa, you suck and you are going to lose, and you know it so you are using the bombs as an excuse to leave this country before you lose 4-0 to India and Sri Lanka in the tri series. You suck. I wanted to watch cricket (don’t worry Gibbs, I wasn’t going to watch your fat hairy face – I have my own; I wanted to watch India V Sri Lanka). I wanted to hear about you lose and watch other great matches. But no. Now my cricket schedule is thrown all out of whack, because you are a bunch of tea toting courageless yella’ wimps. Scared of bombs? Whatever. Scared of the wile of Murali, that’s more like it!

The rest of Sunday evening was really cool actually. We went to the Rugby Club to listen to some Jazz. It seemed that anyone and everyone who was white was there, and some others too. I kept bumping in to people I have met through work and not remembering their names; I hate that. The jazz was loud. The grass was wet. And the beer was cheap and cool – like me. So I'll be back.

Phlogging Cricket and Camping

2006-08-09T21:55:00.000+10:00

Time these days seems to fly by.. or go slowly. Where has the happy medium gone? I suppose I should speak to Tony about that. Anyway. This week has been jam packed full of travelling and fun times had by all. The problem is, the fun times keep on rolling on.. and so I am lacking serious time for blogging. I really need to get rid of my social life so I can focus 100% on this blogsite. Afterall, I have three serious fans now!

For those who love statistics and drinking as much as I do, they would probably know that South Africa is touring Sri Lanka at the moment. And I am not talking about all forty million of 'em, just the twelve that lack the skills of hitting a leather ball with a piece of willow. And one of my many missions in life as a colonial tourist is to see a cricket match played in all ten test playing nations. Welp, I tried before with Chris and Caz to see Pakistan v Sri Lanka, but sadly they can't jump out of moving trains and instead we went to the cricket club to lick some wounds. But no problems this time! We made it.. and so did Sri Lanka. The day before one of the Jayawardena's and Sangakara set records with a 600 odd run partnership. We were there the day after to see South Africa try and stope the wile of the Chucker, but to no avail he has chucked them out of the park and into a humiliating loss. [For those who care, the next test has just finished and Sri Lanka did a clean sweep of the two test series.. the only bigger loser than South Africa is Dean (Dead?) Jones, who called a South African muslim player a terrorist and lost all of his contracts except for those with Rupert Murdoch for some reason...]. Here's Emma enjoying the day.

And I found my twin!

No better way than enjoying cricket in the true colonial manner of a pot of tea.. sadly they forgot about the newage colonialism of beer!

Last weekend was probably one of the best times I have ever had in Sri Lanka, and well in the bigger scheme of things. Ming Yu organised a group of eight of us to head up to Kitugala (2.5 hours east of Colombo) to go white water rafting, canyoning, and hiking in some of the most fantastic river/hilly landscapes in the world. Wow, was so cool I almost shat myself. If anyone else out there in the big wide world of internet land is like me, and I pray for your sake you're not, you also probably don't know what canyoning is. Basically, it's a mix between kayaking without a kayak or paddle, hiking without solid ground, and lugeing without ice. It's a very cool concept of running down a river, jumping down waterfalls into pools, sliding down
natural rock water slides, and floating where it's deep enough. We did this for maybe 2 hours.. after a while you start getting quite confident despite all the scratches and twisted ankles, and just start jumping down and on everything. The hiking was p.cool too. We treaded into some mean national park. I reckon I have been to 10 NP's in SL, and this would have to rate near the top. We saw some tree snakes, swam at waterfalls, Embo made a friend Larry the Leach.. I should elaborate on this. Embo is a freak. Granted. She is scared out of her wits for days about leaches, and then when we get up to the campsite she decides to stare her fear in the eye and befriend it. She's like "I better get a leach" and constantly asking our tour guide "Is this leach terriority!?!" with a glean in her eye.. then she finally gets one, and decides to nurture it see how big it can get.. crazy mofo!

Our Campsite....

Can you see the suspension bridge in the background? No, I'm not talking about the dude with the wood..

Serah having a walk.. love Jacquis's head gear in the background!
Okay, and here are some cool random pics from the weekend.. including a group photo of all of us. P.S. HAPPY BIRTHDAY MINGERS!!! We (obvoiusly not me) set up 29 candles around the camp site to celebrate Minger's b'day. We made her feel special.. and then got her drunk before the hike.

This red dragon fly played up to the camera.. he thought I was a voyeur, I thought he was a gimpy model waiting for his big break.. oh the fun of it all.

Something you can't get away from in this country is the decreasing appreciation of the cease fire agreement (that's political talk for "IT"S A FUCKING CIVIL YOU MORON!!). It hasn't quite spread everywhere, but there are definately some areas that are no go zones.. I try as best as possible not to talk about it too much (with people here or back home), and generally just ignore it in my blog. Others like tackle it head on and blab and blab and blab about it. I reckon they're war tourist deep down. Anyhoot, this is a newspaper I was reading in the car coming back from a field trip down south (where it is nice a safe). I love the irony in it all, "The National, fiercely independent" and then the following headlines.
On that note people..

Peace, Love, and Fluffy White Water

B.

I Want To Be A Rockstar, Supernova!

2006-08-02T21:10:00.000+10:00

I have to tell you about something that has absolutely taken me - perhaps i have mentioned it before - again it is something i am not proud of - - but this giddy school girl anticipation that it summons in me is thrilling. it is........Rock star Super nova.

I don't know if you are following it on tv, or if you have placed it in the box (and rightly so) with all the other reality tv show bullocks around that is not to be viewed, but it really has added so much to my life.

The idea of fusing 3 great rockbands together to make one "superband" irks me. it really does. For this reason it took me a long time to allow myself to appreciate Audioslave (fair enough that they don't tickle you two but i think they are swell). I still can not appreciate velvet revolver. There is something about artists coming together with talented people from other bands and playing music together that is perhaps a little different, a little experimental, in comparison to the music they play with their "band". And i know the concept of a band is a fluid one. No band stays the same, or rather shouldn't. In that sense often musicians will evolve out of one band and into another. In rock music this is fairly common given the high rates of substance abuse that takes people out and the bitchyness and ego that comes with being a rockstar. But the idea of making a super band that rides on the reputation and success of the member's former bands is frankly not what rock'n'roll ought to be about. The band should be good because they are good and not because of the "prestige" of their pasts. Having said that, with a "superband" (yes this is a new term for them) huge expectation surrounds them. Unfortunately in this world that is dictated by the status quo and the MEDIOCRE even if they suck they will have approximately 1 billion fans anyway (or more, what is the population of 13-26 women in the western world?), and will still sell records and sell-out gigs and make bucket loads of dosh.

Anyway so that precursor hopefully sets the scene. Metallica and Motley and Guns n Roses come together to form Rock star super nova. With Dave Nevarro's assistance they are out to find a lead singer. Technically they have committed the cardinal sin - merging two damn-right offensive concepts together. Super Band PLUS reality TV show.

How much pre-play publicity can you possibly generate.

BUT I LOVE IT!

There are 3 singers that i think are rad. If you can watch it tonight please do. Wednesday nights are the performance nights - really the only night worth watching. Dilanna is my very talented lil goth lady. She can really sing! but also i think she is more grounded as a human being and you get the sense that if she were leading this band she'd be one of the band members and not the luckiest groupie on earth who got a gig with the boys. Then there is lukas who is an absolute lil fuck head but i like his growl and i think he's hot and i think he is interesting. And then there is Storm who is the scariest woman i have ever seen in my life. She is hideous and such a skank...but she is again talented and fun to watch.

I don't know what it is. That competitive edge engrained in us products of a good ol dose of western liberal society that like to see people up against each other. (somehow i think not). That i am starved of seeing freaks and rebels (yes fine we can argue about whether they truly are rebels another time) and just love the rock and punk THANG and am so pleased to get a tri-weekly dose of it. That i find the music energetic and exciting and thinks it shits all over what is on vh1 (that's not true all the time but most of the time). That it comes on after seinfield, that i only have a mild tolerance for. That i was feeling empty and alone once the world cup fanfair died down and am using this as an empty-filler. Maybe i am a teenyboppin straight down the line kinda girl who just likes her reality tv show a lil buffed up.

Whatever it is. YES I AM ASHAMED. AND NO I CAN'T EVEN SAY THAT I ONLY WATCH IT FOR A LAUGH AND I DON'T TAKE IT SERIOUSLY. I ACTUALLY LOVE IT and it's time for you all to know.

From the desk of,

Embo.

What's the value of a public humuliation, if it's not public?

2006-07-27T22:26:00.000+10:00

Oh, the topsey turvey world of Byron does not stop! You know there's a saying, "Once bitten, twice shy". BULLSHIT I say. "Once bitten, they've got the taste for it and they're coming back" I say! I thought getting bitten by a centipede was quite a rare thing.. especially considering the nasty reaction I had to it. Most people I had spoken to in Australia laughed at me, in Sri Lanka laughed at me then said they had never seen one here, and in Europe laughed at me and then asked what a centipede is. Well, loving to take the piss out of everyone else, it's only fair that I put it out there to have the piss removed from myself once more. Dumb luck you may ask, or just dumb? I think it's unavoidable. But on the weekend, travelling yet again down South to the fine beaches of Sri Lanka, I was violently and visciously attacked by a centipede once again - unprovoked I might add! In deep sleep, I awoke to a funny feeling on my skull. There was a bit of pain in the back of my head, and it was pitch black.. so I did what any sane human being would do: I started frantically slapping my head and hoping the thing would fall off. At this stage, I was convinced it was a small spider. Emma awakes going "whaaat? whaaat?" (not in an alert tone like you may think, but more of a sort of duuuhhhh i'm asleep go back to bed you nutter tone). I get her to turn the light on, because I am still slapping myself silly over here. And low and behold, there's a centipede maybe 2-3 inches long on my pillow, scuttling away.

Natural reaction: Panick? Have another seizure? Of course not. Natural reaction is to get bloody peeved that a centipede has bitten me AGAIN, this time on my HEAD, at 3 inthe MORNING! What's the friggin deal with 'em? I went in to a mini rampage, took a slash, and came back. Emma after a little while had managed to find the centipede: I was like don't squish it, I want to know if it is poisonous so I need to get a good look at it. So Emma mashes it (in hindsight: good on ya Embo!!). Turns out, the little tosser was not poisonous. BUT, I still managed to get a nasty bump on my head. It was about the size of a:

[Object may appear larger in rearview blog]

For those who care to know what's happening in my life, rather than just laughing at what's happening in my life, the rest of the time in Hikiduwa (just south of actually) was really good. ahh the serenity. Embo, and myself were accompanies by Mingers and her mate Sean. We stayed at a little villa called Serenity, and it was extremely chilled and relaxing.. suggest for all in that neck of the woods. Here's a picture of us having a good time chillaxing:

Our welcome drinks at Serenity.. can you feel the serenity?

The local friends: both have the same name, Manisha or something.

Emma on the beach: and that's a coconut.

Oh, and here's some news for those who don't know. A couple of weeks back Emma and I moved in to our new apartment in the leafy suburb known as Colombo 07, or Cinnamon Gardens. From what I gather, it's the Toorak (or as my sister would prefer, the Malvern) of Colombo, which kind of puts in on par with the slums in Frankston or Altona (that's for you Luke!). Anyhoot.. it's a p.cool apartment with all the mod cons, including a guard on the compound. I can't imagine on his $3 per day wage he will be taking any bullets for me though, but you never know. Emma and I decorated it with my first wage, and now it looks pretty spiffy with crockery (actually we dont have plates), cutlery, place mats, and nice throws for the couch. Yep, I got taken for a ride. It does have a spare bedroom, and it does have air conditioning, so for anyone passing by feel free to crash. Here's a picture of us with out first guest, Wendy. She's Dutch and heading from Ampara to the Philippines to meet up with her boyfriend who remains in Dutchland. Their going to nogen in de kauken over and over... and some scuba diving too.

Emma, Wendy and Byron in new apartment getting drunk on wine and air conditioning

Finally.. I come asking for comments and suggestions. Here is an email (some of you may have seen) that I wrote to an ex lecturer of mine:

Hi Barbara,

Do you remember me? My name is Byron Pakula, I was a student in your Environmental Impact Assessment subject as a Masters of Environment student in 2003. I wrote the paper on the statistical methedology used to measure the impact of the Wonthaggi Windfarm on the Orange Bellied Parrot.

To recap for Brian and Neal, and possibly Barbara who I am sure would have liked to have forgotten about this incident: I was asked to leave the SAGES department and advised not to do any subjects within the Arts faculty by Brian due to an intellectual scuffle with Barbara over whether her statistical methedology was appropriate to fully determine the impact on the OBP. Moroever, even after receiving over 20+ extra marks for the subject after having the assignment reassessed, Brian proceeded to block the new marks.

I have recently discovered that Biosis Research undertook a study, which showed that the OBP is severely affected by wind farms in accordance with my findings and against Barbaras. In fact, the federal Department of Environment and Heritage has nominated the parrot as critically endangered based on this report. So you know, I feel extremely vindicated and smug about all this.

But the reason I write this email is for a request. Firstly, I was made to apologise to Barbara for my behaviour. I would now like an apology from Barbara. One for her inappropriate behaviour throughout the incident, and two an acknowledgement of her lack of understanding of the issues. Secondly, I would like Brian to backdate the extra marks I was originally accorded to reflect the high distinction I deserve. And finally, I understand this may be asking a bit much, but an honorary Masters of Environment from Melbourne University would be greatly appreciated considering I had to leave over this situation.

Yours Sincerely,

Byron Pakula B.Com (Hons) M.IDEA (1st)

Here was the reply that I got, from Brian Finlayson one of the people i CC'ed and head of the School Barbara lectured in:

Dear Byron,

I would not be prepared to consider re-opening this matter.  You have
the right to appeal this to the President of the Academic Board and if you
feel that your case has merit you should do so.

Brian Finlayson

Okay.. so here's the deal. Obviously, if I appeal to the Preseident of the Academic Board, nothing is going to happen. Why? Because institutions like to bend over little people like me and have their way, and claim that everything is transparent and accountable. So. The question comes to you guys, what should I do? Here are some thoughts. But firstly I should reiterate, that I don't REALLY care about the marks being changed, though I wouldn't mind an honourary degree. I really think that revenge is best, and the best sort of revenge is public humiliation of both Brian and Barbara is the only way.

a) A nice bloke.. jewish guy, has a big nose.. anyway. He advised me to go the legit route. Think of why I didn't get the marks, and tackle that point.

For the aforementioned reasons, I don't like it.

b) Keep sending the same email all over the campus and to all of Barbara's current students; make sure it reaches the Dean of the Faculty etc. Keep writing more emails, and forwarding them on too.

I like that idea.. but could be added with some other stuff.

c) Use the threat of public humiliation to actually get what I want. Forward on the emails and the situation to 60 minutes, and Ray Martin. Try and get on TV and act as a battler; write editorials into newspapers, etc.

Getting better.

d) Use the internet.

Any suggestions would be much appreciated as always. Please forward on the email to as many people as possible.. and let's continue the public humiliation of the intellectually challenged lecturer. In the meantime...

Peace, Love, and Lettuce-Munching-Turtles,

B.

Gods, Clods, and Anchovies

2006-07-18T21:49:00.000+10:00

Wow. What a month it's been since I've last posted to this blog. To fully appreciate everything that has occured and its feverish pace, you need to read the following block of jibberish text as quickly as possible: Australia lost to Italy in the world cup under DODGE conditions, soccer refs in Australia have been found beaten to bloody pulps, police have applauded their efforts; I spent 8 days of my Aussie holiday in bed, Emma was thousands of miles away, my wrist is being still (1); I drank so much coffee in St Kilda I still have a headache; made a slideshow mocumentary and proceeded to bitch about how I deleted it; I partied like it was 1999 til I boarded that flight to Sri Lanka; Emma and I stayed in a 4 star hotel and appreciated the luxury, eating so many buffet breakfasts that I literally burst and had to get stitched together by a traditional healer; started a new job and am actually working for once; went on an amazing weekend trip to Kandalama in Dambulla, celebrated Bills birthday and the world cup and then left at 4 in the morning on Monday to get to work on time; moved in to our new apartment and spent my first pay check on cutlery, placemats and pillows; began to worry I am turning in to my mum. PHEW.

Just in case you don't believe me, here's some pics of street scenes and etcetera (2):

Trippy photo from 30,000ft above an Indonesian Island

One of the cool streets of Melbourne.. anyone know where it is?

Yes, Nigel is still alive.. and the other one's my Mum! (3)

Back to what you know: an army dude guarding a billboard on a main street of Colombo.

As you do.. an army helicopter landing in a cricket ground: The view from my 4 star hotel room.

Some ramblings.. ramble ramble:

What is the critical mass in an organisation? How many support staff are needed for those who actually do stuff? I am convinced that there are too many people who's job description is to help other do their job and not do anything themselves, and there are not enough people with jobs who actually do something. At uni it was explained as rent seekers who seek to redistribute the pie (i.e. blood sucking lawyers) versus productive workers (i.e. engineers, but don't get cocky because half the engineers are support for the REAL engineers). Or better explained by social darwinism's reasoning for the near extinction/extermination of American Indians: too many chiefs, not enough indians. Though I prefer Southpark: There are two sorts of people in this world, gods and clods. Gods drive the cars and the clods fill 'em up. You see, your society needs both sort of people..... and on the diatribe goes. But me being, well quite frankly me, I think it's best explained by the ancient Egyptians: There's a logical reason for why they did not build the pyramids upside down, it would have toppled over. If the ancient Egyptians were like the modern day managers and consultants and management consultants, they would have built the Acient Pyramids of Giza upside down trying to explain that you need more people at the top to support the poor clods at the bottom. And it would have toppled down. And the managers and consultants and management consultants would have fallen with them, along the way blaming the shoddy work of the poor clods who obviously weren't managed and monitored enough and thus the next time it should be more top heavy with more consultants. But of course, my job is different...

My other rambling is regarding the whole Israeli Vs Lebanon and the rest of the middle east thing. Now, I could be politically correct and say "Blow them all up and let God decide".. or I could just pick out the funny shit like Alexander Downer (4). News reports were flying thick and thin about all the missiles and rockets and other stuff going on in a place I'd rather not be. The airport was first targetted, and all flights were cancelled; then came the sea embargo preventing any ships in and out; then the bridges to Israel and Syria were taken out to prevent land transport in and out; and then came Alexander Downer's warning, "The Australian Government advises people not to travel to Lebanon". If you know how the heck to get in there, I think you would be a lot more popular with the terrorist organisations. Alex, you get the Anchovie of the Week.

Anyhoot darlings.. Emma's at home sick, and hopefully cooking me dinner, or at least ironing my shirt.. so I better head over there myself.

Peace, Love and Punk Fairy Conflicts,

Byron

(1) For best results, sleep on your hand for an hour until it goes numb so it feels like someone else is next to you.
(2) I hate my camera at the moment. I want a new one.. with a big lens to make up for everything else that I lack - referring to photographic skills, of course.. there are no photos of people because I was too drunk most of the time. Apologies. Also this computer sux and the stoooopid people in IT wont let me add software that makes my photos look much better than they really are.
(3) You easily could make a joke of this.. a picture of my mum and an ugly dog called Nigel. Though I strongly advise you to rethink it, as I have surpassed a thousand hits and thoroughly enjoy public humiliation of other people. And myself.
(4) If you are fortunate enough not to know who this cross dressing parliamentarian is, then you may not want to keep reading. But for those who don't know, it is Australia's Foreign Minister. He's from Adelaide, but I still don't think that fully explains things.

In Guus We Trust

2006-06-23T23:08:00.000+10:00

Many people believe that the world revolves around soccer. However, in Melbourne and Australia, the world revolves around sports. You name it, we have someone out there wearing green and gold competing in it - even Curling (seriously, they practice using brooms and curling 'balls' with wheels on it because we got no ice). But its only recently that I realised Australia's deep seeded patriotism and love of the marsupial is purely sports related. My brother, Doctor Lyle (1), has recently come back from a six year stint in the States where he has enlightened me to the fact that as patriotic as the US is, they only care about themselves and their rights (to hold guns, not vote, and all other democratically wonderful things you would want to waste your right not to vote on). For example, they don't really get behind and support USA in the World Cup - most didn't even know they played and lost. Whereas in Australia, we use our one chant of Ozzie Ozzie Ozzie Oi Oi Oi over and over and over again for every sport that an Aussie is willing to have a crack at... especially if we are an underdog, then we really want to piss off the establishment by winning (re: 1986 America's World Cup and now 2006 World Cup). People misunderstand Australia and think we don't care about Soccer - but we do, mainly when we are winning and especially when we are beating Croatia whilst almost half our team came from Croatia (we also understand irony, unlike the yanks, which helps a lot in these situations).

What better way to win against Japan than getting three goals in the last 8 minutes of the game, right? Well, last nights game against Croatia could only end in the same way. Having to draw to go through, we go 1-0 down in two minutes and take another 36 minutes to equalise. Shortly after, Croatia are 2-1 up and we wait until the 79th minute for our new "Golden Boy" Kewell to get teh equalising goal yet again. Almost 15 minutes more of "oooers" and "aaaahs" and the whistle blows. Australia is through to the second round. STUFF HISTORY. We've never had Guus in our history, and In Guus We Trust. He might be a short fat dutch guy who just earned a coooool 500,000 euros for getting us through to the second round, but he deserves every penny. When we beat Italy, we'll double it and still be getting value for money. I'm hoping we can do it in penalty kicks and make them cry.

Melbourne and Australia is in full party mode right now. The streets are absoloute mayhem. Federation square is burning down from all the immigrant-soccer fans that are teaching us the use of flare; Cars are driving around with socceroo flags; Aussie flags are draped in most shop fronts; everyone is talking about it, and pubs are continuously having replays of Aussie Goals on the tvs. Its bloody great to be here for it. I might be sick with a fever, on top of the soccer fever, but it just gives me more time to watch the world cup from the couch or bed. Although I cant drink beer at the moment, as a true fan of the green and gold I am at the pubs drinking lemon squash with lime. Tastes like shit, but CARN THE SOCCEROOS!

I realised something after the game. All up, Australia has cheered with gusto and pride for a total of 30 minutes in three games. The rest of the time, we were biting our nails waiting for the Never Give Up attitude to kick in. The 'Aussie Spirit'. Some say that all Australians on their birth certificate have "Never Give Up" imprinted on it... I personally think that we just get cheap thrills out of winning in the last dying minutes because it makes the loss even more painful, "Oh, we were so close, but we lost to that darn Aussie Spirit!".

Stuff History, who we got next Guus?

(1) From the Frankston City Council to an English hospital, all forms of institutions and organisations are blocking innocent bludgers from my witty comments. Perhaps it might be more crass than witty, for they are confusing this blog with hard core porn involving tit fucking beastiality and 42 cambodian wrestling midgets. Easy mistake. Though I've found the loophole (at least for the English hospital). If you use words like Doctor, Surgeon, Disease, Medicine or a Disaseed Doctor Surgon with Medicine it acts as a counterballance to all the porn. So everytime I use the word porn, I need to prefix it with Doctor Porn or Diseased Tit Fucking or 12 inch big fat black rubber cock of medicine.. and then my radiologist mate will be able to view this blog! Simple! For the accountants, I will use Abacus Butt; and for the city planners, T-square pussy. Whatchyareckon?

The Bandwagon Rolls On

2006-06-13T13:56:00.000+10:00

The bandwagon just keeps on rolling on.. with more and more Socceroo fans coming out of the closet to watch 11 on 11 man love. For those living under a rock or too busy saying quotable quotes like "I think Brazil will win because they won in 1932 and the spiritual plane is in their quadrant"; the Socceroos were the ones everyone was talking about last night, after a thrilling 3-1 win over Japan.

"We won... let's go beat up the Barmy Army and break shit!"

But what I love is the history that people put on events such as these. Firstly, you have the comparisons to the 1974 World Cup, which also was in Germany. Why? Because that's the only other time we have made it. So, you get things like, "Tim Cahill has made history by getting the first goal for Australia in World Cup Finals History", and three minutes later "Tim Cahill has made history by being the first Australian to get two goals in World Cup Finals History".. Then you get the emotional importance attached to the event. Right at the top must have been Emma this morning, who woke up looking like shit and hungover (hey, me too..) and makes the grandiose comment, "I think last night was the single greatest moment of sporting history, right up there with Wigan making the English Premier League". I tried to convince her otherwise, citing Australian Cricket World Cup of 1999 or even 2003, Hawthorn making the final 8 way back in ???, or possibly even the America's Cup win in 1983 thanks to a little fat man called Bond. Nope, the fickelness of sporting bandwagons means that for the next month or two, this will be the single greatest sporting moment in Australia's history... until we beat Brazil on Sunday (Krout time)/Monday (Ocker time).

.. and of course, our winning tactic is the "Aussie fighting 'never say die' spirit". Thanks Kewell, I want to marry your right foot. Though personally I prefer the sound of 'Blue Samurai Spirit of Japan'.. how cool is that!? But they lost, and samurai's got killed b y guns. Surely the 'Now That We Have Won I Can Be Arrogant' trophy goes to the master of masters: The Golden Guus, "In the end justice was done in this game. I'm not saying this out of arrogance, but we were sure that we were capable of (coming back)". I checked out the definition of arrogance in urban dictionary ... I think it is said out of arrogance. But who cares Maestro? You are The Golden Guus composing a symphony of twenty two manly instruments, and we the Australian people of Australia are your audience. Only you could think of putting strikers on when we were losing. And we love arrogance. If you're Australian, you pass it off as truisms; we're not arrogant, just saying it as it is and it is that we are the best second rate soccer nation in the world. We eat Arrogance for breakfast.. i know there is something they add to the Weet Bix - darn seven day adventists at Sanitarium!

Looks exactly like the Japanese Ambassador last night!

"Where were you when Australia came back to win 3-1 over Japan, the beginning of the leadup to the Australian v Togo final?". I was at the Australian High Commission in Colombo... where of course we invited the Japanese Embassy, and proceeded to embarass myself by acting right royal stroppe for 84 minutes and then errupted in gloating and chanting. No more "Nippon..clap clap clap.. Nippon... clap clap clap". It quickly became a slurred "Aussie Aussie Aussie ... oi oi oi!". I always think its better to celebrate as loudly and as long as possible, particularly when it is such a heart breaking event and you are surrounded by the oppositions' upper class and children. I think it's the Aussie Way.

True Australian Spirit: Scott Charles of Bonnie Doon, Australian Fan, saving his pennies and going to see Australia in Germany, "I didn't think we would last long, but I'm about to ring my boss and tell him I'm sick"

Which ones inflatable?

Embarking on a new Adventure...

2006-06-09T13:26:00.000+10:00

Note the capital A. It's going to be a big, exciting, challenging Adventure. Can't wait. I've always been that person who shies away from hard work; heck, when I first looked up the word procrastination inthe dictionary, I also looked up boondoggle, dawdle, dilly-dally, prolong, linger, retard (not in the less abled sort of way), monkey around, screw off, and formicophiliac. But occasionally, I get bored of finding news ways to procrastinate - there's only so much surfing of bored.com and urbandictionary.com one can do... but then I found kontraband.com and the (soccer) world cup(1), and that gave me a whole new six months revitalisation of fascination with procrastination in this nation. But, like all good things.. the time has come to move on and shift up a gear.

So from one tree hugging hippie bleeding heart socialist pinky do gooder well wishing organisation to another, I will be embaring on a new Adventure in Sri Lanka with a new organisation. Hooray. And best of all, I am going to be a capitalist tree hugging hippie bleeding heart socialist pinky do gooder well wisher, as I am going to start actually being paid for the work I do: No more shackles of volunteerism. After six months, I can now say that I will be here for another twelve months doing the stuff I love. I ought to thank a few people actually: Firstly, Zhera (check out the link to her blog on the right hand side) as she told me to apply; Embo, who surprisingly didn't crack the sads and say "But I wanna go home!", and all it cost me was a trip to the Greek islands in July 07 [I'm still trying to bargain her down to the Carribean]; uhm, and nobody else really - all the rest was me me me me.

The good news for all you lovely Melbournians is that yes, I will be gone for another year; but not without a whirlwind pub tour for the last two weeks of June. My brother is officially moving back from the States and will be there upon my return; my sister is preggers so I want to rub the belly of luck; and I need to fleece my other brother of all his money in our World Cup bet-a-thon. I can't wait to get drunk, act drunk, and be drunk in a familiar surrounding without having to catch a tuk-tuk home. Cascade Beer, Victoria Bitter, James Boags.. that'll do me. Oh, and coffee - goddamn the coffee is good in Melbourne. For those who are from Melbourne, that made perfect sense... for everyone else, you can tell you are not from Melbourne because you are thinking "Who gives a toot about coffee" becuase you either don't drink it or don't know what the good stuffs all about. But yep, in continental winterish Melbourne, there's nothing that can top a coffee as you sit on the street chugging down those cigarettes and freezing your little nannas off.

Before I signout, I have a gripe with the AFL (Australian Football League). I love my footy, and I aint talking about that pansy sport we call Soccer. But recently, the AFL brought in a "split round" where one weeks of games are played over two weeks so that the players can recouperate or whatever.. whinging buggers. And it just so happens, that the split round coincides with my visit to Melbourne. Oh boooooo. But it gets worst. The AFL refuses to give my football team (Carn the mighty Hawks!) money for having the blondest 18 players on the field; so they had to sell their souls to the devil and play games in (gulp) Tasmania of all places. Traitors. And so now, not only is there only _one_ Hawthorn football match while I am in town, but it's not even going to be played in my town! Two Melbourne teams playing in Launceston. I mean, this is exactly what Trey Parker and Matt Stone were talking about in Baseketball. It's just not on!

So, I'm in a pickle. What to do? Australia's not playing cricket. My football team I can only watch for a couple of hours over a two week period. Sri Lanka's even finishing up their tour of England (Go the Lankans, they managed to do what the Aussies couldn't do at the Ashes and draw with them). NHL's played their playoffs, same goes with Basketball not that I care. I guess I could watch Rugby... but I aint a Canadian (north of the border = New South Wales/Queenslander), so who cares about that. Looks like I am going to have to jump on that Bandwagon. Actually, for those who have seen me of late, there's been little action in Ampara and Sri Lanka so the World Cup has reached fever pitch in Sri Lanka. And I'm the first to admit that I am jumping on that bandwagon. And why not.. at least this time we didn't lose to YouAreGay (I prefer Homer Simpson's pronounciation) or some nuclear middle eastern state in the qualifying round. This time we're actually playing, may as well watch it. I don't need an excuse to say "Well, technically I am not a bandwagon jumper, because I once played soccer at lunch time in grade 3.. so it's really in my blood", or "Well, I'm actually 1/314th Serbian, which is why I hate the Croats on the team but still love soccer", or "Well, I've visited America which makes me fickle". So I am on the Socceroo bandwagon, and proud of it. Despite the fact it's played by pansys that spend more time rolling on the ground than kicking and punching each other, it could be alright... there's got to be something going for it, if reports are correct there may even be more people who play soccer than cricket (I find this highly dubious, having spent time in Sri Lanka, Bangladesh and Australia.. I can't imagine anywhere else being different?).

So go the Socceroos. Go the Guus. And for those who discount us: Just remember, we beat Greece, the European champions; we drew with Holland, 3rd in FIFA rankings; and we beat the fifth best South American team to qualify! At 100/1, start counting your winnings!!

(1) Man, Australia so sucks at being a soccer nation. Firstly, we rightfully call it soccer.. because obviously a game where you can use your feet and your hands should be called Football. But also, check out the link to the official socceroos website.. and you will see more articles and talk on the Qantas Matildas, our female squad, than you will about the Australian Socerroos.. that little uknown team that has made it to Germany 2006 for the first time since WhoknowsIJustGotOnTheBandwagon 1974. The Matilda's tour of China, whilst I'm all for dykes and spikes (2), surely should take a temporary backseat for say the next 4 weeks whilst we win seven games in a row and a trophy with a lil ball on it?

(2) Anyone who does take offense to this comment will be called a German Dyke (3).

(3) Any Germans who take offense to this comment will be reminded by the outcomes of "Two World Wars And One World Cup" - The Barmy Army do have the best songs, if only you could shut them up.

Sweating Like A Danish Cartoonist

2006-06-05T17:56:00.000+10:00

Sometimes, you need to whinge... especially if you are a Whingin Pom or if you are an American that voted for John Kerry and still cherish the placards that you marched with in all those war protests, or if you’re an American student overseas who likes onions.

Whilst I am none of the above.. I am going to whinge anyway. It’s hot. It’s darn hot. It’s so hot in Ampara that I haven’t stopped sweating since I arrived. I have to flip my pillow (well, Bill’s pillow) numerous times through the night because it gets wet. I think that’s why my neck is sore. And…. You can’t whinge about the heat in Ampara, because inevitably the bleeding lefty pinky socialist do-gooder humanitarian worker listening to you has worked in the deserts of sub-Saharan Africa, the middle east next to an exploding bomb, or the Caribbean. “I remember when it was fifty four degrees in the desert”, “Yeah, but I bet you weren’t a chump volunteer, and I bet you had air conditioning 24-7 in your little Oasis of a hippie town”.

The only solution to the heat is to remove oneself from reality and kick back with some Playstation. I have been playing lots of Mortal Kombat – Shaolin Monks with Mark and Jeroen (pr. Urin, he’s Dutch). So we’ve been walking around making our best martial arts sounds of “Waaataaa” and “Wayaaaa”. I’ve even borrowed Ashleigh’s joke of “What’s Jackie Chan’s favourite drink?” “Waaateeer”. We also went on some missions last night in Medal of Honour, trying to sniper one and other and take over their base. Cooooooool. So life doesn’t seem to bad, no? But remember, all along, we were sweating like the proverbial rapist.. or like a fat kid in a sweets shop.. or like a prostitute in church.. or like a formicophiliac on I'ma celebrity.. or like a peadophile in a playground.. or like a, well you get the picture. It's hot, and my balls are low and wet.

On a side, yesterday I went snorkelling with some mates in Kalmunai. It was awesome! We did three dive spots in the morning over about 4 hours, travelling in a fibre glass fishing boat. Mark hooked up the whole thing with a local outfit of divers, and he rocks for that. We stopped off at a ship-wreck, which was p.cool – my first ship wreck snorkel.. and we also stopped at some big rocks with a wee bit of coral. Managed to see some turtles, surgeons, pipe fish, clown fish, emperors, angel fish, see eals, and a sting ray having its spine ripped out by a dude on the beach to be sold for medicinal purposes. There were lots of other bright and funky fish, but my fishing vocab is limited. All in all, a great weekend! [Photos pending]

It seems I have finished whinging and am now appreciating the beauty of Sri Lanka and modern Japanese electronic firms such as Sony (1). Its been a lil while since I was last in Ampara.. at which point the rice harvest was well under way, and everyone was burning their paddy fields. Usually, these aren’t the sort of photos on Sri Lanka tourist sites, and for good reason. But now, only four weeks later, the seeds have been sown and the paddy fields are a magnificent green for as far as the eye can see. Makes you think, doesn’t it. [Photos pending]

Whinge out.

(1) Sony’s almost as bad as apple, because they make their systems completetly incompatible. Long live the i-River. Long live the i-Generation. Check out smashmyIpod, Anti-iPod, or here and here and here or here for why Apple i-Pods suck. You can’t click anywhere to know why i-Rivers rock, so just trust me on that one and the sunscreen.

ECO1011: Introduction to Tuk Tuk Economics 101

2006-05-30T21:49:00.000+10:00

The first lesson in any introductory subject is always some dodgey lecturer standing up the front jabbering on about the subject material, boring the students to the extent they actually choose to read the newspaper. So if you're bored of this already, click here or here or here. Or you can listen to me explain the tuk-tuk's of Sri Lanka. Firstly, after investigating for about 8 seconds, I have realised why nobody understands what the heck I am talking about when I call those three wheelie things a tuk-tuk. According to Wikpedia, in South Asia they are "autorickshaws". <- click there. Whereas in South East Asia, they are more like this. I like urban dictionary, it's a much more technical reference dealing with the definitions of sexual positions: this is a rickshaw ho (ooer) and this is a tuk tuk (fuck political correctness). Whatever you call them, tuk-tuks rock as transport and surely are better than the two busses I would have to catch to work.

That's a picture of a tuk-tuk when I was in Usangoodya - looks like the outback, ey? Here's some pictures of tuk-tuk's I'm glad I don't need to catch. Doooooooooooooooooodge.

Tuk-tuk economics is a practical subject. It's all about avoiding being ripped off by dodgey little men in their motorbike cabooses. So arriving in Colombo, I've had to employ all my knowledge of Tuk Tuk Economics 101. First thing, find your local tuk tuk stand. Luckily here in SL, there's one every 12 meters with about four dodgey little men sitting around waiting to steal your money. But don't rush to make a deal with them.. that would be foolish. You need to stake out a bargaining position. So for the first three days of working in the new office from a new apartment, I took my street smarts to the street. Every day, there and back, bargaining and arguing and throwing tanties doing whatever it takes to get the best deal: they agree to 100 rupes (pr. Roops) occasionaly, but always bump it up at the end when they realise I am at the "other side" of Welawata. Minimum: 115. Maximum 150. 1 1-0 to street smart Bozza.

Aight.. time to bargain. So on Monday, I head to the tuk tuk stand in the morning.. as usual, four dodgey little men hanging out of tuk tuks waiting for their prey: bonus, I arrive, and I'm white stocked with roops that they reckon they can get their grubby little hands on. But no cigar: I'm well equipped with street smarts. "How much to Kirulapane" - they correct my pronounciation, 1-1 to the tuk tuk stand (even after two weeks they still correct me, obviously they don't realise we won the war and they speak English I don't speak Sinhalese). They try to charge me 150, but I aint havin' none of it. "Everyday, " (they love that word) "i will travel to work. Everyday". They ask me to jump in, but no price is settled. "I am not paying 150", "no problem".. yeah, 2-1 to my bank manager. We drive, I direct.. I know where to go, my street smarts is coming in handy already. I tell him a short cut, he likey very muchy, 3-1 to A-Z Colombo. We arrive at my workplace.. he stops. Assesses the drive and his imaginary tuk tuk calculator (based on distance, price of petrol, time of day, and a random variable that is positively correlated to the flavour of chupa-chup the shortest guy in China is sucking on); he quotes 125. We bargain, I start at 100, at which point he reminds me that the shortest guy in China is currently sucking a strawberry chupa chup - darn, 3-2 to Mao Tsu-Tung. I try 110, no cigaro. 120. "Okay, everyday?". Everyday. 120 roops to work. It's a draw, 3-3.

The next day, I head back to the tuk tuk stand, where four dodgey little men are waiting with their grubby little hands to get my money. But somethings different.. they wave me down from a distance. I acknowledge with a little hand movement. There's movement as one jumps in his tuk tuk and turns the engine on.. the other little man who took me yesterday directs me to get in; a different driver.. to worry? No. This country is a socialist democracy. They share me around like the rickshaw ho I am. When I get in, he pronounces correctly, "Kirulapane?", "Kirulapane". I never need to say another word.. right out the front of my workplace, he stops. What convenience.. that surely is worth 10 roops a day! But sadly, I only have a hungie.. "Tomorrow, I give you 20 more, ok?" I spatter out in my pidgeon English with a dodgey Sri Lankan accent that they seem to understand much better. "No problem". Next day, I pay 140 and never hear about it again.. the system works!

Getting home isn't quite as easy, but I still always pay 120 roops. The tuk tuk stand is a part time dodgey little man hang out; often, nobody is there to take my money so I need to wave down an empty tuk. This doesnt take long, but it does mean explaining where I live, and while they try to bargain "150 sir, price of petrol high" I steadfastly say "120 or I walk". They always let me in.. but I don't get that 10 roop convenience discount.. bugger.

Déjà Vu

2006-05-24T22:18:00.000+10:00

Well, here we go, another Evacuation. This time, it's for real and there's no turning back. Last time, it was _only_ the insurance companies that freaked out, but if you give them enough money they will let you stay. This time, however, the Government and ultimate employer is freaking out. Fearing parliamentary inquiries ("Mr Dooschbag, please explain why you would let our nations youth and future into potential conflict area in nothing but a helmet, flack jacket, big 4x4 with sirens and flashy lights, and a sticker saying 'No Guns'?"), they pulled out the four volunteers quicker than you can "WTF?". Sri Lanka in the North and East is now on the same footing as Iraq, Afghanistan, and all those other nice civil and unjustified wars around the world (1).

So out of Ampara we go, and back to Colombo to reside. Emma's basically job less.. and well, sadly I still have a job. Fortunately, Emma's family were here visiting at the time and so she preemptively packed up part of house before she left (unlike some of the other evacuees, who have nothing but the shirts on their backs.. .and pants). So instead of mulling over all the lost friends and lost work and the like.. we decided to head down south to party on the beaches of Tangalle (re: next blog and phlog entry).

So, where to from here? Well, Emma has the option of finding another job or going to her head office. I myself will just relocate my belongings to Colombo, and continue travelling around the South and the East as if nothing has changed. Meanwhile, we will get the most out of our free months accommodation in Colombo while looking for a new place.. and of course, use this as a good opportunity to completely flaunt my organisations internet connection. Abusing their cheap ass narrowband connection.. yay!

To all the fans out there in Ampara: World Vision, see you here soon and we can party likes its the evauation of 99! To everone else, who will inevitably hang around while bombs drop next door ("I'm not a war tourist! I'm committed to development!"), keep the party going and I shall be there soon and often.. if for no other reason than my big remote control car with flashy lights and sirens that go wooo wooo woo and little flags is still at Bills place.

(1) It is important to differentiate the North and the East in Sri Lanka. The island might look small on a map, but it's as big as Tasmania! There are significant differences in the North and East, for example the existence of a Tamil community as the majority; as opposed to the South, West and Central Sri Lanka which is dominated by the majority, the Sinhalese. I don't want to get into the politics, but feel free to Google it or even read the World section of your local paper (what a novel idea) and read up on it for yourself. But for the purpose of Byron and Emma, we are safe in Colombo and there is plenty of scope to dodge bombs from where we are. And besides, they don't want to kill white people - we are on the top of the pecking order, the highest caste their is.. we would only be collateral damage.

A Hundred Times The Pain

2006-05-24T21:28:00.000+10:00

Health. There’s no “Fun” in the word health, unlike “Fun” or “Funny”. I guess there’s “Ha” and “He”, but there’s also “Hate” and “Lthahe”. I am not a lexiconologist, but I am quite sure that the Latin or Greek or German or Whatever derivative of the word Health is not related to Fun or Entertaining or Excitement. It’s probably more related to Pendulum, something that swings back and forth forever changing its speed and position and always gravitating to one spot (which could be death, or could be life, or could the bottom of the pendulum swing). Regardless, this is not a humorous story. It’s also not meant to be one of those stories that propels you into a philosophical state wanting to contemplate life and death like Aritstotle or Plato or Descartes or Doctor Kevorkian or Doctor Nick Riviera. It’s just a story. If it makes you sit up in your chair and go “Fwoar” or “Wow” or “Holy f’ing crap, your jerking my gherkin?”, then cool because 49% of the population is male and 100% of that population likes gruesome stories. If you think that it is a long short story that goes on and on without much of anything, then that’s fine with this author, at least you won’t ask what happened again. But this is my story on the night of Sunday the 9^th of April 2006 and the morning of Monday the 10^th of April 2006. This is my story, these are my thoughts, and these are the events.

I am in Mirissa, by myself. I have been dropped off by the Danish Red Cross en route, and my mate from Colombo isn’t coming til tomorrow. The beach is very quiet, as it is the week of Sri Lankan New Year, so most local-tourists go to the hill country where it is nice and cool and the rest go back to their village to be with their families. It’s also off peak season in the South, so there’s fewer tourists. Hanging with other whities seems pretty lame, so I head off to my Beach Posse headed by Kasey. It’s their holiday season; no work, not much to do. Time to crack open the Arrack and smoke some joints. Merrily, I join in for the night. It’s the third or fourth time I visited – he remembers me, and his slow laid back half-Jamaican half-Sri Lankan half-Pidgeon English voice asks about Emma. I try to imitate his voice, to make it easier for Kasey to understand and because Beach-going-holiday-making Byron is cool with the gang; Emma’s fine and will be joining in a few days. The drink and smoke and talk goes on for hours, from the waves in Aragum Bay near where Emma and I live to the different sort of weed in Australia and Sri Lanka. And then, I decide, it’s time I crash.

I hate my shoes. I bought them in Bangladesh, and just never got around to upgrading. They are not comfortable. They are a hassle to buckle and unbuckle at every house and office. They are falling apart. And they smell like my feet. But never have they put me in danger before. Never have they caused such a raucous as tonight. I have to walk along the highway by night to get to the hotel, so I kneel down to buckle my shoes. It’s dark in Kasey’s beach side restaurant. The lights are off, but I don’t even think twice before placing my right knee on the hard floor to do up my left buckle. I’ve never seen anything dangerous before, have I? My eyes are half shut, I’m slow and tired. I fiddle oh so briefly with my left buckle before I notice a pain in my right knee, growing and growing. Before I can finish my right shoe, I stand to see what it is. Perhaps I am kneeling on a lit cigarette? I look down at my right knee and see nothing. I lift my shorts, because I can definitely feel the pain. There are two holes, one slightly larger with a drip of blood running down the leg. I’m perplexed: but how can a cigarette do this!? I look around on the floor to see what has breached my skin, twice, and caused this pain to grow and grow and grow.

It’s long. I’ve never seen one as large as this, in or outside of Sri Lanka. But could it have been this that pierced my casing? There’s nothing else around. It’s a dark dark red leading into black along the edges. It’s two thirds the size of a school boy’s thirty centimetre rules. It’s walking, almost wriggling, away. It knows what it has done, and it probably thinks revenge is on its way. But it’s not. I still don’t have my shoes on it to squish it in its tracks. I am so perplexed by all this, stunned, shocked, in awe of what is going on, that I just watch it walk and wriggle and walk away. It’s got at least a hundred legs, all black all walking in synchronisation to get the body out of harms way. And before I realise how much pain I am in, the centipede is gone. I look back at my leg like it’s a foreign part of my body, the pain has grown to verge on excruciating. I contemplate heading back to the hotel and not saying anything, thinking the pain will just disappear. After all, it’s only a centipede, right? The pain grows and grows. I call Kasey who is standing by the door a foot or two away. He’s talking to some other members of the Beach Posse. Him and the one I call Pissu Lanka (Crazy Lankan) come over. “I’ve been bitten by something”. Kasey looks at me as perplexed as I looked at the centipede, “What do you mean Byron?” he says in that slow laid back way that makes me think he’s half asleep, “you’ve been bitten now?”. I try to keep as cool calm and collected as one can be in the face of language barriers in the face of adversity and all other random events blocking the communication path. “Yes, I’ve just been bitten by something, it’s got lots of legs is red and black and walks and is this long”. I lift up the right leg of my shorts to show the two pricks one with blood where the centipede violated me. One final time I am asked, “You have just been bitten now? Here?”. A stern short curt but not unpleasant “Yes” is resounded.

Instantly, Pissu Lanka and Kasey get into gear. Voices are raised, lights are turned on. Pissu Lanka pulls out his torch that he uses to check out the waves around the full moon period to do night surfing. I point to the chairs and tables where the centipede had crawled towards. Kasey throws a table and chair across to the other side as if they were what had bit me. Kasey keeps prodding me for information, “What did it look like?”, “Are you feeling alright?”; followed by reassurance, “Don’t worry Byron, you’ll be fine”, “No problem Byron… no problem”. They furiously look in the corner of the restaurant, but to no avail. After a minute, they give up and return to me. All the commotion leads to panic setting in, “What’s wrong Kasey?”, “Is it dangerous?”, “Could I die Pissu Lanka?”. I ask that final question several times to the two that speak English, “Could I die?”, “Is it deadly?”. I wait for an acceptable response, which arrives with comfort. “No, you will just be in pain.” “Have you been bitten before?” “Yes, twice”, Kasey retorts in his oh so laid back manner. Comfort arrives, though panic and pain still remain.

“Byron, we need to get you to a healer”. By now I realise that this is not an ordinary centipede, but rather that it is poisonous. The entire region around my right knee is starting to warm up, with this throbbing pain that makes it feel like it is on fire. “I need a tourniquet, I need some string to tie my leg”. They look for string, and Pissu Lanka looks for lime to reduce the pain, but the restaurant is closed in the off season and nothing is available except Arrack, and that won’t do. They try to tie my leg off with a plastic bag that may as well have not been there. We begin the walk to the nearby tuk-tuk stand. It’s probably fifty meters away, and I walk on my own for the entire length. Kasey and I keep asking each other questions, “Are you feeling okay?” making me more worried followed by “This isn’t deadly, right?”.

We arrive at the tuk-tuk stand, but nobody is around except the five or six members of Kasey’s Beach Posse that have come along. Everyone is talking in Sinhalese around me, and Kasey keeps asking me if I am feeling alright, if the pain is getting worse, and where the pain is. All the Sinhalese chatter in the background is happening at such a frantic pace with such a fear in the voice, that without understanding a word I know exactly what is being said. The pain is intensifying, but not spreading much further than my leg. People are standing around, but nobody is running off to try and get a tuk-tuk or vehicle. They are yelling at each other in a hurried voice, trying to make a decision as what to do next with the sickly foreigner. The stakes are high, for everyone.

“Kasey, I’m feeling faint”. Out of nowhere, the words whimper out of my mouth. I didn’t even mean to say it, the words just came right out of my mouth before it seemed that I had even started feeling faint; almost a reaction to the situation. The pain is intense, but suddenly my entire body has started to weaken. Shit Byron, what’s going on. Panic. Fright. Terror. Fear. Alarm. Horror. Dread. “You’re feeling faint Byron?”, he asks rhetorically but in such a way that I know he knows exactly what it means. “Yeah man… faint”. He says something in Sinhalese, and two of the posse prop me up, one under each arm. I’m out of my mind at this stage. Picture it: On a main road in a “sleepy hollow of a town” (Lonelyplanet); using two local boys for crutches just so I can stand; there are no vehicles in sight (no parked cars, no vehicles fullstop, except one bicyle lying around); I am surrounded by six or so twenty something year olds so frightened of the situation they almost seem whiter than me; and no mobile phone. I quickly check my pockets on this last point, and no mobile phone. Later on I will briefly ask to borrow somebody elses phone to make a call, and then realise I don’t know any phone numbers in Sri Lanka except my own mobile phone. The situation, from the outside, is not looking good. And it definitely is not looking good from my position.

“Yeah man… faint”. As soon as those words pass my mouth, as soon as those two boys prop me up, it gets worse. I pass out. I lose consciousness. I know its only for a brief moment, but it feels like forever. I start to recover, my upper body comes back first, but I cant focus on anything; everything is just a blur. I am still not standing on my own two feet, though I try and try and try. Its as if my feet cant get a grip on the solid group. My legs try to push up and hold my weight, but they just flop around like a fish on and. In and out of consciousness. When out of consciousness, everything is blurry and I cant hear or make out any words – just voices that seem in the distance. When in consciousness, I feel weak, pain, and my head tries to grasp the events that are occurring, “I need a tourniquet” thinking that will help. Out of nowhere, a plastic outdoorsy chair comes. As soon as I fall into, my body collapses into an epileptic fit. I’ve never had one before; it doesn’t feel strange, it just feels like sleep when actually fitting. I have no control or awareness of my body. I begin to come out of it, and realise that my body is still massively convulsing with five of the boys pinning me down to the chair trying to prevent me from shuddering and convulsing and shaking. Its not use, the body is doing what it does and nobody can stop it.

In and out of consciousness, perceptions are completely distorted. Tuk-tuks, cars and trucks are passing, and they are trying to stop them but they dodge the group which must seem like a gang about to hijack. Picture it. A group of boys on the side of the road, me in a chair that cant be seen, all waving frantically and in the middle of the road trying to stop your vehicle – would you stop? This is no use, nobody is going to stop them. “Pick me up Kasey, I want to get into the middle of the road”. Maybe, just maybe, they may stop if they see me? Two people prop me up in the middle of the road. Lights are coming, but I cant focus. I cant hear whats going on around me. The lights seem also as if they are here. I shake my head to straighten things out, and squint to focus on the lights as hard as I can. I try with all my might. Eventually, it focuses on the lights – its much further than I think. It’s a tuk-tuk, taking forever to traverse down the beachside road at night. They literally corner the tuk-tuk on the nearby bridge, it has nowhere to go. There’s a mother and a daughter in the back, and a driver wondering what the heck is going on and just wanting to be out of there. I get my two five foot four crutches to help me hobble to the vehicle. By the time I get there, they know what is going on and the passengers reluctantly get out.

One of my crutches gets in first, followed by me and Kasey flanked on my right with my leg on top of him. Three others try to get in the vehicle, but I make some noises that may have sound like displeasure, and only one other gets in. There’s four of us in the car. Myself. Kasey. Pissu Lanka. And another random guy who always smokes the roach to the end. I hear that fresh laid back voice again, “Keep talking to me Byron, you gotta keep talking to me”. We talk. And talk. And talk. About waves. About his past experiences with centipedes. Within minutes of entering the tuk tuk and raising my leg, I am completely conscious and fine, “Wow, that seemed close Kasey”. A wry smile crosses my face… everything’s going to be just fine.

It takes a full half an hour to get to Matara hospital. It’s been just over an hour since I was bitten. I throw a thousand rupees at someone to pay for the tuk-tuk here and to get them home. The hospital is bare, though it seems well equipped for snake and insect bites – after ten minutes of explaining to numerous people what has transpired, I am in the “emergency” room which has a picture of thirty odd snakes and some Sinhalese under each one, instructions for what to do. Once propped onto the bed, the lady night-doctor asks me the same question I have heard about thirty times before, “So you have been bitten. What did it look like?” as she peers over the two punctures. I am completely kept in the dark over the process, but strangely I feel comfortable as I imagine they have done this thousands of times before. They come back with three pills – two Panadol, one Puritin (basic antibiotic). They take some blood, which I can only assume is to test the type of poison pulsing through my veins. I try to explain that I have had an epileptic fit in the meanwhile, but they just ignore it and move on – later on the next night-doctor will interrogate me more about this, and then forget it had ever been talked about. That same doctor will also say, “In Australia, doctors tell patients about everything they are doing and all the processes. Yeah? Ha Ha. Not in Sri Lanka.”. I was sure he was trained in Germany.

“Mr Pakula, we are going to keep you over night for observation. You will be fine”. That’s the most I ever get out of any doctor. I get moved to another bed in a room with forty two other patients, half coughing the other half asleep and wriggling. I receive special treatment, not having to be in an aisle and being close to the doctors table. Everything is orderly and scant, except the patients. Somehow I have managed to keep a book in my pocket the entire time, so trying not to touch the dirty sheets too much and not wanting to sleep in this environment, I prop my head up on my elbow and read Phillip Roth. I hobble out for a smoko around 3am, and again at 6am after I accidentally sleep for a little bit. I hobble across the road to the roti shop at 8am pretending not to be a patient and buying some breaky. After three more doctors checks, and having to wait for the fourth by the head doctor on duty, I finally get the all clear to head out… and not a minute too soon. I have had enough of the stench of death and disease, and Pissu Lanka was waiting to take me back in the tuk-tuk. Two more Panadols later, nothing to sign and nothing to pay, I walk out of the hospital and head back to Mirissa. I think I wont smoke any more joints today.

Just Because You Are, Doesn't Mean I Am

2006-05-11T18:51:00.000+10:00

The Blog would like to use this opportunity to celebrate and congratulate all those things filled with goodness happening outside of Sri Lanka. So without further adue, and in reverse chronological order beginning with the letter P, Come on Down Pete!! (Play price is right music in your head.. doo do de do da doo do de doo do repeat)

Pete & Ren, Congratu-fuckin-lations on your marriage (waaaaaay too belated) and your little bub, Mr Oliver. Who I hear is already learning to phone home like ET with his relatively george-like Fingers. Here's a snap of him when he first popped out and was like, "WTF, I want a Plzen".. those Czech babies sure do start early:

Oh, isn't he darn gorgeous? Looks just like his Pa.

And here's the happy fam.

Joel & Katie: Bout time you got on your knees Joel.. and proposed. Well done. As I am reminded each time I speak to Joel, the final date will be the 3rd of January and I surely wouldn't miss it for the world! Congratulations. Here's a picture of the happy couple at their engagement party.

Oh hang on, I think this is them at their engagement party(1).

George & Phi: Big round of applause for the happily newly married couple. Sorry I couldn't be there, but it may have been best Phi as it could have ended up in another tequilla competition. For those who know them, you would have seen all the photos on their website - sadly, I dont got any with me. So instead, here's a picture of Paul, my ex housemate, on his way to the 'new' star wars VI movie.
Lyle: Yo Bro, congratulations on being a smart pumpkin and winning that Alumni Award for your PhD. Now, go get a high paying job so I dont need to keep volunteering, will ya? Although my brother likes to think he is smart, doing his atmospheric science "i wanna be a weatherman" storm chasing stuff, not-so-deep down he truely is just a redneck. Here's Lyle with a gun, trying to hunt the bear that stole his trailer door:
Byron: You are so funny, talented, experienced, and all other goodly wordly things, and what? You've only just turned 26? Well Gee, Happy Birthday you son-of-a-gun or brother-of-a-gun-tooting-redneck in this case. For all those who forgot, which is half of Melbourne, it was May 3rd - and if I ever earn money as a volunteer, I am writing you out of my wills goddammit. This was my first birthday outside of Melbourne... surprisingly... at least now I know why I ought to have it in Melbourne in the future a) so I can prod people and tell them what to get me, b) get bigger presents, c) so I can win another go-karting championship.

(1) Next time Jozza, when you send photos, try sending ones of the happy newly wed couple? Though I do love alex and bonnie too. Here's John's rendition of the little pooches:

Phlog, Smell and Blognotes

2006-05-10T23:23:00.000+10:00

Essentially, there are two mediums wherby I can communicate life in Sri Lanka: text, and photos. If the sense of smell could be used, then there would be many more entries relating to bowel movements (1). However, as visual stimulisation is the only medium a blog can afford (and due to bandwidth problems, I aint touching movies with a 10foot networking cable), I shall proceed with the use of the Phlog (as defined earlier, See International Jetsetters Extraordinaire: D1). These are random photos taken at random places at random times. The only thing common throughout is the Ricoh Caplio GX and my right index finger. Enjoy.

Bundalla National Park (Wetlands): Spoonbill Stork, or something
Monkeys in bin on side of the road
Bundalla Wetland: Peacocks

Rice Paddy, Ampara:

Galle Face Hotel in Monsoonal Rains:

Lake near Nuwra Eliya, Highlands:

Flower and insect, Horton National Park:

Flying Insects - Cooler in Xray?
I personally prefer my X-ray editing (c/o Adobe Photoshop, my best friend).

(1) After five days of strictly no solid bowel movemements, I am glad to say that I am FREE! Yes, you heard me correctly, I took a dump today. And I swear, there's nothing better than the euphoria of dropping the kiddies off at the pool, especially if they have been steaming up there for five long days. Cartmen said it best, when a 60 foot sattelite came out of his arse, expressing his sincerest happiness and relating it to the worlds largest shit. I am also reading a book by Haruki Murakami (Hard Boiled Wonderland and The End of the World), which in one passage has the key character not piss for 48 hours, then he goes for two minutes and stays there enjoying the state of happiness afterwards. I too, did not want to leave that bowl of bowel goodness. (2)
(2) I was reading a book that had footnotes in it, and I thought I too will bring back the footnote. They are underutilised in this day and age, the reserve for intellectuals in their reports. When I was at university, my lecturers told me not to use footnotes. I think they are wrong, and cant think outside the square. They are essential, and I think the only way they can be brought back is by using Blognotes. The modern footnote for all bloggers.

International Jetsetters Extraordinaire: D1

2006-05-10T22:59:00.000+10:00

Disclaimer: Apologies that this blog entry goes over a few pages.. and that it is so late, but the reason is interlinked: dodgey internet connection and poor bandwidth. So Chris, and Caz, without further adue, this is the entry I wrote for you nearly two months ago: I am here now to post it for you. Bravo, bravo. P.S. It all starts again this week with Emmas family coming, oh boy.. surely with Ange as one of the four IJEs, it will have nothing on your trip! P.P.S. No offence Ange, but we both know I don't like you, and pretending's something you do when you give a shit - not when your thousands of kilometers away.

On March 11 2005, at 00:45 hours, they arrive. Bags filled with clothes too warm for the beaches and too cold for the hills; but at least there are sufficient provisions of tuna and weet bix and rolly papers and vegemite for their hosts. Looking blarey eyed after 8500km of high altitude flying in a compressed sardine can, and misguided attempts at joining the mile high club, they exit the airport with a wry smile on their face. Chris and Caroline (a.k.a. Caz) have arrived.

Lethargy and fatigue are not enough to stop the traditional Aussie reuniting over beers and cigarettes until four in the morning, with neighbours ruffling their feathers from the noise. Jet lag is not going to defeat these International Jetsetters Extraordinaire. This perhaps has just set the scene for the next 168 hours: living in a state of perpetual fatigue, constantly dispelling the drags of sobriety, and two-bit hostels filled with cockroaches mosquitoes and all the other luxuries of a developing country.

Phlog noun (pr. f-log) 1. An entry into a blog relying on the aid of photographs to describe the entry. (I was going to write a blog, but I got lazy and posted a phlog instead). verb 2. The act of striking a tuk tuk driver over the back of the head when they are not driving fast enough for the next train. (I was running late and needed to be in Kandy that night, so I gave my tuk tuk driver a phlogging with a hundred rupee note over the back of the head).

Day 1: After waking up a very groggy and grumpy blog writer at some ungodly hour that began with a seven, the foursome ventured out into the streets of Colombo. First thing first, nothing better than starting a new hung-over day with a local breakfast of string hoppers and curry – Mmm, diarrhoetically yummy! And the introduction to the use of the lamest word ever "WOWZZA" that Chris skwarked everytime he ate because the food was too spicy. Didn't help that byron kept telling him the mildest thing on his plate was the coconout sambal (grated chili and coconut and spices)

No spicy food at the Cricket Club
Stroll on the beach near Fort:
This was followed by the first of many tuk tuk drives: air rushing through the hair, pollution filling the nasal passages, prices far exceeding what any local would pay in their right mind, and life threatening swerves between busses trucks and pedestrians. Time felt as if it had almost slowed down, enabling us to squeeze more into this day than should be possible according to Newton, Einstein and Hawkins. Shopping, walks by the beach, AFT after AFT (see below), visiting the local Petah market, watching an elephant munch through palm leaves, drinks at a very colonial Cricket Club, afternoon siesta, and even getting smashed at the local night club (R&B).

AFT expletive (pr. A-F-T). 1. Acronym, “Another Fucking Temple”. Derived from the European version AFC (another fucking castle or church), represents a travellers frustration with viewing cultural icons particularly religious-based houses of God. (“Oh no, not another AFT. Can’t we get pissed instead?”)

How close was the bus Chris?

AFT1&2:

International Jetsetters Extraordinaire: D2

2006-05-10T22:47:00.000+10:00

Day 2-3: Another early morning beckons, this time to board the three hour scenic railway to Kandy. After standing for a while, we managed to hustle out some elderly European tourists suffering from incontinence and probably the previous night’s curry who took a toilet break at one of the stations whilst we took the available seats. Upon arrival, we ventured to Perediniya to gawk at Stumpy The Three Legged Elephant and his mates bathing in the river and munching down some coconut palms in their hostel. Elephants Rocks. I think Chris and Caz wanted to adopt one, but settled with a batik painted with elephants instead.

Train to Kandy (poppin' our heads out - do not try this at home)

View of us from above

Elephant Orphanage (Is this a repeated photo?)

The following day we managed to visit the Pedro Tea Estate in Nuwara Eliya, an extremely colonial town “more British than Brittain”. Looking like four gumby’s (Am I really the only one who remembers the green man made from playdo?), we did a speedy tour of the factory and went for a walk through plantations. This time, I think Chris and Caz wanted to adopt the cute-as-a-button tour guide, but settled with three packets of tea instead. That night, we got drunk and played a game that rue’s my life, Seven Famous People.

The Four Pedro Gumbys:

International Jetsetters Extraordinaire: D4

2006-05-10T22:38:00.000+10:00

Day 4: Another ungodly early morning, this time beginning with a six, we began our decline from the hill country but not before stopping at the end of the world, Horton Plains’ World’s End. We walked for three hours, jumping over streams (in the photo, he didn’t make it), trudging through the muddiest of trenches since the first world war (or you walked around it like the rest of us), over hills, past the plains, along the rivers, stopping at waterfalls, taking photos of flowers (wait, that was just me) and passing the end of the world. It was p.cool… if only we didn’t still have Mr Jack Daniels on the brain.

Chris about to get wet:

MUDFIGHT!!! Much more fun with another person, Caz.

All of us at The End of The World.

Then we drove and drove and kept on driving and drove some more; the guy was driving like he was driving Miss Daisy; we were being driven crazy and driving each other nuts; then we drove slowly as we drove over a piece of metal that jutted into the wheels, which drove everyone more crazy and more nuts; then we stoped driving in Hambantota so that we could continue driving faster by driving with four inflated wheels; and we drove through the sunset and drove into the night. Driving, driving, driving some more… then we gave up driving in Mirissa, after everyone was driven into a differently abled state after driving each other up the walls. We drove for thirteen hours, and Miss Daisy’s Geeves drove back. And all we saw was a monkey wank himself after eating a banana, and some cool scenery.

Monkey full of our bananas, biscuits, and wanking (ought to see the movie!)

International Jetsetters Extraordinaire:D5

2006-05-10T22:30:00.000+10:00

Day 5-6: There was some serious stuff going down in Mirissa, and I am talking RE-LAX. The toughest these days got was a thirty minute tuk-tuk ride to Unawatuna from Mirissa for a change of scenery. In Mirrissa, we were staying at Kasey’s joint (who will feature in a future blog, re centipedes) who hooked us up big time for some whacky tabacky – you got to have your beach boy posse to hook you up with Bob Marley and The Reefers. Embo and Caz managed to squeeze in a bit of shopping, surprising even the local shopkeep by buying the two faro-out tubes and straw hats… I never laughed so hard (nor Chris or the three local boys) when that massive wave came out of nowhere to dump poor Em and Caz who’s assess were stuck in the tube with their legs and heads poking out. Mental Note: Never Rely on a Blow Up Tube When Near Surfers.

Em and Caz in their tubes pre-wipe out (Mirissa)

Emma heading to Parrot Rock on Mirissa Beach.

Unawatuna was p.diddy cool too; in between drinks we managed to squeeze in some snorkelling, checking out the awesome parrot fish, blue gropers, angel, clown, and other bright coloured fish swimming amongst the tsunami riddled corral. When Emma and Caz went jewellery shopping, that was a sign for Chris and myself to head out for a swim to greet the thunderstorm and rain. I must agree Chris, there’s nothing quite as cool as swimming in the warm ocean with the chilly rain pelting down.. until you get out and look for a dry towel. Saving the best for last though, we had one awesome final meal.. fit for a king, several queens, two jacks and one joker. The spread was fantastic: lobster, crab, prawns, calamari, fish curry, and so on and so on. Whilst you couldn’t describe the atmosphere as a vibrant, the scenery was beach lovin’ candy to the eyes and the food was jelly belly scrumptious.

Not a bad view lil' beach Unawatuna, 'eh?

International Jetsetters Extraordinaire: D7

2006-04-26T14:08:00.000+10:00

Day 7: Quick. Hurry. Rush. We need to get back to Colombo to watch Pakistan thrash Sri Lanka in the cricket one day’er. Have we got our hats? Check. Quick, get those two tuk-tuks, we need to get to the train station. Hustle. HUSTLE. Scuttle along, you scallywags. Phew, we’re on the train, and it’s an express (though we had to wait an extra half hour for the express, kind of defeating the purpose). We’re moving. We’re charging to Colombo. Welawatta station – if we get off here we can save time. Quick, throw your bags out the door, the trains not stopping. Emma jumps. Chris follows. Oh no, he’s fallen. Jump Byron. Jump Caz. Oh my god, there’s two down! Everyone’s watching, “What are these stupid foreigners doing jumping off a train?”. Medic, we need a medic! Everyone alive? Check. Any broken bones? No, we’re lucky! Battle scars? Chris and Caz, identical: two mashed big toes on left foot, serious mulching of skin on right hand, and some leg scrapes. Hospital? Nah. Let’s go back to hotel, Dr. Byron will fix it up then we can head off to cricket club to watch what we should be at. The only long term scars: pride. As we kick back for drinks at the Galle Face Hotel later that evening, a fellow train passenger walks past and in his poonce pommy voice says something to the effect, “Nice disembarking of train”. We’ve been spotted, and remembered, in a city of millions. How Embarrassment. Never fear, a flight back to Australia and some real doctors can fix everythin

And like that, they’re gone. What a ride… what a ride.

Phlog (noun) An Online Photo Blog

2006-04-24T17:30:00.000+10:00

Everyone seems to enjoy reminding me how long it has been since I last posted a Blog. I would like to take this opportunity to thank each and every one of you for reminding me that I live in a technological hole of the world akin to Shitsville Illinois without the luxury of internet based communication.. So thankyou, but I assure you, I do realise this myself. Meanwhile, I have been taking my camera around and snapping some of the things on the sides of streets, and I aint just talking about road kill. Here's a Phlog for you; enjoy the erotic visual stimulation of nature and scenery.

Byron.

EMMA SAYS HELLO

2006-04-19T18:57:00.000+10:00

Blog spotting my friends, it’s a daunting thing.
Byron implied he’d go about the spotting without me henceforth and well of course I didn’t like that one bit - what if something exciting happened - I don’t want to miss out on ANYTHING.

So… I thought I’d put on the most pathetic display of unwarranted self-pitying that one ever did see. Then, I figure, you see, that I’d be able to live precariously through byron’s efforts in peace and quiet and no one would really mind anymore.

So here goes…

There is a hidden track on a Kasey Chamber’s album and I know where it is.

DIDDUMS!

PS. and this is what we get up to on the weekends. I love exposing you girls!

PPS. I was allowed to complete my sentence and line of thought in a conversation the other day without any of the 3 beings with me saying anything about my word-confusion. Precarious indeed!

- EMMA.

The "We Want Emma To Blog" Radical Social Movement pty.ltd.inc!

2006-03-07T17:57:00.000+11:00

You've heard of "Make Poverty History", "Band-Aid", "Live-Aid", "Bush, another word for C***", and many other radical social movemements advocating for change. Well, it's time for a new movememtn. A progressive movement based on people power; and all your voices must be heard for change to be enacted. Get out your telephones and text; write comments to the blog; send emails (emma.waller@gmail.com) and snail mail; set up webpages; hand out leaflets; post embarassing photos of Emma and threaten not to take them off unless she blogs; protest in front of parliament; paint your pets orange; print comical liberal slogans on t-shirts; create spam that threatens bad sex for six years; set up automated telephone systems; throw pies and John Howard; build an army and claim it's for peace; and anything else in your power to have your voice heard. This could be the largest mobilisation of people since the dinosaurs ran from the meteorites! It's time for the "We Want Emma To Blog" Radical Social Movement pty.ltd.inc!

With your help, we can get Emma to get her lazy (but cute) butt into gear and post Blogs. I know what you're thinking, "But Byron, we only come here to listen to your humourous observations of that strange place called Sri Lanka". Though spare me your pitty, even Nigel has been asking for the intellectual insights that only Emma can provide (his words, I promise)!

EMMA: WE WANT YOU TO BLOG!

Until we do hear from Emma, here is a picture of her and Bill belting out Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody at Zhera's birthday party. For more photos from the party, check out Z's blog; for some really cool photos of Sri Lanka, check out Billy's blog; for useless information about nothing, don't click here.

Peace, Love and Social Movements with Guns,

Byron

And another thing that shits me...

2006-03-06T23:26:00.000+11:00

Those people that know me well enough, will agree that there's a lot of things in this world that absolutely shit me. It's probably because I have an opinion on everything, and therefore have more to be pissed off with. Either way, the beauty of blog's provides me with an outlet to complain and whinge about anything and everything that pissess me off, and then to make some broad sweeping generalisations about it. And foolishly, you guys keep coming back to read about it, so to heck with it, I will continue on my rant of things that shit me.

Political Correctness. It would be extremely easy for me right now to say one thing wrong, and have everyone around me choking on a dozen donkeys about how crude and wrong and unfair and bigot-ist and whatever-ist I am, for merely mentioning the words "Political Correctness" in a negative light. But that's exactly what I am going to do - PC shits me. Now, before you start writing complaints to the editor (oh bugger, that's me and i monitor all comments - delete), which of course are fruitless... please allow me to explain myself. In theory, PC floats my boat, flicks my switch, makes me cream my daks, and all that other stuff that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside as if the world actually is a nice place. But what happens - bare with me here peoples - if PC goes to far?

The development industry tip toes around this issue, and surely must be the driving force and #1 PC sector in the world. Back in the 1970s, we dealt with povo bastards - now we have "beneficiaries". We used to give the bludgers some money to get a haircut and get a real job - no we provide "livelihoods assistance". Tents became "emergency housing". Shacks became "transitional shelters". Hovels became "permanent houses". Ghettos became "communities". Guilt-relief became "donations" or "aid" or "assistance". The dregs that fell through the cracks of society, "marginalised" or "vulnerable". I mean, beneficiaries.. WTF?!?!? I assure you in a few years time there will be no beneficiaries, but "customers of opportunities", or some other wanky series of words that have no meaning but surely can't offend anyone either (oh, except me).

The evolution of the lexicon in the development industry is taking political correctness to such an extend, that people forget what the point of this whole thing is. It convolutes the objectives of what is meant to be done; and blatantly confuses me ("sorry, I meant shelter not house.. what was I thinking?"; "of course there not recipients, there beneficiaries.. apologies, I'm just stoned"; "Did I say poor sob's? what i meant to say was financially challenged marginalised groups of vulnerable and ill-powered non-gender specific homo sapiens. sorry, please don't tell people I’m a bigot"). And I am well aware of the fact that this is not the only industry with it's own linguistics.. full of TLA's (three letter acronyms). Heck, you could probably get a Players Haters Degree [PhD] of PC. So please, I implore you.. before I get blacklisted from the internet for drawing cartoons of un-PC'ness; post a comment to vindicate me with how your sectors lexicon has gone AWOL with PC.

Now, on the brighter side..PORN. There are two reasons why I mention porn. Firstly, porn attracts hits. Unsuspecting porn voyeurs will google porn, and unwittingly cum to my site. So obviously, the more porn I mention, the higher my google-porn rating. Other great words are sex, tits, cock, shit (re topic, re german porn voyeurs), pussy, horse (re texan porn voyeurs, or the dude from 40-y.o. virgin), and of course for the PC porn voyeurs, "horizontal limbo for the fawnication of the species".

Secondly, porn is a great scientific-proven way to differentiate between cultures, classes, races, religons, and whatever else is a proven method of discrimination. So, after hearing about the much vaunted Sri Lankan porn that usually consists of 'Adult Only' western films, and having a workplace that encourages extra curricular learning (a.k.a. they have broadband), I thought I might download some Sri Lankan porn. Obviously in this patriarchal society, there are going to be two very different versions of porn. The picture below is a frame snapshot from a porn video made by a guy:

And of course women not having much ability to view porn, the picture below is what women use to get porn:

[Candy, that ones for you! 8)]

Peace, Love, and Sexually Frustrated Porn Voyeurs.

Byron

I never knew crocodiles were squishy?

2006-03-02T01:24:00.000+11:00

I love travelling, but I hate to travel. I reckon at the moment I am spending a good 20 hours a week travelling in public busses (or if I am lucky, I do manage to hitchhike with wealthier INGOs). And it might be a little island, especially if you are comparing to Australia, but there are more potholes in this place than curry houses. If Walt Disney was still around, I am sure there would be a ride in Disneyland where you jump in a tuk-tuk with zero suspension, drive down the streets of Sri Lanka and ride the bumps like you’re on your daddy’s knees. With the multitude of cows on the road, national highways with three quarters of a lane, suicide bus drivers, ill-maintained “vehicles”, and the notion of actually giving way to cyclists (I will never understand why a roaring bus will screech to a sudden halt behind a cyclist waiting for the oncoming traffic to cease before overtaking, yet is happy to force a truck off the road and seven passengers to have heart-attacks to overtake another bus?); you’re lucky to average 30km/h. But all of that, one can get used to. It’s the five and a half hour bus ride from Ampara to Kandy with a guy sitting next to me in the featel position throwing up for the ENTIRE trip while his friends laugh at him and poke him for more; it’s the eight hour bus ride from Matara to Ampara stopping seventy four times in each village (and even farms) while being shunted into the wall (“death by a thousand shunts”, the next day I was black and blue on my elbow and shoulder); or the booking of a seat for the seven hour bus ride form Hambantota to Ampara only to find that you need to stand most of the way because a) they don’t understand “Who the F* stole my seat!?”, b) there is no such thing as a ‘reservation’, and c) “you’re white, can’t you afford a car?”

And while I’m at it, don’t think that Tuk-Tuk’s are any better. They can be as bad as taxis in Melbourne, except there are no windows so instead of the stench arising from the underarm, it comes from the putrid spewing of pollution from other traffic. And Sri Lankan tuk-tuk drivers have learnt that if you say, “No sir, I don’t know where you want to go”, then people walk off. So, instead they look at you and go “Yes yes, get in”, drive around for half an hour and then stop to ask the man at the rotti-store where it is. Of course, he doesn’t know either, so he will point you in some random direction. By the end of the whole affair, you do get somewhere.. and even though in Batticaloa it took me literally one hour,
six bridge crossings and several kilometres to get to my hostel, which I later found out was 500 meters down the same road as my office. And yes, I paid for all of those bridge crossings, “But I am a poor man, I did not know you wanted to come here, I thought you wanted a tour of the city…”. Although there is nothing I can do about the travel, at least you can laugh at my misery.

It’s good to know that so many of my loyal readers, mum, dad, are environmentalists. I have had raving reviews (“yeah it was alrigh’.. I s’pose”) about the two dogs caught in a bind, so I thought I would continue my love affair with animals; and what better way to tie this in with travelling, than to have a look at local road kill. I thought it would be much worse the road kill here, but being Buddhists and all, they sort of dodge the cats and dogs, opting to hit weirder less common animals. Let’s start with pure photographic pleasure – a monitor lizard. Here’s one when it is alive.

And here’s one after a seven ton truck with no brakes comes screeching down the road.

Niiiiice.. straight to the pool room.

This ones a little bit more obscure.. a river crocodile. Now I know you would like to think it could still be alive.. but take a closer look, and you will see the blood spattered around it’s face as it lies in the ditch. I assure you, it’s not going anywhere.

As always, been a pleasure. Today, not only did we give shit to poor people who don’t know away around their own towns, but we also managed to make fun of dead animals that could kick your ass if they weren’t hit by a rolling heap of metal. Excellent.

Peace, Love, and Squishy Things,

Byron.

"I have to learn to stop hating people with guns, just because they have guns"

Nogen in de Keuken

2006-02-23T17:15:00.000+11:00

Sweet Sweeet Sweeeet internet. Feels soo good to be back! For the past few weeks I have been ill-communicado whilst travelling all around this 'little' island. So whilst I have a heap of anecdotes in my noggin, unfortunately you are only going to get to read about bestiality and Kandy (I can assure you, the story of a drinking on an isolated beach until the wee hours of the morning with a busload of Norwegian students is not as cool as it sounds). But let me fill you in on the rest of my life really quickly: sleep, eat, work, drink, sleep; repeat.

After the “Lesbian Penguin Party”, I guess it is only appropriate to begin with bestiality gone wrong. This one’s for you Chris – not because you’re into bestiality, not that there is anything wrong with it, but because as a dog breeder of sorts you could probably relate to this a lot better. Over the last weekend, Emma who’s been based in Colombo for nigh on a month now and myself decided it would be a good idea to hook up in Kandy. Fine for her, she gets a 2 hour train ride; for me, it’s a mere 6 hour detour on a public bus – but more on that gripe in my next blog. Kandy is a beautiful city, perched in the hill country in the centre of the island, built around a lake that some old leader decided would be cool so that he could make an island in the middle to call his home with all the ladies he desired – they came in on a barge, then when he had had enough, he would send one wife back to do tag team with his next wife who returned on the barge. Not a bad little set up, til those riskily colonialists came and took over the place, turning the island into – yep, you guessed it – an armoury.

But anyhoot, the colonial flare of Kandy mixed with the Buddhists temples (one even has Buddha’s tooth!) and tea plantations and South-Asian chaos makes it an interesting place to visit. One of these Buddhists temples is perched atop of a hill that looks over Kandy, so Emma and I thought it would be a cool place to walk up to. I must admit, I feel a bit jibbed; I thought all temples would be old, but this one was built in 1993 for a measly AUD$100,000. I mean honestly, do they REALLY love their God? Or are they just trying to hide their sins behind an 80 foot Buddha that looks over them? I leave it up to you to decide (damn heathens).

While waiting for Sarah and Maddy (2 fellow volunteers in Emma’s program, living in Colombo and Kandy respectively; we were visiting Maddy for her Birthday), we were keeping ourselves entertained by watching two street dogs do the dirty. Bestiality-voyeurism is just one of those fringe benefits you can’t escape from when living in a developing country. And let me just add, that he was going for it hammer and tongs!! Seriously, he was shunting her up against the wall and giving it a real hard go, when he kind of fell off, but not out. And after much wrangling, he could not get back on her to finish the job nor could he get out of there to do the runner on this “one night stand” street hussy. In the end, they were like a two-headed eight-legged rabies-filled bag of hormones with the most embarrassed look on their faces, sort of “walking” through traffic while pulling as hard as possible in the opposite directions. And this is why we could never integrate into society: while the Sri Lankans were just walking past as if nothing is going on, there were four Australian’s pissin’ themselves while watching this free show produced by Gaia herself.

After amusing ourselves for a good fifteen minutes with Nature’s Funniest Voyeuristic Movies, we slowly huffed and puffed our way up the hill to the big Buddha… then even slower rolled our way down (only stopping for a warm coke). Here’s a nice touristy picture of Emma letting the devil into her life by admiring craven images of other Gods on a Sunday (I think I have been hanging around people from World Vision for too long).

.And finally, before I nick off and do some work, here are some funky photos from the Kandy Market. Unlike other markets around the world, and I aint talking about Safeway the SUPERMarket but rather chaotic congregations of people hawking their wares in random developing countries, this one was pretty well organised. The spruikers couldn’t leave their direct shop front to try and rape and pillage you of all your money, so it was lots of fun standing in other peoples shop front and watching them squirm from a distance while they wave items from children’s clothing to beautiful pash-minas to dead fish with flies on them.

PS. Nogen in de Keuken is dutch for Sex in the Kitchen. If you're wondering why I have named the blog this, it is a long story, and as you can tell by the length of this blog, I am extremely averse to long stories.

Peace, Love and Cuddly 80 Foot Buddhas,

Byron.

Lesbians Penguin Party... now that i have your attention

2006-02-03T17:11:00.000+11:00

You know when you don't expect things, and then *WHAM*, something unexpected happens? Well, I had that today. With and email. It's quite easy to become quite blasé about the whole poor people stuff when you live and work in a developing country that was devastated by the tsunami. Every day I work on these issues, and become quite desensitised to the whole thing. Except this email I received today had nothing to do with the tsunami… but it was from a friend who set up this awesome program that has children on the streets of Dhaka running around taking photos of their daily life (www.visibleworld.org). Visible enables you to see what they see.. and the photos are darn amazing. Check out the link, and find out more about it, because this may just be that *WHAM* you were not expecting – or it could be that link that wastes another 5 minutes of your work day, either way it is a win win!

This also inspired me to put up some photos of my field visits, to try and give you guys a better idea of what I am doing. Now, my photos are nowhere near as good as poor uneducated Bangladeshi kids can do; but what do you expect, they are small and can get the better angles. This photo is of a “beneficiary” (slowly but surely, I am going to introduce both readers of this blog to the development industries terms) in the soon to be constructed “low cost housing”/”permanent housing” program house thing. I would go into more detail, but

.. and on the way to checking out that soon to be constructed house, we had to drive through Bundala National Park (a RAMSAR wetland). There were lots of cool birds as hundreds and thousands of migratory birds are wading there. But alas, I was too tall to take any good photos of them – I think I might hire those Bangladeshi street kids for my next field visit. Though I did manage to catch a dude going to have a bath. Don’t worry neo-cons, he can do it without taking his Lungi/Sarong off, and still EVERYTHING will be clean!! Fun to watch if you got a spare seven seconds, and are a voyeur, and don’t have a girlfriend, and don’t mind being watched while watching, and .. well maybe you shouldn’t watch, but all in the name of science!

Finally, before this blog becomes a blook, some people are out there spreading rumours that we don’t have friends. Now I want to put that to rest by saying Emma has plenty of friends here!! Here are some photos of a house party at Bill’s place (god damn he’s a funky son of a gun.. check out his moves!), complete with Zhera, Clody and Zofia. Check out the link to Zhera’s blog.. she fell out of a tree and bruised/fractured six ribs. Whilst I am sure she would love to believe she was in the tree in the name of development; she was pissed as a fart at 3am in Colombo.

Peace, Love, and Lesbian Penguin Parties.

Byron

Around ampara with nothing but a camera.. and clothes.

2006-01-24T15:25:00.000+11:00

Howdy Partners,

Here are some piccies y'all, thought it might be easier to "see" what we are up to.

The first pic is of Emma at a temple just on the outskirts of Ampara. It has a big lake/wetland around it, so when it is dry the elephants go there to do their elephannty thing. We went to check it out, hearing that a few people had been chased by elephants the day before.. but alas, it had just rained and so we got to see an amazing sunset and hang with friends instead.

We do try to get out a bit when we are in Ampara to see the neighbourhood. however, we usually end up at Bill's place (god damn he is a funky dude.. !). Bill's a gret bloke who has playstation 2... I mean, who is central to the social life of Ampara as we know it. If we are not at his place chillin' with the gang, we are at the chineese restaurant (not much else to go out in Amps), or at a house party (God damn I hate the french!).

The beach pics are of a group of us that went to Aragum Bay (2-3 hours south by van). It is a weekend getaway for a lot of people in Ampara. But it also is a world class surfing spot! during March-August, all the surfies come in to take over the beach and ride the waves, but in the meantime it is nice and quiet for all those development workers out to save the world.

This is Embo on the verandah is our lovely pink house (which we will be evacuating from). It's a great 2 bedroom house.. quite big for just us two! there were a couple of little issues with it, like the bathroom leaking in mud and thus clogging the drain! But Byron to the rescue with his handy-man skills! I cemented the hole, and cleared the drain.. all in a days work! And there are monkeys or bandicoots in our roof which keep us awake at night.. but I like to think it adds to the atmosphere. 8)

...and of course Emma still loving the girls at home! Hah, love you guys! :-)

Peace, Love, and Furry Green Mangoes

Byron and Emma

ALARM You have 30 minutes to evacuate!

2006-01-24T15:07:00.000+11:00

Hey All,

Welcome to Byron and Emma's Sri Lanka blog. You'll be able to catch up with all the happenings of our life here in Sri Lanka, and we won't need to get arthritus in our fingers by writing the same email a hundred and forty seven times. yay! So kick back, relax, and enjoy the random stories and adventures of Bymma. 8)

It would be great right now to give y'all a run down of what Emma has done for the last 3 months and myself for the past 1, but alas our evacuation plans are kicking in and time is running low. For those who don't read newspapers, there is a civil war heating up in Sri Lanka. For those who do read newspapers, it's not as bad as the international media make it out to be - and certainly not in our little jungle town Ampara. However, the whimps in Colombo/Canberra are pulling Embo out anyway - The ol' "We can't guarantee your security" line... 8)

Hopefully when we get to work and have more free time, we can update you. In the meantime, pop us a comment, write an email, send a SMS, or just ignore us and pretend we never left until our welcome home party in October some time.

Hugs, Kisses, and Fluffy Penguins,

Byron and Emma.