Daniel's Web
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This is the journal of some guy from New Zealand
on his big O.E. If you don't know me, I'm 27 and used to live in Auckland
NZ. I was bought up in the Hawkes Bay (Dannivirke), the King Country (Aria) and the Bay of Plenty (Tauranga, Ruatoki,
Taneatua). If you know anything about those
places you will know that Bangkok is a loooong way from Taneatua (but has
some remarkable similarities). This journal should go some way to proving
the theory that you can take the boy out of Taneatua, but you can't take
the Taneatua out of the boy!
Journal entries are in reverse chronological
order, so if this is your first time, start from the bottom and work your
way up. There is also a feedback form at the bottom of the page, so go
hard. |
31-December-2001
Viva Praha
12:30p Prague time. I am having a banana
sandwich and a cup of tea for breakfast and listening to Radio Prague 1 in
my studio apartment in the wrong end of Nove Mesto. I'm at home here, next to
the Railway bridge, just a block further than any tourist would dare to
wander. I am about a 20 minute walk to the Charles Bridge and just a couple of seconds
from the Metro and Tram #17. I have my own apartment in Prague and it's only £15
a night. Double bed, ensuite bathroom and kitchen-nette and a lovely view
of the Vlatva river and the snow covered hills beyond. The apartment building is
called Orvis and you can book it through www.e-travel.cz
.
They are excellent and accept Visa or a bank transfer.
So anyway this morning I woke up from a blissful sleep and noticed that my
vinyl jacket that cost me a week's wages in 1994 had been hung up on its hanger,
by trousers had been folded and placed carefully on a chair, the door had been
double locked and someone had even cleaned my teeth! How all of this happened is
beyond me because the last clear memory I have is lighting white sambuka in
mouth at the Red Room in Stare Mesto. You see, Wai had to go and
take Kamilla and Celia for some dinner because they were starving so I
stayed with Jane and Bianca to greet some friends once removed of Wais. Well
when these guys turn up it turns out that they are complete nutters and they
include two norwegians, and that always means trouble.
The main instigator Johnno leads us in rounds of drinking games which involve
waving our hands beside our heads (bunnies) and conforming to convuluted rules
like which extremity you must imbibe with and not using real names or
professions. So Fleur, Esmerelda and Fabio held the fort against a barrage of
beer, contreau and worried looks from the natives until Wai got back from his
leisurely dinner in the restaurant. But by then it was too too late: too late for
speeches, too late for diplomacy, too late for pull the door, not push.
I met Jane and Bianca at the tram stop on Thursday night. They are too top women from Sydney and Darwin and are mutual
friends of Kats. They had just arrived in Prague so I insisted
on showing them the Charles bridge and the square and some top notch
establishments that I had scoped out the night before. The "Tom Tom Club" in Stare
Mesto is a beautiful relaxed sit down and drink bar where they will patiently serve
you beer and absinthe at your table while you while the time away with
pleasant conversation and people watching. Across the road and down a bit
is a crazy coctail bar called "The Coctail Bar", which has very cool staff who will
happily teach you how to drink Absinthe and advise on a good place to go and have
a boogie. The DJ plays imitation top 40 hits like Shakky, The Spruce Girls and
Schmadonna.
My personal favourite place in Prague nay, Europe is club Vlatkva in Nove Mesto (also known as Fabia or
Guidos). Black and white art photos, czechs playing poker, run-dmc on the stereo,
tatooed bar men and food too varied and quantiful to describe it is truly a
place where friends can go and relax and drink absolut citrus or black
& white on the rocks. Very late that night we rocked into
Karlovo Lasne, a four storied night-club right next to Karlov Most which
some would call tacky but I had a great time, had a great dance, and saw some
great break-dancing to the tune of Vanilla Ice, Ice Ice Baby by some very cool
local kids who sure could head spin. And Abe - you are so right about Vanilla
Ice, Ice Ice Baby, the tune goes off!
Well I saw snow fall for the first time ever and there sure is
a lot of it. I am going to go out now and walk and run and play in
it like someone who had never seen snow before. And I am going to try and
track down my friends and laugh and joke about the night before, and plan our
journey into the New Year. 2001 sure has been a good one with many changes and
firsts. It seems like a lifetime ago that I was living in my beautiful apartment
in Freemans Bay with my beautiful grilfriend and my beautiful job. This year I
have been gifted with the experience of travel, an activity that expands your
mind in four dimensions and changes your perspective ever so slightly and makes
you a richer person, but still the same person none the less. You will know
beauty when you have seen swans on the Vlatkva or the ceiling of St Pietro.
You will know friendship when you have drunk with a perfect stranger that you will know for the
rest of your life. And you will know what home is when you see it dissapear on
the horizon like a delicious bowl of fruit that will keep until you return and
feast on it like you had never tasted an apple or a pear before.
Happy New Year!
20-December-2001
Fitter, Happier, More Productive
(Wol styles:) "It's my birthday / It's
my birthday." That's right babies it's my birthday and it really feels like my
birthday too which is a bit of a surprise. The big two-eight ay? One hundred
and twelve seasons. Another year older, another year better I reckon. Went to the
Clark's Shoes' christmas rage up at the local nightclub "Envy" last night and
what a storming night. Free booze and cheezy music and a sprinkle of christmas
spirit blended to make an all round sound night with much pogo-ing and fun had by all. Props to
Rich, Tracey, Ivor, Alex, Simon and crew for being first to arrive and last to leave.
Nice!
Today I shouted the IT department morning tea so it was 2-dozen doughnuts of
which I ate an eighth. Tonight I am driving to Taunton in a phat-as Ford Mondeo
with Anna and Laura and we are going to see Lord Of The Rings! I am beside
myself with excitement. I got made today which is awesome but the prospect of
the adventures with this new crew is exiting and scary at the same time.
What a comedy week it has been. The team at work have been in absolute top
form - dropping pearlers and keeping me in stitches. Work has been really cool
despite the odd slump. I have had my contracted extended until the end of
January.
My friends Darren and Lucy had me over for christmas dinner this week. Liam
is 5ish and Brodie is 3ish and they are good boys. The picture above is of Liam,
Tigger and I celebrating our superb effort on Crash Bash. Tigger was also
instrumental in our $32,000 win on "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire". Liam thinks
Amber is pretty. Tigger wants a scarf for christmas.
Anna and me reclining in our couch at
the Bear. We have claimed the glorious victorian leather chez-lounge as our own
and loudly demand table service whenever we hold court there. Laura and Peter
oblige. Anna prefers abe's web site
for its inspired creativity. Pffft.
Last weekend I went to the West coast for the weekend to spend
some time by the sea. Like most west coasts of the world it is moody and beautiful.
Such a bad description for such a beautiful thing but I hope you get the
gist. I went to Minehead to Butlins to visit Damo who is working there on Security.
Damo is born and bred Somerset but has become true blue kiwi thanks to a
stint in Taranaki. He really wants to emigrate to New Zealand but they wont let
him in because he is not a doctor. Damo would make
a great husband.
Butlins is a very surreal place. Imagine 165 acres of
"Hi-De-Hi". 10,000 campers. 2000 staff! The mind boggles. We did get to
play super-pool and 10 pin bowling and eat burger king so all round, a perfect
day. And did I tell you I bought a Digital Camera?
Dreams are free.
Last week I was working as a radio DJ in London when who should pop in
for an interview but Madonna. She was so nice and I asked really on to it
questions and we got on really well. A couple of days later I met Sly (as
in Sly and Robbie) at a record market in Camden and we got talking about
music and he told me I should start DJing again. Yesterday I was working in
Wai and Teep's record store in Brooklyn, NY when who should walk in but Trent Reznor
and Marilyn Manson! We listened to crazy old songs on a crazy old radio gram
while the unicorns danced on the ceiling.
It's the weekend and I am back in London. I have the flu.
English flus are real nasty. They come on very quickly and take ages to go away,
and none of the normal tricks work: it takes more than 2 litres of flat lemonade
and some b-complex supreme to kill these bugs. The best remedy is to wrap up on
the couch, put the Dimplex on 7 and turn on the box. Saturday night on the couch
may seem trajic but I'm actually quite fond of it once in a while. Darron,
Kendra and Boon have gone to a "C" party in Manchester, Sarah and Tim have gone
to New Zealand for six weeks, and I have got the flat to myself.
Now if I was in New Zealand I would be down to the Civic Video Ponsonby for 3
for $10, but not in England, ohhhh no. My evening began with the inaugural Top
Of The Pops awards: seeing Sarah Cox (Radio 1 Breakfast DJ) on TV being an
absolute highlight, even though she has just got married and didn't say anything
except "a''ight get doon ya!".
Next up: the secret history of British rail. Sounds mind numbing I know but I
am always fascinated by stories of gross mismanagement. I mean just this weekend
I have hired a car for the weekend because it's cheaper than catching the train.
That'll never work.
Now it's the top 100 #1 singles of all time as voted by Channel 4 viewers via
their website. This is a pop junkies dream come true because I am listening to
Fat Boy Slim describe the first time he heard Diana Summer "I Feel Love"
interjected by Giorgio Moroder explaining that that driving arpeggio was
basically a sequencing glitch. Well. No wonder I have a fever!
It's fabulous to live in an age where I can buy a
DVD for £16 and listen to Ridley Scott explain what the hell he was thinking
when he cast Russell Crowe in Gladiator, and then marvel at his undeniable
practical genius. Mamoru Oshii's "Ghost In The Shell" is next and then of
course, Mel Brooks' reflective interpretation of "Space Balls 2".
Soon I will pop down for a 12" hawaiian (only £6 pickup)
and then get stuck into Brazil, BBC2, 11:25. Then just when you thought it was
safe to bed: The "Twin Peaks" pilot followed by all five episodes one after
another. I mean really. I think TVNZ may be taking the piss a wee bit with
"Charles in Charge" re-runs and "The Most Insane Police Chases In The World,
Ever #5".
George Harrison died on Thursday in Los Angeles. His
last dying wish was that we all love each other. Thanks for writing all of my
favourite Beatles songs George.
Have a nice weekend.
26-November-2001
Goodness how time flies. I have been very lazy with the
old updates, not for lack of material but more for a lack of inspiration: There
is nothing worse than sitting down to write without really feeling like writing
and going through the motions, writing nonsense about the weather and the
scenery and slowly but surely your mind starts to unstick again and the words
start flowing. It's kind of like swimming or running I guess; once you get past
the tedious act of physically exercising you find yourself out of it on
endorphins and adrenalin and you've got your flow back. So maybe if I crap on
about process for a few more kilobytes I will get to a point and really
tell you what's going on in the world.
It's quarter to one on Monday morning and I can't sleep.
Another weekend jaunt to that dirty horrible place that lures me back for more
with it's ground up beauty and the sheer enormity of it all. I don't think you
really get how big London is until you drive around it, and I have been doing
that. Every mile is a Ridley Scott tracking shot of brown, always brown
buildings and trees and asphalt and black sky. It's not miserable, it's fucking
beautiful. It's fascinating: how does it all work? Surely it is impossible? It
turns out that a lot of it simply does not work.
Cut to a tan washed out street with earth tones and
orange sunlight and beauty in all directions. Scooters, fountains, polizia,
sirens, tourists and beautiful people who aren't trying to be cool - they are
cool -there is no doubt! You cannot explain the beauty of Rome, you must see it.
It takes your breath away and makes you glad that someone still thinks that
painting and sculpture and style are worthwhile. Italians are friendly and
live life like there is no tomorrow which is my point exactly, but I must say
that I have never felt so underdressed in all my life.
I have purchased my very own PC. It is the first
computer that I have ever owned. It is portable and powerful and will come in
very handy for tidying up this website, for which I must apologise - it's a
mess! But look forward to more news soon. And lots of photos. I'm getting quite
a stockpile now.
No baby photos of young Connor as yet but hopefully will
be visiting the family next weekend if they are free. Hannah and Jade Kearns are
back in Aria now, lucky.
This weekend Anna, Laura and I hired a car and drove to
London for a bless this house party in Picadilly. I have had such a
good weekend and the party was wicked - so many beautiful people in such
a great venue. If in London, do check out the next one for some really deep
and funky house music. And Wai plays the saxaphone too which is always a treat.
Pav, Darron and Kendra were there too and went so hard it made me dizzy.
Two weekends ago was our flat housewarming in Kennington
which is really hard to explain how crazy it was without photos, so I'll
wait.
A fortnight before that I went clubbing in Bristol
with Anna and had a weird but good time. The Depot in Bristol is a really
comfortable venue with great music and lots of options. And a fornight
before that was Rome.
Soon it is Wai's birthday and then soon after
that is my birthday, then Christmas which I am really not looking forward
to. I am trying to organise a trip away for New Years.
Before I go I'd just like to congratulate Abe on beating
Aunty Gwen in the annual "who can send the first Christmas card" competition.
November 17th is pretty good and I know Aunty was stoked so well done. I believe
that Uncle Russell still holds the record of May the 16th or something crazy
like that.
Anyway. Talk to you soon. Love Dan. XXXX
19-October-2001
Are We Having Fun Yet?
A Kiwi, an Australian and an Irishman go to a pub quiz.
They come last. This may sound like a bad joke but it is actually a
pretty accurate description of the beginning of a typical Thursday night
out in Street. If Anna, our token British team member had not been present to
answer some of the Eastenders questions, we could have had a
downtrou situation at the Royal Oak tavern that night. We
went for the mutton pack and left with our egos battered and our
general knowledge none the better off.
The real big news though is that my new cousin
Connor was born on Tuesday morning at 12:28am. Mother Josephine is tired and
sore but well, and father Justin is beside himself with joy and a
total freakin legend. He's already bought the kit for our future Man U
striker slash English football captain. Go on Connor! Go on my son! There's
nothing like new life in your family to make you proud to be a member.
I bet Pop is well stoked: Trevor is about 83 and has
been frustrated by a generation gap of immense proportions until now since none
of his grandchildren have managed to produce any kin in their 30 year
history. Pop turned the heat up by offering a cash incentive for
great-grandchildren produced and verified but sorry, no advance payments. The
heat sure was on me and Hols there for a while though - phew! Thanks Justin.
But I can just hear Trev in the garden:
"Ay? Russsells had a baby? (whistle) Another one? Hole-lee. Who?
Jusstin? (whistle) Ohhhhhh. Ssimon's had a nipper hasshe? Bit young for
kidss issn't he?..."
Anyway, I woke up this morning and thought I really am
having fun now. For the first time in about 7 years I feel like things are
getting a bit less serious for a change.
I like it.
15-October-2001
Street Life
Whassup Anna (you rule). Whassup Abe, Mikey, Rhiannon
and the Sesame Street Posse. Whassup Arnja, Boonage, DZA and Kenzo, I will be
back in London soon I promise. Whassup TrinA?
You know, I think I'm on a deathwish 'cause I keep
maiming myself and my friends by doing really crazy things when I am drunk. Like
slideing down the stairs nect to the dancefloor on my back. Orrr... falling flat
on my face outside the nightclub with Damo on my back. I have scrapes and
bruises all over my body and a weird stigmata on my hand and when I came to work
this morning I felt like I'd been to fightclub the night before.
And I kind of like the pain. Is my subconcious
tricking me into getting drunk so that it can satisfy its
want for excruciating pain an discomfort? Am I sympathising with
Afghan bomb victims is my own tiny physical way? Am I hardening myself for
some sort of battle that is soon to come? Or am I just a drunken fool.
I know I always write stories about drunken debauchery
but It is not a fair reprasentation of my life, honestly. It's just that I can't
bring myself to write about every little detail of life in England, not that
it's boring necassarilly, just that I would rather write about the things that I
think about and think that you would like to know about. I resist the temptation
to bitch about all of the crap things here because, well I think it's boring and
as long as you understand that there are ups and downs in my life just like
everybody elses then, I would be stoked that you understood me more.
Let's see. Leon and Michelle had a baby girl! What a
legend. Leon is now my number one hero. Clare B, Bridget J and Richelle have
left the UK (bye bye darlings). BJ and Riche are on the Nile. How Thames is
that. Toi and Tipare have left NY and are back in Auckland thank God. It's
Blair J's birthday on Tuesday and Kamilla's on Sunday. Mwa! Mwa!
I gotta go play snooker. I'm joining the snooker club!
How classic is that. Mmmmmn. Brandy.
1-October-2001
They call me Slim Shady / I'm back (I'm
back!), I'm back (I'm back!)
Ahhhhhhh crazy. Another month, another update. It's
8:52am on Monday morning and I have 8 minutes to write this before I clock on.
So I will be brief.
I live in Street, Somerset for 5 nights of every week.
Street is basically a street with a shoe factory on one side and a pub on the
other side. I work at the shoe factory and I sleep at the pub. I am 2 minutes
from Glastonbury and I can see the Tor from out of my window. This weekend just
gone I stayed in Street to experience the Street Life and you'll never guess
what.
Street rocks! Damien is a crazy ass kiwi who works at
the bar (not the shoe factory) and just like every other Kiwi in the UK he is
totally up for it and there's just no stopping him. We went to the local
nightclub and trashed the joint. Tequila and hawaiian pizza everywhere, hands in
the air, babes on floor, damien scores, I love Kylie 'cause I can't get you out
of my head...
You know you can't see a country by standing on the roof
in London. You have to get in to it to get at the real essence: the people, the
places, the beauty, the history.
On the weekend I walked up the Tor where King Henry XIII
had the abbot of the Glastonbury abbey hanged in fifteen thirty something. Then
I went to visit the remains of the Abbey that was destroyed on King Henry XIII's
order on the same day. Henry sure has a lot to answer for in this country.
It was pretty cool walking where King Arthur had walked
and imagining what life would have been like in England in the sixteeth century.
Glastonbury is another cool town with good op-shops and loads of hippies and
hippy paraphenalia.
Last night I played snooker for the first time since I
was 11 when my Nanna Olive taught me how to play in Ongare Point. There was a
bit more brandy and cigars on this occassions however.
Now I must away and do some work to make some pounds to
spend on clothes and cheap air tickets: The Dickies factory shop is 100 yards
down the road and I'm going to Rome for four days at the end of this month.
Don't get me started about the war. Suffice to say that
living within the 21 mile evacuation radius of two nuclear power stations feels
marginally safer than living in London at the moment.
See ya.
How are you? I am fine. Sorry about not writing but I
have been spending all of my precious Internet time combing the JobSites and
emailing CVs. In the past two weeks I have sent more than 30 copies of my CV to
agents in an effort to increase my chances of landing a contract in a market
that has too many candidates and not enough positions.
One agent that I spoke to said that he placed the job
within four hours of posting it on JobServe. Other agents have reported
receiving between 80 and 140 CVs for a VB post, but only having time to look at
the first 5. If you do the maths you soon realise that it really is a lottery
for IT contractors seeking work in London.
I have been put forward for some positions and I've
interviewed three times, but for one reason or another things have not worked
out... until now.
My patience has been rewarded with a juicy VB contract
in the South West of England where I will be designing and implementing a
Quality Control system for a large UK manufacturing company. The position
promises to hold all of the challenges that I have been seeking: I will be the
technical lead and will mentor a small team through the process of physical
design and implementation. The money is fantastic and the location (I can't
publish exactly where it is) will make a nice change from London.
The other big news is that I have moved into an
apartment in South London, Kennington to be exact with Kiwi friends Darron and
Kendra, and another Kiwi Sarah. The flat is old and huge. It's a four story
building above the Manor Place shops, a major Kiwi ghetto. My room is a rugby
field compared to the box I was staying in in Golders Green and the brand new
double bed is absolute blissssss. I'm lovin' it lovin' it lovin' it in South
London, it's much more "me" with a real soul and beautiful people. I sure do
miss living with Wai and Kam though and their exquisite hospitality. Big thanks
to the Cheviot Gardens massive for making me so comfortable and home. Big thanks
also to Darron and Kendra for scoring such a wicked flat and getting us such a
good deal! I am very, very happy there.
I have spent a choice couple of days with those angels
Hannah Kearns and Nadija Watson and they are very, very good. Caught up with
Kurt of Totally Wired fame yesterday and he is still a legend. Clare B and Nic
have been spoiling me with great coffee and copious amounts of pasta, and
picking me up when I was down. I went and watched the football at the pub with
Justin Blaker and really enjoyed it!
I went on a personal mission to Portsmouth to the
festival of the sea and spent an emotional day looking at the biggest, finest
tall ships that I have seen. I also went aboard an aircraft carrier and took a
photo of myself next to a Sea Harrier jump-jet! The hardware over here is so
cool. Photos will be posted soon.
Well not much of a yarn I must admit but I thought I'd
better write and let you know that I am well and happy and right on track.
I love you. - Dan. XX
You may have noticed that the yarns have dried up
somewhat since I have been in London and I'm pretty bummed about that, but last
weekend I went to Edinburgh and: BooYa! So grab a cup of tea, load a spreadsheet
in the background that you can Alt-Tab to when the boss walks past, and read
on...
Oh Danny Boy
This morning I awoke, opened my eyes, stared at the
ceiling and laughed, out loud, heartily and happily. "What the **** I am I doing
in your bed?" were the first words I uttered after my laughter had died down and
I begun to yearn for the truth or at least some srap of memory from the night
before.
It's the morning after Bridget Jones' birthday party and
I'm thinking that forth bottle of champagne may not have been such a great idea
and I laugh, again.
The reason why I find this particularly funny rather
than remarkably tragic is that I am off my face with happiness, in love with
life and everything that is in it, feeling a sense of freedom that I had almost
forgotten. What a badass.
Let's skip back a couple of days to the M4 motorway
northbound from London in a brand new Peugot 206 with 7 miles on the clock,
chasing the sun through the English countryside at 70 mph, LTJ Bukem is in the
CD changer and Clare B, Nic, Trina and I are on our way to see our long lost
Bridget in Scotland. It's Friday night, we've got enough Malteasers to last us
the nine hour journey and we should rock into Edinburgh just as Bridg is
finishing work at 3am.
At 5am we are hooning through Scottish countryside in
the blue/grey twilight past castles and tiny buildings and it just gets better
and better. We have only gotten lost twice which is pretty good going for four
kiwis without a clue, or a map.
Driving into Edinburgh is surreal in our exhausted
state; Bridget is on the phone: "head for the castle."
"Which freakin castle?" There appears to be one on every
corner, it is unbelievable. Every skyline is picture postcard perfect and only
being there can explain it.
Every moment I spent in Edinburgh I was tripping because
the history is so overwhelming and in your face all the time and as I walk on
hallowed ground and bloodied cobblestone streets, I cannot shut out the constant
stream of highland men and wretched woman that walk or run past me looking angry
and tired. My mind returns to my body and the scene in front of my eyes:
Festival mayhem. A sea of tourists being spoilt rotten by hundreds of shows and
attractions, street performers, maidens, thespians, musicians, sword swallowers
and jugglers.
It makes you want to scream with joy and I highly
recommend it.
I'm so high I can't construct sentences anymore (I am
not on drugs). Every attempt to talk is a confusing combination of grunts of
amazement and squeals of pleasure, except to those you are talking to as they
are there too and understand perfectly. Oh my lord, I'm in Scotland and the
pipes, the pipes they're calling.
Today was a good day because I saw a space cowboy lift
two irons off the floor suspended by chains connected to fishhooks
that he had placed in his eyelids.
Not one minute in Edinburgh have I been sober; my train
leaves at six in the morning. It's 2am and I'm at the white rabbit for
MotherFunk and I'm dancing like a maniac. James Brown! James Brown! My feet are
moving and I am smiling; I won't be in this country in six hours and I just
don't give a.
I spent my last four hours in Scotland dancing, which I
felt was highly appropriate. Reprazent. On my way to the train station I bump
into a highlander who needs a ciggarette. He asks "Have you had a good
holiday?"
"I've had the best time man. Scotland rules
bro, Scotland rules!"
We shake hands and walk in
opposite directions with smiles on the both of our faces.
4-August-2001
The first thing I thought when I awoke this morning was,
"Did I make a fool of myself last night?" And the answer was, "No." Woohoo! I
love nights like that. Last night I hooked up with another ex-flatmate and good
friend Clare Brownlee. Me, Clare, Bridget Jones and the Wilton brothers were the
Potatau St Posse about six years ago. Potatau St in Arch Hill was an infamous
flat and the scene of the movie I'd like to call "My Lost Years".
Clare B, her friend Nic and I had a great night that
included Lagers at The Clinic, Pesto Gnocci at Polo and some fine house music
and alcohol at Freedom in Soho. Then it's onto the old night bus for a sleepy
ride home, but no sign of the Pavlodon.
Anyway, there are some people in London that think it's
OK to bomb other people to bits and they had a pretty good crack at it on Ealing
Broadway on Thursday night. Ealing is in London but it's miles away and I'm
happy to say that noone I know was hurt in the explosion and I didn't even hear
about it until a day later. I feel sad for those people who were injured or even
heard the explosion as the trauma will be with them for while I'm sure.
I wish I could think of something cheerful to end this
on, but I can't. Annnnd I just heard that my Uncle is very ill. Lots of love to
Uncle Russell and your family.
1-August-2001
Howdy friends. It's a beautiful day in London town, and
it's so hot I can't sleep at night. What a great time to be unemployed, just
awesome. Well it's hard not to be chipper in weather like this and I am pretty
stoked with life in London at the moment. It's all about the music at the
moment. Sweet, sweet music. I have been eating, breathing and dreaming music
since I got here and... oh my god, I'm going to work for Massive Attack. That
was my dream way back when and I just remembered then - I'll let you know how I
go. Well this is starting to sound like a Re:Flect entry now
so I'll get back on track. And for those you who think that was a dis to Abe,
you're wrong. This is a dis to Abe.
Anyway, last time I mentioned that I was looking after
Blair's flat for four days and I did that and it was amazing, pretty much a
dream come true. Imagine me living in a large recording studio with a bed and a
video projector at the back. And imagine it being in one of the coolest parts of
London: Hatton Wall in Farringdon. And imagine me playing guitar on the balcony
watching people go by and feeling so inspired. So inspired I wrote a song!
I've written a few songs in my time but never a whole
song, I've always been missing a chorus or some lyrics. But glory be if I didn't
just pick up that guitar and belt out this little number. If you can listen to
MP3's then download it from here. It's not finished and it's very
rough but hey. Me and Wai recorded it for the fun of it and I don't think it's
too bad for two guys that can't sing or play the guitar.
Anyway it appears the floodgates are opening thanks to
the amazing people I have been talking to and listening to music with. Neil and
Kirsa live on the top floor of Blair's building and we got chatting over a
couple of Carlings at the Clock Tower one day and realised that we all love
music. So a couple of nights later I went up to their flat for some listening
and came away with some excellent CDs and a tummy full of nachos. Yum! Oh, and
they invited me to drive them and their band around Europe for a month in
October. How cool would that be!
Neil and Kirsa's band is called Copenhagen and their music is very instrumental,
absolutely lovely and Kirsa plays the vibraphone. Oh the vibes, you have to hear
them to believe them. Neil has a great voice and a Northern accent which makes
him sound like that guy off Auf Viederzein Pet. He will hate me for saying it
but it's true.
Blair's band is called El Hula and they have an addictive album out on Boy
George's label called Hotel. The Larsen family are well versed with the anthems
on FuzzHead, including "Adventures in Electroworld", a song that Blair penned
and I recorded for Julian Stokoe's radio programme of the same name. Well
Blair now calls Fuzzhead his "Back Catalogue" so you'd better check out the new
stuff. He's already working on a new album and I might even get to mix some
tracks so that will be cool.
Last night I went to see Charlie's band OilRedO at The Verge in
Kentish town and was really impressed. The EP Charlie gave me in NZ was really
good but live they are awesome. OilRedO are a three-piece and play intensely
etherial rock guitar instrumentals over really loud speakers and sample
Bukowski.
My other favourite albums are Sophia - De Nachten and Rhonda Harris - The Trouble
with Rhonda Harris. Check them out if you like beautiful music. Oh, and check
the Suburban Riot tracks out for some raw unadulterated
Whakatane angst punk. And their new website is awesome. Nice one fellahs!
It was Justin Blaker's 30th birthday celebration on
Sunday. My eldest cousin turned 30, far out. We had a few pints at Oneil's on
Harrow Hill that night I'll tell you. I finally met Josephine! She is very hapu
and absolutely lovely. Justin and Josephine's new flat is wicked.
Well no news on the job front really except to say that
I'm starting to be put forward for some really good positions and I should have
a couple of interviews next week.
Well that was a bit of a music review wasn't it! Sorry
about that but it really is all consuming. Please check out my song and let
me know what you think. Have a cool week and loads of love to you all. XXXX
Isn't it amazing how time flies by. Three weeks in
London and I still don't have a job or a flat or a care in the world apparently.
Life is sweet here. I have my own room at Wai's now and access to a computer and
a spa pool and digital TV. I still have some money left and there's no need to
panic just yet.
The first week I was here I got offerred two jobs as an
Analyst/ Programmer but I turned them down for something more challenging. I am
buggered if I'm going to come all the way to London to end up being a programmer
drone - I could of stayed in Auckland and done that. I want a challenge, I want
to design or lead or control.
It may seem that this arrogance has come back to bite me
in the ass after three weeks and still looking for the right job, but I remember
when I moved to Auckland, I spent six months washing dishes before I got that
job at Studio Time. And that was such a good job. The IT employment agents over
here are crap. I mean, really really useless. I mean a total waste of time and
space. The bummer is, they are the only way into the job market so you either
put up with their spectacular lack of efficiency or you don't.
So rest assured (Mum, Nanna O, Nanna I, Aunty Gwen) that
I am looking for work as fast as is possible in London, but some things take a
while to happen.
In the meantime though I have had a fabulous time
catching up with old mates and going to parties. I have been hungover almost
every day this week (I think) and have had some cool times.
Last weekend I caught up with Darron and Kendra and
Boon! Boon has already got a job doing the same as what he was doing in Auckland
and he also has a 15 minute slot with Reece Darby at the Comedy Store (I think)
on the 28th of July. What a legend!
Darron and Kendra are about to go to Turkey for like 6
weeks or something like that. How cool! My Pop is in Turkey with Aunty Sharon at
the moment, they'll probably bump into him. I met D & K and Boon at the Sun
in Clapham for a few pints. The garden is packed with Kiwis, Auzzies and South
Africans all going hard and trying not to fall over. So that's where everyone
is!
The pubs close at 11pm so you have to go find a club to
keep drinking. We rocked up to a bar/club on Clapham High and got stopped by the
bouncer: "Have you been here before?"
"No."
"Do you know it's a gay club?"
"Yes." (I do now).
"Are you
gay?"
"No."
"Well then you can't
come in."
"Why not?"
"Because
this is a gay club."
"Isn't that illegal?"
"You still can't come in."
"Have
you ever heard of the first ammendment?"
"The what? Look
if you've got a problem with it you will have to talk to the manager."
"OK. I'll do that, where is the manager?"
"Inside, but you can't come in."
"Oh. OK. Is the manager gay?"
"Fuck
off."
But no matters, we went to a club where I could express
my sexuality without fear of discrimination, until about 2ish. Then Kendra put
me on a bus because the last tube was long gone. From Trafalgar Square you can
catch a bus to anywhere in London at any time of the day or night, it is
absolutely brilliant. I was sitting on the top deck of a big red bus enjoying
the ride when this guy called Pavlos (The Pavlodon) gets up and starts an
impromptu standup set, Rob Callaghan styles, that absolutely rocks the bus.
Magic tricks as well, the man was going off.
So anyway at 10:30am that morning Pav, his friend Lisa
and I decide that we should probably go home. We have been sunbathing and
drinking beer in the park since the sun came up and yarning about everything
from Greek mythology to mental health; wow, what a guy, and Lisa too. Just
totally amazing people to bump into on a London bus.
I can't sleep in the flat because it's a full house and
it will be way too noisy, so instead I go to a music festival in Hackney with
Darron and Kendra. At the Essential Festival I saw Natty Dread, People Under The
Bridge, Black Uhuru with Sly and Robbie, De La Soul, Saint Germain, Shinehead,
Howie B, Mad Professor with Scientist and George Clinton and Parliament. All of
my heroes in one day pretty much. Seeing Parliament live would have to be one of
the highlights of my life to date. Twenty pieces on stage and sooo tight.
Wow!
I finally got home at 2 oclock the next morning and
slept all of Monday in blissful peace.
Yesterday I was supposed to go and watch the first
tri-nations test with cousin Justin but was too hungover to get off the couch. I
did manage to get out last night to see me old mate Blair Jollands who is living
in his recording studio in Farringdon. Blair and I did some recording together
in Auckland back in the day. He is an aspiring musician with a brand new album
out on Boy Georges label.
On Tuesday I get to house-sit Blair's pad for him for
three nights which will be absolute heaven. All I have to do is feed the fish,
what could possibly go wrong?
Today I got up, played computer games, watched the
Australians beat the Poms by 8 wickets in the second Ashes test, went to three
supermarkets that were all closed (it was after five on a Sunday, silly me) and
made vege lasange and garlic bread for dinner. Wai got home from a frisbee
tournament in Leeds and we watched West Wing. Now I am off to bed; got to get up
early to meet my accountant. See ya.
At 12.30am I am sitting in the departure lounge watching
CNN with the sound down when the standby lady gives me the nod: You. Bags. Now.
Forty minutes later I have a 747's eye view of Bangkok at night. Immaculate,
glowing, a web of thick fairy light lines that bend out to the horizon and never
end. A picture of beauty and order. And if you could zoom down from 2000 feet
and climbing and land on the sidewalk in a split second, you would see the exact
opposite of beauty and order: Dirt and chaos. This is what makes Bangkok
irresistable to me. I could spend a lifetime there.
I literally have the last seat on the plane; I am so
hungry I eat absolutely all of the food offered to me and then to my amazement,
fall asleep for 5 hours. Our 11 hour flight path tiptoes around Pakistan and
then takes the golden circle: we fly 100 miles south of Moscow and then over
Europe and approach London Heathrow from Amsterdam. Flying into London in the
early morning I see rows and rows and blocks and blocks of houses that all look
the same set under a sunrise that is browny-red, surely not a natural color.
I spend a lot of the flight worrying about what I am
going to say to the customs officer. When I get there I am asked three
questions: Have you got any money? Where are you staying? What will you be doing
for work? No problems, no interrigation and no bag search. I have landed in
London with 5 baht (NZ25c), but I find five Australian dollars in my daytripper
and put it through the change machine. It won't take my 20 cent pieces so I end
up with 90p! I get to the arrival lounge at about 7am and start making calls,
first to Lise: I leave a message on her cellphone. 70p. I call Lise's home phone
and hang up just before the machine picks up. At 9am I call Lise's home again.
"She's gone to Bristol for the weekend." Crap. 50p. I try Wai at home and once
again hang up before the machine kicks in.
I am at Heathrow airport terminal number 3. I have 50p,
enough money to make 2 phone calls. I haven't been able to get ahold of Lise or
Wai, now I am desperate. The last number in my journal is my ex-girlfriend's
cousin's boyfriend's cellphone. I try it. Charlie! Please help me. Charlie calls
Amber and Amber gets out of bed and catches the tube to Heathrow to rescue this
sad Kiwi who has no money. Thanks Amber, I will never be able to repay you for
your kindness that morning. Amber puts me on a tube to Golders Green and lets me
borrow her cellphone to call Wai.
Wai and Kamilla meet me at the Golders Green tube
station and finally I have made it! Hello Lonnndonnn. A lifetime dream come true
right there.
For the past week and a half I have been dossing on Wai
and Kamila's lounge floor. I have little recollection of what has happened but
something must of because I have not had time to cut my toenails or get a
haircut or update my website. I feel stressed, I miss having a home, I can't
wait for things to happen. I really miss Thailand which felt like the exact
opposite to what it feels like here.
London is a big town that seems very familiar and I have
felt really at home walking down the city streets. I love Westminster and
Trafalger Square and the Thames. My favourite place though and where I would
like to call home is Camden Town. Glory be! A city of freaks and weirdos and
bands play every night and you can truly be who you want to be. It's so
awesome.
I have signed up with five employment agencies so far
and the offers are starting to come in. I am not desperate, I have money and I
am biding my time for the right position to come up.
Lise is
dossing with her brother Dylan in Lambroke Grove and he is a seriously cool guy.
Those two pass for twins and they are true partners in crime. We have had a
couple of large ones. Last night we went to the members only club where Dylan
works, a cigars and whiskey club in Victoria. The jazz band were playing and
Lise was chatting up the ambassador to Spain. Apparently I was her brother and
we owned a multi-million dollar recording company. Sounds right to me.
Clare is
living in Archway and has a part-time job at a Health Food shop. Her flat is
awesome and her room is really big by London standards. For those of you who
don't already know, Clare and I broke up before we departed New Zealand. Clare
flew almost directly to London and has been here a month now.
Justin Blaker is alive and well and living above a pub
in Kilburn with Josephine. He hates it there and thankfully has found a new flat
which is a lot nicer. I will be helping him move this weekend so I'll try and
get more info. Justin and I are both equally delighted that we have got family
in London. Josephine is due in October. Justin works in construction and is a
freaking legend.
Wai is working in IT infrastructure,
putting PCs together for loads of cash. Kamilla is working at a pub in
Hampstead. Wai and Kam live in a semi-detached flat in Golders Green that has
sky TV and a spa pool. Pretty sweet! Golders Green does not have any local
pubs.
Nick Kelly is a business analyst(!) for a software
company and is living in Clapham Junction. Speaking to him on the phone
yesterday Nick sounded even wiser than usual and I can't wait to catch up when
we sink a few on Saturday.
I have a cellphone now. It is the Tomb Raider phone and
has Defender and PacMan on it! I am in cellphone heaven. The number is
+447904531228.
Kamala to me was not so much a resort for scuba-diving
and trekking, in fact I did nothing of the sort, preferring to give my brain
some much needed time to think and my body some time to unwind. For that purpose
I have succeeded and it was with rounded shoulders and an accepting frown that I
said goodbye to my friends in Hat Kamalah and to the great Island of Phuket: A
place that I had never heard of until I arrived in Surat Thani and something
drew me there and it was my body and mind, wanting it to be their turn to make
the decisions and choose the venue.
Mama, Papa, Jo, Bong, Neo, Nui, Eck and the rest of my
family were immaculate hosts and took me under their wing as they do all
friendly visitors and if you ever, make the most of the hospitality at the
Nanork Seafood Restaurant, Hat Kamala, Phuket. A kinder, more honest bunch of
people you will not meet.
We exchanged presents and said our "Khap Khun"'s and I
rode my weary scooter to Patong and along the way had chance to giggle at the
funny things I got up to with those lovely people: A couple of rounds of Karaoke
(in Thai, which of course I excelled at), ten-pin bowling and "The Mummy
Returns" with Jo, driving around in the 4-track with Papa to buy stone and
borrow saws, making concrete without a concrete mixer, the locals looking on in
absolute astonishment at the sight of a farang working for his supper, a couple
of bottles of Whiskey distilled by an obscure Scottish clan in Bangkok,
sumptuous dinners of the freshest seafood in Phuket provence... Awesome.
Dropped the Honda off in Patong and caught a Songtheau
to Phuket market, then a tuk-tuk to the bus station and then onto a VIP bus for
Bangkok. A VIP 24 is a bus where all the seats are business class and dinner and
snacks are included in the fare. You can quite comfortably sleep many of the 12
hours away in relative comfort, although personally I don't think it is worth
the extra 200 Bhat over your ordinary Intercity style aircon coach.
My new challenge is how to survive in Bangkok for one
day and one night on 1500 Bhat (NZ$75) as I have spent it all and now I really
have to be careful. It's actually quite a cool challenge as if your life
depended on it and you realise you can become quite resourceful if you have to.
As I write I am counting 254 Baht in my wallet and 80 of that will be given to
the Internet Cafe. Then it a breezy motorbike-taxi ride (50 baht) to the railway
station to catch a public bus (4 baht) to the airport. The remainder of my
monies will be spent on Burger King and toilet paper. I am on standby for a
flight at 1am. If I don't get a last minute reprieve to board that flight I will
be sleeping in the departure lounge until my confirmed flight at lunchtime
tomorrow.
Not too sure how I'm going to phone Lise from Heathrow,
but I'll be sure to let you know how I get on.
It's been a week since my last entry and the reason for
that is: I think I have been afraid of writing an entry that does not include a
good yarn, because they have been few and far between this week. I guess though
since this is an open book on my travels, like myself you the reader must take
the good times with the bad...
Stuck in Kamala
The weather has crapped out a bit now as the monsoon
season is on its way. It's not full monsoon yet but there have been a lot less
oppurtunities to get in the sun or the surf due to the overcast and stormy
conditions. Two days ago a couple of farangs were drowned at Patong which brings
this years total to about 13 I think, and Patong on a bad day is like Piha on a
good (calm) day.
On Patong beach you can go Paragliding for a couple of
hundred Baht. A jetboat waits for the punter behind the breakers and a beach
crew strap the punter in and launch him or her into the air as the jetboat
rapidly accelerates, pretty standard stuff. The really impressive part though is
that a little kid holds onto the parachute harness until airborne and then
climbs onto the punters shoulders, no harness, nothing, and steers the punter
around until the ride is over.
This sort of total disregard for personal safety is
everywhere in Thailand. No harnesses or big yellow impact absorbtion trucks or
scaffolding or rubbish chutes or seatbelts or motorbike helmets or pedestrian
(has right of way) crossings or median barriers. It's a freakin free for all and
somehow noone seems to get hurt.
I know I go on about the driving in Thailand but since I
have been an active participant I have really begun to understand how if you
take the aggro out of driving, the rules don't matter because everyone just
works it out. It's mild anarchy I guess. As my friend demonstrated to me
recently (thanks Jack), if you pull out to pass a car with oncoming traffic
nearby, they simply slow down or pull over until you're done. No tooting or
finger gestures or yelling or screaming. They just relax and deal with it and it
is no longer a problem.
Me and my dad aways talk about roads and road building
and camber etc. Well the roads are concrete Dad, just thought you'd be as
interested as I was to know that.
OK, enough about traffic. Let me tell you about the
Shark Club, one of Patongs big "discotechques". The Shark Club is about the same
size as the Staircase and that is where the similarities end. One night I was
there on Sunday night in the low season and it was full and going off. That
night I had one of those feelings while you are dancing like someone has dropped
an E in your beer but really you have not had any drugs you are just high on
life, from the excitement and sensory overload of it all and that is the best
kind of trip of all I reckon.
The Thai party girls in Patong go off. All they want to
do is dance. And dance and dance and that's just fine by me. The DJ plays an
eclectic mix from smooth house to hard techno and it's not that great to listen
to sometimes, but it is awesome to dance to when you are in the right frame of
mind. There are 10 go-go dancers working in the Shark Club every night of the
week. 8 on a stage in front of the dancefloor and 2 in cages upstairs. Dear New
Zealand clubs, please invest in some go-go dancers. They work! They go off and
the crowd goes off with it.
This club is probably starting to sound a bit tacky I
know but the point of it is to have a good time and no one gets caught up in
trying to be cool or in the "in" crowd here. It's more like go hard at all
costs!
Security is good too, there are loads of bouncers who
are not big, they are normal sized Thai men who are friendly and courteous and
tend to remain unnoticed by most even though they are EVERYWHERE. They wander
through the dancefloor, they walk the stage, they check the stairs, but they do
it without being menacing or scary or anything.
And now an important note to farang men who fail to
check themselves at the door and go on to start a fistfight by the dancefloor.
Any person in Thailand who even smells like authority carries a weapon. Police
carry sidearms and the rest carry batons, and no wussy aluminium bouncy batons
here, I'm talking a leg off the kitchen table hanging down the side of these
guys trousers.
Well the farangs are slapping each other over who can
pay the most for their rental girlfriend and whammo, 5 security on the scene to
break it up. Then one farang decides to take on a guard. Well now I have seen a
man being beaten with batons and kicked and jumped on while on the floor, by 7
guards now with no intent to get him out quietly. To his credit, the farang
actually stood up to be escorted out and boy is he going to have some bruises
today. It was an ugly and fascinating scene and if the guy had just paid a
little respect to where he was it would not have happened.
Anyway, about a week ago I am busy buying my dancing
partners drinks when I run out of Baht and have to skip to the ATM machine down
the road. When I get there I discover that my Night & Day card is missing; I
have obviously left it in the last machine I used it in a week ago. I have
already cashed my last travellers cheque, a fatal mistake as I was about to find
out. Luckily I have had the foresight to stash 1000 Baht (NZ$50) in my pouch
which pays for the drinks for the rest of the night, but in the morning I wake
up with a massive hangover and... no money.
Two months ago, the thought of being in a strange
country with no money would have been a very scary thought indeed; but for the
last week I have survived on 1000 Baht and the good grace of my new friends in
Thailand. And that is why you should always pack a smile when travelling!
I have been quite stressed out about it, more
embarrassed really and I have hated that feeling of being trapped (again). I had
a fun couple of days dealing with Thai Bank staff and Police duty log clerks in
the hunt for my lost card but evetually I had to relent. I had to change my Thai
flight twice since I didn't have enough money to pay by bill at Nanork or get to
Bangkok.
So it has been a strange week, but I made it. And my
saviour? Would you believe the ANZ Bank? Via internet banking I was able to
arrange a TT of funds from my NZ bank account in the favour of my friend Raht's
bank account at the Bank of Bangkok, Patong branch. Once they had the details
the transfer only took 8 hours! Good on ya ANZ, I could almost forgive you for
ripping me off for the last 12 years you pricks.
Phuket Town is like Bangkok except smaller and cleaner.
This is a tourist mecca and Phuket provence would like to keep it that way. When
we get off at the bus-stop we are met by a tuk-tuk driver. "Where you go?"
"Patong."
"Patong 250 Baht." I've
just about had enough of this nonsense so I say in no uncertain terms:
"Patong 20 Baht." On that note Lise and I turn on our heels
and walk in the opposite direction from the taxi driving scoundrels, having
absolutely no idea where we are heading. The taxi drivers laugh amongst
themselves but sure enough, one of them runs after us and finally agrees to take
us to Patong for 50 Baht each! By this time we have picked up a fellow
traveller: Helen of Leeds. Finally a farang that we can relate to. We end up not
only sharing the Taxi, but also a hotel room in Patong that Lise shrewdly
barters for us: a 4-bed room with TV for 450 Baht (they wanted 600).
Patong is one of the few beaches on Phuket Island that
is fully serviced during the low season. Even so, it is packed with German and
British tourists. It's kind of like Ohope beach exept that you don't lie down on
your towel and sunbathe - you rent a padded bench for the day that comes
complete with a guy who will run and fetch you stuff - beer, water, anything.
You are constantly harrassed by hawkers trying to sell you all sorts of junk,
and the longer you lie there you begin to notice something that you didn't
really want to notice. There are tens, maybe hundreds of European men in Patong
who are accompanied by either a Thai mistress or mister, possibly a legacy of
when Phuket was an R&R stop for American soldiers during the
Vietnam/American war.
On our first night out in Patong we are accompanied by
Helen of Leeds and we drink at a few establishments in town, but Helen comes
unstuck when we walk into "Uncle Charlie's Boys", a "special cabaret" show that
includes one of the best drag shows that I have seen. Helen freaks at the
curtain raiser: pretty much lots of young Thai men standing around in their
undies, a show that appeals to Lise's and my sick sense of humour, but Helen
makes her excuses and a very quick exit. Later on she apologises profusely for
"being such a prude" but we insist that there is nothing to apologise for. In
fact we are sorry for being such perverts.
It's all in good fun though and at the end of the night
noone got hurt so that's the main thing. I tell you what though those lady-men
are unbelievable! I think we left just before the "extra special show" and on
the way out I gave my favourite draq queen a wink, and then sprinted until I was
sure I was not being followed.
Other attractions in Patong include various dodgy and
expensive go-go bars and a pretty cool Thai boxing match that runs all night.
It's pretty cool until after the fight the boxers come around and ask for
appreciation for the fight, and what are you going to say? What you do say is
"Great fight mate" and hand over 100 baht (NZ$5) a piece. Then there's the
obligatory photo with a fighter and bang! There's another 300 baht! If you ever,
leave before the fight ends and save yourself $25.
On the 12th I think it was, Lise continued on her way to
London. I farewelled her outside of our Patong hotel as she boarded her Taxi to
the Phuket bus station. Bon voyage Lise! Thanks for all the good times! I
checked out of the hotel and said goodbye to Helen of Leeds and boarded my
trusty mount: a 110cc Honda scooter to Kamala beach, a spot I had scoped out the
day before. There I checked into the Nanork Restaurant and Buffalow Bar, a very
authentic seaside spot with amazing Thai seafood dishes (best so far!) and a
lovely family who are slowly adopting me.
The Nanork has only one Bungalow which is behind the
restaurant and it is uniquely fitted out in American Indian/biker styles, can
you imagine it? It's an A-frame with a mezzanine and flags and posters and crazy
exhibits everywhere. I sleep on a super-king size bed that is as hard as the
floor, just the way I like it. I have my own bathroom and flushing toilet and
lots of really practical enhancements like a clothes rack and such and such.
My life now consists of waking early in the morning for
a wake up swim, followed by cornies and black tea, followed by my first
sunbathing/swim session from 10am to 12pm. Then it's lunch and a nap and then
back into the sun and surf from 2 until 4. Then off to the Internet cafe (1
Baht/minute) until sometimes 8. Then back to Nanork for dinner and a few whiskey
sodas until I feel sleepy. Then I dream like a man posessed until the morning
and do it all over again. Pretty sweet.
The Thai family have got me engaged in their dodgy
gambling franchise and last night I dreamt the Lotto numbers so we all bought a
few numbers, and wouldn't you know it - not a one! Hiliarious, this stupid seer
from NZ dreams last weeks Lotto numbers. Genius. For the folks back home, the
numbers were 1, 3, 16, 17, 33 and the bonus was 8.
One day I'm walking to the dairy for a iceblock and I
stop and have a yarn with the local corner boys, except they all look like
they're fifty-something. They don't speak a word of English and the main guy
gestures for my sunnies (they're "Schmoaklees") and tries them on. Then he shoos
me on my way. Ha ha, hilarious. Buy we've played this game many times in
Taneatua so I just sit down and wait. The guy gets up and starts making the
rudest gestures like - you want girl and show, and then points to my crotch and
finally manages some English: "you got big dick?"
>
"500 Bhat" I reply which all of his mates understand and it's hilarious. He gets
up and stomps around and I take his place on the bench. Now I'm king of the
corner. I'm given some really nice Thai tobacco and taught some dirty Thai words
and after about 10 minutes the main dude is over this so he gives my sunnies
back and I bid them good day and continue on my way to the dairy. "See you
tommorrow!" they call. Yeah right.
Kamala beach is a small bay with beautiful white sand
that is littered with so much junk you would not believe. Where's Greenpeace
when you REALLY need them? Never mind the Mount, sort this mess out fullahs!
Anyway, the surf break is real and is perfect for body-surfing. There are not
many tourists here and I have finally escaped. I have no desire to mingle with
the boring ugly lot of them. I will hang with my adoptive Thai family as long as
they bear my terrible Thai, whilst their English is so good.
The Full Moon Party
Back to Wednesday - the night of the full moon. We're
waiting for our Taxi driver to return at the Low-Fa restaurant and drinking beer
and Thai red-bull with Derek and Ana, a beautiful couple from Holland. Ana is
right into snorkeling and is explaining to Lise and I how the taxi driver, Bo,
took her and Derek snorkeling on the reef to the south of the Bungalows. I
reiterate: "So you went snorkeling with Bo AND Derek?"
Ana nods "Uh huh, uh huh" but Lise is beside me trying her
best not to blow her Vodka out of her nose.
Finally we are on the back of the Toyota ute hurtling
towards Hat Rin. We are joined by a kiwi and a couple from Ireland. I introduce
myself and the Irish bloke asks me where I'm from. "Auckland, New Zealand" I
answer and he replies "oh, I'm sorry man - that must be really hard for you." I
take that on the chin and proceed to ask him where he's from. "Dublin!" he
answers enthusiastically. "Oh - so your from Scotland?" The dude turns away from
me and appears to be drawing an arm back for a king-hit when Lise starts
cracking up on the seat opposite me and I start laughing and the whole truck is
a riot and the tension is broken.
After that we yarn all the way to Hat Rin and he insists
that I call in on the bar that he works in in Dublin - the Camden Arms or such
and such. I promise him that I will. I think his name was Francis.
Forget "The Beach", forget the Lonely Planet, forget the
stories like "it's too crowded" or "the music sucks" or "it was way better back
in '96". If you are in South East Asia around the time of the full moon, you
must check out the full moon party on Koh Pahngan. Unbelievable. Sure the music
does suck sometimes and it is pretty crowded and I'm sure it was different in
'96, but imagine Piha, without the Lion rock in the middle, the sand dunes had
been overtaken by pubs, restaurants and dance clubs. Now imagine that everyone
of these clubs has gone all out to have the loudest PA, the coolest lights, the
biggest decorations and the hugest fireworks. Now imagine 7000 people on that
beach, all on holiday, all not having to worry about work tomorrow or even next
week. All loaded, all having a ball.
I have never seen a party like it and it happens once a
month! We had a rEEl good time, met some crazy cool people, danced, had big
yarns, smoked cigarettes and drank beer until dawn. We had to wait until 8am to
go home because we had run out of money. So much fun!
Trouble In Tu Thani
The next couple of days were spent hungover or just
chilling and we decided it was time for a change. It was a toss up between the
Eastern side of Koh Pahngan or Phuket. We chose Phuket.
The day Lise and I attempted to travel to Phuket would
have to be the low point of my trip to date. We didn't get the car ferry on the
way back, we got the "fast ferry" that goes via Koh Samui. Stuck on a small
ferry with 250 farengs and 150 lifejackets; the male farengs outnumber the
females at a ratio of about 2 to 1 and it's a meat market of young cut bodies
parading around the ferry in cutoff pants and no shirt on. These guys go around
and round the boat, crunching down ladders, stretching in the aisles, bending
over to pick up shit... it's hilarious and does wonders for the self esteem.
During the trip a Ferry Lines employee sells me two
minibus tickets to Phuket as all of the buses will have already gone by the time
we get there and I am super keen to get to Phuket tonight. And so begins my
first experience of being scammed in Thailand which I will describe with the
benefit of 20-20 hindsight.
I pay the employee 500 Baht (NZ$25) for the minibus ride
and he gives me a receipt, not tickets. When we get off the ferry he directs us
to the minibus; the driver is a seedy-as looking character. I jump in the
minibus and meet a woman who is travelling to Hat Yai, but I don't think twice
about it, figuring that it is on the way to Phuket or something. We're off and
drive for about 15 minutes until we stop in Tu Thani.
The driver gives a man at a tour shop some money and
then he walks over to the minibus, says "OK, Hat Yai: get off here." So the
woman behind me starts getting off. Then the tour shop guy changes his mind:
"Sorry! I mean Phuket off here!". He does this because he can scam two people
instead of one if Lise and I get off.
So we get off, unload our luggage and all of a sudden we
are standing in a dirty street in Tu Thani with our luggage and not a minibus in
sight. The tour shop guy asks us to come and wait in his shop, which we do. He
does this because he dosen't want to make a scene on the street. When we are
safely inside he says "OK - minibus not go tonight, you stay here tonight and go
tomorrow."
Crap. "Ahhh no, we have paid for minibus to go to Phuket
tonight."
"Yes, but minibus not go tonight, you hire
taxi."
Taxi? That would cost a fortune. "Nah dude,
we've got a receipt, we're going tonight."
"You cannot
go tonight, you hire taxi or stay here tonight and catch minibus - much
cheaper."
Cheaper? We've already paid these pricks 500
baht!
This goes on for some time until I finally get the guy
to refund us 360 baht, basically by standing over him until he does it. Every
question I ask him must be considered by his whole family who are in the shop,
all speaking Thai and adding to the confusion of the situation. All things
considered, losing 140 baht was probably better than getting conned into a night
in Tu Thani. They obviously would love two farangs to stay in their town for a
night so that we spend money on food and accomodation and probably end up paying
for the minibus all over again.
So we boot it out of there and catch a taxi to Surat
Thani - to our old mate Hai's place to tell him of our woes. There are no more
buses so we check into a hotel and spend a night in Surat Thani anyway, but it's
a lot friendlier there. We catch the bus at 7:30am the next morning and have a
sleepy ride through Khao Sok national park to Phuket.
Planes, Trains and Automobiles
It's 4:30 on a Wednesday afternoon in Koh Phangan and I'm, sitting on the verandah of
Bungalow #28 at the Low Fa, Sri Thani. I'm smoking duty-free Drum Mild and
drinking duty-free Bombay Sapphire with lemonade, which under the circumstances
is delicious! I'm sunburnt, it's 30-something degrees and I'm sweating. Lise is
justifiably coma-ed on the floor of the verandah.
A dog called Blackie comes free with the verandah and
we've just been for a swim in the bath-like water of the Gulf of Thailand.
Believe me, the last thing you want in 34 degree heat is bath-like seawater.
It's very shallow too and not at all surfable.
The high-speed ferries are hooning in for the full-moon
party tonight, a spectacle we are keen to check out. The Low-Fa has organised a
taxi for the journey to the party which is in Had-Rin on the other side of the
island. For now, all I can do is reflect on the last 24 hours which have taken
me places I felt strangely prepared for.
At 4:30pm yesterday Lise and I were in a Tuk-tuk,
screaming along the dusty Bangkok roads at break-kneck speed towards the train
station. We caught the train into town from the airport this morning, and while
this is an experience I would not recommend to travellers, it sure did open my
eyes.
The stories about people living in their own trash
beside the railway - they're all true. This is population gone wrong and Bangkok
has plenty examples of poverty on display. I can't really go on about it except
to say - it is something that you should see to really appreciate how lucky you
are to be able to afford to live in a house with four walls, a floor and a
ceiling (if infact you are), let alone a flushing toilet and running water.
We spent the day in Bangkok on Koh Sahn road, the first
stop for all farangs (foreigners) in the city, ignoring the touts and sampling
the fare; Sure is a crazy place.
At five o'clock we boarded our 2nd class train carriage
and made ourselves comfortable. When a fareng buys a long distance train ticket
in Thailand they are sold a 2nd class air-conditioned sleeper carriage seat,
which is a god-send whilst still acclimatising to the heat.
The train to Surat-Thani takes 13 hours and is
brilliantly timed so that you can eat a huge delicious Thai meal and then
collapse into your bunk at 8pm. I stayed up in the diner carriage to watch an
electrical storm with lightning dancing across the sky like sprats in the
harbour. No namby-pamby sheet lightning here, it's forked all the way.
Beside me the cabin boys have finished setting up the
bunks in second class and have knocked off for the night. They are enjoying a
bucket of beer, which in Thailand means a small bucket with ice and two cans of
beer emptied into it. The participants drink the beer through the two straws
provided. - Ha ha! Classic. A railway policeman sits across from me, egging them
on.
In Thailand there are police for everything: Railway
police, traffic police, tourist police, police police and they all carry
sidearms and wear campaign colours. They are so friendly it's disconcerting.
Back in my bunk I fall straight off to sleep and crash
like a baby to the rythym of the tracks: clickety-clack, clickety-clack. I wake
at 5 and get up to watch the sunrise from the dinner carriage. How do you
describe a sunrise?
At 6:10am we pull into Surat Thai, and it's off and
bang! We are accosted by touts: "You go Koh Samui?!"
"No, Kh Pan Ngan."
"Bus and ferry
ticket 205 Baht!"
"Ahh, look dude, I've just woken up -
can we get a coffee first?"
Poor Lise has been awake about 10 seconds and is just
not coping. We go with the tout to Oum's restaurant for instant coffee with
non-dairy creamer. The tout turns out to be a really nice guy called Hai. He's
owned the Oum for 8 years and has a 10 year old daughter. He shows us pictures
of the Low Fa and eventually we talk him into giving us a bungalow for 150 baht
on the condition that we stay at least two nights.
Sweet. We yarn for ages about NZ and Thailand and NZ vs
Thailand. He cannot believe that all of these tourists can come and spend months
in Thailand on Holiday. This is a concept unthinkable to most Thai people. We
tell him we cannot believe it either.
We finally board our bus at 8:15am for the 1 hour
journey to the ferry. The bus is air-conditioned and today the in-ride movie is
Tango and Cash - but it's dubbed in Thai, and Sylvester Stallone seems to make
sense all of a sudden.
Looking out the window is like looking through a 16mm
film camera lens. The heat seems to distort or dampen the colour so that
everything is matte. The bus driver is a madman, just like every other driver in
this country. Thankfully we stop to buy a string of flowers from a stall on the
side of the road. The driver clasps it in his hands in a short prayer and then
hangs it on the rear-vision mirror with four or five others. In Thailand this is
good luck so we will be sweet as now.
The ferry is of the roll-on, roll-off variety and we
sunbath on the top deck for the two hour or so journey. A Thai call Bii
introduces himself to Lise and then to me and we meet his friends. They have all
traveled down from Bangkok for the full moon, and the international spirit of
party is in them as they share beer, cigarettes and jokes with us. They are
going to have a ball.
Getting off the ferry in Koh Pan Yangh is our biggest
test for dealing with the touts (people who try and take you to acommodation or
transport for personal gain). It's absolute madness as dozens of these people
yell and scream at us from behind a police barricade until we walk through it
and then, we are fair game.
Hat Rin! Hat Rin! You go fullmoon party! We take you!
Men and women with cards and flyers and sometimes photo albums of resorts to
stay. They all look beautiful of course but we already have acommodation
organised.
"No thanks mate, we're sweet as" is our mantra as Lise
and I battle through the hordes. Lonely backpackers shelter behind us as we slay
the harassers one by one like great knights sent to save them. In the confusion
we miss our man, who was to give us a ride to Sri Thani and end up waiting for
him in a restaurant.
More beautiful food, more friendly people and then we
are tearing through the jungle on the back of a Toyota Hi-Lux to Low Fa. It's
only a short drive but is very remote. The hosts greet us and are very friendly.
Our bungalow has a toilet (not flushing), a shower (cold), a hammock on the
verandah and it is right on the water's edge.
We have a western facing view and I'm watching the sun
sink slowly as fishermen fix their boats and farengs get bored or drunk or both.
5-June-2001
See ya Sydney - It was fun but I had to leave or else I
never would of. Lise delayed our flight a day because she hadn't heard from me
in a couple of days. Lise and I are travelling the Sydney - Bangkok leg
together. We had a lovely last night in Sydney - a few longnecks of VB with
Fred, Catherine, Lynnette, Josh and Giles! Great to see Fred, Catherine and
Giles after so long - they are Auckland Central OGs.
The flight was sweet as and I saw the sun come up over
south east Asia from 39,000 feet this morning - wicked. I have finally crossed
the equator! I have met hot and its name is Bangkok! Aside from the obvious,
Bangkok is a town that oozes friendlyness and fun and is surpising easily to
navigate. I hope our run of good luck continues for a couple of weeks.
We caught a tuk-tuk straight to Khao San road and had a
look around - ignoring touters on the way and had a couple of Thai beers and
fell asleep in a restaurant court- yard for a couple of hours! Now we are
checking email and waiting for our train to Surat Thani at 5pm. It's a 13 hour
trip and tomorrow morning we will board a ferry to Koh Samui! Yay! Beach action
at last! I am dying for a swim.
Big thanks for all of the emails - they always come when
I need cheering up and I'm loving all of the support that I'm getting. Well we
gotta get a move on - Another leg of my Journey has begun and it's pretty
overwhelming at the mo, but I hope to have some more interesting anecdotes soon.
3-June-2001
Not much of this is going to make sense, so bear with
me. I have been drafting all of today's entry in my head for the last 2 days so
excuse me if I miss out some details.
Earlier this year when I was still in Auckland, one
night after DJ-ing at the Classic the bar crew and I went down to the Fu Bar for a
drink and while we were there we bumped into this crazy canadian called Scott
(his real name) who was in Auckland to renew his Australian work visa on some
dodgy immigration scam where all he had to do was leave the country for a couple
of days - and he chose Auckland. Anyway. Me and Scott get on like a house on
fire and end up having the legendary night from hell which, amongst many things,
featured us dancing to house music in broad daylight at 10am (at the Supper
Club, Pitt St) and terminated with soy lates at Melba (vulcan lane), pretty much
speaking esperanto by this stage and talking, talking, talking. At one point I
got Scott's email address AND phone number, but of course, I'm drunk and I
forget it. The one detail I DO remember from that conversation is Scott saying
"and hey, if you're ever in Australia, come down to Woolongong and visit and
we'll do it again!"
So I'm in Sydney, and I think "what about that crazy
candian guy... scott?" I should look him up! The only problem with that is - I
don't know his phone number or address, but I do know that he works in a
restaurant. So just for a laugh I ask every Australian I meet in Sydney (there
are approximately 4 million of them) if they know a Canadian guy called Scott
from Woolongong - "I think he works in a restaurant."
On the second day, Lise and Lynnette are getting a
little tired of this game when, at the Darlo Bar, I ask Zev and his girlfriend
Emma if they know this guy and Zev's like "oh yeah! Canadian guy about so high
black curly hair - kinda funny lookin' - he works at Monsoon, the BEST
restaurant in Woolongong." So now I have: Scott, Canadian, Woolongong, Monsoon.
So yesterday I get up with the hell hangover and go and
catch a train to the Gong (AUS$8.40 and about an hour one way) to see if I can
track this sucker down. Low and behold, after circumnavigating Woolongong for
the third time on foot, I finally find Monsoon and meet Kahn (spelling may not
be correct) the owner of Monsoon and Scott's flatmate. "Scott's working at the
Hideaway Cafe tonight, but what are you up to tonight? We're going to Sydney to
be naughty." You don't say.
Let me pause to mention that Kahn in a wonderful man
with a wicked gleam in his eye and if he says "naughty", he means that by the
end of the night you will be shaken, not stirred.
So I rock down to Hideaway and there lies Scott,
resplendent in apron and sweat, wondering "wait a minute..." as I re-introduce
myself: "Hi Scott I'm Daniel I met you in Auck..." Scott gets this amazing grin
on his beautiful face and grabs me and hugs me and finally says "What the hell
are you doing here?" Needless to say, scott is a little concerned that he has
been stalked and tracked down like some kind of Telecom defaulter - but once the
inital shock has gone, we revel in the delight of just how amazing it is and
wow. Wow man! "Were going to Sydney to party - you HAVE to come with us!"
Righto. 3 hours later we are 3 s'd and driving to Sydney
in a phat ride with two fly girls from Woolongong: Sarah and Nikki. Sarah and
Nikki turn out to be not only extremely fly girls, but also two of the coolest
women that I have met. We all go to this nightclub on Oxford st - the name
escapes me - and I'm sorry Nanna but, the shit was rEEl! I mean good entry,
great alcohol, choice DJ's loads of beautiful people, cool decor and jumpin,
jumpin. Full, but not too full so there's plenty of room for some "New Zealand
dance moves" as Sarah labelled my dazzling array of steps. I've got steps for
days.
I'm boogie-ing away, feeling groovy, not too hype, not
trying to get laid. Just dancing and having fun and hanging out with our tight
4. We're whooping it up. I feel like a cat amongst the pigeons - I won't be in
this country in 24 hours and I just don't give a. We murder the dancefloor.
Scott is a crazy dance fiend.
At about six am the madness has subsided somewhat and we
decide on a change of location. Q Bar. Stefan knows a guy on the door. As we
enter we go through a metal detector and the boys are frisked. My guard is good
at his job and he pats my pouch, it's in the small of my back. "What's this?"
"Passport" I reply.
"Sweet". Lucky
I wasn't packing my two fat nines that be Gold and Nickel plated then wasn't it?
On the way up the stairs Stefan lectures: "there are
some pretty tough guys up here, some of the biggest guys in Sydney will be in
this bar." Well that might be so bro, but it sure wasn't the Taneatua Hotel on a
Friday night, and there was a lot more hairgel in that room I can tell you.
I scope the room while the kids are in the toilet and I
am rubbing shoulders with big guys, standover men, bosses and theives. It feels
nice. But somewhere along the way the novelty begins to wear off but it's OK. I
have ciggarette after ciggarette and deep and meaningfuls with Nikki. I get
beaten at Daytona and that pisses me off (nice one Jase!). This one guy is so
sleazy I feel ill (no-one you know). The music is not quite as good and
Heinekens taste funny in Australia.
We check out of Q bar at 9am and wander along to the car
- some dead man has forked Nikki's car door lock and ripped off everything in
the car. This prick has also had time to rifle through my daytripper and has
only taken my phone. He left the tickets, photos, toothbrush and clothes.
Luckily I was packing my passport and travellers cheques so that is the best
advice I ever got. Thankyou.
It's Soy Lates at Columbus on Oxford. We're tired,
pissed, "tetchy". I say goodbye to Scott and Khan who is only the sixth person
to warn me about the "ladyboys" in Thailand. He says I will come back a
different person. He laughs hysterically, picturing me in Bangkok for the first
time. Ha ha ha. I hope I'm laughing in 18 hours!
Nikki, Sarah and I file a report at the Paddington
Police station. The sergeant jokes with Nikki about vibrators. He is actually
very cool. "I've just got to wait for the computer to warm up." New South Wales'
finest. I'm not supposed to have a phone right now so sorry if you are trying to
call me. I am soooooooo lucky. I cannot believe they did not just take my whole
bag.
Nikki and Sarah drop me off by Taylor Square. This
goodbye is a bit harder because we've only just met - but we all promise to hook
up in London if ever the oppurtunity arises. 12pm: I call Lise - she's still in
bed. It's now 1:43pm. I am in Global Gossip on Oxford St. An empty Coke buddy is
beside me. I have my daytripper, sunnies and AUS$100 in my pocket. I have been
awake for 28 hours. Tomorrow I will be in a country were is English isn't even
the second language, it's more like 4th or 5th. I will do things that I cannot
possibly conceive at this time. Sydney was just a warm up. Thai- land waits like
a stormy night on the event horizon. I feel fine.
1-June-2001
I'm in Sydney! Same faces different people. Graffitti.
Sign post confusion. Great buses. Bad areas. Lise and Lynette gave me the grand
old tour of all the sites last night - awesome. Looks like I'm going to be here
for a few days. Now flying out on Monday the third.
Flight over was crazy. Having never been through customs
before, I had no idea how long it would take! Ended up having to drop an armful
of duty-free and running to the gate. Sorry about not calling Mum! The movie was
"Finding Forresster" - Sean Connery, Gus Van Sant. See it! Meal was Chicken
Curry. Awesome :)
I was surprised by how emotional I was flying out of
Auckland. I stared at NZ until it dissapeared into the cummulus and I instantly
felt homesick. I knew that I would have to get out of NZ to really appreciate
it, but I didn't realise that I would really appreciate it as soon as I left the
ground.
Today I feel apathetic - then excited - then a little
bit sick. Sore throat is not a good one. Checked into a really crappy
Backpackers on Pitt St. It's a single bed sized box with a fan and a welded shut
window. The Sydney Hilton as I like to think of it. Bring on the palm frond
encrusted huts of Thailand.
Invested in a disposable camera today. So many cool
things to see in Sydney. The graffiti is amazing. So is the architecture. People
drive at 100k's everywhere - it's scary. So I will post my post-modern
surrealist images of sydney's sophisticate in due course.
Take care. Talk to you soon. Whassup Mum! Whassup Abe! -
buy some credit you bum.
My visa has been issued, it should arrive tomorrow. That
means I will fly out on Thursday at the earliest. I'm going to stay in Thailand
for a few weeks, probably in the South, just to chill out a bit.
You can contact me at dlarsen@clear.net.nz
Love to you all, big hi and "goodbye" to all those
people I didn't get to say bye to.
Love Daniel. XXXX
You can email me at dlarsen@clear.net.nz or phone me
on +447904531228. My GSM provider does not accept international text messages,
so you can't text me from outside of the UK.
I am back on ICQ: My ICQ number is 94719083.
If you want my postal address, please email me.
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