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Random Thoughts

Late-night rant

Late at night in a dark bar, one drunk to another …..

“Being a sports nerd from way back, I can’t let the Olympics end without putting my oar in. So to speak.

But first, a little trip down memory stream.

Rugger

Of the Old New Zealand trifecta of rugby, racing, and beer, my Dad pursued two. He replaced the middle one with cricket.

So as a lad growing up in the grey early 1970s ( “you want two types of milk?” ) , I followed his lead, and sport helped saved me from death by boredom. There was nothing I looked forward to so much as Saturday morning mud-wrestling ( a.k.a junior rugby ).

My brother and I played backyard rugby with such gusto that the ball was confiscated over summer. So the legendary British Lions 1971 tour of New Zealand was meat and potatoes to us. To add the gravy, they became, and remain, the only Lions team to win a series in New Zealand.

I remember listening to most of it on the radio, with commentators like the gentleman on the left.

Looking back at clips, playing in muddy bogs with sodden , leaden rugby balls their backline was dazzling, especially in the provincial games. They won the series 3-1, as you know.

The Games

I discovered at primary school that I was Ok at “long distances”, which then meant 800m races.

In 1974, I watched John Walker finish 2nd to Filbert Bayi in that year’s Commonwealth Games 1500m final, pondering my grandfather’s remark – “harrumph, he would’ve won if he’d had a haircut”.

That was a  golden era of New Zealand middle distance running, with the trio of Walker, Dixon, and Quax winning medals and breaking world records. And so through my teens I followed the sport, and won some minor races.

Fast Forward

So , back to the present, and some thoughts on a few of the remarkable performances.

Yes, thanks, top me up, Captain. Oh yes, some of that as well…..

What’s Happening In Norway?

Never mind the Chinese, the Vikings are coming. With two out of the park performances in track events, and one in endurance, one wonders;

  • Karston Warholm clocks 45.94 seconds in the 400m hurdles, breaking his own world record of 46.70s. He’s the first man to run the event in under 46 seconds. The previous world record had stood for 29 years.
  • Jakob Ingebrigtsen  , at 20 years old, wins the 1500m over Kenya’s Timothy Cheruiyot, clocking a time that places him 9th on the all-time list. Is this man capable of beating Hicham El Guerrouj’s 23-year-old record?
  • Kristian Blummenfelt wins the men’s triathlon ( swimming, biking, running ).

 

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On the Road Random Thoughts Thailand 2019 Vietnam

Rayong to Da Nang

The following is an abject lesson in travel.

The plan – travel from Rayong to Da Nang by bike, taxi, plane, and taxi. The timeframe – one day. Bish, bosh, bash, just like that.

Not so difficult? Except that…

This is Thailand

In the week before leaving, I’d had to show my face at Rayong Wittayakom school, where I’d worked as a teacher for the previous six months. This because I wanted to ensure I was paid the previous month’s salary.

At 37,000 ฿ ( ~=USD 1120), it’s a pittance by Western standards. But living monkishly, I’d been able to save around 500 USD / month. And, with Vietnam in my sights, I could hardly afford to be sniffing at it.

The byzantine Thai bureaucracy dictated that my Visa was kaput as soon as the school contract ended. That meant I had exactly one day between finishing my school duties, and evacuating Thailand.

This Is Me

I’d been in the same apartment for a couple of months, during which time I’d accrued belongings, both useful and otherwise. My ‘filing system’ was the floor, over which tumbled my worldly possessions.

After wrangling with Thais, a hopeless scenario at the best of times, I’d found a dirt-cheap ( 2300 ฿/month ) scooter for rental from Pattaya. However, I now had to return it before leaving.

I’d decided to go to Vietnam, rather than do a ‘Visa run’ across the border and back, or return to New Zealand.

I’d turned down two good job offers, one in Pattaya, and another in Phuket. Mostly because I didn’t want to face another 30-hour bus trip , or deal with the Thai education ‘system’.

All of which resulted in last-minute packing decisions, money-changing, changing travel plans, insurance cashing, and general chaos.

The result? Early on the morning of November 1, 2019, I loaded more than 30kgs worth of possessions onto a 150cc scooter, ready to ride from Rayong to Pattaya, a trip of about 65 km.

A Tranquilised Mule

On first mounting the scooter, it slowly keeled over ,like a tranquilised mule. This of course was just cream on the cake for the hotel staff watching the entire pantomime from the front checkout.

A couple of them did come over to help right the beast, and I was shortly back on board.

I wobbled around the carpark a few times as a warm-up, and then set off on the Long Run to Pattaya. The suburbs of Rayong present their own challenge, because Thai motorists treat road rules as advisories. Much like “do not exceed the recommended dose”.

Half an hour and a couple of stops later, I was on the main road to Pattaya. These are mainly concrete, and so are slippery. An abrupt change of direction would result in a slide much more unhealthy than your average amusement park.

Stay Calm, Focus, Execute

So it became a question of sustaining concentration. I’m a small overloaded blip travelling slower than almost anything else.

This is the first leg of the journey, Rayong to Pattaya. The next is Pattaya to Bangkok via taxi. The third is the flight from Bangkok to Da Nang, Vietnam. And the last is the taxi ride to my pre-booked hotel from Da Nang airport.

It’s a game of dominoes. If one fails to fall, none of the rest of them fall into place either.

I streamed the mantra “stay calm, focus, execute”, to distract myself from thinking about consequences of an accident.

Panic in Pattaya

Once I made it to Pattaya, there was an additional hurdle. I was there to return the rental scooter. But the directions given by the scooter owner were sketchy at best.

“Find the 7-11 on the corner of Sukhimwit Road. I’m in the third shop from the corner, it’s behind the cafe …”

Ragged from the concentration of the trip, I darted hither and yon, hauling in my wake a suitcase, a laptop briefcase, and a shoulder bag. Up against the clock of my flight departure, another 20 minutes ticked by before I found said scooter owner.

With the handover out of the way, and nothing said about the additional dents, it was time to find the taxi for the second leg, Pattaya to Suvarnabhumi airport, Bangkok.

Easy? But no. With the usual Thai efficiency, the driver I’d been chatting to for three days to drive home the deadlines was otherwise engaged. After another 20 minutes of pacing inside an air-conditioned 7-11, I had a driver.

As it happened, about an hour, and 1100 ฿ later, the airport hove into view.

Gate A

The attendant told me he plane was leaving at “Gate A”. Minutes later, it dawned on me that the gates were numbered, not lettered. While other passengers glided around with their small trolleys behind them, I hobbled along like a small mule with a limp. Then, six months of teaching Thais came to the rescue.

Thais often drop the final consonant of English words. ‘Gate A’ was ‘Gate 8’.

With the target finally settled, I found the flight board, and discovered that the flight was boarding 15 minutes ago

Fark! All this way, all that palaver, and here I am stumbling at the second hurdle. I picked myself up and started sprinting. It didn’t look good, but it was effective. Soon I caught the remnants of the check-in line.

A short sauna bus ride, and 30 minutes’ of looking at the flight attendants later, and we were airborne.

Da Nang

I’d organised online a Vietnam Visa for about USD 100 for 3 months. So I was surprised and delighted when I was snapped and stamped and waved through in about 10 minutes.

It was around 6pm, and I was in ‘Nam.

On the advice of someone who knew these things, I’d arrived with a wad-full of US dollars. The advice was good, and I got instant co-operation from taxi drivers.

The short taxi ride gave me a taste of the beauty of Da Nang. It’s a much more modern city than Rayong – bridges lighting up like stairways, wide roads, modern architecture.

I found that US dollars got instant co-operation from apartment managers , too.

I’d skimped on the apartment. It was something like $12 ( 300,000 VND ) / night , and I got what I paid for. But at this stage, I didn’t care.

I’d made it. I unpacked a few things, and collapsed on my bed.

school
– long-term teacher doesn’t talk to anyone
– fat thai teacher with a mental age of 10

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Random Thoughts

Jehovah’s Witness

witness
children

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Random Thoughts

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Fiji Random Thoughts

Roadtrip Nadi Suva Nadi

As a kind of Hail Mary, I decided a drive around the main island, Viti Levu, was in order.

Links to Google Maps - opens in new tab

But not before dealing with every shyster rental agency I could find by phone. I was quoted prices mostly around $120 – $130 a day, with one comedian asking for a $1000 bond.

They turned out to be tourist prices, as I discovered when Jone – the AirBnB host – started ringing around, and finally got a $70 / day deal.

However, the strings attached were that young Jone was along for the ride. Which suited me fine – it meant another driver on the 500km jaunt, all packaged with a local guide.

Nadi to Ba

We left on time at 7.30 a.m., and the spirits were high up to Ba, where a quick coffee set the mood for the morning nicely [ all trip videos ]

Then the sailing started becoming slightly less easy at Rakiraki, with the first of Jone’s stops. He’s a bailiff, and this was a work trip for him. On the upside, I did score some huge papaya ( mangoes ) for $3, but waited 30 minutes or so while Jone hunted down some unfortunate with bad debts.

The next target was near Volivoli peninsula, at the northern tip of the island, where I was plotting a refreshing dip in the briny. But the tides were against me, and the dip turned into a cold salt-water bath instead.

Namuamada, near Volivoli

Abuzz from the dip, I scoffed down a lunch of three boiled eggs, before we hit a spate of super-cheap roadside stalls. Jone picked and chose carefully, while I grabbed a delicious tuna roti for later.

South East

The came the long haul down to Suva. This is the greener side of the island, where rainfall is high, and the bananas and other fruit are plentiful.

Further down we passed through Fiji’s dairy country, Rewa, north of Suva.

But not before a brush with the law.

The road is dotted with speed cameras. Except in Fiji, they actually forewarn you with prominent signs.

That, and the car’s digital speedo, meant that I got through them all with an intact wallet. Despite the fact that our rental car had yellow LR plates, alerting the cops to a potential victim, I managed to drive unmolested through a manned checkpoint.

Not so Jone. He’d either ignored or not heard my bleated warnings, and got pinged with a $60 fine at a manned speed-check. Muttering about the injustice of it all, he didn’t say so much as we neared Suva to the south.

Rougher Sailing

From there, the mood and the car went south. First, there was a stop of almost an hour in Nausori, a satellite town of Suva, while Jone did his business.

I wandered around for a while trying not to get lost, before taking an awkward refuge in an air-conditioned department store across the road from our meeting point. Barefoot, I feigned interest in the wares and made small-talk with the salesman.

I’ll avoid Nausori in future – true, it was a Friday afternoon, but heat, noise ( taxis ), and dust give it that Mad Max feeling.

Suva

We hit the capital around 4pm, where I got more practice in the arts of waiting while Jone did this & that. A little detour to shore up my vape supplies followed. Suva central city is a pleasant and pretty place, without the dust and noise of its outskirts. I just wish it rained less there.

Then it was the homeward leg to Nadi, with the aim of meeting the 7pm deadline for the return of the 24-hour rental.

…and North

Not so fast, it turned out. There was, says Jone, a short stop in Navua. Yes.

That turned into an expedition 5kms or so off the main road into Sandro , on the tail of a bad debtor. The dirt and gravel road, late on Friday afternoon, was scattered with people, many possibly returning from work at Grace Road Food Company, a major player in Fiji’s produce sector.

We stopped and talked into most of the local population, probably getting the Fijian version of “the first house on the left after the green barn”.

An hour or so later, papers served, we were back on the main road, and up against the clock.

As it darkened, I discovered that no-one here bothers to dip their lights. Blinded and tired on the unfamiliar roads, I gave the wheel back to Jone on the winding roads south of Sigatoka.

By then I was over the trip, but there was still more 90 minutes left.

Late anyway, Jone talked me into going halves in renting the car for an extra day, rather than futzing around in Nadi returning it in the dark.

What did I learn?

  • road trips are best done on your own agenda
  • driving is the dark is no fun
  • as in many places, there are tourist prices, and local price
  • the roads in Fiji aren’t so good for fast travelling

 

 

 

Categories
Fiji Random Thoughts

Eat, Drink and Be Merry

A regular student remarked recently how resilient I was to travel to parts lesser known. I smiled and said ‘thanks’.

He was wrong.

Comfort has gotten the better part of valour, and I’ve escaped the “hardships” of inland Nadi to more habitable parts. At least for a couple of days’ trial.

The downsides of inland Nadi are

  • the lack of air-conditioning, the biggest problem, although mostly only at nights. But a few nights of little sleep, and murderous black clouds are hovering overhead.
  • the crawling internet speeds. Almost Ok for watching youtube. But not good enough to earn even a meagre crust online video teaching, where I’m at the mercy of unforgiving Japanese students.
  • the environs. There’s nowhere to stroll without fear of being mown down by Mad Max trucks.
  • the difficulty of getting anywhere fast.

All of this dawned on me when the student kindly wished I was enjoying my “holiday”. Hah!

American physicist Richard Feynman said “… you must not fool yourself, and you are the easiest person to fool.”

And I got to thinking why I’m here. Not to explore the hinterland, or in the cause of anthropology. Not on a hunt for rare butterflies, or to sip pink cocktails poolside, or for geological surveys. Not at all.

Intermittent doses of physical stress are fine, but prolonged mental stress will have me nearing 80 shortly.

I’m here to sit out the winter, do some work and some swimming, meet some locals, see some sights, and soak up some vitamin D and local food.

Which is all by way of justifying a weekend in Martintar on the main Nadi thoroughfare. It’s got

  • air-conditioning
  • decent internet
  • proximity to the Beach. Today it took me $5 FJD and ‘only’ 90 minutes to travel to the beach and back, go for a swim, and catch up the staff at the Ideal Bed & Breakfast, my last lodgings.
  • shops etc within quick walking distance

I’ve booked a weekend, but I may well extend it. I’ll fret about the budget later.

As the infamous Donald Kessel ( classmate 1974 – 1976, now inventor ) said “eat, drink, and be merry, and tomorrow we starve”.

UPDATE: The place has worked out better than expected! It even has internet speeds passable enough to teach some Japanese students. BUT I’ve just found out I can’t extend my stay because someone had already booked it.

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Fiji Random Thoughts

On The Bus

I’m slowly figuring out how to get around in Nadi.

First, it was negotiating with taxi drivers. That doesn’t work. A 10km round trip to Wailoaloa beach set me back $35 FJD.

Second, it was using taxis, but insisting on them using flag fall and a meter. Better, but unsustainable. A 10km round trip to Nadi township cost me about $19.

Lastly, as above it is the bus. Duh. A 10km round trip to Nadi township and back cost me exactly $3.

Bula!

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Fiji Random Thoughts

A Fool and his Money

A trip to Nadi township today left me lighter in the pocket, but in good spirits.

A novice tourist such as myself has no show against these smooth operators.

I’d been in the township less than 5 minutes before a friendly character lurking in a shop doorway greeted me with “Bula” and a wide Fijian smile.

He asked what I now realise are the standard questions to size up my spending power – “where you from”,”how long you been here”,”how long you staying”,”where are you staying”.

KAVA

And I was invited in for a cup of kava.  The sun was nowhere near the yard-arm, but a refusal would have been rude, so….

I sat on a mat near the back of the shop opposite a guy who mumbled a quick prayer, clapped his hands three times, and told me to down the small cup in one.

I used to be a high-achiever in such behaviour, so this bit was easy. And a better taste than the kava I’d bought in years gone by at an Indian dairy at home.

THE SALES PITCH

And then it came, after I made the mistake of admiring out loud the beautiful hand-made Fijian clubs on display. These things are works of art. And useful for cannibals too, noted my guide with a straight face.

Amid talk of a souvenir of my Fiji visit there were several mentions of “supporting the local indigenous community”.

So after a lot of hemming and hawing and choosing this and that, I came away with a small knife / club similar to a Maori mere.  But wooden.

So there’s that bit of gift shopping done.

Next the original lurker insisted on escorting me up the road to the local travel shop, where I got some advice and brochures and such from the budget travel agent. Which to be fair, possibly saved me a hundred dollars at least versus booking these things online.

SILKY

Once I got out of there, the midday heat ( it’s 27 ° C at 7.30 pm ) reminded me that I’d made another young player’s mistake in not bringing light shirts.

After walking in and out of five shops, I found the silk shirt at left. It was marked for $69, I think.

Then the conversation went something like this. Me: “Too much.” Her: “Discount, sir”. Me: “How much?” Her: $42. Me:”Too much”. Him:”What is your budget?”.Me:”These were $25 down the road” ( true ). Her:” You can have any of these for $25″. Me:”Ok, er, which one do you think is the best color for me”…..

Apart from the jandals, that completes the Fijian uniform.

After that it was into the Indian eatery which had been recommended by the lurker, where I spent $16 FJD on curried lamb & roti.

The taxi back ( maybe 5km down Queen’s highway ) was about the same as the outward trip, $9 FJD. That’s compared with $35 FJD on the last trip, of roughly the same distance, when I “negotiated” a price with “how much to Wailoaloa?”.

But not before spotting these mammoth coconuts on the side of the road. The same kind I gorged myself on in Vietnam.

Once home, an hour or so of air-conditioning myself, and some coconut juice, and I was again a functioning unit.