12 February 2003
The Boss is now roughly halfway
through his ski season in Whistler, and he wishes the Webmaster well, and indeed
all visitors to the UK's favourite website.
After deciding in Thailand back in August to re-enter the fray as regards
holiday repping, I commenced sensitive negotiations with Derek 'The Beast'
Beeston of Inghams UK. The end result saw me arriving at Vancouver airport on
December 4 to start yet another 'one last ski season'. This time in
Whistler! Yes, finally I had landed the big one: Reckoned to be the best
ski resort in North America, Whistler is renowned for pretty much incessant
snowfall and legendary amounts of guaranteed powder......
....... except this season of course. As I write this missive, I am listening to
locals describing this season as the worst in twenty years! The last ten days
have been blue ski days with beautiful sunshine. It hasn't snowed in the
self-styled powder capital of North America for two weeks now. I am sick of
having conversations that go along the following lines: " Oh Yeah man! The
snow is usually stacked up four feet high along the road at this time of year.
"
Or perhaps, "Dude, I'm not even going out to ride that shit"
Anyway, it's not all doom and gloom. The snow might be bad for Whistler, but the
weather is glorious, and the snow is actually fine for cruising and carving.
However, I did bite of more than I could chew on Sunday. Attempting to find some
decent powder in these relatively snow-starved times, myself and two others
foolishly embarked on a descent down a narrow steep chute. I managed to put two
turns in successfully, before making a hash of the third (I should have just
side-slipped down) and falling. 150 Metres later I came to a stop. It was quite
an alarming fall, and I was lucky not to incur major injury. Fortunately, I
managed to stop before the rocks at the bottom, and I escaped with a couple of
damaged fingers, and a bruised ankle. I hope nobody in the vicinity had a video
camera, as I will probably turn up on television programmes called 'When good
times turn bad! or 'When Mountain's attack' or something.
Anyway, you can't keep a good man down for long. Or me for that matter, so I
will be back on the slopes tomorrow.
As for work, everything is pretty much fine and dandy. Well, apart from
having to work with two lazy Italians, one dodgy Spaniard, and a power-crazed
ego-bitch of a Resort Manager. Only kidding. Very lucky to be working with
such a good bunch of people. You would normally expect there to be one person in
the team who doesn't pull their
weight, but everyone does their bit. I couldn't wish to be working with a better
group of people.
Keen followers of the Boss's drunken exploits (and disastrous and embarrassing
consequences) will be disappointed to learn that I have been keeping in control
at pretty much all times. You will have to be content with the skiing accident,
(minor injuries only compared to usual incidents) and can maybe amuse yourself
by laughing at how I managed to reverse my rental car into a car park pillar.
Small beer I'm afraid, but don't panic! Upcoming events in the next week include
an 'Hawaiian Alien Party' - What the **** I am supposed to wear to that? - and a
'Superhero Party'. Anything could happen. Watch this space......
Should soon have some outdoor shots of the beautiful Whistler mountains and
surrounding area, and some photos of 'the Boss in the Action' on the slopes. In
the meantime, you will have to make do with the photo
of me speeding down the Dave Murray Giant Slalom Course on Whistler Mountain.
(I came 19th out of 57)
Ciao for now,
The Boss
9 November 2002
Boss returned to the UK on 7th November, and much to the webmasters delight, joined him in a belated 30th birthday celebration encompassing such delights as 'The Corn Exchange' and 'The Loft' in Hitchin, North Herts. Some photos of this momentous occasion follow.
he has skillfully updated his site now to include his escapades between his last entry in August and now, and has promised to post further pictures of his escapades soon.
The Boss prepares for the big night ahead by ironing his jeans......
He poses seductively for the camera before leaving for the semi-Leo. Unfortunately there is no footage of his antics in town.
The following morning, he reads the morning papers to catch up on the footy news.
Finally, as part of his recuperation, he enjoys the great British roast in 'The Orange Tree.'
Where’s the Boss update: November 2002
Firstly I must say sorry for the delay in updated Boss news. My travels in South East Asia were somewhat hectic at times, but now that I am more settled (albeit only briefly) I am happy to fill in the gap between arriving in Thailand in August, and returning to the U of K in November. For all you keen and regular visitors to the ‘where’s the Boss’ website I realise that this three month backlog represents a disappointingly slow level of service. My apologies to both of you. So without further ado, a not so brief rundown of my travels since the start of August.
After arriving in Thailand overland from Malaysia to the south, I spent a relaxing week on the beach at Ko Samui. I then headed up to Bangkok to see the sights, and stayed near the infamous Kho Sahn Road.
My next stop was the small town of Kanchanaburi on the equally infamous River Kwai. I took a trip on the ‘Death Railway’, so called because of the thousands of allied POW’s who perished at the hands of their Japanese captors while building it. I also visited two war cemeteries and the JEATH museum. Altogether a sobering experience as you might expect.
After a brief return to Bangkok I headed north to the impressive ruins of Ayutthaya and Sukhothai, both predecessors to Bangkok as capital of Thailand.
From Sukhothai I headed west to Mae Sot on the Burmese border. From here I looked forward to a couple of weeks travelling the Thai/Burmese border, and especially to doing some walking in the magnificent mountain scenery and to visiting some of the local hill tribes. But I was slap bang in the middle of the rainy season. The ten thousand Baht question was would I be lucky with the weather? The answer was a resounding no as I got pissed on for virtually two weeks solid. I swear it rained every day, and I am certain I did a lot of swearing. At one point I checked into a place called Wilderness Lodge. Clearly by the very name of the establishment I was tempting fate, and never was a place more aptly named. The wonderful walks I had been planning were monsooned off, as pretty little streams were transformed into impassable raging torrents. The net result was that I was trapped for two days in the middle of nowhere while I waited for the deluge to cease. At least the boredom was alleviated by a large bottle of the local whiskey, and by one of the local women.
Despite the wet conditions, I still managed to appreciate my surroundings. I stayed in some charming places, and took in some wonderful scenery. The journey between Mae Sot and Mae Sariang was particularly impressive; the road ran right next to the river, across which lay Burma, before snaking through the hills and breathtaking country. We passed hill tribe villages complete with old ladies in traditional costume smoking pipes, and a huge refugee camp, housing refugees fleeing the brutal Burmese ruling military junta, that seemed the size of a city. In fact, on the Songtaew (effectively a covered pick-up truck with bench seats that serves as a small bus) we were travelling in, were three young Burmese refugees who were seemingly being smuggled to the town of Mae Sariang. Certainly, at the numerous military checkpoints along the route, our driver seemed to be paying off the checkpoint guards, and as we approached the town itself he hid the refugees, after instructing them to change their clothes, at the far end of the vehicle.
But back to the rain, it rained so much in fact that in the town of Pai some of the tourist accommodation got flooded when the river burst its banks. I spoke to two travellers who had to vacate their hut at three in the morning due to the rising water. They then told me that at approximately 3.30am the hut disintegrated and was swept away down the river, as were many others. At least the local waterfalls were impressive! By the time I hit Chang Mai - Thailand’s second city - it was still raining, and it wasn’t until I got to Chang Rai, the day before arriving in Laos, that the sun came out for the full day.
Six months before arriving in the country, I was not really aware of its existence, let alone aware of exactly where it was located, and what it was like. And yet here I was arriving in the place across the Mekong River from Thailand, in a small wooden boat. After successfully hurdling immigration, myself and my travelling companion Helen headed for the slow boat to book a passage on the two day journey down the Mekong to Louang Pabang.
The journey to Louang Pabang was a memorable one due to the relatively cramped conditions, hard seats, and excruciatingly slow speed, that engendered a great team spirit amongst the paying passengers. Upon arriving at our overnight stop on the two day trip, we had clear confirmation of what a poor country Laos is: Pakbeng is a one-buffalo town with just one muddy track, doing its best to masquerade as a road, leading down the hill to the river. Electricity is strictly a part time luxury enjoyed only between six and ten in the evening – after that it’s candles. It is also quickly apparent that you have arrived in South East Asia’s ‘Golden Triangle’, as after nightfall, sinister figures emerge from the shadows and attempt to entice the inquisitive visitor with cheap Marajuana and Opium. Needless to say, some of my fellow travellers indulged themselves. And what can I say? You don’t want to be rude do you?… There was team spirit to think about after all.
After a second day on the boat, the sight of Louang Pabang at the confluence of the Mekong and Nam Khan rivers was a wonderful sight to behold. The World Heritage listed town is a beautiful place with many old colonial style villas, and in many ways the town sums up Laos as a whole with its very relaxed vibe and fantastically friendly people.
After a couple of days soaking up the laid back atmosphere of Louang Pabang, myself and Helen headed north to the heart of the Golden Triangle. After two days travel we arrived at the rough and ready town of Muang Sing – the biggest opium market in the world at the time of French colonial rule. Opium is still an important cash crop for the hill tribe people in the area, and once again would-be dealers were not exactly inconspicuous as the sun set and dusk arrived. Helen and myself however, side-stepped the drug trade and made for the rural retreat of ‘Adema’, where we were within a short walk of some rustic Akha hill tribe villages, and indeed China. We spent a pleasant few days relaxing, going on short walks, and getting lost on the Laos/Chinese border (Helen’s fault and very worrying at the time).
We retraced the scenic route back to Louang Pabang, and then continued southwards to Vang Vieng on the Nam Xong river. Inner tubing down the river past the huge limestone cliffs is one of the most popular recreational activities in the Vang Vieng area, and a very bizzare incident occurred on the day I tubed down with a German bloke and two Norweigans. Myself and the German were about three quarters of the way down the river in our tubes, and passing a particularly peaceful spot, when a local emerged from the river bank on an inner tube and started to languidly paddle towards us. He then proceeded to offer us drugs. He indicated bags of grass he had to sell, and even had some ready-rolled joints prepared in waterproof packets! We explained that we didn’t have any money on us (we were on inner tubes floating down a river after all) but the bloke paddled on towards us and gave us a spliff anyway, popping it in my friends mouth and doing him the courtesy of lighting it. The local then slowly paddled towards the bank as myself and my friend continued floating down river in a very pleasant and relaxed mood.
Vientiane is the capital of Laos and was our next port of call. I enjoyed my trip to Budda Park – a concrete sculpture park – and a jaunt to the National Museum where the hilariously one sided propaganda was a reminder that I was in a communist country.
Helen then headed off to Vietnam while I continued to southern Laos where my time was characterised by relaxing by the Mekong River, conducting short walks, engaging in light reading, and generally having a very pleasant time of it. At the very bottom of Laos at the Si Phan Don (four thousand islands) of the Mekong Delta, relaxing in my riverside hammock and taking in a few waterfalls was very much the order of the day. I stayed on the small rural idyll of Don Det, but did rouse myself to join some others and charter a boat to see the rare freshwater dolphins. This trip included an unexpected, and highly illegal, landing on Cambodian soil, as this turned out to be the best vantage point for viewing the aquatic mammals.
My final destination in Laos was Tad Lo, which in many ways summed up the country as a whole: My basic bamboo hut afforded a great view of the main Tad Lo waterfall upstream, and directly below me was a bend in the river where the locals did all their bathing and washing. The village streets were populated by as many pigs, cows, and chickens as people, and the locals were typically friendly.
I left Laos for Thailand with good memories, but my time in Thailand was brief on this occasion, as after securing a Visa for Cambodia at the embassy in Bangkok, and watching the Thai kick boxing, I headed for the Thai/Cambodian border at Aranyaprathet/Poipet.
If Laos felt like a poor country on arrival, then Cambodia almost resembled a war zone. At least at Poipet in any case. Described in guide books as the ‘armpit of Cambodia’ some would say this is being kind. The scene that greets you as you cross the border into Poipet is like something out of Mad Max: A dusty chaos of beggars, monstrous makeshift wagons the size of three storey buildings, and vehicles that resemble no vehicles you have ever seen before and look like they have been cannibalised from spare parts from the world’s most impoverished scrap yard. Indeed, the best thing about Poipet is the road out, but getting out is easier said than done.
The road from Poipet to the major tourist town of Siem Reap is legendarily bad. I could write a whole essay on this journey alone, but will restrain myself to the salient facts. To start with, the road was currently in such bad shape (remember we were still in the rainy season) that no buses or minibuses could get through. This is why there were eighteen of us travelling in a pick up truck, twelve of which were squatting in the back with no seats to sit on and no protection against the elements save for an old tarp. In the event, the two hundred kilometre journey took us nine hours to complete. Most of the road turned out not to be a road of course, more a muddy, stony, pot-holed track. At two points we had to get out of the truck as the pot-holes were so deep, and at the final big pot-hole we had to get out into knee deep water and push. Luckily we had a good group of lads in the back of the truck, and we kept our spirits up by telling stories and jokes, and by singing.
After a day in Siem Reap recovering from the transport ordeal, I visited the temples of Angkor Wat. Now a World Heritage site, in its heyday the ancient Khmer capital of Angkor was larger than any city in Europe. I bought a three day pass to the site and was impressed by the sheer scale of the site, and by the fine detail of the reliefs on the temples. Certainly one of the highlights of my trip.
After the pick up truck experience I spent a whopping $20 US (a huge sum by Cambodian standards) on the comparative luxury of a seven hour boat journey to Phnom Penh. The Cambodian capital has a reputation as a dangerous city, but it didn’t feel like that. It definitely appeared to be an elegant and grand city, with the wide tree lined boulevards a legacy of the French who built the capital at the confluence of the Mekong and Tonle Sap rivers. There are parts of the city however, that are very poor. This is hardly surprising given the fact that the country was embroiled in a bloody civil war until the death of Pol Pot in 1998. My visit to the S21 museum was a sobering experience, as when Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge were in power between 1975 and 1979, this former school was converted to a prison for ‘enemies of the state’. After a period of imprisonment, and in most cases torture, the majority of prisoners were transported to what are now known as the killing fields where they were executed. Obtaining $2 US ringside seats at the (Thai-style) boxing provided comparative light relief.
The train journey
from Phnom Penh to Battambong is locally infamous for being unreliable, slow,
and very uncomfortable. Indeed, until 1999 it was considered too dangerous for
tourists because of Khmer Rouge guerrilla activity and general lawlessness. But
I’m not the kind of chap to worry about trivial details like that, and so I
decided to give it a shot, and persuaded Helen, who I had met up with again in
Phnom Penh, to come too. After one utterly false start (trains only go every
other day as there is only one track and they can’t pass a train going in the
opposite direction), we boarded the train successfully at 6.15am. Arriving at
our destination, only three hundred kilometres distant of our origin, we found
the time to be10pm. Clearly, you don’t have to be a mathematician to work out
that the average speed of the train was painfully slow. And what a train it was!
Only two carriages were conventional passenger carriages, as the rest of the
train was made up of a motley assortment of cattle trucks, closed cargo wagons,
and open flat bed trucks. Passengers piled on where ever they could, including
the roof. Helen and myself had cunningly bought hammocks at the central market
in Phnom Penh, and so strung these up in our open flat bed truck in the same
manner as many of our fellow passengers. As a result we enjoyed one of the most
comfortable train journeys of all time. At over fifteen hours for three hundred
kilometres it was a long day, but the sunny weather, beautiful countryside, and
the many interesting things to look at, made the time pass quickly. Refreshments
were available throughout the journey as food and drink vendors boarded the
train at the numerous stops, and then jumped from wagon to wagon while the train
was in motion. At one town, ladies got on the train and proceeded to sell large
fried spiders on a stick! By the time we reached Battambong we were tired, but
had enjoyed a very memorable train trip. I stayed in Battambong for a couple of
days and visited the local killing fields in the area, before heading back to
Thailand.
Arriving back in Thailand from Cambodia was like re-entering the civilised world and for my last three weeks in South East Asia I decided to concentrate on the least touristy North Eastern part of Thailand.
The Kho Yai National Park is the most popular national park in Thailand and lucky visitors may see elephants and tigers. Naturally I wasn’t one of the lucky ones, but I DID see lots of elephant footprints and elephant shit. Not to mention monkeys, gibbons, hornbills, and something that was later identified as having been a hogbadger.
From Kho Yai I travelled on the overnight sleeper train to the Mekong river town of Nong Khai. I hired a motorbike and set off on a four day circular tour of this peaceful, rustic part of Thailand. I followed a beautiful route alongside the Mekong River where I was rewarded with unparalleled views of Laos across the water, before I cut inland into the rural hinterland. I stayed in some very nice guest houses in some very relaxed towns on my tour, and it was wonderful to be on the bike and feel the wind in my hair. Oh, and unusually for me, I didn’t fall off and suffer injury.
Once the full moon festival boat racing had concluded in Nong Khai, I made for the Nam Nao National Park. At park HQ I rented a very cheap but very ragged tent for my three night stay. I would just have to hope like hell that the weather would stay fine, as the staff at the park were very open in telling me that the tent was very poor quality, and that I would DEFINITELY get wet if it rained. Whatever the weather, it was nice to be camping in such a tranquil place, but I was disappointed by the lack of decent walking trails. In particular, there was no sign of a trail that had sounded most promising in my guide book with the possibility of spotting large animals at a watering hole. I decided to tackle the national park staff about this mysterious trail which didn’t seem to be sign posted anywhere. At first the park staff were evasive and feigned ignorance and misunderstanding. This just served to encourage my further enquiries however, and eventually I ground them down into admitting that the trail did exist. But they were keen to tell me that it was very dangerous – not just because of large dangerous animals, but also because of the risk of surprising poachers and being shot at. They also told me of numerous enormous bloodthirsty leeches along the way, and that that the trail was very overgrown and almost impossible to follow. Not exactly a glowing recommendation. I think you know what is coming next. They failed to put me off, and frankly I was sure they were exaggerating, and the head of staff finally cracked. He said that he would arrange a guide and some transport to the trailhead if I was able to give a tip. And so it was that I set off on the back of a forestry department truck with an armed escort of five men! It all felt most colonial - “I’ll need your five best men” etc etc. OK, so two of them looked about fifteen years old, and the main guide was about sixty and was wearing gum boots. Oh, and they were armed with knives not guns, but even so it was quite exciting. The knives were certainly required to hack through the undergrowth to find the path – I would never have found and kept to the trial on my own – but the threat of vicious leeches had been greatly exaggerated. Naturally, with six of us thrashing our way through the forest, all sensible animals had heard us a mile off and fucked off sharpish, so upon reaching the watering holes we found no wild animals or wild poachers. The whole experience was an exciting one though. It is not everyday you are provided with an armed escort for dangerous jungle exploration.
After a brief stop in Chang Mai to collect some belongings in storage, I found myself with just one week to go before the end of my trip. I went south to Bangkok to store some excess gear there and then took off to the island of Ko Samet where I spent my last week doing nothing other than reading, relaxing, swimming, and working on my tan.
And before I knew it, the week at the beach had elapsed, and I was on a plane from Bangkok heading back to merry old England and an emotional reunion with Molly and Steve at Heathrow terminal three.
So here I am. Writing this travelogue. I have done very little since arriving back in the UK expect see a few of my old friends, and renew my acquaintance with roast dinners. But of course, I am not here for long - on December 3rd I fly to Whistler where I will be working another ski season as a holiday rep. Watch this space…..
Ciao for now,
The Boss
3 August
Dear All,
please forgive my lack of news in recent months.
To take up from where I was the last time I communicated, let me just say that
as the first round of the World Cup drew to a close, I finally dragged myself
away from the east coast Malaysian beach resort of Cherating and took a bus to
Kuala Lumpur.
Kuala Lumpur
The Malaysian capital is a mixture of the old and new. It has a very interesting
Chinatown with a frenetic night market, and also boasts lavish huge modern
shopping malls, not to mention the highest building in the world - the Petronas
Towers. In the company of two Londoners and a Dutchman (and the rest of
the bar) I enjoyed England's 3-0 demolition of the Danes in the second round of
the Word Cup. The victory celebrations continued well into the night, eventually
ending up in the Hard Rock Cafe where I got very drunk and danced the night
away. Beer, football, and the company of the two Londoners, was a feature
of the rest of my time in KL. Saw a few sights as well of course.
Cameron Highlands
A traditional hill station retreat with a very pleasant (i.e. cool) temperature,
the Cameron Highlands was the ideal venue for the third round of the World Cup.
My disappointment was great when England lost to Brazil, but eventually I rallied
and was able to see the sights. The sights in the Cameron Highlands consist of
drinking lots of cups of tea (tea plantations abound) and going for pleasant day
walks in the forest. Very pleasant and relaxing place.
Penang
An island just off the North West coast of Malaysia, but connected by a land
bridge, Penang is roughly the size of the Isle of Wight, but slightly more Chinese. After arriving late in the main town on the island - Georgetown,
and having to stay the night in a seedy hotel that seemed to double as a
brothel, I checked into the Love Lane Inn, a guesthouse that is not as seedy as
it sounds. Drinking cups of coffee on the terrace and watching the world go by
was very much the order of the day. Georgetown is a quite an old town with
narrow streets and alleys and you can spend days just watching the activity and
characters on the street. I eventually roused myself to conduct a very pleasant
island tour on a moped that I hired for the day. This was to be my last day in
Malaysia for a while as tomorrow I would be boarding the ferry for Sumatra.
Bollocks
Turned up for the ferry to trade my ticket in for the boarding pass and was told
that my name was not on the list - I wasn't getting on. The idiot that I had
booked the ticket with had not phoned the booking through! I was forced to
return to the Love Lane Inn, where I had to endure the jeers and catcalls of
those people I had said goodbye to previously. At least before leaving the ferry
terminal I had actually obtained a boarding card for the next day.
Sumatra
On the second attempt I successfully boarded the Bahagia Express and made it to
Sumatra. No problems with the Indonesian 'Imigrassi' - everything fine. My
three and a half weeks in Sumatra was briefly as follows;
first stop:- Bukit Lawang for Orang Utans and Jungle Trek. Orang Utans cool,
local people not so cool - on your back to book tours, book trek, eat at
restaurant etc etc - wankers. Jungle Trek also a bit disappointing - overpriced
at $40 US for two days.
Second stop:- Berisatgi. nice cool (temperature) town. Easy climb to top
of active volcano (four hours) for wicked view. people nice!
third stop:- Lake Toba. Huge lake with island in middle that is an old volcano.
nice place to chill out. people OK - some of them wankers, some do not wank. did
really great walk across the top of the island. Apart from that did very little
except eat the local speciality - magic Mushroom omelets. Predictably amusing
consequences. I 'did' the mushrooms with this intense, slightly mentally
unstable but very amusing, good bloke from Portsmouth.
For the rest of the evening he was under the impression that he was a pirate captain and I his first mate. Hilarity abounded. At one point he thought he was Michael Parkinson and attempted to interview a chicken! I had less omelet but was nicely toasted. Very slight hallucinations and finding everything very funny. enjoyed being first mate to the 'captain'.
fourth stop:- Bukit tingi. Terrible
bus journey to get here. bus four hours late leaving. bad roads. bus breaking
down. journey taking eighteen hours instead of twelve hours. people first class!
visited two very impressive canyons. Then enjoyed a superb day - certainly my
best in South East Asia on this trip so far. With a Slovakian bloke I met on the
bus down from Lake Toba climbed the volcano - Gunung Merapi (Fire Mountain).
Very active volcano and I took what I hope are some excellent photographs from
around the rim of the steaming crater. The weather was cloudy all the way up but
when we got to the top the clouds lifted
and the sun came out. Wonderful! When we climbed down and got to the bottom we
were just in time for the traditional Saturday night buffalo fighting.
Very
impressive buffalo on buffalo action, and frantic betting amongst the
exclusively male crowd. Myself and
the Slovakian had a punt on the first fight but alas backed the losing buffalo.
We lost 10,000 rupiah (approx 80 pence). Despite our huge losses the buffalo
fight was most
amusing:
the fight takes place on a muddy
field that essentially resembles a small football pitch. The
entire perimeter of the 'pitch' is fenced with wooden poles to prevent the
buffalo from escaping the arena should they so wish. After a significant and
lengthy pre-contest build up with each buffalo being gradually wound up by the
close proximity of his rival but yet
unable to attack due to the restraining rope attached to his nose, and with the
betting in the crowd getting increasingly frenetic, the buffalo are finally
released. Apparently the buffalo sometimes have to be persuaded to lock horns
and to fight.
Not so the first two competitors of the evening. When released, one buffalo charged at the other and their horns clashed with a thunderous noise. The buffalos then proceeded to try and force the other back as they continued to lock horns. But in the muddy conditions they kept losing their footing and slipping thus dis-engaging their horns, and then had to charge again to relock horns. The advantage swings from one buffalo to the other as pressure in exerted via the horns and one buffalo slips and is forced back. Then the other buffalo slips and is forced back, and so on.
The contest continues in this way for an indefinite period and so a large area of the pitch is utilised, nobody sure, not least the buffalo, in which part of the field the contest will move to next. To add spice to this chaos, there is a constant crowd of baying spectators (myself included) circling the combatants as the action takes place, individuals furiously back-peddling when the action suddenly lurches their direction. The most entertaining spectacle of course, occurs when a victor emerges. Eventually, one buffalo decides that he has had enough, and in a quick moment turns tail and flees from his opponent (and subsequent victor). When the loser does this, and by doing so he declares himself the loser, it is worth noting that he actually flees quite quickly.
The result is utter mayhem and panic from the respective section of spectators who suddenly find a very large and powerful animal bolting right for them. Hilarious! Unless it's you in the Buffalo's way of course. In which case immediate evasive action is required to avoid serious injury. But the fun's not over yet. The loser and winner then have to be caught of course. This is not always easy, particularly if the loser is a bad one and is desperate to seek immediate vengeance, as was the loser in the first fight we witnessed. In this instance it took about three minutes to catch the buffalo, and then a further fifteen to restrain him.
Very exciting, most entertaining,
and a great end to a great day.
fifth stop: Lake maninjau. Very pretty lake (although
not as pretty as Lake Toba) and very few tourists.
Cycled around the lake one day and went for a walk in
the surrounding rainforest the next. Certainly
encountered more leeches than tourists on that day.
Apart from that, just relaxed and arranged the ferry
back to Malaysia.
Malacca
A tedious, but uneventual, bus and ferry journey to
Malacca found me back on Malaysian soil again. After
Sumatra it seemed very modern and touristy, and it is
in fact quite an attractive city. Met some decent
folk, saw a few sights, and downed a few beers.
Taman Negara
From Malacca I took the jungle train to Malaysia's
largest national park. Spent three days undertaking
day walks in the humid, sticky, but enchanting
tropical rainforest of Taman Negara - one of the
oldest rainforests in the world. I spent one night in
the jungle sleeping in one of the wildlife hides.
Located with a view of a small watering hole, I
spotted a couple of Tapir and a solitary deer before
being serenaded to sleep by the sounds of the jungle. A
lovely experience.
Kota Baru
A brief stop in the capital of Malaysia's most Muslim
province where I attended to some 'housekeeping'.
Thailand tomorrow, and the next chapter of my South
East Asian Odyssey!
News from THAILAND as it happens, (or more likely
several weeks after it has happened). Still, you can't
have it all.
NB - will get my photos developed of SE Asia so far,
when I get to Bangkok. In the event of there being any
decent ones, these will be posted onto the UK's
favourite website, hopefully before Autumn is on its
way.
Stay lucky
Danny 'The Boss' Carey
12 June
Dear all,
yes it's that time again - the greatest sporting event on the planet is upon us
again - the World Cup.
Those of you who know me even slightly well will appreciate that the World Cup
is compulsory viewing for me. I simply have to watch the World Cup; the skills,
the supporters, the drama, the inevitable English under achievement.
Football is a drug - I am an addict.
But where do you get your fix when you are away from home and your favourite
television is in a different hemisphere? The CONCEPT alone of World Cup cold
turkey brings me out in a cold sweat. The REALITY would be too much to bear.
Sure, complain about the time difference, but at least recognise the fact that
you can set the alarm clock, drag yourself out of bed in the middle of the
night, and still have the ability to watch the game on your favourite television
from the comfort of your own sofa. A morning game? Perhaps you have a cold
coming on. You're definitely running a temperature. Do they REALLY need you at
work?
Now spare a thought for me. Now spare another one. In fact, spare a large number
of thoughts for me. Thoughts such as; without a home of my own, or a
television, where AM I going to see the matches? Thousands of miles from
home, in a foreign land, and dispossessed of the vital possessions required.
What am I going to do?
Travelling in South East Asia seems good from the comfort of a living room in,
say, Basingstoke, but actually out here by the South China Sea, when the
football is on (somewhere), so is the pressure to find a screen.
I have therefore been working very hard to avail myself of the necessary
facilities, despite the odds that are stacked against me. But just like a heroin
addict who miraculously finds a dealer at the eleventh hour, a football fiend
can sniff out the beautiful game when it's just about to come into full bloom.
I am now relieved to report that
after a lot of stress, anxiety, and tiring detective work in searing heat, I
have managed to track down some venues in which to watch the matches. I find
myself in the small resort of Cherating on the East coast of peninsula Malaysia
but the situation football-wise is far from ideal.
Suspend your belief and prepare your sympathy, and behold the rigours of my
gruelling World Cup schedule:
I rise at approximately 11AM, and venture down from my hillside bungalow to the
dining area of my accommodation base. Over a coffee and an ommelete, I peruse
the morning papers for the analysis of yesterday's matches, and for the previews
of the forthcoming matches to be played later in the day.
Denied the UK papers, I have to make
do with the New Straits Times. This is disconcerting, although I have to concede
that it does have an excellent sports section.
At around 1PM I summon up the courage and fortitude for the long walk to the
beach. The temperature is hot, the humidity high. Please believe me when I tell
you that every one of the ten minutes it takes to complete the walk is a tough
one. The simply named 'Cherating Beach Bar' can't come into view soon enough.
I reach my quarry almost a broken man. The day is already proving arduous. To
relieve the stress, and in a desperate attempt to revive myself, I go for the
first swim of the day. I plunge into the waters of the South China Sea. The
shelf is shallow, the water warm, the sea bed sandy underfoot. I am probably the
only person in the sea. I admit that this must sound good, but perhaps the water
could be a little colder and therefore a bit more refreshing.
I am now revived and cooled. I stroll back the 15 yards to the haven that is the
Cherating Beach Bar.
The bar really is ON the beach and an
excellent sea breeze keeps the temperature cool here in the shade. I order a
pineapple juice which is prepared and freshly squeezed before my eyes. Sat at
the bar I survey the virtually deserted long sweep of white sand and attempt to
relax... But something's not quite right. Something's missing. What is it?
I run through the possibilities. Is it the rain? Is it the traffic? Could
it be the lack of great crowds of people? The neccesity to work perhaps? Hmmm.
Maybe it's the stress that's missing. Something is. Yes, I think perhaps
it's the stress.
But all this worrying about the possible lack of stress is, well, a little bit
stressful. I am forced to drain my pineapple juice glass and go for another
swim....
Upon re-taking my seat at the bar I realize with absolute terror that it is
2.30PM and that I have nearly missed the start of the first match of the
day. Horrified, I immediately order a fresh mango juice as the game
commences. Yes, the Cherating Beach Bar has a television. Yes, all the
games are shown on this television. Yes, I can sit at the bar and watch the
World Cup (with English commentary), and at the same time cast my eye over the
beach and stare out to the sea. And yes, this may sound idyllic. But I would ask
you to cast your minds back and remember what it was like the last time YOU were
watching the World Cup on
a tropical beach:
Soothing under most circumstances, the lapping of the waves on the shore can be
distracting when you are watching the game. Occasionally, a beautiful figure on
the beach causes you to take your eye of the ball. And I really do find that
having to deal with sand between your toes is very irritating when you are
trying to concentrate on Senegal's chances of conjuring up a second half
equaliser against Denmark. Oh, and you CAN actually have TOO much freshly
squeezed tropical fruit juice; even when the barman HAS laced it with vodka at
no extra charge, and for no other reason than he regards you as a regular and
valued customer.
And now the Vodka has left me a
little bit light-headed. Also I am a little bit down-hearted that despite
scoring what I regard as the goal of the tournament so far - World class tackle
in defense, great counter, superb passing, clinical finish -Senegal failed to
find the winner that they so surely deserved.
What to do? You've guessed it. I go for a swim. But now I have another problem.
There is only 25 minutes before the start of the next match. I need to be
disciplined with this swim and I need to keep track of the time. Oh, the
pressure, the pressure!
I manage to make it back to the bar for 5PM - just in time for the match - but
it was a close call. I order another drink and settle back to watch the action
but now the wind has picked up and the breeze is a little too stiff. Stiff
enough in fact to cause the television aerial to wobble slightly, and the
reception to be affected. I motion to the bar-tender who scurries to the aerial
and repositions it. The problem is solved almost immediately but it was a
worrying moment.
If that wasn't bad enough,
approximately midway through the second half somebody orders a pineapple juice!
This might not sound catastrophic for those unfamiliar with the Cherating Beach
Bar, but I can assure you it is. You see, when somebody orders a pineapple
juice, the electric juicer is utilised, and when the electric juicer is utilised,
the television reception is adversely affected. Obviously, it takes only a
moment to juice the pineapple, but that is hardly the point - I almost missed a
Uruguay free kick!
Mercifully, the game finishes without further incident (unless you count Thierry
Henry's sending off and the continuing inability of the French team to find the
opposition net) and I lick my wounds and head away from the Beach Bar vowing
never to return again and
put myself through the mental stress of watching a game there.
I pad down the beach, pausing to watch the sun set and to collect my thoughts.
Just as I feel myself relaxing I remember that more decisions have to be made.
The most crucial one being where I will watch the 7.30PM match. I have only 20
minutes to find a suitable
restaurant which not only provides good food and decent service, but also has a
television set in a good viewing position. I am greatly troubled by the
responsibility of having to make this decision, and the fact that there are
probably 6 or 7 restaurants
that satisfy the above criteria only makes my choice more difficult.
After an uncomfortable period of agonising over choice of venue, I find myself
in the Cherating Inn. After securing a good spot in the restaurant in front of
the
somewhat ageing television, I study the menu and give my order to the waitress.
The prospect of table service with my food and drink delivered to me while
I
watch the football cheers me up a little. Maybe I've just been whingeing about
my stressful situation.
I nod to the waitress to turn the television on. She does as she is bid and
everything looks set.. OH NO OH NO, OH NO! Tonight's match is on TV3 and TV3 is
notorious for having bad reception in this area of Malaysia. Last minute
adjustments are made to the electrical equipment, knobs twiddled, aerials
redirected, as I sit with my head in my hands. As I
have just ordered my meal I am at the point of no return restaurant-wise. Just
as the sands of time appear to be running out a suitable picture is obtained and
I breathe a sigh of relief.
But I feel cheated - the Costa Rican
national anthem is supposed to be a good one, and I've missed it. In the
event, there were no further problems with the television, and I enjoyed a very
nice meal. However, faintly audible conversation kept drifting over from table 6
which proved distracting, and late on in the game a Gecko had the temerity to
run across the screen in pursuit of a plump blue-bottle. I nearly had a cardiac!
After the rigours of the day I need a drink. I meet up with a few like-minded
individuals and go to a place which sells Tuborg beer for $4.50 which we have
cunningly nicknamed the Tuborg $4.50 Place. An evening of cheap beer, pub
sports, football post-mortems, and general good cheer ensues, but I soon get
tired after such an arduous ordeal of a day.
I leave the bar and return to my shaded bungalow in the woods. It has been a
very long day and I am mentally exhausted. I am not sure I can take much more
stress and pressure in my attempt to catch the games. However as I drag
myself to my bed, I know in my heart
of hearts that tomorrow I will do the whole thing again.
So, wherever you are in the world, be grateful you are not in my position. You
might be at work, the games might be on in the middle of the night, and you
might be missing a lot of important games, but at least you are not here. All I
ask is that you think of me here
in this supposed tropical paradise and appreciate the facts of the harsh reality
of my situation.
Anyway, I don't wish to appear bitter, so wherever you are in the world, try to
have a better time than me, and enjoy the World Cup!
Danny 'The Boss' Carey
20 May -
arrived in South East Asia
I flew in to Singapore airport leaving cool New Zealand behind and arriving to
hot humid SE Asia. Spent two days in Singapore trying not to wilt too much
in the heat and the humidity before heading over the border to Malaysia.
Malaysia:
My first destination was the beautiful island of Tioman
just off the east coast of southern peninsula Malaysia.
I rented my own private hut looking on to the beach for about 4 pounds a night
and spent 4 very relaxing days doing very little.
Enjoyed some excellent snorkeling on Coral
Island (which is next to the main island on which I was staying) which has
some reasonable coral and lots and lots of fish. Very good indeed. After that I
did very little except read as I watched the sun set and the waves lap on to the
beach in front of me. Very much back in holiday mode and away from city life.
I am now back on the mainland in the town of Mersing.
I will stay here for one night before traveling up the east coast and finding a
suitable location for my next major project - watching the World Cup!!!!!
03 May - 20 May - last 3 weeks in New Zealand
I concluded my office work in Wellington with ACC on 3 May and took off at great
speed to see the places on the North Island that I had not yet visited.
The main highlights were: climbing Mount
Taranaki - a dormant volcano. There was ice at the top even in May due to
the altitude.
visited White
Island - an ACTIVE marine volcano which is visited by boat from Whakatane
on the east coast - lots of steam and smoke Coromandel
Peninsula - a delightfully laid back part of NZ with beautiful scenery. I
visited such attractions as Waiau
waterworks, Coromandel
narrow-guage railway, and Hotwater
Beach. At Hotwater Beach hot springs in the sand are accessible at low tide.
$4 hires you a shovel which enables one to dig a big pit in the sand which soon
fills up with hot spring water. Once the pit has been dug it is a simple
process of wallowing in the hot water, and then dashing into the sea to cool
off, then dashing back to the hot water, then back to the sea etc etc. A natural
sauna effect is created. Wonderful and invigorating.
Northland - headed to the Kauri forest to see the massive Kauri trees and then eventually to the northern most point of NZ - Cape Rianga - by way of Paihia. I treated myself and hired a car for my last week in NZ.
Upon arriving in Auckland I felt satisfied that I had done justice to New
Zealand.
Now for South East Asia.........
the Boss
Tuesday 16 April 2002:
I am still keeping my nose clean,
keeping a low profile, and trying to save as much as my earnings as possible.
I was wrong in my account of my job description at the ACC. CSO stands for
'Customer Support Officer' not 'customer SERVICE officer'. Incidentally, ACC
stands for Accident Compensation Corporation.
Whatever. My job is basically to reply to correspondence sent in by our
customers (employers and the self-employed are obliged to pay for cover under
the mandatory government scheme) and answer their feeble excuses as to why their
premium is incorrect by writing back to them, answering their queries, and
basically telling them to pay up.
I could go on, but this would be very boring. Instead, you can visit the website
of my employer (should you have any wish to do so) at www.acc.co.nz.
On the social front a common theme recently has been cricket;
I attended the England V New Zealand test match at Wellington (the ground is at
the bottom of my street). Beautiful weather on the weekend could not stop the
match reaching only a draw - disappointing.
For the long easter weekend, I took advantage of a lift from a colleague to go
'up north' to Auckland. I met up with some fellows I'd met the previous weekend
in Wellington and attended the final test match between England and New Zealand.
Sadly the weather was inclement so very little cricket was played. However,
a lads weekend ensued with welcome amounts of beer and curry consumed plus a
smattering of snooker and pool. As for the cricket, even with the days lost for
rain, NZ managed to gain a victory, largely due to a peformance of vintage
ineptitude from the England side.
I am hardly a lucky rabbits foot when it comes to watching cricket. It either
rains, or England lose, or both!
However, on a personal level I have enjoyed something of a cricketing success
recently. I know that stories of my sporting prowess are always well received
from those who take an interest in all things Boss-related, so I thought I would
indulge you with this short report of inter-departmental sporting heroics. The
following article is lifted from the monthly department newsletter/bulletin. I
enclose here the relevant section.
......... BSC: Bridget Skeet, Clelia Opie, Jo Cavanagh, Tracey Moore, Rajiv
Chadha, Nigel Robson, Frederick Williscroft, Dan Carey, Liam Dimmer and Andrew
Joe.
You have to hand it to HR. After taking a pasting in the first game they asked
the BSC for a rematch and the 'challenge' was accepted. BSC had a few changes in
personnel but confidence remained high.
HR won the toss (perhaps they could get a trophy made for that...hee hee) and
elected to bat. After a steady start our bowlers started to fire and a few
timely wickets kept the score down. HR began to pick up the pace and we took the
opportunity to unleash debutante Daniel 'Vettori' Carey. 3 wickets in his first
over confirmed him a player for the future and could quite possibly see him
appointed vice-captain (a position vacated after the previous incumbent
discovered it had nothing to do with porn). Clelia had a rather more
psychological (and dare I say female) approach by stopping mid run-up to ask the
batter from which fashion house her trackpants were purchased. Frederick then
took a merciless sledging from his own team when hurting his hand trying to
catch the soft rubber ball hit by a girl. Ouch. Tight bowling all round and a
few good catches kept the HR score down to 58 which seemed easily within reach
but the light was fading fast.
I will now fast-forward to the report of my (crucial) contribution to the
batting
A quick check of the score showed our total had zoomed up to 42 (hang on a
minute?) which meant Capt AJ and Daniel needed 17 off the last 3 overs. The boys
came through in fine style despite a lost wicket in the final over giving the
dressing room a bit of a scare. Final total 61.
So there you are. Not even in my own words either - An unbiased account in the company newsletter written by somebody who hardly knows me. The legend lives on! Hurrah!! (Incidentlly, the passage that mentions Daniel 'Vettori' Carey is a reference to Daniel Vettori - New Zealand's most popular bowler with whom I share my first name, hence the pun)
Anyway that's it for now. Just 3 or 4 weeks more of work and I will be back on the road travelling.
'till next time,
Ciao for now,
BOSS
18 March 2002 (postcard from the boss:
 |
 |
Introducing the elusive kiwi bird of the night, flightless, virtually blind, pride of NZ - Saw a few on Stewart Island.
Currently working in insurance believe it or not. I am a 'Customer Service Officer,' so not exactly at the same level you are, but not actually too bad for a temping job in a foreign country. This will hopefully last me until the start of May, thus funding my subsequent travels in SE Asia. So at the moment, I am keeping my nose clean, keeping a low profile, and trying to save as much of my earnings as I can.
Ciao for now, Boss.
4 January 2002:
Hello everybody,
I hope you have all recovered
from your hangovers - happy new year!
Some of you may have been trying to e-mail me in the last week or so, and will
have been thwarted due to the fact that my inbox was full to the limit and could
receive no further mail. The reason for this was because I received a very large
e-mail (THREE TIMES!!!)from a certain individual that in one fell swoop
obliterated all my vacant inbox space. My inbox
has now been purged of the offending e-mail (THREE TIMES!!!), and I am once
again open for business.
I felt that naming
and shaming the guilty party would be insensitive and not in the spirit of the
yuletide season, so below I have very cleverly scrambled the name of the
individual so that their identity remains virtually
undetectable........................................Giavonni
Caimpa.
So there you have it. I feel better for venting my anger (such as it is), but
the guilty ex-Aston University Hertfordshire-based English Italian who works in
insurance, runs no risk of receiving jeers, boos, or indeed any other form of
hatemail, due to his identity having been protected.
By the way, Stewart Island
conquered! Did my 11 day walk over the Christmas period with good weather and no
problems, and had a great new year in Halfmoon
Bay on the island - bonfire on beach, dancing in the street (much to my disappointment
they did not play 'Dancing in the street' while we were dancing in the street)
good people, great atmosphere. Now in Queenstown, but tomorrow the Rees-Dart
track: a 5 day circular alpine walk - should be a walk in the park after Stewart
Island.
Bye for now, Dan Carey
December 2001
After the departure of Russell, I was
once again on my own. Completely on my own, because in the middle of November I
was forced to abandon my
car. Yes - 1982 Toyota Corolla RIP!
On needing a new WOF (equivalent of MOT) I was practically laughed out of the
garage. The mechanic actually uttered the immortal words, "they must have
seen you coming". He was sympathetic to the extent that he didn't even
charge me the full price for the test! This was the second opinion I had
obtained so the diagnosis of terminal rust and AWOL brakes was accurate. I was
forced to scrap the car for no return on my investment. However, for $600
(approx 200 pounds sterling) for 5 months use I reckon I got my money's worth.
My form of transport was now the buses or, more usually, my thumb. Hitching is
quite easy in NZ and it is of course free of charge. You also meet some
interesting people.
With November giving way to December as Russell departed from the South Island,
I decided to concentrate for the next month and a half on tramping.
Tramping doesn't mean selling my body down at the docks or doing something
unseemly to a homeless person. It is merely the NZ term for hiking/walking. I
successfully undertook the following tramps:
Queen
Charlotte Track, 3 days in the Nelson
Lakes national park, Stewart
Island North West Circuit, Rees-Dart
track, Wilkin-Young
Circuit, Inland
Pack track, Harman
Pass route - Arthurs Pass national park. To most of you this list will
mean nothing, but I think it looks impressive, don't you? If you remain
unimpressed I should point out that the N/W circuit on
Stewart Island is a ten day walk. I actually took eleven days as on Christmas
day I climbed Mount
Anglem - the highest mountain on the island at 980 metres above sea
level. For those of you wondering, I was not camping on my tramps. I was staying
in mountain huts. No heating, no showers, but mattresses to sleep on and
space to cook up camping food on your portable camping stove.
New Years Eve was spent in the metropolis of Halfmoon
Bay, the one settlement on Stewart Island - population 450. The 1 pub on the
island was packed to the rafters due to the island's population being swollen by
all the holidaymakers. There must have been about 1000 revellers all told.
Bonfire on the beach, dancing on the streets. A good time was had by all around
the camp fire until the wee hours.
On my various walks, I saw lots of wildlife including three kiwis
(the birds not the people) on Stewart Island. Kiwis are not easily seen in the
wild as their numbers are declining so this was very satisfying. Some success
with the birds then.
As a result of all the exercise I am currently as fit as a butcher's dog.
Unfortunately my funds have been decreasing as my fitness has been increasing.
As a result, in order to keep the wolf from the door I once again find myself in
a 'needing to work' situation. To this end, I am once again holed up in Maple
Lodge in Wellington, my office
and I.T skills at the disposal of the noble employers of the nation's capital.
So, employment reality bites once more. Wish me luck in my job hunting. Thus
far, I find my myriad skills and abilities unwanted.
To reiterate the overall plan, I intend to stay in NZ until the end of May when
my visa expires. With the money that I will (hopefully) have earned from this
forthcoming stint of employment I will be free to travel South East Asia for
some months. How many exactly I don't know. Time will tell.
Recent photos coming this way soon. But now I must go, I have the job listings in the evening paper to scan. Till next time, all the best one and all........
November 2001:
After 4 months of back-breaking errr office work, I picked up
Russell (old university friend) from Auckland
Airport on November 4. After a joyous reunion in the arrivals hall we
repaired to the 'City YHA'
in downtown Auckland and put the finishing touches to Russell's meticulously
planned four week travel itinerary of New Zealand. A fantastic time was had,
the highlights of which included:
Rangitoto
Island - on Russells's first full day in NZ we walked up an old volcano just
off the coast of Auckland. A beautiful sunny day. Little did we know that it
would be the hottest sunniest day that Russell would enjoy on virtually the
whole of his trip.
Rotorua - a town that smells of rotten
eggs must be a good thing. The sulphurous odour of the town is due to all the
thermal activity - hot springs, boiling mud
pools etc. Interesting.
Tongariro Crossing - widely
regarded as the most beautiful one-day walk in NZ. This might well indeed be the
case. We couldn't tell you. We could see nothing as it rained incessantly for
most of the day.
Wellington -
Beer and curry (and the occasional bit of culture) in the NZ capital.
Abel Tasman Coastal walk - a three day
walk with amazing beaches in one of the nation's national parks. One glorious
sun-drenched day. Two exceedingly shit rain-drenched days.
Fox
Glacier - we booked a full day 'Heli-hike' on one of the most accessible
glaciers in the world. Cancelled due to the bloody weather. Russell was
beginning to curse his luck.
If you were to compile a soundtrack to our trip then thus far it would have
included songs like; 'Why does it always rain on me?' - Travis, 'Rain' - The
Cult, 'Thunder' - ACDC, 'Gloomy Sunday' - The Associates, 'Raindrops keep
falling on my head' etc etc .... you
get the picture.
However, just as the atmosphere was getting tense in the vehicle and I was
becoming a little sheepish, our luck with the weather changed, almost at the
same time as the direction of our journey changed.
Queenstown - The adrenaline
capital of NZ marked the last stop on our tour before we would start to turn the
corner (so far we had been relentlessly plunging south - we would soon be
turning East and then North). And it actually did not rain! Russell
enjoyed the 148
metre high 'Ben Nevis bungy jump'. We then both jet boated and then white water
rafted - jolly good fun I can tell you.
Catlins coastal area - waterfalls,
caves, abundant wildlife. Very pleasant.
Dunedin - we enjoyed a
brewery tour in NZ's 'scottish city' and a subsequent night on the town that
lasted into the wee hours. Despite my energetic enthusiasm on the dance floor I
was unable to reel in any beauties or tickle any trout. The next day it was a
trip to the
Otago peninsula to enjoy
more wonderful scenery and a whole host of wildlife - seals, sea-lions,
penguins, albatross. Indeed, myself and Russell got chased off
the Sandfly Bay
beach by a very large and aggressive male seal!
Christchurch - We decided to go
for a peaceful kayak down the tranquil River Avon. Somehow we conspired to
capsize the bloody thing and we got soaked.
Kaikoura - Swimming
with the Dolphins. Well for Russell it was. Personally it was more like Vomiting
with the Dolphins. The sea was quite rough and I spent
most of the trip being very ill indeed desperately hoping that the ordeal would
end very soon. It didn't. I spent the next two hours with my head in a
bucket, but from the corner of my eye I could see the beautiful, frolicking,
leaping dolphins clearly enjoying themselves - bastards!
Nelson - back to sunny Nelson for Russell
to catch his flight to Auckland for the last few days of his trip in NZ. An
emotional farewell ensued, with Russell no doubt punching the air with joy from
the confines of the plane at having escaped the clutches of the Boss
once again. Personally, I was now looking forward to some better weather........
More news in the next few days.
The saga continues.....
Wednesday, 24th October 2001
My MOT has almost expired. Took it to
a testing station this morning. Problems have been identified - namely rust,
brakes, no horn! However it does not expire until mid-November so time is on my
side. My challenge is to get it passed in the forthcoming week before Russell
arrives from the UK. Watch this space.....
Yours, The (ever humble) Boss
Tuesday 16th October 2001
I am in Napier
at the moment (on the east coast of NZ.) It suffered a huge earthquake in 1931 (richter
scale 7) which leveled the place, resulting in the subsequent fabulous Art
Deco architecture. Click
here for a virtual tour of Napier, or here
to find out more about the city.
Yesterday I was doing overtime in the office when the building shook with
another quake. It measured 5.8 on the scale, and although my office wobbled, no
damage was caused, and fresh trousers were not required. Still, it WAS a
bit worrying for a few moments!
By the way, Russell Doano due in 4 weeks. Keep sharking,
The Boss
Friday 24th August 2001
Still in Wellington, still stapling
bits of paper, still having a good time. I have settled into a working week
routine with the attempt of saving a reasonable amount of money, but with a few
treats during the week to keep the wolf of tedium from the hostel door:
Monday night is 5-a-side football night. Yes, my devotion to England's greatest
invention and export is still a great one. After the departure of some like
minded travelers to the South Island I have assumed managerial duties of the 'Allstars'
5-a-side football team (once the Boss, always the Boss). It is basically a
hostel team and we play in a local Wellington organised league. It gives me
immense pleasure to report that my first game in charge resulted in victory
(7:3), and therefore in consolidation of our 100% winning record and position at
the top of .errrrr.. division 5.
Wednesday usually is a night when a colleague thrashes me at snooker. We play at
the suitably seedy 'Victory Snooker Saloon' (sadly I doubt if they have a
website to link up with)
Weekend is beer time (dollars permitting) and golf time (weather permitting). My
golf form is arguably worse than my snooker form. eg very bad.
Nightlife includes visits to places such as 'The Grand', the 'Wellington Sports
Cafe', the 'Courteny Arms', and the 'Matterhorn'. Still so far, amazingly, no
ridiculous incidents have resulted from imbibing too much alcohol - but give me
time.
(click
here for Wellington bar reviews)
Managed to fit in some skiing also. Spent a pleasant weekend at Turoa
skifield,
which is skiing on a volcano! Believe it or not, the volcano erupted in 1995
during the ski season, which as you can imagine rather put a dampener on things,
as it were, for the rest of that season, and indeed the next one! In case you
doubt me, ask any Kiwi for confirmation of this story.
But now to exciting work developments:
I am being temporarily transferred to the town of Gisbourne. It could be
anything from 10 days to 6 weeks, and the company will pay for my accommodation
and travel for the duration I am there. Hurrah! Next stop; chairmanship of ICI.
Watch this space.
Anyway there you are, the high-octane world of Danny 'the Boss' Carey.
Ciao for now,
The Boss
PS. car back firing on all cylinders.
Friday 13th July 2001
"After speaking to various travelers,
I decided upon Wellington as my employment base of choice. Within 1 week I had
visited 5 employment agencies and signed up for any available office work. I
gained employment quickly via the TMP agency on a project with the public
property records department. I am a member of the 'scanning team' and I even
have a name badge to prove this!
The best description of the job that I can give is that it is the office
equivalent of fruit picking; ie repetitive, boring, unchallenging mentally. For
eight hours a day I check bits of paper to make sure that they have the correct
stamps on them, and I staple. Yes, that's about it. At least the office vibe is
reasonably relaxed;- radio in the background, casual attire acceptable to work
(as you may imagine that is a real boon as far as I am concerned) etc. Therefore
the job is bearable.
My accommodation is the 'Maple Lodge' hostel. Maple Lodge is a small friendly
establishment with a decent set of 'long-term' residents, and a cozy lounge with
a real fire. It is of course the middle of winter here, so the fire is a real
plus, although here in Wellington the winter is definitely milder than the UK
winter. 100 NZ bucks secures me the room for the week (approx 34 pounds
sterling) so the expenses are quite low, but then of course so are the wages.
The plan is to stay working here in the NZ
capital until the end of October, so that I will have lots of money saved
for when Russell Doano arrives
from York, and we go traveling for the month of November.
The mode of transport in November will hopefully be my 1982 Toyota
Corolla, but at the moment I have a slight mechanical problem. In a
nutshell, my vehicle will start from cold, but when it has had a short run it
will not start. The battery is OK and the starter motor turns over but the
engine does not fire. I then have to wait for the car to cool down before the
car obliges. Any suggestions anybody (serious ones please)?
Due to trying to save money, I have not exactly taken the Wellington
nightlife by storm yet, although I have dipped my toe in the water on the
odd occasion. As a result I have not done anything really stupid yet (unless you
count buying the Toyota Corolla).
More news as and when it happens. Until then, god bless you all, and I hope you
are enjoying the British summer or your time wherever else you may be.
Ciao for now,
Daniel L Carey."
Monday 25 June 2001
"Having failed to get a job with
one of the ski hills I decided that working in a ski resort would be too costly,
so I am now in Wellington - the capital of NZ. I start work tomorrow in an
office job that I fully expect to be extremely dull but that will enable to me
to save some money.
I have also purchased a 1982
Toyota Corolla for $600 which is hopefully a medium
term investment and will be good for traveling around and getting off
the beaten track during the course of my year here in NZ.
I have no tales of drunken escapades
or incidents to report I am afraid as I am in 'serious work mode' now.
Sorry. Cheers, Dan Carey."
Thursday 7 June 2001
"Still no job, and as yet no motor
either! Jobs seem a little scarce in the ski resorts and having failed to get a
job with the ski-hills themselves the season pass is very expensive.
Therefore the plan of action, barring any miraculous job offers, is to head back
up to the North to Auckland where jobs are more plentiful. As for the car
I will hopefully be buying one this evening having arranged to meet these people
I met in Queenstown. I am currently in Dunedin and as long as the car (1982
Toyota Corolla) gets here in one piece I will make a purchase for the princely
sum of $600 (approx 200 quid). I then have to hope it doesn't break down in
double quick time bearing in mind my technical prowess. Finally, I am
delighted that the website has reached the watershed 100 hits mark, but a
question for you: when I send e-mails to my friends how do I include the
link to the website so that they can just click on the address and go direct to
the site from my e-mail? That's it for now. More news as and when. Cheers,
The Boss."
Thursday 31 May 2001
The Boss again frequents such an
establishment, commenting. "I am bowled over by the sheer quality of
the website, particularly the new and improved photo gallery which will surely
bring joy to dedicated followers and fans of 'The Boss'. Once again, your
capacity to unearth the most camp of photos is one I should not underestimate. I
refer of course to the 'latest news'
photo. Surely a classic, but where is it culled from?"
Sunday 27th May 2001
The Boss visits an internet café,
casts an approving eye over his official website, and dispenses some of his own
classical brand of wisdom - "...most impressive I must say. The
'relaxing at home' photograph is very dubious indeed. Thanks a million for
sticking that one up without the explanation of context! I will e-mail you at
least every month with the latest news, and more frequently if there is anything
of great excitement. Cheers, The Boss"
"Having flown in to Auckland, arriving on the Saturday 26 May, I am now on
the South Island, where I am seeking gainful employment in the ski resort town
of Methven where I arrived today. (It serves the ski mountain of
Mount Hutt). So
far I have pounded the
streets but only elicited shakes of the head rather than job offers. As night
begins to fall, I must look forward to another day of polite enquiries and
probable knock backs. The quest continues...... Kindest
of regards, The Boss"
Saturday 26th May 2001
The Boss landed in New Zealand in the early hours (local time.)
Thursday 24th May 2001
Daniel Carey has once again left the country. After a tearful farewell with Molly and Steve, at 22.15 on Thursday 24th May he took off to embark on an adventure across New Zealand and South-East Asia. He may not return for two years.
