Some of you may know that we had our house on show last weekend, with a view to selling it a bit quicker than the estate agents are prone to do normally. The guy who came around to house-sit does not work for the estate agents on a full-time basis, but does it to substitute his miserable salary he gets as a teacher in SA (the good ones really are paid crap).
"K" is a nice guy, stuck somewhere around the late 70's, a wannabe hippy I think. Nice guy though, very much into teaching and things childlike, so much so that when an Indian couple came to look at the place he spent more time cooing at their youngster than trying to sell the fuckin' house, I think. But anyway...I don't think he's a paedophile, so he's okay.
When K was leaving on Sunday we were having a chat, standing in the driveway, and somehow we got onto the state of affairs in the country. I mentioned, jokingly, that the Deputy Minister for Safety and Security (see previous posting), or DMSS as I will call her, was my "new hero". I thought K was going to throw his newspaper at me. "Nooooo", he says, "that scares the shit out of me".
He gave a couple of reasons for his fear of the situation and afterward, once he'd left, I got to thinking about them in more depth.
On the one hand, I agree with his fears, in that it might open up a whole new kind of war in SA, where more illegal guns find their way onto our streets, arming the already-armed-to-the-teeth thieves and assaulters, making it more dangerous for peace-loving folks to survive in an already stressful socio-political climate. K seems to think that the body count of innocent bystanders will rise and I can't disagree with that fear either.
Personally, I think the DMSS was subliminally telling the police forces that they need to catch a wake-up call, that they are failing in their jobs to protect the innocent and are in a job that demands that one day, they may need to make the ultimate sacrifice with their lives.
At the moment, our police are mostly fat, lazy, stupid, ignorant of the law and human rights, slobs who would find it harder to run around the block than an Italian pizza parlour owner who eats most of his profits. The police force conscripts see the job as easy (fuck knows, every time you see a gathering of cops next to the highway, on the pretence of "policing", they are all standing around joking and laughing, usually in squads of between four and twelve at a time), with the opportunity to perhaps make a buck on the side (corruption is rife in the police force), work some overtime chatting up the chicks at a public event, be seen to be driving a souped-up BMW while on patrol, and generally just acting like they own the fuckin' world, like everything's a big fuckin' joke.
Just as an aside to prove my point...the very moment we arrived back in Shit Towne from our holiday in Hermanus, we witnessed a classic police brutality event. We were just turning off the highway when, in the fast lane, an unmarked black BMW X5 was driving up the backside of an old Volvo that was obviously waiting for a gap to move back into the middle lane. The X5 was flashing headlights and hooting, so close to the Volvo that you couldn't squeeze a credit card between them. The Volvo managed, 200m later, to move across and the X5 drove alongside, whereupon the passenger leans out of the window, R5 assault rifle in his hands pointing at the hapless Volvo driver, and uses the rifle to slap the side mirror off the Volvo. They then sped off, laughing at the event. I was gob-smacked to such an extent that I took down the registration number of the X5 and called it in to the police hot line as soon as I got home, gave them all the details and generally expressed my disgust at what had happened. Needless to say...I haven't heard anything more about the incident (like I really expected to...not!!!)
No, I don't hate the police. I admire some of them for their conviction of wanting to protect the public from all sorts of bad shit. The rest of them that are there for their "gravy train" handouts though, I despise. They are a waste of my hard-earned tax money and must be rooted out at the earliest opportunity and punished for the crimes they are/have committed while in uniform.
I also, however, think there needs to be some form of scrutinising the cadets before they go into police school, better than (if there is one) the current way in which it is done. Sadly, some of the best cops this country has had, have ended up dying for being so good at their jobs, gunned down (assassinated) by the very criminals I'm talking about, because they've gotten too close to the perpetrators.
Anyway, back to the subject...
I also think the DMSS' statment is a warning to criminals, actual and wannabe, that they can/should expect to be on the end of more violent reaction to their deeds, something that is sadly lacking currently. I say fight fire with fire, and if it means a shoot-out, so be it. The KwaZulu Natal road traffic police have a "zero tolerance" for people committing traffic offences and this policy should be taken nationwide at a SA Police Services level. If we can't have the death penalty brought back (apparently Mr Mandela stated that it would not happen in his lifetime) then we need a zero tolerance policy to be shown toward violent criminal acts. It's about time some of the criminals and perpetrators of violent crime started dying, instead of innocent bystanders and peace-loving people who want to spend time with their families in the deserved safety of their homes.
There certainly is a trend towards criminals being "ratted on" by members of their own communities, but it is not happening to the extent I believe it should. There is still a tendency toward "ignorance is bliss" and not wanting to get involved in situations, but unless we all get involved to whatever extent it takes, we will continue to have more of the same old shit and the criminals will continue to roam the streets unchallenged and not paying their dues back to society.
Sadly, to some extent, there is also a criminal mentality prevailing in the country...let me explain. I mentioned corruption earlier. On too many occasions have we all heard (and some of us experienced, myself included) of bribes being paid to cops in order to not have to pay a fine, or worse (like get arrested for drunken driving - not me). On too many occasions have we heard of people perpetrating crimes (though they are jokingly seen as petty, they still adversely affect some poor bastard) and tell people about them after a few drinks, like it's a big joke. On too many occasions have we.....you get the picture, I think.
The point is that, if whatever one does is unlawful, it is a crime and we as a society need to move away from that way of doing and seeing things. Live life honestly, and it will benefit the entire population and not just a select few. Karma is a funny thing...one day it WILL come back and bite you in the arse, and you better not complain when it does.
Let the criminals and perpetrators of crime beware, I say...eventually you will get bust and I hope you come off second best.
This "posting" has turned into more of a "ranting" so I'm going to stop here...
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Let Loose the Dogs of War...
April 10 2008 at 06:52AM
Police have been given the licence to kill by a deputy minister.
"You must kill the bastards if they threaten you or the community. You must not worry about the regulations. That is my responsibility. Your responsibility is to serve and protect," were the fiery words of Deputy Safety and Security Minister Susan Shabangu at an anti-crime imbizo in Pretoria West on Wednesday.
Shabangu, who received a standing ovation, was responding to questions on what police and the government were doing to curb crime.
Residents of Danville, Pretoria West, Lotus Gardens, Hercules and Elandspoort complained about the "pathetic excuses" given by police allegedly unable or unwilling to deal with crime.
"I want to assure the police station commissioners and policemen and women from these areas that they have permission to kill these criminals.
"I won't tolerate any pathetic excuses for you not being able to deal with crime. You have been given guns, now use them.
"I want no warning shots. You have one shot and it must be a kill shot. If you miss, the criminals will go for the kill. They don't miss. We can't take this chance.
"Criminals are hell-bent on undermining the law and they must now be dealt with. If criminals dare to threaten the police or the livelihood or lives of innocent men, women and children, they must be killed. End of story. There are to be no negotiations with criminals.
"The constitution says criminals must be kept safe, but I say No!
"I say we must protect the law-abiding people and not the criminals. I say that criminals must be made to pay for their crimes," she said.
Lashing out at corrupt and incompetent police officials, Shabangu said the community had a voice and should use it, especially when it came to crime.
"If you feel you're not being listened to or your rights are being infringed, stand up and make your voice heard.
"A policeman has to help you. He has taken an oath to serve and protect and can't decide who and when he wants to serve and protect.
"You must not accept excuses from police who say they can't help you because the crime didn't happen in their precinct. They have no choice. This is not an issue open for debate," she said to Loraine de Vries, who claimed a Pretoria West inspector had refused to help her because she lived in another suburb.
Responding to questions on police either responding late or not at all to emergencies, Shabangu said if a person wasn't happy with the response, they should take it up with the station commissioner.
"You have a right to know why police respond late or not at all. It's your life on the line. That's another thing that's not up for debate. Police have to respond, whether they like it or not."
Appealing to communities for help in the fight against crime, Shabangu welcomed the questions.
"The only way we have a true picture of what's happening is through imbizos like this. We need more interaction if we're to win the war on crime.
"We need communities to get involved with us in order to restore law and order and in order for our country to have a future. If we don't, our children won't have a future.
"We need to take back our homes, our streets, our cities and our country and the only way we can do it is with the help of the people.
"You are our answer in the fight against crime," she said.
Police have been given the licence to kill by a deputy minister.
"You must kill the bastards if they threaten you or the community. You must not worry about the regulations. That is my responsibility. Your responsibility is to serve and protect," were the fiery words of Deputy Safety and Security Minister Susan Shabangu at an anti-crime imbizo in Pretoria West on Wednesday.
Shabangu, who received a standing ovation, was responding to questions on what police and the government were doing to curb crime.
Residents of Danville, Pretoria West, Lotus Gardens, Hercules and Elandspoort complained about the "pathetic excuses" given by police allegedly unable or unwilling to deal with crime.
"I want to assure the police station commissioners and policemen and women from these areas that they have permission to kill these criminals.
"I won't tolerate any pathetic excuses for you not being able to deal with crime. You have been given guns, now use them.
"I want no warning shots. You have one shot and it must be a kill shot. If you miss, the criminals will go for the kill. They don't miss. We can't take this chance.
"Criminals are hell-bent on undermining the law and they must now be dealt with. If criminals dare to threaten the police or the livelihood or lives of innocent men, women and children, they must be killed. End of story. There are to be no negotiations with criminals.
"The constitution says criminals must be kept safe, but I say No!
"I say we must protect the law-abiding people and not the criminals. I say that criminals must be made to pay for their crimes," she said.
Lashing out at corrupt and incompetent police officials, Shabangu said the community had a voice and should use it, especially when it came to crime.
"If you feel you're not being listened to or your rights are being infringed, stand up and make your voice heard.
"A policeman has to help you. He has taken an oath to serve and protect and can't decide who and when he wants to serve and protect.
"You must not accept excuses from police who say they can't help you because the crime didn't happen in their precinct. They have no choice. This is not an issue open for debate," she said to Loraine de Vries, who claimed a Pretoria West inspector had refused to help her because she lived in another suburb.
Responding to questions on police either responding late or not at all to emergencies, Shabangu said if a person wasn't happy with the response, they should take it up with the station commissioner.
"You have a right to know why police respond late or not at all. It's your life on the line. That's another thing that's not up for debate. Police have to respond, whether they like it or not."
Appealing to communities for help in the fight against crime, Shabangu welcomed the questions.
"The only way we have a true picture of what's happening is through imbizos like this. We need more interaction if we're to win the war on crime.
"We need communities to get involved with us in order to restore law and order and in order for our country to have a future. If we don't, our children won't have a future.
"We need to take back our homes, our streets, our cities and our country and the only way we can do it is with the help of the people.
"You are our answer in the fight against crime," she said.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Two Irish Hunters....brilliant...
Two Irish hunters got a pilot to fly them to Canada to hunt moose.
They managed to bag 6.
As they were loading the plane to return, the pilot said the plane could take only 4 moose.
The two lads objected strongly. "Last year we shot six. The pilot let us take them all and he had the same plane as yours."
Reluctantly, the pilot gave in and all six were loaded.
However, even on full power, the little plane couldn't handle the load and went down.
Somehow, surrounded by the moose bodies, Paddy and Mick survived the crash.
After climbing out of the wreckage, Paddy asked Mick, "Any idea where we are?"
Mick replied, "I think we're pretty close to where we crashed last year."
They managed to bag 6.
As they were loading the plane to return, the pilot said the plane could take only 4 moose.
The two lads objected strongly. "Last year we shot six. The pilot let us take them all and he had the same plane as yours."
Reluctantly, the pilot gave in and all six were loaded.
However, even on full power, the little plane couldn't handle the load and went down.
Somehow, surrounded by the moose bodies, Paddy and Mick survived the crash.
After climbing out of the wreckage, Paddy asked Mick, "Any idea where we are?"
Mick replied, "I think we're pretty close to where we crashed last year."
Monday, April 07, 2008
10 signs you might be a Taliban..
10. You refine heroin for a living, but you have a moral objection to beer.
9. You own a $300 machine gun and a $5,000 rocket launcher, but you can't afford shoes.
8. You have more wives than teeth.
7. You think vests come in two styles: bullet-proof and suicide.
6. You can't think of anyone you haven't declared Jihad against.
5. You consider television dangerous, but routinely carry ammunition in your robe.
4. You've never been asked, "Does this burka make my ass look big?"
3. You were amazed to discover that cell phones have uses other than setting off roadside bombs.
2. A common compliment is, "I love what you've done with your cave."
And, the Number 1 sign you might be a member of the Taliban:
1. You wipe your ass with your bare hand, but consider bacon unclean...
Go figure...
9. You own a $300 machine gun and a $5,000 rocket launcher, but you can't afford shoes.
8. You have more wives than teeth.
7. You think vests come in two styles: bullet-proof and suicide.
6. You can't think of anyone you haven't declared Jihad against.
5. You consider television dangerous, but routinely carry ammunition in your robe.
4. You've never been asked, "Does this burka make my ass look big?"
3. You were amazed to discover that cell phones have uses other than setting off roadside bombs.
2. A common compliment is, "I love what you've done with your cave."
And, the Number 1 sign you might be a member of the Taliban:
1. You wipe your ass with your bare hand, but consider bacon unclean...
Go figure...
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
A brief update as to what's happening...
in my life at the moment...
We are as busy as all hell at the moment, both on the work and personal fronts.
On the work front...
I'm still battling to get back into the swing of Shit Towne and its surrounding stresses, but that's what going to Saudi Dryland does for me. Over there, you have a relaxing flight over, a couple of hours in a reasonable hotel to catch up on some sleep (all at Emirates' expense), a free meal thrown in to boot, some time in Dubai Duty Free (not worth buying anything on the way into Dryland cos the authorities are really strict about things coming in and will confiscate anything remotely suspicious) and then another relaxing flight into Riyadh.
The work environment with the client is quite relaxed too, unlike Shit Towne where it's cut-throat and everything has to be done last year, never mind last week. We had a few meetings, got the client to take on most of the preparation work for the DR test coming up in May (yes, I'll be going back again, but this should be THE last time), had a presentation to some of the team and flew out again.
I had a few hours in Dubai Duty Free to buy a couple of things (a 1L bottle of Laphroaig 10yr old single malt - my favourite, and at less than a 750ml bottle at home, and a 1L bottle of Bombay Gin - quite nice for gin). Other than that, I used the wireless network there (for free too, something other airports have to learn from) and sat on my email and Facebook for a while, then had an early flight out back to Shit Towne at 04h30.
Back in Joburg just fter 10h30, and home just after 11h00. I passed out on the couch, knackered, and woke up three hours later, slightly refreshed. Needless to say, as it was the start of the Easter weekend, I didn't power up my laptop to check if anyone needed to get hold of me. Fuckit, I thought, I bend over backwards for this company sometime and I wanted some small payback. Only on Tuesday, after the long weekend, did I put some fire under the laptop and check my email.
More than that, I'm still busy on the project in Pretoria and things are progressing slowly, mostly due to issues on the client side but also that the corporation has to get its pricing structure and transparency to the client sorted out. The bastards at the top of the corporation sold the client something that doesn't satisfy their needs and now expect me to stand, cap in hand, and beg for forgiveness. Well guess what, I don't work that way. I'm honest with my clients and if they want to fuck around with that sort of shit, guess what, they're on their own and I've told them as much.
On the personal front...
We grafted our backsides off this last weekend, trying to finish off little bits and pieces around the house for the show session on Sunday. We worked from 4pm until midnight on Friday and again form 8am to 1am on Saturday. Both of us were absolutely knackered on Sunday but I was up at 7am again loading some rubble (from the recent paving we had done) to drive it to the dump. Doing other bits and pieces, tidying up and so on, we were supposed to have the keys ready for the agent at 1pm. I only got into the shower at 1h15 and Steph about 20mins later. Luckily no potential buyers showed up during that time.
We handed the keys to the agent and headed off to Zoo Lake to have a braai with friends. On the way out of the driveway, I remarked to Stpeh that it would rain before 3pm...and how right I was. We got to the lake just after 2pm, three dogs on leashes and took a walk around the lake, when it started pissing down just after 2h30, just after G started the fire. We hadn't had a chance to prepare anything so we were relying on our friends for sustenance. Luckily, G had 4 beers of which he gave me 2, and they'd brought enough pork rashers and chicken breasts for all of us to enjoy. Now we owe them a meal at the house before we leave for Hermanus.
And speaking of which, Steph is in Cape Town from today until Friday evening, to take handover from a colleague who has resigned and from whom Steph will be taking over (for a while at least) on 1st May. Steph has finally reasoned that the move has to be done in stages and getting there is the first step. Me, on the other hand, have not yet heard from my damager, though I have a meeting with him at 5pm this afternoon for a tet-a-tet (face to face, for all you illiterates) to discuss what's going on (or not going on, as the case may be).
As I mentioned, we had the house on show this past Sunday and, though we haven't yet received an offer, it looks promising. There was a couple from Manchester who came through the house, had a long look around, liked what they saw, even sat outside under the lapa for a while, and said they think we have a lovely house which they really liked. The bloke apparently even pointed to the verandah and said "there's my new office", so it looks promising and we're hoping we get an offer soon. They were flying back to Manchester on Sunday evening, so if anything, it'll be a couple of days before we hear from them through the estate agent.
Wednesday night is Action Drinking night again with Fishman and the guys, so no doubt the rest of the week will be a blur. I think I'll get some sleep tonight to make up for what I'm going to lose over the next couple of days...
Take care...y'all...
We are as busy as all hell at the moment, both on the work and personal fronts.
On the work front...
I'm still battling to get back into the swing of Shit Towne and its surrounding stresses, but that's what going to Saudi Dryland does for me. Over there, you have a relaxing flight over, a couple of hours in a reasonable hotel to catch up on some sleep (all at Emirates' expense), a free meal thrown in to boot, some time in Dubai Duty Free (not worth buying anything on the way into Dryland cos the authorities are really strict about things coming in and will confiscate anything remotely suspicious) and then another relaxing flight into Riyadh.
The work environment with the client is quite relaxed too, unlike Shit Towne where it's cut-throat and everything has to be done last year, never mind last week. We had a few meetings, got the client to take on most of the preparation work for the DR test coming up in May (yes, I'll be going back again, but this should be THE last time), had a presentation to some of the team and flew out again.
I had a few hours in Dubai Duty Free to buy a couple of things (a 1L bottle of Laphroaig 10yr old single malt - my favourite, and at less than a 750ml bottle at home, and a 1L bottle of Bombay Gin - quite nice for gin). Other than that, I used the wireless network there (for free too, something other airports have to learn from) and sat on my email and Facebook for a while, then had an early flight out back to Shit Towne at 04h30.
Back in Joburg just fter 10h30, and home just after 11h00. I passed out on the couch, knackered, and woke up three hours later, slightly refreshed. Needless to say, as it was the start of the Easter weekend, I didn't power up my laptop to check if anyone needed to get hold of me. Fuckit, I thought, I bend over backwards for this company sometime and I wanted some small payback. Only on Tuesday, after the long weekend, did I put some fire under the laptop and check my email.
More than that, I'm still busy on the project in Pretoria and things are progressing slowly, mostly due to issues on the client side but also that the corporation has to get its pricing structure and transparency to the client sorted out. The bastards at the top of the corporation sold the client something that doesn't satisfy their needs and now expect me to stand, cap in hand, and beg for forgiveness. Well guess what, I don't work that way. I'm honest with my clients and if they want to fuck around with that sort of shit, guess what, they're on their own and I've told them as much.
On the personal front...
We grafted our backsides off this last weekend, trying to finish off little bits and pieces around the house for the show session on Sunday. We worked from 4pm until midnight on Friday and again form 8am to 1am on Saturday. Both of us were absolutely knackered on Sunday but I was up at 7am again loading some rubble (from the recent paving we had done) to drive it to the dump. Doing other bits and pieces, tidying up and so on, we were supposed to have the keys ready for the agent at 1pm. I only got into the shower at 1h15 and Steph about 20mins later. Luckily no potential buyers showed up during that time.
We handed the keys to the agent and headed off to Zoo Lake to have a braai with friends. On the way out of the driveway, I remarked to Stpeh that it would rain before 3pm...and how right I was. We got to the lake just after 2pm, three dogs on leashes and took a walk around the lake, when it started pissing down just after 2h30, just after G started the fire. We hadn't had a chance to prepare anything so we were relying on our friends for sustenance. Luckily, G had 4 beers of which he gave me 2, and they'd brought enough pork rashers and chicken breasts for all of us to enjoy. Now we owe them a meal at the house before we leave for Hermanus.
And speaking of which, Steph is in Cape Town from today until Friday evening, to take handover from a colleague who has resigned and from whom Steph will be taking over (for a while at least) on 1st May. Steph has finally reasoned that the move has to be done in stages and getting there is the first step. Me, on the other hand, have not yet heard from my damager, though I have a meeting with him at 5pm this afternoon for a tet-a-tet (face to face, for all you illiterates) to discuss what's going on (or not going on, as the case may be).
As I mentioned, we had the house on show this past Sunday and, though we haven't yet received an offer, it looks promising. There was a couple from Manchester who came through the house, had a long look around, liked what they saw, even sat outside under the lapa for a while, and said they think we have a lovely house which they really liked. The bloke apparently even pointed to the verandah and said "there's my new office", so it looks promising and we're hoping we get an offer soon. They were flying back to Manchester on Sunday evening, so if anything, it'll be a couple of days before we hear from them through the estate agent.
Wednesday night is Action Drinking night again with Fishman and the guys, so no doubt the rest of the week will be a blur. I think I'll get some sleep tonight to make up for what I'm going to lose over the next couple of days...
Take care...y'all...
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Fishman...
yes, I'm still alive.
Stressed to all fuck, but alive nonetheless...
I need a drink someone......soon!!!
Stressed to all fuck, but alive nonetheless...
I need a drink someone......soon!!!
Saturday, March 15, 2008
GENOCIDE BEING COMMITTED AGAINST SOUTH AFRICAN WHITES
This mail below is in circulation in the UK and Australia and who knows where else…
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Subject: GENOCIDE BEING COMMITTED AGAINST SOUTH AFRICAN WHITES
Every day hundreds of mails are sent around the world, asking for help to save some animal species.
Is it not very strange how the whole world is ignoring the apparent Genocide being committed against the white people in South Africa?
This slaughter of whites by blacks is being portrayed in the media as - "merely crime related".
If the motive of the crime is theft, why is it necessary to take the life of the person that has already handed over their cell-phone or wallet?
If the motive for the crime is hijacking, why take the woman with them, gang-rape her and then slit her throat?
If the motive for house-breaking is petty theft, why throw boiling water over the farmers before killing them, - after forcing them to watch their wives being gang-raped and tortured in front of them?
Were the mass murders in Bosnia "merely crime related"?
Were the mass murders of Jews in Germany during WWII "merely crime related"?
Are the daily murders of various tribe members in Kenya "merely crime related"?
WHY IS THE HUGE NUMBER OF MURDERS BEING COMMITTED AGAINST SOUTH AFRICAN WHITES LABELLED - "CRIME RELATED"?
BUT... Why is it that the police can spend hundreds of thousands of Rands, and thousands of man-hours hunting down the one white that opened fire upon blacks in Skielik, whilst they cannot find any murderers of innocent, white children, women and men?
In any other countries a mass extermination of any tribe on such a scale would be considered Genocide, a crime against humanity, and an international outcry would follow.
Hundreds of peace keeper would be sent to South Africa.
The United Nations would hold a special sitting.
Headlines in the mass media would be screaming blue murder.
The television channels would be filled with scenes of the dead bodies, and their grieving families.
Yet in South Africa , the murder of the white tribe by the blacks is reduced to a statistic and labelled "crime".
The state sponsored media hardly spares their murders a few lines.
The police refuse to release statistics on the extent of the murders.
What must we do to focus the world's attention on this GENOCIDE---disguised as crime?
If you're a concerned citizen, whether in South Africa or internationally, you are morally bound to act---NOW!!
Get letters published in your local media highlighting the plight of the white tribe in South Africa.
Ask why the ANC led South African Government is suppressing crime figures.
Ask why the murders of white citizens in South Africa are not being solved.
If, as the media are quick to proclaim "WHITES CONDUCTING A RACIST CAMPAIGN AGAINST BLACKS" why do you not hear hundreds of reports of whites killing blacks for their cell-phones?
Why are the whites not killing blacks for their cars?
Why are the whites not breaking into the upper class black neighbourhoods, raping and murdering the women, before making of with their TV sets?
This GENOCIDE must be brought to the attention of the world media before it is too late. Before all the Whites have been erased from the face of South Africa.
STOP 2010 WORLDCUP IF THE SA GOVERMENT DOESN'T ACT NOW!
Do your bit to help the White citizens of South Africa NOW!!
Send this mail to everyone you know throughout the world!!
Alert the world to the mass extermination taking place right in front of their eyes.
Alert all white tourists that are considering a visit to South Africa of the perils they will face.
Criticise the international mass media for their failure to report on the daily occurrence of murder and rape.
PLEASE HELP!!!! PLEASE HELP!!!! PLEASE HELP!!!!
Save the white citizens of South Africa NOW!!
Definition:
Quote: Genocide' was coined by a jurist named Raphael Lemkin in 1944 by combining the Greek word 'genos' (race) with the Latin word 'cide' (killing). Genocide as defined by the United Nations in 1948 means any of the following acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnic, racial or religious group, including: (a) killing members of the group (b) causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group (c) deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part (d) imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group (e) forcibly transferring children of the group to another group.
..any of the following acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group, as such:
(a) Killing members of the group;
(b) Causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group;
(c) Deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part;
(d) Imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group;
(e) Forcibly transferring children of the group to another group.
– Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, Article II
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ps...these are not my words, rather those that are in the email. Granted, I agree with some of them, but they were obviously written by someone who has been more seriously affected by the situation than we have been to date. I just hope I never get to a point where I feel the need to write hate email such as this.
========================================
Subject: GENOCIDE BEING COMMITTED AGAINST SOUTH AFRICAN WHITES
Every day hundreds of mails are sent around the world, asking for help to save some animal species.
Is it not very strange how the whole world is ignoring the apparent Genocide being committed against the white people in South Africa?
This slaughter of whites by blacks is being portrayed in the media as - "merely crime related".
If the motive of the crime is theft, why is it necessary to take the life of the person that has already handed over their cell-phone or wallet?
If the motive for the crime is hijacking, why take the woman with them, gang-rape her and then slit her throat?
If the motive for house-breaking is petty theft, why throw boiling water over the farmers before killing them, - after forcing them to watch their wives being gang-raped and tortured in front of them?
Were the mass murders in Bosnia "merely crime related"?
Were the mass murders of Jews in Germany during WWII "merely crime related"?
Are the daily murders of various tribe members in Kenya "merely crime related"?
WHY IS THE HUGE NUMBER OF MURDERS BEING COMMITTED AGAINST SOUTH AFRICAN WHITES LABELLED - "CRIME RELATED"?
BUT... Why is it that the police can spend hundreds of thousands of Rands, and thousands of man-hours hunting down the one white that opened fire upon blacks in Skielik, whilst they cannot find any murderers of innocent, white children, women and men?
In any other countries a mass extermination of any tribe on such a scale would be considered Genocide, a crime against humanity, and an international outcry would follow.
Hundreds of peace keeper would be sent to South Africa.
The United Nations would hold a special sitting.
Headlines in the mass media would be screaming blue murder.
The television channels would be filled with scenes of the dead bodies, and their grieving families.
Yet in South Africa , the murder of the white tribe by the blacks is reduced to a statistic and labelled "crime".
The state sponsored media hardly spares their murders a few lines.
The police refuse to release statistics on the extent of the murders.
What must we do to focus the world's attention on this GENOCIDE---disguised as crime?
If you're a concerned citizen, whether in South Africa or internationally, you are morally bound to act---NOW!!
Get letters published in your local media highlighting the plight of the white tribe in South Africa.
Ask why the ANC led South African Government is suppressing crime figures.
Ask why the murders of white citizens in South Africa are not being solved.
If, as the media are quick to proclaim "WHITES CONDUCTING A RACIST CAMPAIGN AGAINST BLACKS" why do you not hear hundreds of reports of whites killing blacks for their cell-phones?
Why are the whites not killing blacks for their cars?
Why are the whites not breaking into the upper class black neighbourhoods, raping and murdering the women, before making of with their TV sets?
This GENOCIDE must be brought to the attention of the world media before it is too late. Before all the Whites have been erased from the face of South Africa.
STOP 2010 WORLDCUP IF THE SA GOVERMENT DOESN'T ACT NOW!
Do your bit to help the White citizens of South Africa NOW!!
Send this mail to everyone you know throughout the world!!
Alert the world to the mass extermination taking place right in front of their eyes.
Alert all white tourists that are considering a visit to South Africa of the perils they will face.
Criticise the international mass media for their failure to report on the daily occurrence of murder and rape.
PLEASE HELP!!!! PLEASE HELP!!!! PLEASE HELP!!!!
Save the white citizens of South Africa NOW!!
Definition:
Quote: Genocide' was coined by a jurist named Raphael Lemkin in 1944 by combining the Greek word 'genos' (race) with the Latin word 'cide' (killing). Genocide as defined by the United Nations in 1948 means any of the following acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnic, racial or religious group, including: (a) killing members of the group (b) causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group (c) deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part (d) imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group (e) forcibly transferring children of the group to another group.
..any of the following acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group, as such:
(a) Killing members of the group;
(b) Causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group;
(c) Deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part;
(d) Imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group;
(e) Forcibly transferring children of the group to another group.
– Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, Article II
========================================
ps...these are not my words, rather those that are in the email. Granted, I agree with some of them, but they were obviously written by someone who has been more seriously affected by the situation than we have been to date. I just hope I never get to a point where I feel the need to write hate email such as this.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Ok, so I know I haven't posted anything about...
our holiday in Hermanus, the sleepy town where we should be emigrating to. In all honesty, I've been incredibly busy both on the work and homefronts. The job is quite intense at the moment (on top of which I'm flying to Saudi Dryland again tomorrow night for a week) and we're readying the house to have it on show sometime soon.
SO...in lieu of the narrative about Hermanus, I thought I'd post some photos and you can see what a kak time we had... :-)
The home we're buying in Hermanus
Dolphins on the Booze Cruise
Sunset on the Booze Cruise
Anyone lost a garden gnome? We found them all...
Hex River Valley on the way home
Too much tar can kill you
Struisbaai Fishing Harbour(1)
Struisbaai Fishing Harbour(2)
Dolphins on the Booze Cruise
Dolphins so near to touch
Thar she blows...
A bakkie, a cottage and a mountain...
This far from the beach
The beach
Stuck in the middle
Cape Agulhas Lighthouse
Hermanus Cliffs one way
Hermanus Cliffs the other way
The Olde Harboure
The New Harbour - booze cruise boat anchored in the background
A big rock in the back garden
SO...in lieu of the narrative about Hermanus, I thought I'd post some photos and you can see what a kak time we had... :-)
The home we're buying in Hermanus
Dolphins on the Booze Cruise
Sunset on the Booze Cruise
Anyone lost a garden gnome? We found them all...
Hex River Valley on the way home
Too much tar can kill you
Struisbaai Fishing Harbour(1)
Struisbaai Fishing Harbour(2)
Dolphins on the Booze Cruise
Dolphins so near to touch
Thar she blows...
A bakkie, a cottage and a mountain...
This far from the beach
The beach
Stuck in the middle
Cape Agulhas Lighthouse
Hermanus Cliffs one way
Hermanus Cliffs the other way
The Olde Harboure
The New Harbour - booze cruise boat anchored in the background
A big rock in the back garden
Thursday, March 06, 2008
GROUND-BREAKING SCIENTIFIC DISCOVERY IN SOUTH AFRICA!!!!
Research in South Africa has led to the discovery of the heaviest element yet known to science.
The new element, Governmentium (Gv), has one neutron, 25 assistant neutrons, 88 deputy neutrons, and 198 assistant deputy neutrons, giving it an atomic mass of 312.
These 312 particles are held together by forces called morons, which are surrounded by vast quantities of lepton-like particles called peons. Since Governmentium has no electrons, it is inert; however, it can be detected, because it impedes every reaction with which it comes into contact.
A minute amount of Governmentium can cause a reaction that would normally take less than a second to take from four days to four years to complete. Governmentium has a normal half-life of 5 years; It does not decay, but instead undergoes a reorganization in which a portion of the assistant neutrons and deputy neutrons exchange places. In fact, Governmentium's mass will actually increase over time, since each reorganization will cause more morons to become neutrons, forming isodopes.
This characteristic of moron promotion leads some scientists to believe that Governmentium is formed whenever morons reach a critical level of concentration. This hypothetical quantity is referred to as critical morass.
When catalyzed with money, Governmentium becomes Administratium, an element that radiates just as much energy as Governmentium since it has half as many peons but twice as many morons.
The new element, Governmentium (Gv), has one neutron, 25 assistant neutrons, 88 deputy neutrons, and 198 assistant deputy neutrons, giving it an atomic mass of 312.
These 312 particles are held together by forces called morons, which are surrounded by vast quantities of lepton-like particles called peons. Since Governmentium has no electrons, it is inert; however, it can be detected, because it impedes every reaction with which it comes into contact.
A minute amount of Governmentium can cause a reaction that would normally take less than a second to take from four days to four years to complete. Governmentium has a normal half-life of 5 years; It does not decay, but instead undergoes a reorganization in which a portion of the assistant neutrons and deputy neutrons exchange places. In fact, Governmentium's mass will actually increase over time, since each reorganization will cause more morons to become neutrons, forming isodopes.
This characteristic of moron promotion leads some scientists to believe that Governmentium is formed whenever morons reach a critical level of concentration. This hypothetical quantity is referred to as critical morass.
When catalyzed with money, Governmentium becomes Administratium, an element that radiates just as much energy as Governmentium since it has half as many peons but twice as many morons.
Friday, February 29, 2008
At Last, the predicament is getting to the outside world...
and hopefully a lot more articles of this type will be broadcast to the leaders of the world, both political and sporting.
read this article by a Scottish jounalist, living in Shit Towne...
http://www.sundayherald.com/misc/print.php?artid=2032947
read this article by a Scottish jounalist, living in Shit Towne...
http://www.sundayherald.com/misc/print.php?artid=2032947
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Creed of the white kid in S.A.
We are sorry that our ancestors were intelligent, advanced and daring enough to explore the wild oceans to discover new countries and to conquer and develop these.
We are sorry that those who came before us took you out of the bush and taught you that there was more to life than beating drums and chasing animals with sticks and stones.
We are sorry that they planned, funded and developed roads, towns, mines, factories, airports, all of which you now claim to be your long deprived inheritance so you have full right to change and rename these at your discretion.
We are sorry that our parents taught us the value of small but strong families, to not breed like rabbits and end up as underfed, illiterate shack dwellers living in poverty.
We are sorry that when they provided you with schools, you decided it looked better without windows or in piles of ashes. We happily gave up those bad days of getting spanked in our all white schools for doing something wrong, and much prefer these days of freedom where problems can be resolved with knives and guns.
We are sorry that it is hard to shake off the bitterness of the past when you keep on raping, torturing and killing our friends and family members, and then hide behind the fence of "human rights" with smiles on your faces.
We are sorry that we do not trust the government. We have no reason to be so suspicious and short sighted seeing that there has never been a case where any of these poor hard working intellectuals were involved in any form of corruption or irregularities.
We are sorry that we do not trust the police force and although they have openly admitted that they have lost the war against crime and criminals, we should not be so negative and just keep on hoping for the best.
We are sorry that our wonderful Government basically flung open our border posts, and now left you competing for jobs against illegal immigrants from our beautiful neighboring countries. All these countries that have grown so strong after kicking out the "settlers"; You should follow their excellent example and grow big and strong like them!
We are sorry that we don't believe in witchcraft, beetroot and garlic, urinating on street corners, trading woman for cattle, or showering to avoid getting AIDS, maybe we just grew up differently. So sorry that when we are forced into sharing the same establishments, sometimes we lose our temper, that is totally uncalled for.
We are sorry that your medical care, water supplies, roads, and your electrical supplies are going down the toilet because skilled people who could have planned and resolved these issues had to be shown away because they were of the wrong ethnic background and now have to work in foreign countries where their skills are more needed.
We are so sorry and should really try harder to be more tolerant and learn to get along with EVERYBODY around us, one big happy family.
The Dumb White Kid
ps...fuck right off...why should we be sorry for advancing the continent, especially when it's you fuckers that are cocking it up? YOU fuckin' apologise to US!!...
We are sorry that those who came before us took you out of the bush and taught you that there was more to life than beating drums and chasing animals with sticks and stones.
We are sorry that they planned, funded and developed roads, towns, mines, factories, airports, all of which you now claim to be your long deprived inheritance so you have full right to change and rename these at your discretion.
We are sorry that our parents taught us the value of small but strong families, to not breed like rabbits and end up as underfed, illiterate shack dwellers living in poverty.
We are sorry that when they provided you with schools, you decided it looked better without windows or in piles of ashes. We happily gave up those bad days of getting spanked in our all white schools for doing something wrong, and much prefer these days of freedom where problems can be resolved with knives and guns.
We are sorry that it is hard to shake off the bitterness of the past when you keep on raping, torturing and killing our friends and family members, and then hide behind the fence of "human rights" with smiles on your faces.
We are sorry that we do not trust the government. We have no reason to be so suspicious and short sighted seeing that there has never been a case where any of these poor hard working intellectuals were involved in any form of corruption or irregularities.
We are sorry that we do not trust the police force and although they have openly admitted that they have lost the war against crime and criminals, we should not be so negative and just keep on hoping for the best.
We are sorry that our wonderful Government basically flung open our border posts, and now left you competing for jobs against illegal immigrants from our beautiful neighboring countries. All these countries that have grown so strong after kicking out the "settlers"; You should follow their excellent example and grow big and strong like them!
We are sorry that we don't believe in witchcraft, beetroot and garlic, urinating on street corners, trading woman for cattle, or showering to avoid getting AIDS, maybe we just grew up differently. So sorry that when we are forced into sharing the same establishments, sometimes we lose our temper, that is totally uncalled for.
We are sorry that your medical care, water supplies, roads, and your electrical supplies are going down the toilet because skilled people who could have planned and resolved these issues had to be shown away because they were of the wrong ethnic background and now have to work in foreign countries where their skills are more needed.
We are so sorry and should really try harder to be more tolerant and learn to get along with EVERYBODY around us, one big happy family.
The Dumb White Kid
ps...fuck right off...why should we be sorry for advancing the continent, especially when it's you fuckers that are cocking it up? YOU fuckin' apologise to US!!...
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Time for the Truth...
according to a journalist...and he has some valid points, even though some may argue that his comments may be racist or negative...
Monday, February 11, 2008
Something I made up the other day...
in thinking of the acronym someone made up a while ago when the eNatis (vehicle licensing system) went tits-up.
As the world is aware, we have power supply problems from ESKOM, our quasi-governmental power supplier, not that we can do much about it as there is no alternative vendor (short of buying a generator, which will (1) make a helluva noise and piss off the neighbours, (2) create additional "carbon footprint" (3) add to our already excessive home overhead costs (4) not provide any form of motivation to Eskom to sort out their shit, plus others that I won't go into now).
So I thought up an acronym for ESKOM, very applicable I thought:
Elektrisitee
She's
Klaar
Oh
Moer
As the world is aware, we have power supply problems from ESKOM, our quasi-governmental power supplier, not that we can do much about it as there is no alternative vendor (short of buying a generator, which will (1) make a helluva noise and piss off the neighbours, (2) create additional "carbon footprint" (3) add to our already excessive home overhead costs (4) not provide any form of motivation to Eskom to sort out their shit, plus others that I won't go into now).
So I thought up an acronym for ESKOM, very applicable I thought:
Elektrisitee
She's
Klaar
Oh
Moer
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Ok, let's see how much I can remember...
of the Kosi Bay Fishing Bonanza 2008, and our holiday to Hermanus. I'll split them between two or more posts so that my reader (all one of them) will come back again.
Kosi Bay Fishing Bonanza 2008
I got a SMS from Fishman at about 7pm on the Tuesday night, saying that they were ready to leave. Basically, I was too, but we'd just had another one of Eskom's load-shedding exercises and I had to light a braai fire so that we could eat.
Around 11pm, I decided I wasn't going to be able to get some sleep and told Steph, who wasn't too happy about it, that I was going to get going. I just knew that if I was going to hang around the house for another hour, as was planned, I would settle down on the couch and probably only wake up about 6hrs later.
I made my way to Fishman's place, where the team made our reunion hello's and we moved some stuff, and hitched the trailer, to the back of my bakkie. Let me tell you how impressed I was with the Mazda-rati 2.5 Leeter Terbo Deesel. Man, I was impresssed. It cruised the entire trip at sometimes up to 150km/hr (when overtaking lorries) and never lost sight of Fishman's Toyota. The trailer was loaded with all the camping gear plus other bits and pieces (read: loads of beer) and I never felt it at all. On top of which, the fuel consumption only dropped to 8km/l instead of the usual 10km/l I normally get.
Anyway, we stopped off in Trichardt to say hello to one of the team from last year who sadly couldn't make it this year (Dolph, dis tyd dat jy 'n ander werk kry - hierdie een affekteer jou visvang tyd) and proceeded on our way. In total, it took us about 11hrs to get to Manguzi, the little town where the tar road ends. The drive was uneventful, with Fishman successfully managing to evade all the oncoming lorries this year (only cos he didn't have the trailer behind him) and we stopped to have a burger and check the fuel levels before hitting the sand road to the campsite.
The sand road was a slight challenge, with the trailer behind me, but nothing the Mazda-rati couldn't handle. Coming out, however, was to be another story as we got stuck trying to climb a hill and Fishman, whose bakkie has a better gearing than mine, managed to drag the trailer up the hill for us.
It took us about 90mins to get to the campsite and we had the pick of all the sites in the camp as there was almost no-one else there. We set up camp in a nice shady spot which had a lookout to the ocean through the scrub and proceeded to open another beer, which we followed by erecting tents and setting up the camp...in between beers. As you'll see by some of the photos later, we were quite organised, for a few part-time campers.
A quick walk down to the beach, beer in hand, to have a look at the fishing water (same water as last year, just a little further along the beach) and we went back to fire up the braai for the first night's meal, followed by lots of chatting and banter around the camp. We were all pretty knackered from the drive and me, not having slept in over 40hrs, decided to call it an early night. We'd be up early for fishing anyway and needed some sleep.
It felt like I hadn't slept at all as the first movement around the camp began on Thursday morning, somewhere around sparrow-fart time. Fishman's father-in-law was, as he would be for all the mornings there, first up and about. Standing rule in the camp was, first up puts on the kettle, and by the time I decided to surface (somewhere around 05h30) Fishman had thrown a handful of coffee bags into the kettle and it was brewing into a nice, dark, caffeinated soup. Just what the doctor ordered.
After pottering about for a while, getting fishing rods and gear organised, we hit the beach for the first casts...and the first beers of the day. The fishing became just something we were trying to do, changing baits when we felt the last one had been soaking for long enough. Mostly we'd find that the bait had been partially eaten by what I call "Nibblets"...little fuckers that peck at your bait and make it unattractive to the bigger targets. Anyway, it gave us something to do between beers and kept us practicing our casting. I was using the new Shimano reel for only the second time, having caught nothing the first time I went fishing with my brother over Christmas.
The Shimano Torium50 reel casts a bait a looonnnnnggg way and even Fishman had to admit I was casting further than last year when I was using my old Penn Jigmaster. Having a decent rod also helps, which I'd bought on my holiday last year when I'd broken the one I'd been using at Kosi Bay the week before. We caught nothing the first day, but it didn't dampen our spirits. Going back to camp, Fishman again did a brilliant job with the supper (if memory serves me rightly, it was a lamb chop stew/curry - very tasty) and we setled down for another pleasant evening of banter and drinking.
Awake on Friday morning, also around 5am, but everyone except father-in-law decided to sleep in another half hour. Again, coffee was waiting when we did stumble, groaning and scratching the usual bits, onto the sandy campsite. A good strong cup of coffee later, gear packed, and we were on the beach again. This time we were heading a little further north than we'd been the day before as we'd seen a few other guys come back with a nice size Kingfish in their bag. As we were on the beach earlier than they were, we thought it pertinent that we steal "their" spot. And just as well we did too...that was where I got my {ahem} first fish of the trip. As you can see by the posting a little below this one, a nice 15 to 20kg Diamond Ray (confirmed by a knowledgable angler). A few photos later, the hook removed, and the ray was returned unharmed to the water to grow up a bit more (these rays can grow to around 100kg or more).
This time of year in Kosi Bay is the middle of turtle breeding season. On a previous evening walking back to the camp, we had been asked by wardens from the WWF (World Wildlife Fund, not the World Wrestling Foundation) to not shine our torches and headlamps into the eyes of turtles, if we came across them, that were heading up the beach to lay their eggs. Being the considerate anglers we are, we had one opportunity to do exactly that. A soon-to-be-mother turtle was paddling her way up the beach, watched by some tourists (from France, I think) and we all dutifully switched off our lights. Apparently, if the turtle sees a bright light nearby and she's on her way up the beach, she will turn around and head straight back into the water, sometimes aborting her eggs. On other occasions, the turtle will try and find another beaching spot and try again. We watched a couple of minutes while the turtle, about four feet in length, scrambled her way up the beach. Everyone was speaking in whispers, not wanting to disturb her. It was quite amazing to see. Back in the camp the evening was, as the previous had been, spent chatting, laughing and having a few drinks.
On Saturday, we woke up a little dejected, knowing that this was to be our last full day on the beach so we made the most of it. Up early again, on the beach around the usual 5h30, lines in for as long as we could. At about 10am, everyone was feeling a little peckish, so Fishman, Cornerman and sister-in-law decided to go back to camp and prepare us all a little breakfast (and replenish father-in-laws beers, 6 of which he'd already consumed that morning). Father-in-law and I stayed behind to watch the rods and when the three of them were about 500m away from us, sister-in-law's fishing reel started screaming with a big pull. Realising what the sudden noise was, I darted for the rod, but before I could tension the drag the fish had dropped the bait. Needless to say, when the three breakfasteers returned and we told them of what had happened, we were greeted with incredulous comments. Breakfast was great, sandwiches of bully beef and beans, washed down with Capn's Organ'n'Coke or beer.
As usual, we came off the beach in the heat of the day and retired to camp a while. On days like these, father-in-law would usually head off for a snooze and the rest of us would spend some time playing dominos and drinking. On one of these domino sessions, we invented a shooter drink we called the "V2 Rocket". Here, in SA, we get a Red Bull-type of energy drink called "V"...a little sweet, but a great hangover juice. To make a V2, you need to submerge a tot glass of Archers Peach Schnapps (or schnapps of your choice, we only had Archers) into half a glass of V, which is then downed in one gulp and the tot glass has to be caught in your teeth. What started off as a penalty down-down turned into a drink of "hhmmm, that's been sitting on the table too long, I think I'll have it". Give it a try sometime if you can...
In the afternoon, we all made our way back down to the beach for a last cast and we were a little distressed to see that the number of anglers on the beach had grown considerably. I asked one of them what the occasion was and was annoyed to hear that the NCAU (Natal Coast Anglers Union) had organised one of its weekend competitions on the very same beach that the turtles were beaching on. I later asked one of the WWF guys if he knew that this was taking place and he advised that he didn't and that it looked like chaos. I assured him that I would be writing to a couple of magazines and government institutions, as well as the NCAU, to lodge a complaint backed up by photogrpahs of the number of anglers. I'll post a copy of the letter here at a later stage too. I'm going to throw the NCAU's own constitution at them which, briefly, states "Bring to the notice of the Executive Committee any activities or practices of the UNION and its members that are not in compliance with environmental legislation." How much more non-compliant do they want to be? Bastards...
Anyway, Cornerman and I decided to stay on the beach and fish as it got dark while the rest went back to the camp to start the last supper. Just after dark, we hear a screaming noise and yes, you guessed it, my reel was screaming again. Fish on! As it was to have been my last cast of the trip, I put out two whole sardines and a chunk of squid as a bait, hoping to hook a decent sized shark for a bit of fun. Instead, after a couple of minutes fight, I landed the stingray. Cornerman had run up the beach to call down the rest of them and to grab the camera (which had become part of my fishing tackle). It was pitch dark by now and, as you can see by the photos it wasn't easy to release the stingray. One of the hooks had foul-hooked it just under the eye and I had to extract the hook with pliers. It wasn't nice to see it hurt, but I was a little happier when I saw it swimming away alive.
After the excitement, we packed up the gear and headed back to camp, for father-in-law to taunt me with more jibes of "fish thief" and the like (jealousy is a horrible thing). I wasn't caring. We'd had two trips together to this part of the world and, beautiful as it is, no-one had caught anything previously. I was chuffed to bits, happy that the cost of the rod, reel, tackle and trip was all worth it.
Our last evening in camp was quite an early one, as we knew we had to get up early and pack, then hit the road for the long trip back to Shit Towne.
Up early on Sunday morning, around 6am, we had coffee, packed all the gear into the bakkies and trailer, had a last shower to cool off a bit (the Kosi Bay coast is extremely humid at this time of year and we were all sweating from the exertion of packing) and headed back toward Manguzi to pump up the tyres and get onto some decent tar road by about 9am.
Fishman's Toyota showed up my Mazda-rati on the way out of the campsite when we got stuck in some deep sand on a steep incline. The trailer, even though it was missing quite a bit of weight from all the beer that had been drunk, coupled with my relative inexperience on sandy roads, managed to bog us down. Then Fishman came to the rescue, brought his bakkie back down the hill, hitched the trailer and dragged it up the hill with not much effort and into Manguzi where we swapped it back to my hitch and I dragged it home.
The drive home was uneventful, although a little hot cos my aircon couldn't handle the ambient temperature and refused to cool the cab down to a more pleasant temperature. We got back to Fishman's place around 7pm and I left them to unpack the trailer. I had to get home and get some laundry done, as Steph and I were leaving for Hermanus on the Monday evening. There was lots to be done before then...
Here's some of the photos we took, with a little description at each...enjoy...
Campsite and tents
Campsite - note the stack of booze next to the freezer. A box there also held Fishman and Cornerman's stock of KWV brandy. The little grey fridge in the middle was also full of beer
Fishman made this handy contraption to carry his rods down to the beach. I found a better use for it
It was amazing how tiring the fight was, even just five or so minutes into it. I had to use my elbow to hold the rod as my forearm was cramping. Obviously I don't wank enough to have strong forearms
The Diamond Ray...beautiful fish
Group Photo - great bunch of people
Rods lined up on the beach - a beautiful sight
Fishing is hard work
Some of the NCAU fuckwits lining the turtle beach - more of them arrived after this shot
Fishman holding onto the Stingray's tail so that it didn't whip anyone
Kosi Bay Fishing Bonanza 2008
I got a SMS from Fishman at about 7pm on the Tuesday night, saying that they were ready to leave. Basically, I was too, but we'd just had another one of Eskom's load-shedding exercises and I had to light a braai fire so that we could eat.
Around 11pm, I decided I wasn't going to be able to get some sleep and told Steph, who wasn't too happy about it, that I was going to get going. I just knew that if I was going to hang around the house for another hour, as was planned, I would settle down on the couch and probably only wake up about 6hrs later.
I made my way to Fishman's place, where the team made our reunion hello's and we moved some stuff, and hitched the trailer, to the back of my bakkie. Let me tell you how impressed I was with the Mazda-rati 2.5 Leeter Terbo Deesel. Man, I was impresssed. It cruised the entire trip at sometimes up to 150km/hr (when overtaking lorries) and never lost sight of Fishman's Toyota. The trailer was loaded with all the camping gear plus other bits and pieces (read: loads of beer) and I never felt it at all. On top of which, the fuel consumption only dropped to 8km/l instead of the usual 10km/l I normally get.
Anyway, we stopped off in Trichardt to say hello to one of the team from last year who sadly couldn't make it this year (Dolph, dis tyd dat jy 'n ander werk kry - hierdie een affekteer jou visvang tyd) and proceeded on our way. In total, it took us about 11hrs to get to Manguzi, the little town where the tar road ends. The drive was uneventful, with Fishman successfully managing to evade all the oncoming lorries this year (only cos he didn't have the trailer behind him) and we stopped to have a burger and check the fuel levels before hitting the sand road to the campsite.
The sand road was a slight challenge, with the trailer behind me, but nothing the Mazda-rati couldn't handle. Coming out, however, was to be another story as we got stuck trying to climb a hill and Fishman, whose bakkie has a better gearing than mine, managed to drag the trailer up the hill for us.
It took us about 90mins to get to the campsite and we had the pick of all the sites in the camp as there was almost no-one else there. We set up camp in a nice shady spot which had a lookout to the ocean through the scrub and proceeded to open another beer, which we followed by erecting tents and setting up the camp...in between beers. As you'll see by some of the photos later, we were quite organised, for a few part-time campers.
A quick walk down to the beach, beer in hand, to have a look at the fishing water (same water as last year, just a little further along the beach) and we went back to fire up the braai for the first night's meal, followed by lots of chatting and banter around the camp. We were all pretty knackered from the drive and me, not having slept in over 40hrs, decided to call it an early night. We'd be up early for fishing anyway and needed some sleep.
It felt like I hadn't slept at all as the first movement around the camp began on Thursday morning, somewhere around sparrow-fart time. Fishman's father-in-law was, as he would be for all the mornings there, first up and about. Standing rule in the camp was, first up puts on the kettle, and by the time I decided to surface (somewhere around 05h30) Fishman had thrown a handful of coffee bags into the kettle and it was brewing into a nice, dark, caffeinated soup. Just what the doctor ordered.
After pottering about for a while, getting fishing rods and gear organised, we hit the beach for the first casts...and the first beers of the day. The fishing became just something we were trying to do, changing baits when we felt the last one had been soaking for long enough. Mostly we'd find that the bait had been partially eaten by what I call "Nibblets"...little fuckers that peck at your bait and make it unattractive to the bigger targets. Anyway, it gave us something to do between beers and kept us practicing our casting. I was using the new Shimano reel for only the second time, having caught nothing the first time I went fishing with my brother over Christmas.
The Shimano Torium50 reel casts a bait a looonnnnnggg way and even Fishman had to admit I was casting further than last year when I was using my old Penn Jigmaster. Having a decent rod also helps, which I'd bought on my holiday last year when I'd broken the one I'd been using at Kosi Bay the week before. We caught nothing the first day, but it didn't dampen our spirits. Going back to camp, Fishman again did a brilliant job with the supper (if memory serves me rightly, it was a lamb chop stew/curry - very tasty) and we setled down for another pleasant evening of banter and drinking.
Awake on Friday morning, also around 5am, but everyone except father-in-law decided to sleep in another half hour. Again, coffee was waiting when we did stumble, groaning and scratching the usual bits, onto the sandy campsite. A good strong cup of coffee later, gear packed, and we were on the beach again. This time we were heading a little further north than we'd been the day before as we'd seen a few other guys come back with a nice size Kingfish in their bag. As we were on the beach earlier than they were, we thought it pertinent that we steal "their" spot. And just as well we did too...that was where I got my {ahem} first fish of the trip. As you can see by the posting a little below this one, a nice 15 to 20kg Diamond Ray (confirmed by a knowledgable angler). A few photos later, the hook removed, and the ray was returned unharmed to the water to grow up a bit more (these rays can grow to around 100kg or more).
This time of year in Kosi Bay is the middle of turtle breeding season. On a previous evening walking back to the camp, we had been asked by wardens from the WWF (World Wildlife Fund, not the World Wrestling Foundation) to not shine our torches and headlamps into the eyes of turtles, if we came across them, that were heading up the beach to lay their eggs. Being the considerate anglers we are, we had one opportunity to do exactly that. A soon-to-be-mother turtle was paddling her way up the beach, watched by some tourists (from France, I think) and we all dutifully switched off our lights. Apparently, if the turtle sees a bright light nearby and she's on her way up the beach, she will turn around and head straight back into the water, sometimes aborting her eggs. On other occasions, the turtle will try and find another beaching spot and try again. We watched a couple of minutes while the turtle, about four feet in length, scrambled her way up the beach. Everyone was speaking in whispers, not wanting to disturb her. It was quite amazing to see. Back in the camp the evening was, as the previous had been, spent chatting, laughing and having a few drinks.
On Saturday, we woke up a little dejected, knowing that this was to be our last full day on the beach so we made the most of it. Up early again, on the beach around the usual 5h30, lines in for as long as we could. At about 10am, everyone was feeling a little peckish, so Fishman, Cornerman and sister-in-law decided to go back to camp and prepare us all a little breakfast (and replenish father-in-laws beers, 6 of which he'd already consumed that morning). Father-in-law and I stayed behind to watch the rods and when the three of them were about 500m away from us, sister-in-law's fishing reel started screaming with a big pull. Realising what the sudden noise was, I darted for the rod, but before I could tension the drag the fish had dropped the bait. Needless to say, when the three breakfasteers returned and we told them of what had happened, we were greeted with incredulous comments. Breakfast was great, sandwiches of bully beef and beans, washed down with Capn's Organ'n'Coke or beer.
As usual, we came off the beach in the heat of the day and retired to camp a while. On days like these, father-in-law would usually head off for a snooze and the rest of us would spend some time playing dominos and drinking. On one of these domino sessions, we invented a shooter drink we called the "V2 Rocket". Here, in SA, we get a Red Bull-type of energy drink called "V"...a little sweet, but a great hangover juice. To make a V2, you need to submerge a tot glass of Archers Peach Schnapps (or schnapps of your choice, we only had Archers) into half a glass of V, which is then downed in one gulp and the tot glass has to be caught in your teeth. What started off as a penalty down-down turned into a drink of "hhmmm, that's been sitting on the table too long, I think I'll have it". Give it a try sometime if you can...
In the afternoon, we all made our way back down to the beach for a last cast and we were a little distressed to see that the number of anglers on the beach had grown considerably. I asked one of them what the occasion was and was annoyed to hear that the NCAU (Natal Coast Anglers Union) had organised one of its weekend competitions on the very same beach that the turtles were beaching on. I later asked one of the WWF guys if he knew that this was taking place and he advised that he didn't and that it looked like chaos. I assured him that I would be writing to a couple of magazines and government institutions, as well as the NCAU, to lodge a complaint backed up by photogrpahs of the number of anglers. I'll post a copy of the letter here at a later stage too. I'm going to throw the NCAU's own constitution at them which, briefly, states "Bring to the notice of the Executive Committee any activities or practices of the UNION and its members that are not in compliance with environmental legislation." How much more non-compliant do they want to be? Bastards...
Anyway, Cornerman and I decided to stay on the beach and fish as it got dark while the rest went back to the camp to start the last supper. Just after dark, we hear a screaming noise and yes, you guessed it, my reel was screaming again. Fish on! As it was to have been my last cast of the trip, I put out two whole sardines and a chunk of squid as a bait, hoping to hook a decent sized shark for a bit of fun. Instead, after a couple of minutes fight, I landed the stingray. Cornerman had run up the beach to call down the rest of them and to grab the camera (which had become part of my fishing tackle). It was pitch dark by now and, as you can see by the photos it wasn't easy to release the stingray. One of the hooks had foul-hooked it just under the eye and I had to extract the hook with pliers. It wasn't nice to see it hurt, but I was a little happier when I saw it swimming away alive.
After the excitement, we packed up the gear and headed back to camp, for father-in-law to taunt me with more jibes of "fish thief" and the like (jealousy is a horrible thing). I wasn't caring. We'd had two trips together to this part of the world and, beautiful as it is, no-one had caught anything previously. I was chuffed to bits, happy that the cost of the rod, reel, tackle and trip was all worth it.
Our last evening in camp was quite an early one, as we knew we had to get up early and pack, then hit the road for the long trip back to Shit Towne.
Up early on Sunday morning, around 6am, we had coffee, packed all the gear into the bakkies and trailer, had a last shower to cool off a bit (the Kosi Bay coast is extremely humid at this time of year and we were all sweating from the exertion of packing) and headed back toward Manguzi to pump up the tyres and get onto some decent tar road by about 9am.
Fishman's Toyota showed up my Mazda-rati on the way out of the campsite when we got stuck in some deep sand on a steep incline. The trailer, even though it was missing quite a bit of weight from all the beer that had been drunk, coupled with my relative inexperience on sandy roads, managed to bog us down. Then Fishman came to the rescue, brought his bakkie back down the hill, hitched the trailer and dragged it up the hill with not much effort and into Manguzi where we swapped it back to my hitch and I dragged it home.
The drive home was uneventful, although a little hot cos my aircon couldn't handle the ambient temperature and refused to cool the cab down to a more pleasant temperature. We got back to Fishman's place around 7pm and I left them to unpack the trailer. I had to get home and get some laundry done, as Steph and I were leaving for Hermanus on the Monday evening. There was lots to be done before then...
Here's some of the photos we took, with a little description at each...enjoy...
Campsite and tents
Campsite - note the stack of booze next to the freezer. A box there also held Fishman and Cornerman's stock of KWV brandy. The little grey fridge in the middle was also full of beer
Fishman made this handy contraption to carry his rods down to the beach. I found a better use for it
It was amazing how tiring the fight was, even just five or so minutes into it. I had to use my elbow to hold the rod as my forearm was cramping. Obviously I don't wank enough to have strong forearms
The Diamond Ray...beautiful fish
Group Photo - great bunch of people
Rods lined up on the beach - a beautiful sight
Fishing is hard work
Some of the NCAU fuckwits lining the turtle beach - more of them arrived after this shot
Fishman holding onto the Stingray's tail so that it didn't whip anyone
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Ode Tae a Fart...
Oh whit a sleekit horrible beastie
Lurks in yer belly efter the feastie
Jist as ye sit doon among yer kin
There sterts tae stir an enormous win'
The neeps 'n' tatties 'n' mushy peas
Stert workin' like a gentle breeze
But soon the puddin' wi' the sauncie face
Will hae ye blawin' a' ower the place
Nae maiter whit the hell ye dae
A'bodys gonnae hiv tae pay
Even if ye try tae stifle
It's like a bullet oot a rifle
Hawd yer bum ticht tae the chair
Tae try an' stop the leakin' air
Shify yersel fae cheek tae cheek
Prae tae God it disnae reek
But aw yer efforts go assunder
Oot it comes like a clap o' thunder
Ricochets aroon the room
Michty me a sonic boom
God almichty it fairly reeks
Hope a huvnae shit ma breeks
Tae the bog a better scurry
Aw whit the hell, it's no ma worry
A'body roon aboot me chokin
Wan or twa are nearly bokin
A'll feel better for a while
Cannae help but raise a smile
Wis him! A shout wi' accusin glower
Alas too late, he's jist keeled ower
Ye dirty bugger they shout and stare
A dinnae feel welcome ony mair
Where e'er ye be let yer wind gang free
Sounds like jist the job fur me
Whit a fuss at Rabbie's party
Ower the sake o' wan wee farty
With apologies to Robbie Burns...
Lurks in yer belly efter the feastie
Jist as ye sit doon among yer kin
There sterts tae stir an enormous win'
The neeps 'n' tatties 'n' mushy peas
Stert workin' like a gentle breeze
But soon the puddin' wi' the sauncie face
Will hae ye blawin' a' ower the place
Nae maiter whit the hell ye dae
A'bodys gonnae hiv tae pay
Even if ye try tae stifle
It's like a bullet oot a rifle
Hawd yer bum ticht tae the chair
Tae try an' stop the leakin' air
Shify yersel fae cheek tae cheek
Prae tae God it disnae reek
But aw yer efforts go assunder
Oot it comes like a clap o' thunder
Ricochets aroon the room
Michty me a sonic boom
God almichty it fairly reeks
Hope a huvnae shit ma breeks
Tae the bog a better scurry
Aw whit the hell, it's no ma worry
A'body roon aboot me chokin
Wan or twa are nearly bokin
A'll feel better for a while
Cannae help but raise a smile
Wis him! A shout wi' accusin glower
Alas too late, he's jist keeled ower
Ye dirty bugger they shout and stare
A dinnae feel welcome ony mair
Where e'er ye be let yer wind gang free
Sounds like jist the job fur me
Whit a fuss at Rabbie's party
Ower the sake o' wan wee farty
With apologies to Robbie Burns...
Monday, January 21, 2008
And the "Fishman" title goes to...
me.
More on the trip to Kosi Bay at a later stage, but I just had to put this up. Fishman admitted when we got home last night that I had the right to take the name from his blog. Well, I'm not going to do that, but I will claim the trophy for Fishman of the Year seeing as I was the only one (not for the lack of trying by everyone else) to catch something on our fishing expedition...
Here's why...or, at least, the two reasons why...
Brown Skate - estimated 18 to 20kg - released
Stingray - estimated 10kg - released (caught on the last cast of the trip)
As I say, over the next few days in Hermanus I'll draw up a full account of the trip and stick it up here with some of the other photos...stay tuned...
More on the trip to Kosi Bay at a later stage, but I just had to put this up. Fishman admitted when we got home last night that I had the right to take the name from his blog. Well, I'm not going to do that, but I will claim the trophy for Fishman of the Year seeing as I was the only one (not for the lack of trying by everyone else) to catch something on our fishing expedition...
Here's why...or, at least, the two reasons why...
Brown Skate - estimated 18 to 20kg - released
Stingray - estimated 10kg - released (caught on the last cast of the trip)
As I say, over the next few days in Hermanus I'll draw up a full account of the trip and stick it up here with some of the other photos...stay tuned...
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Old Jacob...
Trevor the farmer was in the fertilised egg business. He had several hundred young layers (hens), called 'pullets' and eight or ten roosters, whose job was to fertilise the eggs.
The farmer kept records and any rooster that didn't perform went into the soup pot and was replaced. That took an awful lot of his time so he bought a set of tiny bells and attached them to his roosters. Each bell had a different tone so Trevor could tell from a distance, which rooster was performing. Now he could sit on the porch and fill out an efficiency report simply by listening to the bells.
The farmer's favourite rooster was old Jacob, and a very fine specimen he was too. But on this particular morning Trevor noticed old Jacob's bell hadn't rung at all! Trevor went to investigate. The other roosters were chasing pullets, bells-a-ringing. The pullets, hearing the roosters coming, would run for cover. But to farmer Trevor's amazement, Jacob had his bell in his beak, so it couldn't ring. He'd sneak up on a pullet, do his job and walk on to the next one.
Trevor was so proud of Jacob, he entered him in the Durban Country Fair and Jacob became an overnight sensation among the judges. The result.was the judges not only awarded Jacob the No Bell Piece Prize but they also awarded him the Pullet Surprise as well.
Clearly Jacob was a politician in the making: Who else but a politician could figure out how to win two of the most highly coveted awards on our planet by being the best at sneaking up on the populace and screwing them when they weren't paying attention.
Do you know a politician called Jacob?
The farmer kept records and any rooster that didn't perform went into the soup pot and was replaced. That took an awful lot of his time so he bought a set of tiny bells and attached them to his roosters. Each bell had a different tone so Trevor could tell from a distance, which rooster was performing. Now he could sit on the porch and fill out an efficiency report simply by listening to the bells.
The farmer's favourite rooster was old Jacob, and a very fine specimen he was too. But on this particular morning Trevor noticed old Jacob's bell hadn't rung at all! Trevor went to investigate. The other roosters were chasing pullets, bells-a-ringing. The pullets, hearing the roosters coming, would run for cover. But to farmer Trevor's amazement, Jacob had his bell in his beak, so it couldn't ring. He'd sneak up on a pullet, do his job and walk on to the next one.
Trevor was so proud of Jacob, he entered him in the Durban Country Fair and Jacob became an overnight sensation among the judges. The result.was the judges not only awarded Jacob the No Bell Piece Prize but they also awarded him the Pullet Surprise as well.
Clearly Jacob was a politician in the making: Who else but a politician could figure out how to win two of the most highly coveted awards on our planet by being the best at sneaking up on the populace and screwing them when they weren't paying attention.
Do you know a politician called Jacob?
Monday, January 07, 2008
Fishman phoned me on Saturday afternoon...
to brag about having serviced and packed all his fishing gear for the upcoming Kosi Bay trip, but guess what? I'd been out shopping that morning, bought the tackle to replenish my stock, cleaned all the gear and packed it in the study waiting to be put into the bakkie as well. All the rock and surf stuff, as well as the dropshot rods and reels are ready to go and land some big'uns. Hell, if we're lucky, we may land more than we did last year, which was......well...fuckall.
I even had the time to make (yes, I sewed them on Steph's machine as well) four little denim cloth bags for my saltwater reels as I don't want them getting bashed about in my tackle bag. I even made the bags with drawstrings so that I can hang them on the reels while the line is in the water so that the salt spray does not cover the reels. Salt water is, as you may know, acidic, and can cause some nasty markings on equipment and machinery. When you pay ZAR2,000 for a fishing reel you make sure you look after it. Now I won't even have to wash them at the end of the day.
Now all I need to do is buy some booze and put together the bits and pieces for camping and I'm ready to go. And, as Fishman put it, all we need is for someone to make the next week go away so that we can go fishing...
I even had the time to make (yes, I sewed them on Steph's machine as well) four little denim cloth bags for my saltwater reels as I don't want them getting bashed about in my tackle bag. I even made the bags with drawstrings so that I can hang them on the reels while the line is in the water so that the salt spray does not cover the reels. Salt water is, as you may know, acidic, and can cause some nasty markings on equipment and machinery. When you pay ZAR2,000 for a fishing reel you make sure you look after it. Now I won't even have to wash them at the end of the day.
Now all I need to do is buy some booze and put together the bits and pieces for camping and I'm ready to go. And, as Fishman put it, all we need is for someone to make the next week go away so that we can go fishing...
Now that the Lemmings are back from holiday, it's time for me to take some vacation...
and this year, I'm doing the fishing trip thing again with Fishman and a couple of drinking mates, for four days at the same venue as last time...Kosi Bay. That means heat, humidity, mozzies and lots of drinking...ah well, someone has to do it and it may as well be us.
After that, I'm back in Shit Towne for a day, then Steph and I go down to Hermanus for ten days. We were going to drag the caravan down, but I found a great-looking little place call Eirene Cottage, right on Hermanus beach, for only ZAR350 per day. I shit you not...dirt cheap, so I took it.
For now though, I'm in Shit Towne, battling to get through the work week until the holiday starts...
After that, I'm back in Shit Towne for a day, then Steph and I go down to Hermanus for ten days. We were going to drag the caravan down, but I found a great-looking little place call Eirene Cottage, right on Hermanus beach, for only ZAR350 per day. I shit you not...dirt cheap, so I took it.
For now though, I'm in Shit Towne, battling to get through the work week until the holiday starts...
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
I must have been a good boy last year...
cos Santa Steph bought me my very own "boat", or float-tube to be more exact for Christmas.
The boat is used to get into all those difficult spots on a fly fishing lake, and I've lusted after one for a while now.
I had a suspicion of what was in the rather large box in the back of the bakkie, once she'd wrapped it in traditional wrapping paper and laboured to carry it from the house to the car (before you think "how chauvinistic", I was expressly told I was not allowed to touch it, or even help carry it). She also gave me a hint as to the contents while we were driving down to my folks ("Did you bring your waders with you?), but it was still a very pleasant surprise when I ripped the paper off on Christmas morning.
Needless to say, I didn't want to blow it up (no, not suicide bomber style) but left it until we got home a few days later. Then I hauled it out to the pool, got out the new pump, and the instructions, and sent the inflated boat into the pool with an "I christen thee Catchalot", minus the broken champagne bottle cos that would have shredded the boat and sent it straight to the bottom of the pool.
Naturally, I had to get a couple of pictures to let you know what the boat looks like...
Now, I'm really looking foward to our next trip out to Dullstroom so that I can get out and catch some fish instead of just using it as a drinks tray as I was above...
The boat is used to get into all those difficult spots on a fly fishing lake, and I've lusted after one for a while now.
I had a suspicion of what was in the rather large box in the back of the bakkie, once she'd wrapped it in traditional wrapping paper and laboured to carry it from the house to the car (before you think "how chauvinistic", I was expressly told I was not allowed to touch it, or even help carry it). She also gave me a hint as to the contents while we were driving down to my folks ("Did you bring your waders with you?), but it was still a very pleasant surprise when I ripped the paper off on Christmas morning.
Needless to say, I didn't want to blow it up (no, not suicide bomber style) but left it until we got home a few days later. Then I hauled it out to the pool, got out the new pump, and the instructions, and sent the inflated boat into the pool with an "I christen thee Catchalot", minus the broken champagne bottle cos that would have shredded the boat and sent it straight to the bottom of the pool.
Naturally, I had to get a couple of pictures to let you know what the boat looks like...
Now, I'm really looking foward to our next trip out to Dullstroom so that I can get out and catch some fish instead of just using it as a drinks tray as I was above...
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Part 2 of "I'm in Turin, no, I'm in Saudi.........."
Ok, so for part 2 I'm already sitting in Torino Airport (named after some "famous" Italian guy, but I'm not prepared to fork out my credit card details to sign on to the airport wi-fi network to find out who he is/was). I've just had a sandwich called an "Apollo" (suitably Greek-named for an Italian sandwich) and a Danish beer which, at 7.7% alcohol volume, could get you quite nicely pissed if you had just two. Just one, and I'd be over the legal Shit Towne driving limit, but luckily some other dafty is flying the kite out of here and not me. I hope he hasn't been on the Danish stuff when we leave...
Ok, where was I in the story?... Ah yes, I'd just got back into my cubicle in the Diplomatic Hotel...
I figured, seeing as it was only just after 1pm that I might phone my colleague and let him know I was back in town, but that was just a short lapse in my reasoning once I'd unreasonably thought that he might want me to come into the office seeing as it was still "early" and I decided to only call him after 2h30pm...just in case.
I spent the afternoon chilling out in my room with the TV on and figured out how to work out the Italian version of the SkyTV decoder. Most of the channels on SkyTV have the option to watch the show in the original language it was filmed in, so it's quite good to be able to watch something I can listen to as well as watch. The only problem I had with the TV setup was that all the films AND SPORT were pay-per-view. That sucked, as there was a couple of good football matches on that I could have watched, most notably the one where Rangers (once again) beat Hearts...(sorry for you, Jenny-May). There was also a couple of the local games on, which I could have watched too, though I'd much have preferred to go and watch the game at the stadium itself. Maybe next trip I will, if I can get one of the locals to go along with me. Most of the local guys seem to have TV channels where the games are broadcast live.
I sent my colleague a text message to his mobile to let him know I'd arrived back, and we made arrangements to go out for dinner later on. And on that front, we cannot complain...we have had dinner in some fantastic restaurants, and at reasonable prices too, I might add (relatively speaking, cos I have to multiply everything by 10 to get to ZAR equivalents. Just the other night, I spent the ZAR equivalent of R450 on a salad starter, seafood paella, 250ml bottle of red wine, a coffee and a grappa...I also bought a bottle of the grappa, which I'll explain shortly).
One of my favourite restaurants we dined at was called "Orysa" (pronounced Oh-rees-a), named after it's primary dish...rice. Everything in the restaurant has rice of some form in it. You can get dishes from all over the world, so long as they are rice-based. My favourite, for which I went back a second time a few days later when I was on my own, was the paella. The bottle of grappa I bought was made from...rice. Or, at least, that's what the restaurant owner and the label on the bottle told me. I suppose it's a little like Japanese Sake, only with a kick in it. The tot I had with my coffee certainly packed a punch and the first sip caught me a little off-guard. It's quite palatable after that though. The reason I bought the bottle is that it also, perhaps as a gimmick, has a stalk of rice pods and kernels in the bottle. Priced at 20 Euros I thought it was reasonable, and the bottle's a nice shape too...
I can't remember what we ate on the night in question, but needless to say it was another good restaurant. The other thing we would do after dinner was take a walk down some of the tight little Torino streets and see the lights on the main square alongside the Palazzo Madama (Ladies Palace). Me, I'm not used to walking great distances, in fact from the remote control to the TV is about my limit and that's at light speed. But these walks were nice though...the weather, as mentioned, is quite fresh at night with the overnight temperature dropping well below freezing point. Today, at 2h30pm, the temperature outside was 8degC...fresh enough. On the walks though, passing one of the abundant watchmaker shops which inexplicably all sell barometers and thermometers, the mercury would sometimes be around the 4degC mark.
Daytime was spent in the office, a non-descript building prupose-built right next to the FIAT plant. The project we're on is in support of the team that does the IT support for FIAT and they have an astounding number of systems in place. Yet, for some strange reason, the guys who did the proposal (and subsequently won the business) didn't figure out quite how they were going to do the disaster recovery for all these servers...in total, there's about 400 of them. And the local guys don't know where to start, which is why they called us in from the Global Team. We're getting used to being the guys who get called in last to fix other people's fuckups, and at super-speed too. Strangely enough, it's always the same division that calls us in to sort out their mess...Strategic Outsourcing Division (or SODs as I call them now).
We usually started in the office at around 9am and went through until about 6pm, with a company-sponsored lunch of two sandwiches and a coke in between. In between working though we also devoured copious amounts of Italian coffee, at dirt cheap prices, from the vending machines scattered around the facility. It's the same quality of coffee you would get in a restaurant, but at machine speed. A good double shot of espresso will set you back 40cents (about ZAR4) so it really is cheap. The vending machine not only dispenses espresso, but also "espresso lungo" (an extra splash of water), macchiatto, cappucino, cioccocino (cappucino with chocolate), and a range of teas (never tried them though).
On Saturday, my colleague flew back to the States and the snow storms they've been having in his area (just south of Lake Michigan) and left me to my own devices in Torino. In all honesty, I've been bored out of my fuckin' head for most of the time, but it's given me time to gather thoughts about a lot of things and, in my own way, meditate on a number of things going on in life which I'm not about to bore you with any more than I have already.
I managed to shoot over an hour and a half of footage on the DVDcam including some great shots of the Shroud of Turin, famous for supposedly being Jesus' burial shroud but which has been carbon-dated to somewhere in the middle ages. Still impressive to see it, though I suspect it's not the original that's in the church where it's housed in a glass frame. I believe the original shroud is in a vault somewhere in Rome. The church where the shroud is kept is totally nondescript from the outside and as my colleague told me he'd done, if you walked past the church you wouldn't be any the wiser as to what's in it. All the information brochures you get also tell you it's kept in the cathedral, a little away from where it actually is, so I don't know if they move it around to different locations or if the brochures tell lies. Anyway, I saw it, and that's what counts. I've read numerous books on the Knights Templar and it's mentioned in all of them as they suspect that the imprint is that of one of their hero leaders, Jacques de Mornay. If the carbon-dating is right, they might have a case for argument.
One nice thing about being here is that I can say to my family that they are all getting Italian Chrismas presents this year and I went to all the trouble and expense of flying over here just for them. Steph wanted "Prada ankle boots, but only if they're on sale" which was to be read as "Prada ankle boots, or don't bother coming home", but at 300 Euros I'll risk a bollocking for buying the 100 Euro pair which, in my mind, look exactly the same except for the missing expensive label. I was joking with another colleague that I'll buy a white marker and write Prada on the bottom of the boots, but I couldn't find a white marker. For Dad, I also bought a pair of Italian shoes and, as Mum said, "get him a pair of slippers cos these ones are about to walk off on their own", so I got him some new slippers too. For my brother, I bought a nice hip flask in a box set with four stainless steel thimbles in a leather pouch and a little funnel so that you don't spill your beverage of choice when trying to fill it. For my sister, I got a knitted cashmere scarf and two wonderful little ornamental ladybirds, each weighing about 100grams. She's going to have problems going home, as she's come out from Dublin to visit us in SA for Christmas and will probably have to pay excess baggage penalties. I already have Mum's present at home...it's from Dubai Duty Free and is a nice little digital camera so that she can finally get rid of her tatty old 35mm model (yes, she still has her photos developed at a shop). While I was in Saudi Dryland, I also got another little bottle of perfume for Steph which she can tote about in her handbag. I've even gone to the extent of slicing open the shoe boxes and stuffing them in the bottom of my suitcase so that Steph and Dad can have their shoes in the original Italian boxes.
Today, I went out around 10am and bought two Pannetone to enjoy over Christmas. For the uneducated, they are like big madeira cakes, traditionally stuffed full of raisins and currants and enjoyed over the holiday period. One of these that I bought though, is also filled with caramel and chocolate, so I'm looking forward to that. The other one is a traditional Pannetone which I might just give to Steph's aunt for being such a good friend to her as well as a relation. The difference in price was fuckin' astounding though...traditional Pannetone, 4 Euros...chocolate and caramel Pannetone, 30 fuckin' Euros!! It better be worth it...
I checked out of the hotel just before midday, as required, and then hung around in the lobby for two and a half hours before deciding to change my scenery and take an early taxi to the airport, where I am now typing up this posting. The taxi ride was interesting too. I was driven by some old geezer who thought he was Enzo Ferrari and he had us bumping along all sorts of old streets and for a while I thought he was going home for lunch first. I'm convinced he must have been a trucker earlier in life though, cos every time (and I mean every time) he changed gear, he double-clutched the car. Anyway, we soon got onto the highway and I realised I knew where I was, as we were retracing my steps of a couple of weeks ago. It's hard to believe that, when I get home tomorrow morning, I'll have been away for nineteen days. Time flies when you work for the Global Team.
I'll try and post this before we go down to my folks so that you lot have something to read to your families over your Christmas pudding and brandy sauce...
If I don't post anything before the 25th, I hope each and every one of you has a peaceful, joyous, Christmas in the spirit of the occasion, that you all get spoiled with some fantastic gifts, eat and drink your fill of turkey, roast potatoes and wine, and in turn, give some of the same cheer back to your friends and families. Going into the New Year, I hope your new year is filled with joy, abundance, family and relationships, friends, and all the things your heart might desire to make you happy.
As I always say in my Christmas cards, "May the best of this year be the worst of next year" to you all...keep well...
Ok, where was I in the story?... Ah yes, I'd just got back into my cubicle in the Diplomatic Hotel...
I figured, seeing as it was only just after 1pm that I might phone my colleague and let him know I was back in town, but that was just a short lapse in my reasoning once I'd unreasonably thought that he might want me to come into the office seeing as it was still "early" and I decided to only call him after 2h30pm...just in case.
I spent the afternoon chilling out in my room with the TV on and figured out how to work out the Italian version of the SkyTV decoder. Most of the channels on SkyTV have the option to watch the show in the original language it was filmed in, so it's quite good to be able to watch something I can listen to as well as watch. The only problem I had with the TV setup was that all the films AND SPORT were pay-per-view. That sucked, as there was a couple of good football matches on that I could have watched, most notably the one where Rangers (once again) beat Hearts...(sorry for you, Jenny-May). There was also a couple of the local games on, which I could have watched too, though I'd much have preferred to go and watch the game at the stadium itself. Maybe next trip I will, if I can get one of the locals to go along with me. Most of the local guys seem to have TV channels where the games are broadcast live.
I sent my colleague a text message to his mobile to let him know I'd arrived back, and we made arrangements to go out for dinner later on. And on that front, we cannot complain...we have had dinner in some fantastic restaurants, and at reasonable prices too, I might add (relatively speaking, cos I have to multiply everything by 10 to get to ZAR equivalents. Just the other night, I spent the ZAR equivalent of R450 on a salad starter, seafood paella, 250ml bottle of red wine, a coffee and a grappa...I also bought a bottle of the grappa, which I'll explain shortly).
One of my favourite restaurants we dined at was called "Orysa" (pronounced Oh-rees-a), named after it's primary dish...rice. Everything in the restaurant has rice of some form in it. You can get dishes from all over the world, so long as they are rice-based. My favourite, for which I went back a second time a few days later when I was on my own, was the paella. The bottle of grappa I bought was made from...rice. Or, at least, that's what the restaurant owner and the label on the bottle told me. I suppose it's a little like Japanese Sake, only with a kick in it. The tot I had with my coffee certainly packed a punch and the first sip caught me a little off-guard. It's quite palatable after that though. The reason I bought the bottle is that it also, perhaps as a gimmick, has a stalk of rice pods and kernels in the bottle. Priced at 20 Euros I thought it was reasonable, and the bottle's a nice shape too...
I can't remember what we ate on the night in question, but needless to say it was another good restaurant. The other thing we would do after dinner was take a walk down some of the tight little Torino streets and see the lights on the main square alongside the Palazzo Madama (Ladies Palace). Me, I'm not used to walking great distances, in fact from the remote control to the TV is about my limit and that's at light speed. But these walks were nice though...the weather, as mentioned, is quite fresh at night with the overnight temperature dropping well below freezing point. Today, at 2h30pm, the temperature outside was 8degC...fresh enough. On the walks though, passing one of the abundant watchmaker shops which inexplicably all sell barometers and thermometers, the mercury would sometimes be around the 4degC mark.
Daytime was spent in the office, a non-descript building prupose-built right next to the FIAT plant. The project we're on is in support of the team that does the IT support for FIAT and they have an astounding number of systems in place. Yet, for some strange reason, the guys who did the proposal (and subsequently won the business) didn't figure out quite how they were going to do the disaster recovery for all these servers...in total, there's about 400 of them. And the local guys don't know where to start, which is why they called us in from the Global Team. We're getting used to being the guys who get called in last to fix other people's fuckups, and at super-speed too. Strangely enough, it's always the same division that calls us in to sort out their mess...Strategic Outsourcing Division (or SODs as I call them now).
We usually started in the office at around 9am and went through until about 6pm, with a company-sponsored lunch of two sandwiches and a coke in between. In between working though we also devoured copious amounts of Italian coffee, at dirt cheap prices, from the vending machines scattered around the facility. It's the same quality of coffee you would get in a restaurant, but at machine speed. A good double shot of espresso will set you back 40cents (about ZAR4) so it really is cheap. The vending machine not only dispenses espresso, but also "espresso lungo" (an extra splash of water), macchiatto, cappucino, cioccocino (cappucino with chocolate), and a range of teas (never tried them though).
On Saturday, my colleague flew back to the States and the snow storms they've been having in his area (just south of Lake Michigan) and left me to my own devices in Torino. In all honesty, I've been bored out of my fuckin' head for most of the time, but it's given me time to gather thoughts about a lot of things and, in my own way, meditate on a number of things going on in life which I'm not about to bore you with any more than I have already.
I managed to shoot over an hour and a half of footage on the DVDcam including some great shots of the Shroud of Turin, famous for supposedly being Jesus' burial shroud but which has been carbon-dated to somewhere in the middle ages. Still impressive to see it, though I suspect it's not the original that's in the church where it's housed in a glass frame. I believe the original shroud is in a vault somewhere in Rome. The church where the shroud is kept is totally nondescript from the outside and as my colleague told me he'd done, if you walked past the church you wouldn't be any the wiser as to what's in it. All the information brochures you get also tell you it's kept in the cathedral, a little away from where it actually is, so I don't know if they move it around to different locations or if the brochures tell lies. Anyway, I saw it, and that's what counts. I've read numerous books on the Knights Templar and it's mentioned in all of them as they suspect that the imprint is that of one of their hero leaders, Jacques de Mornay. If the carbon-dating is right, they might have a case for argument.
One nice thing about being here is that I can say to my family that they are all getting Italian Chrismas presents this year and I went to all the trouble and expense of flying over here just for them. Steph wanted "Prada ankle boots, but only if they're on sale" which was to be read as "Prada ankle boots, or don't bother coming home", but at 300 Euros I'll risk a bollocking for buying the 100 Euro pair which, in my mind, look exactly the same except for the missing expensive label. I was joking with another colleague that I'll buy a white marker and write Prada on the bottom of the boots, but I couldn't find a white marker. For Dad, I also bought a pair of Italian shoes and, as Mum said, "get him a pair of slippers cos these ones are about to walk off on their own", so I got him some new slippers too. For my brother, I bought a nice hip flask in a box set with four stainless steel thimbles in a leather pouch and a little funnel so that you don't spill your beverage of choice when trying to fill it. For my sister, I got a knitted cashmere scarf and two wonderful little ornamental ladybirds, each weighing about 100grams. She's going to have problems going home, as she's come out from Dublin to visit us in SA for Christmas and will probably have to pay excess baggage penalties. I already have Mum's present at home...it's from Dubai Duty Free and is a nice little digital camera so that she can finally get rid of her tatty old 35mm model (yes, she still has her photos developed at a shop). While I was in Saudi Dryland, I also got another little bottle of perfume for Steph which she can tote about in her handbag. I've even gone to the extent of slicing open the shoe boxes and stuffing them in the bottom of my suitcase so that Steph and Dad can have their shoes in the original Italian boxes.
Today, I went out around 10am and bought two Pannetone to enjoy over Christmas. For the uneducated, they are like big madeira cakes, traditionally stuffed full of raisins and currants and enjoyed over the holiday period. One of these that I bought though, is also filled with caramel and chocolate, so I'm looking forward to that. The other one is a traditional Pannetone which I might just give to Steph's aunt for being such a good friend to her as well as a relation. The difference in price was fuckin' astounding though...traditional Pannetone, 4 Euros...chocolate and caramel Pannetone, 30 fuckin' Euros!! It better be worth it...
I checked out of the hotel just before midday, as required, and then hung around in the lobby for two and a half hours before deciding to change my scenery and take an early taxi to the airport, where I am now typing up this posting. The taxi ride was interesting too. I was driven by some old geezer who thought he was Enzo Ferrari and he had us bumping along all sorts of old streets and for a while I thought he was going home for lunch first. I'm convinced he must have been a trucker earlier in life though, cos every time (and I mean every time) he changed gear, he double-clutched the car. Anyway, we soon got onto the highway and I realised I knew where I was, as we were retracing my steps of a couple of weeks ago. It's hard to believe that, when I get home tomorrow morning, I'll have been away for nineteen days. Time flies when you work for the Global Team.
I'll try and post this before we go down to my folks so that you lot have something to read to your families over your Christmas pudding and brandy sauce...
If I don't post anything before the 25th, I hope each and every one of you has a peaceful, joyous, Christmas in the spirit of the occasion, that you all get spoiled with some fantastic gifts, eat and drink your fill of turkey, roast potatoes and wine, and in turn, give some of the same cheer back to your friends and families. Going into the New Year, I hope your new year is filled with joy, abundance, family and relationships, friends, and all the things your heart might desire to make you happy.
As I always say in my Christmas cards, "May the best of this year be the worst of next year" to you all...keep well...
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Part1 of "I'm in Italy, no, I'm in Saudi, no, I'm back in Italy"...
Where do I start? The beginning's usually a good point, so I'll do that...
I left Shit Towne, en route to Torino, Italia, for the start of a three-week project initiation stint. This project, I've been told, is going to last between 4 and 6 months, so it looks like I'm going to miss most of the SA summer. At least I'll get some over the Xmas holiday break when we'll be going down to my folks for a few days.
The flight to Turin was via Frankfurt, ten and a half hours to there, literally right over the top of Turin. If they'd given me a parachute, it would have saved me the three hour wait in Frankfurt and the flight back to Turin. Fuckin' travel agents...probably don't know where Turin is...
Anyway, a reasonably short taxi ride into Turin and into the Hotel Diplomatic. It's smack in the centre of town, just off the main shopping drag. The room is sizable enough, with a double bed just for me and place to hang my stuff. The shower, on the other hand is not big enough for a cat, let alone space to swing it around in. If I stand with my back against the wal and extend my knee outwards, there's two inches from my knee to the wall. Small? It's so small I have to use only one arm to wash my hair cos I can't lift both arms at the same time for fear of getting my elbows stuck in the corners and having to pull the emergency rip-cord for maintenance to come and pry me out. Anyway, back to the story...
I don't sleep well in a strange bed on the first couple of nights so by the time the third night comes along, I'm knackered. On top of it all, I'm only in Turin for four nights then I'm off to Saudi Dryland again for a few days. The government there is going off on a two week holiday from the 12th December and CC, my host, wanted to get the presentation of the reports I did, out of the way before they all bugger off. It's not actually a holiday in Saudi, but with the Hajj happening there over that period, government literally comes to a standstill as thousands of people pour in for their pilgrimage. Being typically lazy, the Saudi's would rather get the hell out of Dodge while the people are around and take a few days to chill out.
On the Thursday afternoon, I take the train down to Milan for an overnight in the local Holiday Inn before flying out of Linate airport to Saudi. I figured I'd take a late afternoon train so that I could still see some of the countryside during the day, which is supposed to be worth it. Ha-fuckin'-ha!! The train leaves an hour and a quarter late, so by the time we get out of Turin it's pitch fuckin' dark outside and I can't see further than the road winding its way alongside the tracks. On top of it all, in Turin station I have an argument with an arrogant fuckin' train jockey. I see on the board that the train is going to be "30 minutes" late and go into the Information office to find out what platform it's supposed to be leaving from. Jockey tells me "no train, 30 minutes late" to which I say "I see that, but can you tell me which platform it's going to leave from?" to which he says "no train, 30 minutes late" to which I say "I see that, but can you tell me which platform it's going to leave from?"...you get the picture. Eventually, I point to the monitor in the office and ask "Which platform? Where is the platform column?" to which he takes me outside, points to the big board and says "No platform, 30 minutes late". At this, he mumbles something to some other Italians standing around, from which all I catch is the word "American". So I say to him, "Is the 'Binari' where the train leaves from?" and he says "Si, binari". I'm a little pissed off by now and I walk right next to him and say "Thanks, that's all I wanted to fuckin' know. And by the way, I'm not American, you little cunt, I'm a Scotsman!" and walk off into the crowd.
I wander around the station a while, all the while feeling the temperature dropping as evening closes in. Due to the marble and sandstone construction of the place, it's really getting cold for the jacket I have with me but there's not much I can do about it. The "binari" number comes up on the board and I make a dash for the relative warmth of the coach. The trip is uneventful, seeing as it's dark by the time we get out of Turin. In Milan Centro station, I get a taxi to take me to the Linate Holiday Inn and get checked in around 8pm. A quick dinner (half a dozen lamb chops and a small salad) and a 350ml bottle of Chianti to myself and it's time for bed. This time I doze off pretty quick and am amazed at how quick time flies before the alarm goes off at four fifteen for me to get showered and a taxi to the airport for my 7am flight.
The flight to Saudi is also via Frankfurt and the airport is absolutely massive. It could easily take 30mins to walk from one end of a terminal to the other, though it's not quite as big as Dubai. At least the flight to Saudi is direct from Frankfurt with no long stopover in Dubai. Lufthansa are one of the few airlines that are allowed to fly directly into Riyadh and their service is fantastic. Typical German efficiency, except for leaving a little late. The hostesses are friendly, ready to help or bring you whatever you need. All with a smile. Just the beer was a little disappointing...too sweet. But the cognac at the end of the lunch meal was a nice touch to end it off.
I'm in the usual Intercontinental Hotel in Riyadh and my driver, Siraj, gets me there with a smile this time, instead of his usual scowl even though I've had to drag him out of home on a virtual Sunday evening. The hotel has put me in one of their cabanas next to the pool and it's nice, though the floor is a little cold. The outside temperature is around 20deg and it's amazing how cold it feels compared to the 40-odd of just a month or so ago.
Into the office on Saturday (virtual Monday) morning, I meet with CC and we go through the presentation content. Aside from that, I'm left to my own devices and just potter about on my laptop, looking convincingly busy. I also meet with CC's boss, who is the sponsor from our side. He has a couple of suggestions for the presentation content which is fine by me, seeing as it's just cosmetic and which will make them look good to the client. The Saudi's are very political and easily offended by the way some words are put to them, so the cosmetic changes were all in the name of diplomacy. Me, I'm the worst diplomat in the world. If something needs said, I say it. I don't have the desire in me to butter things up just to make them sound nice. Call a spade a spade, I say...
On Sunday morning, I get into the client office early and meet up with Ahmed the Dead Terrorist to discuss some more changes he wants made to the document I produced for them. This akes us a couple of hours in the end, but it's fine as I'm not doing anything else and would probably just end up stressing before the presentation cos I'm not the most calm before such a meeting. The presentation is at 13h00 and was expected to go on for about 2hrs, pending questions from the client sponsor. In the end, we closed after just an hour, me having told them (in a nice enough way) that they have a lot of problems that they need to take care of to reduce the risks they face.
After the meeting, CC's boss decides to take us to lunch at the hotel I'm staying in, and I end up packing my stuff and checking out earlier than the expected 6pm. I went back to the compound with CC and, together with his wife, we went for a meal at the compound restaurant, before I got my drive back to the airport at 22h30. My flight was only at 1am, but the airport's always busy and it's good to get through customs early. And what a useless bunch of fuckers they are. I had checked my overnight bag into the hold on the way out of Frankfurt cos I managed to get it shrinkwrapped, but there's no such facility at Riyadh. As a result, I had to take my laptop and overnight bags on as hand luggage and, according to the aviation rules these days should not have been allowed to take my Swiss Army knife into the cabin with me. Needless to say, Riyadh the airport police didn't even blink an eyelid at it.
Not until I got to Zurich airport did I get some trouble. Not because of the knife though...this was Switzerland and they like Swiss Army knives there and let it go through when I explained that I had got it as a gift for my 40th birthday a few years ago. What they don't like though, is shampoo and shaving cream, both of which they confiscated, much to my exasperation. Strange rule...I can knife someone, but I'm not allowed to wash my hair or have a shave.
So I go through the customs check and wait around for a few minutes until the flight gate to Milan Malpensa airport opens. The flight leaves on time and the pilot gets a number of us to catch our breaths when he announces that the temperature in Milan is a sultry -5degC. I can't believe the temperature has dropped that much in only a couple of days but when we land, there's a layer of gravel and salt on the runway, and on those airplanes that had been on the runway all night, there's a thick layer of ice.
I wanted to see a bit of Milan, but I have only a hooded jumper and a few t-shirts with me as casual clothes and it's not enough to keep me warm in these temperatures. It appears I packed too lightly for my trip to Dryland.
To get to the central station in Milan for my train back to Turin, I have to take the Express train from the airport station. It's a trip of about 40mins and is quite pleasant cos the train is warm. It's one of the double-decker coaches and the view allows me to catch some of the bleak view on my new DVD video camera that I bought in Dryland as a pre-Xmas gift to myself. I'd thought about buying one on my last trip and now, seeing a couple of days of Italy, decided I'd better get one. Just taking still pictures back home is not enough to show Steph how nice a place Turin is and I can keep the DVD's for posterity. After the Express, I also have to take a short trip on the subway. Not an altogether pleasant experience. The subway is cold, smelly and full of bleak, disinterested looking people. I'm glad the trip is over quickly.
I take some footage of the outside of Milan station as the architecture is quite phenomenal, as is the architecture of both Italian cities I've seen so far. I can see this is one of the reasons Wreckless is proud of his Italian heritage. The other reason(s) I see for his pride, are the absolutely stunning Italian women. Only two other places have women as comparably beautiful, though I would venture to say they come a distant second to the Italian women.
I get quite cold, even in the sunshine, so I decide to forego the sightseeing trip in Milan and head straight back to Turin, thinking I might get some daylight footage afte the night trip of a few days ago. Not so...the fog has moved in due to the cold weather and the entire trip until 10 minutes outside of Turin (an hour and a half) is a grey blur. In places, you can look straight into the sun as the fog makes it look like nothing more than a white disc in the sky.
As with the trip down, the last ten minutes back into Turin is underground and totally boring, so I don't get any footage of that either.
A short walk back into the warmth of the Hotel Diplomatic, I get my stuff unpacked and have a refreshing, if cramped, shower. They've put me back in the same room with the tiny shower, even though I'd asked for a different room. Apparently, they would have had to charge me for a double room if I'd wanted a larger shower...go figure. Italians, by nature, are small people but I think even they would find this ridiculous...
Part 2 to follow as soon as I type it up...stay tuned...
I left Shit Towne, en route to Torino, Italia, for the start of a three-week project initiation stint. This project, I've been told, is going to last between 4 and 6 months, so it looks like I'm going to miss most of the SA summer. At least I'll get some over the Xmas holiday break when we'll be going down to my folks for a few days.
The flight to Turin was via Frankfurt, ten and a half hours to there, literally right over the top of Turin. If they'd given me a parachute, it would have saved me the three hour wait in Frankfurt and the flight back to Turin. Fuckin' travel agents...probably don't know where Turin is...
Anyway, a reasonably short taxi ride into Turin and into the Hotel Diplomatic. It's smack in the centre of town, just off the main shopping drag. The room is sizable enough, with a double bed just for me and place to hang my stuff. The shower, on the other hand is not big enough for a cat, let alone space to swing it around in. If I stand with my back against the wal and extend my knee outwards, there's two inches from my knee to the wall. Small? It's so small I have to use only one arm to wash my hair cos I can't lift both arms at the same time for fear of getting my elbows stuck in the corners and having to pull the emergency rip-cord for maintenance to come and pry me out. Anyway, back to the story...
I don't sleep well in a strange bed on the first couple of nights so by the time the third night comes along, I'm knackered. On top of it all, I'm only in Turin for four nights then I'm off to Saudi Dryland again for a few days. The government there is going off on a two week holiday from the 12th December and CC, my host, wanted to get the presentation of the reports I did, out of the way before they all bugger off. It's not actually a holiday in Saudi, but with the Hajj happening there over that period, government literally comes to a standstill as thousands of people pour in for their pilgrimage. Being typically lazy, the Saudi's would rather get the hell out of Dodge while the people are around and take a few days to chill out.
On the Thursday afternoon, I take the train down to Milan for an overnight in the local Holiday Inn before flying out of Linate airport to Saudi. I figured I'd take a late afternoon train so that I could still see some of the countryside during the day, which is supposed to be worth it. Ha-fuckin'-ha!! The train leaves an hour and a quarter late, so by the time we get out of Turin it's pitch fuckin' dark outside and I can't see further than the road winding its way alongside the tracks. On top of it all, in Turin station I have an argument with an arrogant fuckin' train jockey. I see on the board that the train is going to be "30 minutes" late and go into the Information office to find out what platform it's supposed to be leaving from. Jockey tells me "no train, 30 minutes late" to which I say "I see that, but can you tell me which platform it's going to leave from?" to which he says "no train, 30 minutes late" to which I say "I see that, but can you tell me which platform it's going to leave from?"...you get the picture. Eventually, I point to the monitor in the office and ask "Which platform? Where is the platform column?" to which he takes me outside, points to the big board and says "No platform, 30 minutes late". At this, he mumbles something to some other Italians standing around, from which all I catch is the word "American". So I say to him, "Is the 'Binari' where the train leaves from?" and he says "Si, binari". I'm a little pissed off by now and I walk right next to him and say "Thanks, that's all I wanted to fuckin' know. And by the way, I'm not American, you little cunt, I'm a Scotsman!" and walk off into the crowd.
I wander around the station a while, all the while feeling the temperature dropping as evening closes in. Due to the marble and sandstone construction of the place, it's really getting cold for the jacket I have with me but there's not much I can do about it. The "binari" number comes up on the board and I make a dash for the relative warmth of the coach. The trip is uneventful, seeing as it's dark by the time we get out of Turin. In Milan Centro station, I get a taxi to take me to the Linate Holiday Inn and get checked in around 8pm. A quick dinner (half a dozen lamb chops and a small salad) and a 350ml bottle of Chianti to myself and it's time for bed. This time I doze off pretty quick and am amazed at how quick time flies before the alarm goes off at four fifteen for me to get showered and a taxi to the airport for my 7am flight.
The flight to Saudi is also via Frankfurt and the airport is absolutely massive. It could easily take 30mins to walk from one end of a terminal to the other, though it's not quite as big as Dubai. At least the flight to Saudi is direct from Frankfurt with no long stopover in Dubai. Lufthansa are one of the few airlines that are allowed to fly directly into Riyadh and their service is fantastic. Typical German efficiency, except for leaving a little late. The hostesses are friendly, ready to help or bring you whatever you need. All with a smile. Just the beer was a little disappointing...too sweet. But the cognac at the end of the lunch meal was a nice touch to end it off.
I'm in the usual Intercontinental Hotel in Riyadh and my driver, Siraj, gets me there with a smile this time, instead of his usual scowl even though I've had to drag him out of home on a virtual Sunday evening. The hotel has put me in one of their cabanas next to the pool and it's nice, though the floor is a little cold. The outside temperature is around 20deg and it's amazing how cold it feels compared to the 40-odd of just a month or so ago.
Into the office on Saturday (virtual Monday) morning, I meet with CC and we go through the presentation content. Aside from that, I'm left to my own devices and just potter about on my laptop, looking convincingly busy. I also meet with CC's boss, who is the sponsor from our side. He has a couple of suggestions for the presentation content which is fine by me, seeing as it's just cosmetic and which will make them look good to the client. The Saudi's are very political and easily offended by the way some words are put to them, so the cosmetic changes were all in the name of diplomacy. Me, I'm the worst diplomat in the world. If something needs said, I say it. I don't have the desire in me to butter things up just to make them sound nice. Call a spade a spade, I say...
On Sunday morning, I get into the client office early and meet up with Ahmed the Dead Terrorist to discuss some more changes he wants made to the document I produced for them. This akes us a couple of hours in the end, but it's fine as I'm not doing anything else and would probably just end up stressing before the presentation cos I'm not the most calm before such a meeting. The presentation is at 13h00 and was expected to go on for about 2hrs, pending questions from the client sponsor. In the end, we closed after just an hour, me having told them (in a nice enough way) that they have a lot of problems that they need to take care of to reduce the risks they face.
After the meeting, CC's boss decides to take us to lunch at the hotel I'm staying in, and I end up packing my stuff and checking out earlier than the expected 6pm. I went back to the compound with CC and, together with his wife, we went for a meal at the compound restaurant, before I got my drive back to the airport at 22h30. My flight was only at 1am, but the airport's always busy and it's good to get through customs early. And what a useless bunch of fuckers they are. I had checked my overnight bag into the hold on the way out of Frankfurt cos I managed to get it shrinkwrapped, but there's no such facility at Riyadh. As a result, I had to take my laptop and overnight bags on as hand luggage and, according to the aviation rules these days should not have been allowed to take my Swiss Army knife into the cabin with me. Needless to say, Riyadh the airport police didn't even blink an eyelid at it.
Not until I got to Zurich airport did I get some trouble. Not because of the knife though...this was Switzerland and they like Swiss Army knives there and let it go through when I explained that I had got it as a gift for my 40th birthday a few years ago. What they don't like though, is shampoo and shaving cream, both of which they confiscated, much to my exasperation. Strange rule...I can knife someone, but I'm not allowed to wash my hair or have a shave.
So I go through the customs check and wait around for a few minutes until the flight gate to Milan Malpensa airport opens. The flight leaves on time and the pilot gets a number of us to catch our breaths when he announces that the temperature in Milan is a sultry -5degC. I can't believe the temperature has dropped that much in only a couple of days but when we land, there's a layer of gravel and salt on the runway, and on those airplanes that had been on the runway all night, there's a thick layer of ice.
I wanted to see a bit of Milan, but I have only a hooded jumper and a few t-shirts with me as casual clothes and it's not enough to keep me warm in these temperatures. It appears I packed too lightly for my trip to Dryland.
To get to the central station in Milan for my train back to Turin, I have to take the Express train from the airport station. It's a trip of about 40mins and is quite pleasant cos the train is warm. It's one of the double-decker coaches and the view allows me to catch some of the bleak view on my new DVD video camera that I bought in Dryland as a pre-Xmas gift to myself. I'd thought about buying one on my last trip and now, seeing a couple of days of Italy, decided I'd better get one. Just taking still pictures back home is not enough to show Steph how nice a place Turin is and I can keep the DVD's for posterity. After the Express, I also have to take a short trip on the subway. Not an altogether pleasant experience. The subway is cold, smelly and full of bleak, disinterested looking people. I'm glad the trip is over quickly.
I take some footage of the outside of Milan station as the architecture is quite phenomenal, as is the architecture of both Italian cities I've seen so far. I can see this is one of the reasons Wreckless is proud of his Italian heritage. The other reason(s) I see for his pride, are the absolutely stunning Italian women. Only two other places have women as comparably beautiful, though I would venture to say they come a distant second to the Italian women.
I get quite cold, even in the sunshine, so I decide to forego the sightseeing trip in Milan and head straight back to Turin, thinking I might get some daylight footage afte the night trip of a few days ago. Not so...the fog has moved in due to the cold weather and the entire trip until 10 minutes outside of Turin (an hour and a half) is a grey blur. In places, you can look straight into the sun as the fog makes it look like nothing more than a white disc in the sky.
As with the trip down, the last ten minutes back into Turin is underground and totally boring, so I don't get any footage of that either.
A short walk back into the warmth of the Hotel Diplomatic, I get my stuff unpacked and have a refreshing, if cramped, shower. They've put me back in the same room with the tiny shower, even though I'd asked for a different room. Apparently, they would have had to charge me for a double room if I'd wanted a larger shower...go figure. Italians, by nature, are small people but I think even they would find this ridiculous...
Part 2 to follow as soon as I type it up...stay tuned...
Friday, December 14, 2007
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