tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84693078331566339092024-03-13T05:47:19.243+04:00Bodhi BumBODHI SATTVA DHARMA BUMBodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07287144806676862923noreply@blogger.comBlogger44125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469307833156633909.post-52459689631544476732011-01-21T11:26:00.013+04:002011-01-21T11:45:55.239+04:00Saturday Afternoon Road Trip to IraqSo I'm newly landed back in the little country of Kuwait. The land of economic migrants where fun is Harem (against God or something of the sort), and drinking a beer will get you shot. Or at least deported.<br /><br />So in this land of coffee shops, and not much else, what is there for a bored, single guy to do on a Saturday weekend afternoon? Well, not much it turns out. So what the hell. Let's go to Iraq. And seeing I haven't posted on my blog in over a year and a half, I figured I'd resurrect my blog from the ashes and bring it back to life.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR1n7s4p98p9IU9UkEy__LxGqGfvVqu5lU2j4nHLNeDiU_E_JAjLpDWoWaCTaLo3Nkw2wLX-z-dSdyORpyZSSzacQ8c6jhCOOvJRqvWHN8l-mYy4yR5-UR7XcWeU1_eNDZO5lGpBT0ysg/s1600/IMG_1020.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR1n7s4p98p9IU9UkEy__LxGqGfvVqu5lU2j4nHLNeDiU_E_JAjLpDWoWaCTaLo3Nkw2wLX-z-dSdyORpyZSSzacQ8c6jhCOOvJRqvWHN8l-mYy4yR5-UR7XcWeU1_eNDZO5lGpBT0ysg/s400/IMG_1020.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564533981468099570" /></a> <br />My IPhone GPS, showing my route from Kuwait City to Iraq. And me at the Iraqi border.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpeLKn0iXAWOzkG6LIkJ5fTS8-yNr7DG_rO_SN0-gf7g_BToavZEhJ9ubzOwf-KZl1sWJ5FpX-jMSa7LEjXrBtlBsZ4ATejQhD0RaVFziFlcwl3aYhJTNDwI2m2397DZvqVAgxqnkj4ss/s1600/IMG_0977.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpeLKn0iXAWOzkG6LIkJ5fTS8-yNr7DG_rO_SN0-gf7g_BToavZEhJ9ubzOwf-KZl1sWJ5FpX-jMSa7LEjXrBtlBsZ4ATejQhD0RaVFziFlcwl3aYhJTNDwI2m2397DZvqVAgxqnkj4ss/s400/IMG_0977.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564534433165711458" /></a> <br />The view from my windows this morning before hitting the road. Hardly deserving to be called a view, but that's what's outside my window.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht4XH4jW-im5TD7w5fXKJgn0DjrC7IkhKieUWegOSZMf_9xUp6sE41vndYDwJjrsEbKnblV9g1xr7DTg8QJaymB6UtELfxcHd_Yr1qje6Kq-QwjWMUbUp1vkwQ9FVpljnz-df0YIV2q8w/s1600/IMG_0984.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht4XH4jW-im5TD7w5fXKJgn0DjrC7IkhKieUWegOSZMf_9xUp6sE41vndYDwJjrsEbKnblV9g1xr7DTg8QJaymB6UtELfxcHd_Yr1qje6Kq-QwjWMUbUp1vkwQ9FVpljnz-df0YIV2q8w/s400/IMG_0984.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564536960993940418" /></a><br />On the road heading out of Kuwait, bound for the Iraq border.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDeI-Ok-UBbfNptFpLxHcu7U_2veVMikoZAGHP0n9Fqy31-Q5xyaijmarj2nAEZd_DLJQCJccxLwnZxwZpSfCnX7s8hyhEBmWc7huXasqjwEUkc_FmV8uiDePnz4T1k2PI7tOwG8q2wqQ/s1600/IMG_0981.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDeI-Ok-UBbfNptFpLxHcu7U_2veVMikoZAGHP0n9Fqy31-Q5xyaijmarj2nAEZd_DLJQCJccxLwnZxwZpSfCnX7s8hyhEBmWc7huXasqjwEUkc_FmV8uiDePnz4T1k2PI7tOwG8q2wqQ/s400/IMG_0981.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564536959240488722" /></a><br />Turn right for Iraq.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr-11eP9AfW4FoEYmYcl54DPU-rHUoMUqy4oFffYZ9gCrT0rjs4rTN9PcO2XvusFcfDMVT_MjtGkH2slUTVbd8rmiYSVbezydIRwAd3l_pZy83qTUpQzHe40ycdSCQKjqbltDzfjM_QKo/s1600/IMG_0990.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr-11eP9AfW4FoEYmYcl54DPU-rHUoMUqy4oFffYZ9gCrT0rjs4rTN9PcO2XvusFcfDMVT_MjtGkH2slUTVbd8rmiYSVbezydIRwAd3l_pZy83qTUpQzHe40ycdSCQKjqbltDzfjM_QKo/s400/IMG_0990.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564537952342991042" /></a><br />Looks like Sadam Hussein forgot one of his bombs in Kuwait.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ85IP7Px-zg1EKsfqZYCbYIEay59RRHCqpZCcA7cBUWL6j6kBe3bOgNkbfQVGpmw2aph2ruNrdynR8Z_hFGe5kahAcAiR_CHk67BB7isaovzlJVW14sUfgtlZQnuy3NFbGtEt2pOoZBE/s1600/IMG_0994.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ85IP7Px-zg1EKsfqZYCbYIEay59RRHCqpZCcA7cBUWL6j6kBe3bOgNkbfQVGpmw2aph2ruNrdynR8Z_hFGe5kahAcAiR_CHk67BB7isaovzlJVW14sUfgtlZQnuy3NFbGtEt2pOoZBE/s400/IMG_0994.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564538340884634338" /></a><br />Sucks to have their job, fixing hydro poles in 52 degree Celcius afternoon heat.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg19e2WJSWOz6IIR22QTrA8Otc6kV8EUVGE53bDSqbMhOFWBVon3bNC-XUH4e3Gonx8n9oeWtGeYnqYgE3fq03-yUfEFwRRwl6omCmhNbfC0XQfUbu1sAW-7ueiyNyuA9bcG-DpSQOl5Zs/s1600/IMG_0993.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg19e2WJSWOz6IIR22QTrA8Otc6kV8EUVGE53bDSqbMhOFWBVon3bNC-XUH4e3Gonx8n9oeWtGeYnqYgE3fq03-yUfEFwRRwl6omCmhNbfC0XQfUbu1sAW-7ueiyNyuA9bcG-DpSQOl5Zs/s400/IMG_0993.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564538515607956754" /></a><br />Danger ahead. Nice of them to warn me.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1QKzVRfXtS4-Du1z0lur3nCHlyD1MiuJ6PliYlm6R7ogxNN7hmsKDQgP1U4jf0_ex7Dnk0dVzDADzskZb4dP5-XxSpmZPQW4dAszJtmvz_ah9F88cdPNBl5a5YTIBG9NjzpC1PwURnVk/s1600/IMG_0999.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1QKzVRfXtS4-Du1z0lur3nCHlyD1MiuJ6PliYlm6R7ogxNN7hmsKDQgP1U4jf0_ex7Dnk0dVzDADzskZb4dP5-XxSpmZPQW4dAszJtmvz_ah9F88cdPNBl5a5YTIBG9NjzpC1PwURnVk/s400/IMG_0999.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564538905923144466" /></a><br />That's where your oil comes from. Not the most environmentally friendly of places.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijE1cjC6oI2KTQgIimPznFAb8m-cY-8kulieMOytzaR6TkWF9paK_UfuslQg0KhpSB8A_OHo3Q_BROBElocXLCg1WVHWiMmPjQWyEJy75oMgyW_ljUNM-idKla2XTXiNqyPyj9GNyGOA4/s1600/IMG_1009.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijE1cjC6oI2KTQgIimPznFAb8m-cY-8kulieMOytzaR6TkWF9paK_UfuslQg0KhpSB8A_OHo3Q_BROBElocXLCg1WVHWiMmPjQWyEJy75oMgyW_ljUNM-idKla2XTXiNqyPyj9GNyGOA4/s400/IMG_1009.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564539157509187554" /></a><br />Arriving at the Iraq border. Not much of a border. Not that they probably get much tourist trade.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiadtR3jsHOLTp5BBqq0Yycwmphbw4pIApBFWeoCRHVs5qEVRQGEW40veLs2JmKHA9q9zmzszeoN9XVyKZu9NBUZUHkggsp_wHO2Mu2QHrm4YxTRX72Njp5Yd9qS6ABipNX0bw9e7kJzxw/s1600/IMG_1012.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiadtR3jsHOLTp5BBqq0Yycwmphbw4pIApBFWeoCRHVs5qEVRQGEW40veLs2JmKHA9q9zmzszeoN9XVyKZu9NBUZUHkggsp_wHO2Mu2QHrm4YxTRX72Njp5Yd9qS6ABipNX0bw9e7kJzxw/s400/IMG_1012.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564539384298608146" /></a><br />About as close as I could get. There were soldiers with big scary guns.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUFkYoPo5QpTkDBaXD53XybO2ZWS2XkNwTTuB4eAbpKv86afRe2zJy6uPxEun2QkpQqJyGIuBEEo0OS05ijNkFjvc0QMfeoU2Nzd9NcffRLrLVnq0hxzzif_gvRTb1V0p_amy3HoLaVpY/s1600/IMG_1015.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUFkYoPo5QpTkDBaXD53XybO2ZWS2XkNwTTuB4eAbpKv86afRe2zJy6uPxEun2QkpQqJyGIuBEEo0OS05ijNkFjvc0QMfeoU2Nzd9NcffRLrLVnq0hxzzif_gvRTb1V0p_amy3HoLaVpY/s400/IMG_1015.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564539561649398610" /></a><br />The gate on the Iraq side of the border. Kind of hard to see Iraq. But I can say I was there, and I saw it. Kind of a long way to drive (1.5 hours each way), just to peer through the border gates. But I was here, so I had to at least say I saw Iraq. Even if I couldn't actually get there.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQbVhefY53BA5RJzhPPoz0nW3SssdouU8H1fDWRT8A8MtPlzRHN3fHMO6zrQ3KpZZxN_kiB87PD5cOcKgkEKmKRKY2amKkEbY5nUcWTf6oovltb-PFBZQfgJ1_2barRn6R_fuhVDdkbZ4/s1600/IMG_1016.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQbVhefY53BA5RJzhPPoz0nW3SssdouU8H1fDWRT8A8MtPlzRHN3fHMO6zrQ3KpZZxN_kiB87PD5cOcKgkEKmKRKY2amKkEbY5nUcWTf6oovltb-PFBZQfgJ1_2barRn6R_fuhVDdkbZ4/s400/IMG_1016.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564539715741821858" /></a><br />I guess that's what keeps the Iraqi terrorists out of Kuwait. Beat up warning signs.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNxizL97q3qh3Vyg20Mv0GnhyIhSYeIhbPn9GEykt5K5XLqBoqRAnI_tE1FMR38-HWPQPtYIlRRiqfKqsLTgFFATsWxTwxySYUqWhDiNW-th8Ca_X0-rMhbZ7uW1XNJ-w0UA7_0h6FhhI/s1600/IMG_1018.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNxizL97q3qh3Vyg20Mv0GnhyIhSYeIhbPn9GEykt5K5XLqBoqRAnI_tE1FMR38-HWPQPtYIlRRiqfKqsLTgFFATsWxTwxySYUqWhDiNW-th8Ca_X0-rMhbZ7uW1XNJ-w0UA7_0h6FhhI/s400/IMG_1018.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564539965217870274" /></a><br />This soldier came running over after this shot, yelling "No picture. No picture!". That's about the extent of the english he knew, accept for the word "DELETE!! DELETE!!". So I made a show of deleting the pictures, but he seemed more interested in shaking my hand, so I didn't actually delete the pictures. Maybe a risky thing to do, lying to a soldier with a gun on the Iraqi border, but I wasn't about to delete my pictures that proved I was there.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMvj-z2GbPHVWnS4Dn9Z1ug4T5QLgcAurPzrTC7COAmVKKQzV4t_YKJGJrCG93sgyEhX2bhx08YHlhpI-ens3G7uWYK_toKfAt0EMRWflVYK4kVR42LAY62kCGjMFqCX03jJRJj3LxETI/s1600/IMG_1019.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMvj-z2GbPHVWnS4Dn9Z1ug4T5QLgcAurPzrTC7COAmVKKQzV4t_YKJGJrCG93sgyEhX2bhx08YHlhpI-ens3G7uWYK_toKfAt0EMRWflVYK4kVR42LAY62kCGjMFqCX03jJRJj3LxETI/s400/IMG_1019.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564540221565610242" /></a><br />My Yaris, getting back in and heading back home to Kuwait City.<br /><br />So that was my big day out in Kuwait. I could hardly say I was part of the 1st expeditionary force in the ground invasion of Iraq in search of WMD's. The only WMD's I found were a couple bricks that dropped off the back of a truck in front of me going 160 km/h. That was enough to almost wipe me out. But Allah was smiling on me that day and I made it back home to Kuwait City safe and sound.<br /><br />So I can now say I've been to Iraq. Or at least as close as I'll probably ever get. So another country added to the total. Still conquering the world, one country at a time.<br /><br />BodhiBodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07287144806676862923noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469307833156633909.post-29581062298949789042009-08-22T19:29:00.009+04:002009-08-22T20:47:18.271+04:00Ramadan Kareem!!!Ramadan Kareem... or Ramadan is Bountiful in english. <br /><br />Here in the land of Islam, today marks the start of the holy month of Ramadan. It's a strange concept to a Westerner, an entire month of fasting from dawn to dusk. I had always heard about Ramadan before I came here, but having to live through an entire month of it is a whole other story.<br /><br />They don't really know exactly when Ramadan is going to start it seems, until the very last minute. Turns out they spotted the crescent moon on Thursday night and knew it was going to start today, on Saturday. Of course, nobody bothered to tell me. So I woke up Saturday morning, and like usual lately wondered what the hell I was going to do this weekend when it's 48 degrees Celcius outside. So like usual, I hopped in my car and headed to Marina Mall. And what did I find when I got there, to my last bastion of weekend entertainment, seeking my weekend coffee and Gulf News paper? Well, sure enough, Ramadan had started while I was asleep and unaware, and even though the mall was open, all the coffee shops and restaurants were closed, and the place was deserted.<br /><br />Turns out the Muslims during Ramadan are not allowed to eat, drink, smoke, have sex, or pretty much do anything else, between dawn and dusk. And non-Muslims that are here, well, they have to show courtesy and not do any of the above in public either. I can usually go without having sex in public, but the eating is tough, and the drinking means my weekend coffee and paper is a no-go, so I guess I'll have to be good and play along. So now not only do I not have anything fun to do, I also can't even have a coffee and read the paper. For an entire month. Maybe I'll just join in the fasting, whether I like it or not.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPORqFBtO0pAKhvdovH_atUjpPvxRQLrT3EEpL21dAHHZx9VORhudk0h-JZbY4BpWJw1fnI-w7f2rM1qrbFUjC_rd2eAZMToDG2I007c7Kuya5il3iaKUJEIv7t9hKcGrwcSxfOqmLXiQ/s1600-h/IMG_0335.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPORqFBtO0pAKhvdovH_atUjpPvxRQLrT3EEpL21dAHHZx9VORhudk0h-JZbY4BpWJw1fnI-w7f2rM1qrbFUjC_rd2eAZMToDG2I007c7Kuya5il3iaKUJEIv7t9hKcGrwcSxfOqmLXiQ/s400/IMG_0335.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372813047364836418" /></a><br />Still I did go outside just now to get my laundry and lo and behold, I saw my first Crescent Moon. Amazing how I've never seen it quite like that before.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMOjf4yx9ks_NJLy7iiTQbXgkc_dn2-ZqCNEIUhx4k3a-578MqtHC4lZUP9OIKHgbntVTf6A9Zm2c9WVp17C9CP6FYdJofTZG1Y4ghFVA0weKSqW7pwGv3kkWejC9FPaAOIvFVsuEFZhc/s1600-h/IMG_0330.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMOjf4yx9ks_NJLy7iiTQbXgkc_dn2-ZqCNEIUhx4k3a-578MqtHC4lZUP9OIKHgbntVTf6A9Zm2c9WVp17C9CP6FYdJofTZG1Y4ghFVA0weKSqW7pwGv3kkWejC9FPaAOIvFVsuEFZhc/s400/IMG_0330.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372813355813189106" /></a><br /><br />Ramadan Kareem!!!Bodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07287144806676862923noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469307833156633909.post-58652502514188874952009-06-20T20:39:00.000+04:002009-06-20T21:53:01.622+04:00Fujairah, East Coast, UAE & Musandam, OmanSo it's been more than a while since I last posted an entry here. When I first started reading all the other blogs around, and got excited to try and resuscitate my old travel blog that I've been keeping off and on for five plus years now. Except that my travel blog was exactly that, a blog based on my travels, or at least using my travels as a means to relate the new places I saw and the new experiences I encountered. This other kind of blogging that has sprung up, which essentially the blog becomes the end in itself, where you develop an audience and feel compelled to continue generating subject matter or content to keep that audience entertained. And this is a whole other thing from blogging for yourself as a means to document your life, a diary per say, a kind of public diary. But in the end, still mostly for yourself than for others.<br /><br />So my lackluster attempt to convert my travel blog into a mainstream blog king of hit a snag after the first few posts. For a few reasons I guess. One, I only tend to blog when something interesting happens. And two, which is somehow related to one, I'm not traveling at the moment. So not much interesting has been happening. I could write about how my usual weekend sees me waking up early with my cup of coffee and spending the morning reading my list of favourite blogs. But who wants to blog about reading blogs? Or maybe how it's so hot outside now that summer has hit the Gulf region, that I've somehow sadly found myself morphed into that most pathetic and lowly of creatures known as a "mallwalker". Hey, when it's 45 degrees outside and you need exercise, there's not a lot of other options. Sure I would rather be hiking up a mountain somewhere, or running along a beach. But instead I power walk through Ikea and Carrefour, and try to avoid eye contact with the mall walkers club members. At least I didn't join the club. I still have my dignity.<br /><br />So what's changed that's made me want to post once again after two plus months hiatus. What else. I travelled. Not far mind you. Not even out of the country. Just across the UAE to the East Coast, to a little seaside town called Fujairah. It's only about a four hour drive from Abu Dhabi, but it's a world away from the hustle and bustle of the capital, and Dubai. It's a tiny little place, with not a lot of white faces. Which woudn't normally make for much of a trip. But the thing this place has going for it is the beaches. The beaches here are amazing, and completely empty. Dubai is full of European sun seekers crowding the beaches. Here you have the Indians who flood the beach every Friday afternoon, but the local Emirates don't like the sun or the beach, so they're deserted the rest of the time. Except for me. And my little beach chair.<br /><br />Friday I was planning on going scuba diving out to Musandam, Oman. So I woke up early and hit the road. But I kinda got lost, and couldn't find the dive shop, so by the time I found where I was going, the boat was already gone. So instead of diving, I just headed on down the road towards Oman. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMtLd_0uq34reD4K-7uAIeWBg9OWFpALLSzXaXnP4pGzy07GMJwvI6y1u5APCfhTmMwn3d3lQddCNL0ohxZuPu6e_xjSCuQ31UsoRMjV0M_mcnxkHZt6SXQOwLUf5KjFD4L3mzcOLh2Z8/s1600-h/img_0251.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMtLd_0uq34reD4K-7uAIeWBg9OWFpALLSzXaXnP4pGzy07GMJwvI6y1u5APCfhTmMwn3d3lQddCNL0ohxZuPu6e_xjSCuQ31UsoRMjV0M_mcnxkHZt6SXQOwLUf5KjFD4L3mzcOLh2Z8/s400/img_0251.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349465509610890434" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwYptvHilBW61UlNoIqh_R8ijXze2Zv4IkhupZaNJjTvLpX6PaS9bwA4haBUSnTMo5EhzBTh-2R5phiALPTo0Ju9El28gxQRVEYH0nycEvbUvUpBr-jr1hxINhUz3OUgry3cIItwG4lq4/s1600-h/img_0203.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwYptvHilBW61UlNoIqh_R8ijXze2Zv4IkhupZaNJjTvLpX6PaS9bwA4haBUSnTMo5EhzBTh-2R5phiALPTo0Ju9El28gxQRVEYH0nycEvbUvUpBr-jr1hxINhUz3OUgry3cIItwG4lq4/s400/img_0203.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349459501055868962" /></a><br /><br /> I decided that I had to at least do Oman one time, at least to say I've been there and add it to the list of countries I've frequented. So I went in search of Oman, and funny enough didn't even realize I had found it until I was already far into it. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS1oD0odwUsupd3Ft-BZqolkg5d_HTGu_t65tZ_9_0-XW9698MskeWWmsUUsaKlT7WGksqGhNTlpB3HNwYQTrH4v0No-ODfgGiweLleddTVvJZIZHMzPs1j80H4GgxhQtJ14RtgBAvYKE/s1600-h/img_0213.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS1oD0odwUsupd3Ft-BZqolkg5d_HTGu_t65tZ_9_0-XW9698MskeWWmsUUsaKlT7WGksqGhNTlpB3HNwYQTrH4v0No-ODfgGiweLleddTVvJZIZHMzPs1j80H4GgxhQtJ14RtgBAvYKE/s400/img_0213.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349459503881823698" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjxVIlmfK_hATyqNZlH_uyA6AnutYy2Tsk-zXJ5bMUdilwOWVc1zRMH10brc_Xj7vBoIMR0vV8zDJR5ojmewxGFBpjLQ-dGSJixf1AzlV-TMLsC87XlNzl5d-8ZB9PBnn1edK3-36-cKs/s1600-h/img_0247.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjxVIlmfK_hATyqNZlH_uyA6AnutYy2Tsk-zXJ5bMUdilwOWVc1zRMH10brc_Xj7vBoIMR0vV8zDJR5ojmewxGFBpjLQ-dGSJixf1AzlV-TMLsC87XlNzl5d-8ZB9PBnn1edK3-36-cKs/s400/img_0247.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349463373590798290" /></a><br /><br />Stupid me, I assumed that you need to show your passport to pass from one country to the next. Apparently this basic rule of travel is disregarded when it comes to the UAE and Oman. I guess they must be on exceedingly good terms, since all you have to do is wave at the guy in the booth as your driving by and that suffices for a border check. Strange. So it wasn't until I started noticing banks with the word Oman in it, that I realized that indeed I was in Oman, and that it was pretty much anti-climactic. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGzLNQ5h6WDWZ7lzMdFcQgizPeMr8N_lrJuSDkbZBXOLhwndffcPDwTiLDXc7JwrmE0t_lDvutFAA0O5WF3X94AmjL9qrWoE0ngTq-q7DZaG4Q6GcQraB2NRZTyLv-F_ry_6JdH0FlvVY/s1600-h/img_0223.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGzLNQ5h6WDWZ7lzMdFcQgizPeMr8N_lrJuSDkbZBXOLhwndffcPDwTiLDXc7JwrmE0t_lDvutFAA0O5WF3X94AmjL9qrWoE0ngTq-q7DZaG4Q6GcQraB2NRZTyLv-F_ry_6JdH0FlvVY/s400/img_0223.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349459511484596610" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHaLbcHlaFNfoWfKkMJyj7VJUlf9vSPxqXPJzTXj6PgKIMg_bWhSgx1X8XS1ghH3knAEZnJsDpQiVxVmbdUsqjK-j-60pfZ6X7-4QaXHjXB_WRc98yZOOzwlkR3QguD9uoqHOJkXXMPIY/s1600-h/img_0219.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHaLbcHlaFNfoWfKkMJyj7VJUlf9vSPxqXPJzTXj6PgKIMg_bWhSgx1X8XS1ghH3knAEZnJsDpQiVxVmbdUsqjK-j-60pfZ6X7-4QaXHjXB_WRc98yZOOzwlkR3QguD9uoqHOJkXXMPIY/s400/img_0219.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349459508049276882" /></a><br /><br />So I continued on, and tried to follow a highway up through the mountains, but after the first awe inspiring mountain pass, the ash fault abruptly ended and it was dirt road after that. And since my Toyota Yaris hatchback is the antithesis of a four by four, I turned back as well.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKMcOLhIZvtfgwAhGUYkgKlfisZk2MRdEz0pCBwXD7ffHfd3O0EDwJDsco3iXhSa01-zxs9dO2d-GI6v7Qg2aXzKAOKjrF_c0xKPUr4IJs9-8nqbKtCxKwsfRjR1Y1dWXm-fNoxsGA5hg/s1600-h/img_0224.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKMcOLhIZvtfgwAhGUYkgKlfisZk2MRdEz0pCBwXD7ffHfd3O0EDwJDsco3iXhSa01-zxs9dO2d-GI6v7Qg2aXzKAOKjrF_c0xKPUr4IJs9-8nqbKtCxKwsfRjR1Y1dWXm-fNoxsGA5hg/s400/img_0224.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349465413540160930" /></a><br /><br />So other than seeing a few goats, and a few more mountains, I'd say that Oman is a whole lot like the UAE, just about 15 or so years in the past. So I headed back my hotel in Fujairah for a quiet night in.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhql3DT2L63ZPQ83YShxClPoOrtATFWg8PMcCk4IpBeP4O8PLZ-LRxnf4oG_HmQlKQSmwGTbauHshgZ2lk1mYCiswGiNMVlo1ieRDyc4jhFQ-Y7LBfbPctj9MpYYMRxSSttBkbdt-jj7AI/s1600-h/img_0232.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhql3DT2L63ZPQ83YShxClPoOrtATFWg8PMcCk4IpBeP4O8PLZ-LRxnf4oG_HmQlKQSmwGTbauHshgZ2lk1mYCiswGiNMVlo1ieRDyc4jhFQ-Y7LBfbPctj9MpYYMRxSSttBkbdt-jj7AI/s400/img_0232.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349463005177772386" /></a><br /><br />But stopped on the way home to take some pictures of a boat and some dead fish.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpv5JKLEzUl3NR3VMW7tpemCieX33ydwQ90EMTD_U4RAeiFXPc_zFRKhUAKG6vRbQSdYdo2T2tnKBWOSilKfl_P2HbPb2El6rrGnuP6mxGP_QN-eUBRUant9rlsGq_xltpu4xPj132rCY/s1600-h/img_0234.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpv5JKLEzUl3NR3VMW7tpemCieX33ydwQ90EMTD_U4RAeiFXPc_zFRKhUAKG6vRbQSdYdo2T2tnKBWOSilKfl_P2HbPb2El6rrGnuP6mxGP_QN-eUBRUant9rlsGq_xltpu4xPj132rCY/s400/img_0234.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349463002018528066" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5NzROYgNc0ukTCVM7OjQcnTdRsMSvvKrIgNoICwy2eBo4pVgl2t9lo33DQiNY2u5aqbGg9wVd3EMDSxQDZXpnBzIWLnm21s4R1c8PCiABikiot4Gld3R3lSSW2O2pqP-URvYkI0RJ7lk/s1600-h/img_0231.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5NzROYgNc0ukTCVM7OjQcnTdRsMSvvKrIgNoICwy2eBo4pVgl2t9lo33DQiNY2u5aqbGg9wVd3EMDSxQDZXpnBzIWLnm21s4R1c8PCiABikiot4Gld3R3lSSW2O2pqP-URvYkI0RJ7lk/s400/img_0231.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349462997347356338" /></a><br /><br />This morning I was again up bright and early, and after doing domestic stuff I headed over to Khor Fakan to chill out on their stunning beach in my new favourite spot under my new favourite tree. Again, the beach was all to myself. So I made the most of it, with my new favourite book. The Glass Palace, by Amitav Ghosh. Amazing book. It's a story set in Burma, when the British invaded, and follows the Burmese royal family which is moved by the British to India, and how their lives turn out throughout India, Burma and Malaysia, during the rise and fall of the British Empire. Amazing story, and it's great to get a sense of the history of the countries surrounding Thailand, which I haven't had any experience before. Anyways, good book to pass the afternoon on the beach.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPQ9UWua_Fw0Wlcc1NMxvIcNbWX3hFAiHg3gs6XRnVxRlz0HB0ZJb0sK1t7w1mtmLZq98yK-1FLKvynaY7-i38oOjkaQHJdVdn-z9fLFQwdl0Yu9_fBf4_aoYPry1gS8NSjkPNDmagQm8/s1600-h/img_0002.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPQ9UWua_Fw0Wlcc1NMxvIcNbWX3hFAiHg3gs6XRnVxRlz0HB0ZJb0sK1t7w1mtmLZq98yK-1FLKvynaY7-i38oOjkaQHJdVdn-z9fLFQwdl0Yu9_fBf4_aoYPry1gS8NSjkPNDmagQm8/s400/img_0002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349461602143137746" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrKp-ihm-37TnvBc6oSqjH0glHjuj_jTCNdG8F8GzZs87UFg3IZAd5wuJqRuFqrXb5_WiokBy-nLFngiW-8expqYV6XWKSYpCllIuxflnZcyVHVlt38g0556ri9bW-KGl4iNkZ6P_SQcA/s1600-h/img_0006.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrKp-ihm-37TnvBc6oSqjH0glHjuj_jTCNdG8F8GzZs87UFg3IZAd5wuJqRuFqrXb5_WiokBy-nLFngiW-8expqYV6XWKSYpCllIuxflnZcyVHVlt38g0556ri9bW-KGl4iNkZ6P_SQcA/s400/img_0006.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349461609459253170" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHoKpUFd6D5RIHxXRkQJwQpYiziOAhVpl7idAbdNfyr82pEN0NgmJLBxsiI4mndYcj97AtRgNUg1ThW8oDNO4838vyOgrj7fnyPYBeVmdAA1Kg3VUzZ69ogUlmjApIE_xfFtLwBr4VUVA/s1600-h/img_0196.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHoKpUFd6D5RIHxXRkQJwQpYiziOAhVpl7idAbdNfyr82pEN0NgmJLBxsiI4mndYcj97AtRgNUg1ThW8oDNO4838vyOgrj7fnyPYBeVmdAA1Kg3VUzZ69ogUlmjApIE_xfFtLwBr4VUVA/s400/img_0196.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349461613426712562" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkXDehyphenhyphenKV3F5tg7NAhHSZ084mHX4YGJjdLJN0UxQUKXmRVyGhYDpTAkBUuQu-DEXOEQzB8TUbOoUrKCv5els4FqYd7mleIFgELu8NGtZXXSbfeKtgWUb-EJmFbcOA-yhRbw2BHdhsM77g/s1600-h/img_0015.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkXDehyphenhyphenKV3F5tg7NAhHSZ084mHX4YGJjdLJN0UxQUKXmRVyGhYDpTAkBUuQu-DEXOEQzB8TUbOoUrKCv5els4FqYd7mleIFgELu8NGtZXXSbfeKtgWUb-EJmFbcOA-yhRbw2BHdhsM77g/s400/img_0015.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349461616266971842" /></a><br /><br />So I'm here in Fujairah until Tuesday, when I head back to Abu Dhabi to get packed up, as I'm heading home for my summer holiday on Wednesday night. Three weeks off, and only a few more days to go. Man this coming work week is gonna go so slow.Bodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07287144806676862923noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469307833156633909.post-91942146333686175172009-03-01T20:25:00.001+04:002009-07-25T14:04:14.484+04:00FearlessLately I've found my self self-examining myself, to some degree. I've always prided myself on being a pretty happy go lucky sort of character. Nothing has ever phased me too much. Things have always worked out for the best, really. Despite my half hearted attempts to derail fate, fate has stubbornly stuck to it's course and delivered me safe and sound and healthy and prosperous to whatever shores I was meant to run up on.<div><br /></div><div>I have always sort of considered myself kinda special, to be plainly honest. I think that probably. Or rather completely. Has something to do with the way my parents raised me within a family that eclipses all families in terms of love and morality and lessons and parenting 101. My parents were the best. My family was the best. Hence, I knew I could stumble through life and expect the world to ensure my success and happiness. And they did. And I was. Successful. And happy.</div><div><br /></div><div>...</div><div><br /></div><div>I just took read back through my first post on my blog (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(85, 26, 139); text-decoration: underline;"><a href="http://bodhibum.blogspot.com/2005/12/mein-kampf-originally-posted-oct-6-2004.html">Mein Kampf</a></span>), from October 2004. And to be honest it was a bit of a read. Excuse the title of the post. It was my first time in Germany and I figured it would be witty to reference Hitler's autobiography title, since I was in Germany for the very first time. Back then I was posting on a travel blog for only family and friends. I was all new to this blogging thing.</div><div><br /></div><div>To put it in context. It was five, odd, years ago. I had just come back from my first extended foray to South East Asia, was still wet behind the ears for the most part, and was more than slightly bruised and battered from the experience. But reading back through that post, I can remember the feelings I had coursing through me as I poured those thoughts out through the keyboard. How special it was just to be able to order room service. How amazing it was to be back in civilization in clean sheets using free wireless internet, after having spent the last eight months bathing in random water buckets throughout north east Cambodia, and living a grungy backpacker life for so long. It was all so new and exciting, and exhilarating to be living this new life of work and travel.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mind you, I had been travelling for work for five years before that. New York City for three years, living the Wall Street dream for a young kid straight out of Uni. Front row center for September 11th. My claim to fame there was that the front page story on the New York Times on Sep 15th showed a landing tire of the second plane sitting in front of the Burger King on Trinity street, across the park from the second world trade center tower. That's where I was standing. As the second plane flew over my head. And right before i bolted for the safety of the river. Wasn't until four days late I got handed a copy of the times and saw exactly how close I got to becoming the ultimate road kill. After that I took a work transfer to Australia not long after. Lived an amazing 1.5 years there.</div><div><br /></div><div>And then from there it all went slightly helter skelter. I found my home in SEA. I found that I had a penchant for self-destruction. And SEA provided all the right ingredients. But it also provided all the right ingredients for true happiness. And a religion and way of life that provided the tools to find the means to find that true, ultimate happiness.</div><div><br /></div><div>But my first blog, way back in October 2004, was after my year of discovery in SEA. It was after all that had faded away. After Australia. After my great backpacking adventure and my lost eight months in Cambodia. It was in a random town in Germany. Back in civilization. And on a random night, in a random city in Germany, in a random hotel. I sat down with my first free company supplied laptop. With my first free work expensed wireless internet connection. And I wrote my first blog.</div><div><br /></div><div>And now I sit here almost five years later. And I read back over that blog. And I feel the old feelings that i felt that day coursing through my veins. I feel the newness, and the excitement, and the optimism and hope for the future. I feel the amazement that someone is willing to pay me to travel. That someone is actually willing to pay me to travel the world and to live a life that I feel so deep in my bones that I feel it obscene to even ask accept my paycheck.</div><div><br /></div><div>And I think of now. And I think of my last post (<a href="http://bodhibum.blogspot.com/2009/02/lately-ive-found-myself-thinking-old.html">Do I Stay or Do I Go</a>). A post that I typed out only yesterday. Last night. And I think of how I poured out my frustrations, and conflict, and torn emotions, onto my keyboard for all to read. And how utterly different that entry, that day, that post, that person, was. Is. From who I was way back on that day in Germany when I felt so lucky, and fated, and the world was a gift waiting to be opened. That the world was so, so, just so big.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now that I've been around it a dozen plus times. It's starting to feel real small. And that makes me sad for some reason.</div><div><br /></div><div>And so I try to reconcile the two posts. My first and my latest. I know inside I still am that person. I haven't removed myself so permanently from that person that I can't slip back into his skin with the simple read of an old post. It all comes rushing back over me with a simple read, so I'm back there in that old hotel room feeling life laid out before me.</div><div><br /></div><div>With the fresh sense of those emotions still wet on my tongue, I have a bit of a fresh perspective on things right now. I could feel life laid out before me back then. And I still can today. Now, today, five years on. I look back on all the adventures I've had, and all the life I've lived. And I know that I truly have lived adventures that most people could never contemplate.</div><div><br /></div><div>But tomorrow. Monday morning. Going in to the office in a dusty industrial park on the outskirts of this boring city on the edge of the desert. Just. Doesn't. Quite. Feel. Like a bloody adventure waiting to happen. If I had to estimate. I would say the chances of adventure occurring to me some time between the hours of 8:45am and 5:30pm, stuck in a boring consulting company that specializes in something slightly more risky than watching paint dry. Is pretty much zero.</div><div><br /></div><div>How did my life turn from living the dream and not quite believing that they are actually paying me to travel, and save up for my eventual early retirement... To my present reality of convincing myself every day not to just kick the pointless office life and say feck it, and opt out for mega-early, and poor, retirement?</div><div><br /></div><div>So I'm wondering how to recapture that sense of adventure. That feeling that the world is laid out before you, and it's yours for the picking.</div><div><br /></div><div>To be plainly honest. I'm looking to recapture that misplaced invincibility of youth. That feeling that the world is your oyster. And it's there for your taking. And that you deserve to take it. That nothing bad will ever happen no matter what you do.</div><div><br /></div><div>Fearless. </div><div><br /></div><div>God, how I miss being fearless</div><div><br /></div><div>Bodhi</div><div><br /></div>Bodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07287144806676862923noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469307833156633909.post-10449845285370292412009-02-28T18:03:00.000+04:002009-02-28T18:22:24.231+04:00Do I Stay or Do I Go?Lately I've found myself thinking the old thoughts that eventually come back around to haunt me, every now and then. Usually when I'm feeling a bit down and burnt out, and wondering how I got here and if the path I've chosen is the path which I'm meant to be on.<div><br /></div><div>You can look outside your window and picture a million things. A life that you should be living. A life that you are living. And a life that you want to be living. Neither are necessarily one and the same.<div><br /></div><div>I know that life that I want to be living. I know that I'm not living that life right now. I know that the life that I am living is the best way to reach the life that I want to be living. Confused yet?</div><div><br /></div><div>I hate self help books. Easy solutions to happiness in an easy to swallow format. But probably the best advice I've ever heard comes in that "happiness for dummies" format. Truly. Simply. The secret to happiness is.... Drumroll...</div><div><br /></div><div>Find what makes you happy. And do it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Period.</div><div><br /></div><div>Problem is, I know what makes me happy. And I'm not doing it. But if I did it, I would eventually run out of money to keep doing it, and I would be so unhappy that I can easily imagine the consequences. I've seen too many news stories of Thailand 20th floor balcony jumpers to not be realistic about how things go when you've ignored basic economics and haven't planned out your early retirement accordingly. There's one thing to up and quit in the sake of doing what makes you happy. It's another thing to realize that in your righteous, "tune in, drop out" philosophy, you made a big, big mistake.</div><div><br /></div><div>So a pointless post, for a pointless question. Do I stay or do I go? In my mind, I choose happiness. And the next flight back home to LOS. In my head? I reach over and set my alarm clock for work 7am tomorrow morning. Sunday morning and back to work. God, it's getting harder and harder to wake up in the morning for work. Especially on a bloody Sunday.</div><div><br /></div><div>Bodhi</div></div>Bodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07287144806676862923noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469307833156633909.post-76284165632563090852009-02-20T16:57:00.001+04:002009-02-20T18:11:46.372+04:00My New ToyWell, it's Friday afternoon here now in the land of our Muslim brothers. And of course those wacky guys decided somewhere back that they couldn't wait for the weekend to arrive. So what did they do? They cut short the week and made Friday into the new Saturday. Of course, being Muslim and all. They went and made Sunday the new Monday. Which unless you have had the pleasure of waking up on a Sunday morning and having to remind yourself that you have to go into work, you can never comprehend the confusion and horror of working on a Sunday, the day of rest. But having Friday off is cool, so who's to complain.<div><div>Anyways, so it being Friday and the weekend and all. And me having recently morphed into a slightly lardy couch potato. I decided to follow through on my decision to purchase a mountain bike, after having carefully checked out all the shops around Abu Dhabi over the past two weeks. So I ended up opting for the second cheapest model in the 'real' pro bike shop. Which was still on average with all the other shops, but it was much more of a bike for the price. Figured it was a good compromise on price and performance. And looks good to boot.</div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4E52BJCOcEL1Jf2pd-GUVQXHhr-Hw8xyUQoMCJhfk5HVebOD5wqZn-rEPU2udymsJbdMuX1aNiP9QQyzN6Qp9MBl5Om60GaoMk23TcDH6Z5c9UfWfYv_Irqgmu6dB6UJhjuatOy9aVu8/s1600-h/IMG_0009_2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4E52BJCOcEL1Jf2pd-GUVQXHhr-Hw8xyUQoMCJhfk5HVebOD5wqZn-rEPU2udymsJbdMuX1aNiP9QQyzN6Qp9MBl5Om60GaoMk23TcDH6Z5c9UfWfYv_Irqgmu6dB6UJhjuatOy9aVu8/s400/IMG_0009_2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304875238139688226" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">My New Mountain Bike In All Its Glory</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJMNKCBGUo4dM7e6HNfKUYkX4ysJYyHU-7T7-V6LUM-1wD9KsDaOnXZgNJSVaHY2WM3nPAYmdgZC04A7Pv4aJKkALXHTx8p3K6zLLRuzh-GH6gm_78Yd6YOTdgPMAEziZRtzh4NdTRTCQ/s1600-h/IMG_0003_2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJMNKCBGUo4dM7e6HNfKUYkX4ysJYyHU-7T7-V6LUM-1wD9KsDaOnXZgNJSVaHY2WM3nPAYmdgZC04A7Pv4aJKkALXHTx8p3K6zLLRuzh-GH6gm_78Yd6YOTdgPMAEziZRtzh4NdTRTCQ/s400/IMG_0003_2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304875233867996930" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Nothing Like Parking On The Beach With A Good Book</span></span><br /></div></span></div><div><br /></div><div>I didn't go for all the bells and whistles the guy tried to force on me. Who the hell needs a bike fanny pack, or an emergency tire pump. Hopefully I won't need to find out. I did get a pair of biking gloves, the water holder, and a lock. All mandatory.</div><div><br /></div><div>So this morning I was up not so nice and early, as planned. But still early enough that I was out on the open road before noon. I wanted to head out from my place before all the mosques got out around 2pm. Friday is the holy day for Muslims, and for expats here it's the day to get out on the streets since they are empty until mid afternoon. </div><div><br /></div><div>The plan was to head from my place over to the far east side of Abu Dhabi island, then up along the quietest road in the city straight up to the Emirates Palace Hotel, then around to the Open Beach. Spend a few hours in the sun on the beach reading. Then bike over to Marina Mall for a coffee and a paper. Then bike around my private bike path along the ocean that I discovered a few weeks back. Then back south back to my place. All in all, according to Google Earth, I was looking at a 29km ride. A bit ambitious I figured, but doable in a couple hours in the afternoon.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTGQjtoNIIKtY79PWuPyiZ8APUZOncFp4VRDj79WKkODbooc3pM5rztmiznBFdc0NBYoZ2znW2-ob2a7wOZ5KY3Lb0TyBb6_9Ka0_rj-MwrgsxWD_VtiIqmK8nESh4DqYx0UY3FlU4rPE/s1600-h/IMG_0002.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTGQjtoNIIKtY79PWuPyiZ8APUZOncFp4VRDj79WKkODbooc3pM5rztmiznBFdc0NBYoZ2znW2-ob2a7wOZ5KY3Lb0TyBb6_9Ka0_rj-MwrgsxWD_VtiIqmK8nESh4DqYx0UY3FlU4rPE/s400/IMG_0002.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304875234063063138" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The Abu Dhabi Paths Are All New And Bike Friendly</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMsRnidghxkIiMMuiLzImici3wHqrGaOUbcccFofFsNtd7CDNE2ssOecJs84A2_m9llJttXESGKbqnZ59Vsa-7hn_QzVGb53Jj5rTswvhpeSOGUcu-O5j1dc7E3rxpQ1S7mfSAf4T31wY/s1600-h/IMG_0010.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMsRnidghxkIiMMuiLzImici3wHqrGaOUbcccFofFsNtd7CDNE2ssOecJs84A2_m9llJttXESGKbqnZ59Vsa-7hn_QzVGb53Jj5rTswvhpeSOGUcu-O5j1dc7E3rxpQ1S7mfSAf4T31wY/s400/IMG_0010.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304875231917188434" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">My Jogging Beach I Discovered, With Marina Mall In The Background</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikWH1NUKgq_AaULD2sD98N7x-8YoFt5tCLgHaB4qndXRBNeatrCEmsN65x9Eozt3QRF33ckAQl80Dx7gQbztDWpjSl2nyG_DM_Ez2qaEniC3tRCWN1Vchu2fp0timqndmh6joBd17FEXo/s1600-h/IMG_0020.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikWH1NUKgq_AaULD2sD98N7x-8YoFt5tCLgHaB4qndXRBNeatrCEmsN65x9Eozt3QRF33ckAQl80Dx7gQbztDWpjSl2nyG_DM_Ez2qaEniC3tRCWN1Vchu2fp0timqndmh6joBd17FEXo/s400/IMG_0020.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304875228060070418" /></a><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Abu Dhabi Skyline Beyond The Breakers</span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4H7CJqxjJ1VuMvzcifDlGzFtLcyLPp-WkXUVfUM1LRR-Rn09_qNi6mO_vZFYHfwYSPKvnAs4aJPIauqUuGX5RDxq2-ql6PDcrOte50exZz88V9afFU50QF-f20cNdYRBzjLJpnxNcvnw/s1600-h/IMG_0023.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4H7CJqxjJ1VuMvzcifDlGzFtLcyLPp-WkXUVfUM1LRR-Rn09_qNi6mO_vZFYHfwYSPKvnAs4aJPIauqUuGX5RDxq2-ql6PDcrOte50exZz88V9afFU50QF-f20cNdYRBzjLJpnxNcvnw/s400/IMG_0023.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304874222985645426" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The Largest Freestanding Flagpole In The World, But From Here It Looks Tiny</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: bold;font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div></span></div><div>So here I am back, safely at home. And my first biking expedition under my belt. No worse for wear, except for the fact that i underestimated the strength of the winter sun here, and I'm more than slightly burnt. I can feel my face and arms getting redder and hotter as I type this. I guess a winter sun, even in 25 degree weather which is perfect for biking, is still hot enough to burn a ginger like me. Gotta remember the sun block next time.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvBsU9RXjwlGe-Jq0aXz4wAajYdhYWiLREQTxfGDZjqyamKWJUzGbxJr7pHxu0gop5_U1MmzGPtxdd4OOE6mj2yVR-vCx9_w1bmMdIVSHHcYLv-_ZdOrKxmoM8e14gH7CDAMS9U93kTHw/s1600-h/IMG_0026.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvBsU9RXjwlGe-Jq0aXz4wAajYdhYWiLREQTxfGDZjqyamKWJUzGbxJr7pHxu0gop5_U1MmzGPtxdd4OOE6mj2yVR-vCx9_w1bmMdIVSHHcYLv-_ZdOrKxmoM8e14gH7CDAMS9U93kTHw/s400/IMG_0026.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304874219347819826" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The Most Northern-most Tip of Abu Dhabi, Looking Back At The New Development</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: bold;font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdhU6t3eRuwL5fbgqyHOhyphenhyphenlwuklvUl1Fcv2EvMwoS6qoldQ4eFswAyFwekRT7T1W5xQ87T9kFwyKPPfB-kgxVAhAxPvpCRT6r_iieYSyUgMKdr_5n37Efp_lRxTW67JrHtxKyM1AE1yt8/s1600-h/IMG_0027.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdhU6t3eRuwL5fbgqyHOhyphenhyphenlwuklvUl1Fcv2EvMwoS6qoldQ4eFswAyFwekRT7T1W5xQ87T9kFwyKPPfB-kgxVAhAxPvpCRT6r_iieYSyUgMKdr_5n37Efp_lRxTW67JrHtxKyM1AE1yt8/s400/IMG_0027.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304874215965063378" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:13px;">The Cool New Paved Seaside Bike Path They So Nicely Created For Me. Actually, It's A Storm Break. But To Me It's A Path.</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhpX32ireCckxyDofldZAZDmmiA78g-oE3TH2FMEhi_yKbc5nq28rXQrumnSQKrNtHSDq-OYGZJlgUKMO4sY28izbI4_TJPic-5cL8JYdgNM2TGX8YvRg1RROQuhI1XrqcRsow1txtfPo/s1600-h/IMG_0028.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhpX32ireCckxyDofldZAZDmmiA78g-oE3TH2FMEhi_yKbc5nq28rXQrumnSQKrNtHSDq-OYGZJlgUKMO4sY28izbI4_TJPic-5cL8JYdgNM2TGX8YvRg1RROQuhI1XrqcRsow1txtfPo/s400/IMG_0028.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304874212097081218" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Looking Back On My Path South Towards The Cit</span></span>y</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU0AU-WRjpoHjsPUKXc4eoiwuKzgS-7oQsFPB8ufoVXqzitA4BG0_UeNdvYEzjBwnYgGq1AFfQ7Ox5KWaoHrhfulbLdOktjUqlzf5ooVH2f8wTs6csWxelgYou6kNF03B7D3KaxTwjdIY/s1600-h/IMG_0041.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU0AU-WRjpoHjsPUKXc4eoiwuKzgS-7oQsFPB8ufoVXqzitA4BG0_UeNdvYEzjBwnYgGq1AFfQ7Ox5KWaoHrhfulbLdOktjUqlzf5ooVH2f8wTs6csWxelgYou6kNF03B7D3KaxTwjdIY/s400/IMG_0041.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304873533728425394" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:13px;">It Was A Cloudy, Hazy Afternoon. The Strong Winds Were Kicking Up Desert Sand.</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div></span></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfpNCmRUxPOoV_C5QGDq_EnD9RwmwvQy8_Bb2q7EA1A2GUZgwq1oyBJI3WpyRuu_6XX4NwAACBNK2T3d86Dk-0LsBWEcCoTxbNjvWthi4HZx3uMcD-3HLtPmUB8RNwNI-H2JZtD3Dr1B8/s1600-h/IMG_0043.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfpNCmRUxPOoV_C5QGDq_EnD9RwmwvQy8_Bb2q7EA1A2GUZgwq1oyBJI3WpyRuu_6XX4NwAACBNK2T3d86Dk-0LsBWEcCoTxbNjvWthi4HZx3uMcD-3HLtPmUB8RNwNI-H2JZtD3Dr1B8/s400/IMG_0043.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304873529789049682" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:13px;">Cloudy Afternoon</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div></span></div><div>So overall, it was a good purchase and I'll get a ton of use out of my new toy. Gotta do something to stay active and outdoors in this, frankly, boring Muslim country. The problem with this place is that there is not a whole lot to do. No history, no museums, no culture, no exciting nightlife. Just shopping malls. So my bike will keep me sane, and fit all at the same time. Good return on investment, I would say.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFzTABYEWFiOTQ1tgUC9oegSdGuEJ65WxTOYZu7gKWCzfoHpeSDcpXZz5Xpwzd-gvJ2wYgjaUXcVY-G8QX_2ifI614DeGIzAf2bGlfj_jG6AMwtXMjRZcZSzfLAUWbgUfUdrEa4nKG34A/s1600-h/IMG_0059.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFzTABYEWFiOTQ1tgUC9oegSdGuEJ65WxTOYZu7gKWCzfoHpeSDcpXZz5Xpwzd-gvJ2wYgjaUXcVY-G8QX_2ifI614DeGIzAf2bGlfj_jG6AMwtXMjRZcZSzfLAUWbgUfUdrEa4nKG34A/s400/IMG_0059.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304873526910397138" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">This Arab Has The Right Idea. Build An Infinity Pool Looking Out Over The Arabian Gulf, And The Emirates Palace Hotel In The Background (The Most Expensive Hotel In The World, And The Only 7 Star Hotel In Existence</span></span>)<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz9Im8xgz87jFZhcZ3ILHtVYU5pB2_XzCe6YUtB2vMFVTTtJ2jq-0ZSAyc8fuZL_Reu4MuOKqm97t7m7Np0ETvoyBElGteslO6thMeSWUdkBbUEOPheVNdWfnRmA-RW6yKQPv1x0Eb3zs/s1600-h/IMG_0062.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz9Im8xgz87jFZhcZ3ILHtVYU5pB2_XzCe6YUtB2vMFVTTtJ2jq-0ZSAyc8fuZL_Reu4MuOKqm97t7m7Np0ETvoyBElGteslO6thMeSWUdkBbUEOPheVNdWfnRmA-RW6yKQPv1x0Eb3zs/s400/IMG_0062.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304873520802330962" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:13px;">Windy Day, But Good For Sailing</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV4Yb6iebTHW-X6HocI46X1JBvp0GlvL8M9ocmM0oHVTejfL9-4O9OFqncCFUkogDfqzxzsb8NIN_buAMwPys-S0SjiIHp66veixT1Tb5HOKHZc_r8FAvqEbrl8IGvfuNQhNAYwFEu0ZY/s1600-h/IMG_0070.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV4Yb6iebTHW-X6HocI46X1JBvp0GlvL8M9ocmM0oHVTejfL9-4O9OFqncCFUkogDfqzxzsb8NIN_buAMwPys-S0SjiIHp66veixT1Tb5HOKHZc_r8FAvqEbrl8IGvfuNQhNAYwFEu0ZY/s400/IMG_0070.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304873523109725298" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:13px;">Darn It. These Two Have Also Discovered My 'Private' Seaside Path. Guess The Secret Is Out.</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div></span></div><div>It's days like this where I find myself missing my home in Thailand the most. The days where you don't have work to fill up your time and mind. And you find yourself alone in a country that is so foreign, and everyone just seems to be struggling to survive and make a buck. And thoughts fly to my place back in Thailand, sitting empty and unused, awaiting my return someday. And I can't help but get more than a little melancholy and lonely, and wonder at this life I've made for myself. Of temporary isolation and deprivation, so that one day sooner, rather than later, I can live the life I desperately want in a place I desperately love. So in the meantime fill my time with Friday afternoon bike rides and Sunday afternoon work. So that I can someday fill up my Friday afternoon with cruising the back roads of Isaan on my motorbike, and Sunday afternoons lying on a golden Thai beach reminiscing about days of mindless work now long in the past and banished to memory.</div><div><br /></div><div>How I long for those days. But they are not now. They are in a future I'm working hard to make real. But what is real today is a new bike, and a means to pass the time. Waiting.</div><div><br /></div><div>Bodhi</div></div>Bodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07287144806676862923noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469307833156633909.post-31227832675318979492009-02-06T23:26:00.001+04:002009-08-15T13:24:25.516+04:00An Interesting ConversationA week or so ago I found myself needing a little inspiration. Usual life grinding you down sorta thing. And I came across this blog (villagefarang.blogspot.com). Immediately I was struck by how much I saw in him. Someone who laid his thoughts and feelings and hopes for the future out for all to see. And I kinda saw me. In a mirror, or in a concept. I guess none of us are really all that different. We all choose to aspire to something, and we make the best of it from what we're given. But the great thing about today is that you can go out in search of others who more in kindred with yourself, to provide a beacon in the muddle to figure out your way.<br /><br />On the kind permission of the original post owner, I've copied out our conversation here:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Bodhi Bum:</span><br />So, for introductions, I've just read through your posts from start to finish over the last two days. Something about you, your style of writing, your life lived, caught my eye I guess. So I started at the end, and jumped back to the beginning, then worked by way back to here.<br /><br />You have an enviable life. And from what I've read, you deserve it. You are a very interesting person. A rare soul. Could be said. I'm still trying to figure you out a bit. You write like who I want to be. Yet you come from where I am. I'm still trying to piece the two together. But still finding it more than difficult to reconcile the two, and to find my way to where you are, from where I am.<br /><br />You have the dream, with the eloquence to match. Yet it's hard to find out how to make it to where you are, your piece of happiness and contentment, from this reality of messy life. I have the feeling that you were once where I am now, that you dove right in, and past blogs gives me the hint you were.<br /><br />Life has a funny way about it. You can see where you want to be. Then go the opposite direction. Then find others who found the right path, and give you a bit of a nudge in the right way to go. Your steadfastness is astounding. But inspirational. I do have my doubts you were always this way. But the fact that I do kinda think you were once a little "weak" like the rest of us, but have found a solid base inside to make your life how you imagined, to be inspirational. Yeah. ok, that's a big word. But we're all just scouring the net looking for a little inspiration. Just how it is.<br /><br />I don't usually have much to say, since blogging and chatting is a usually a lot of talking for the sake of nothing. But I read your 1.5 years or so posts in 1.5 days. Funny how your years worth of work can be digested in such a short amount of time. But still, it's worth it, it's out there and it gave me a great deal of enjoyment and inspiration. Most of us are needing some inspiration nowadays, and it's not often we find it so clearly laid out as here.<br /><br />Bodhi<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Village Farang:</span><br />Surely there can be no greater reward for a writer, than to have his words read and appreciated. To have someone give up their valuable time to read your work, in its entirety, is an amazing gift. For that gift, I humbly thank you.<br /><br />It is a safe bet, to assume that I have not always been this person. The strongest steel must truly be forged from fire. My journey is not yet finished I might add and one hopes for the wisdom and understanding to continue moving forward, to becoming a better person.<br /><br />There can be no static state of being until we cease to be, so there will always be moments of weakness and doubt. I possess no special powers and have surely made my share of mistakes. By not reaching for certainty or conformity, I may have left the door ajar for this life to come and find me, however.<br /><br />The only inspirational words I can find at the moment are that, as little power as we have over what happens around us or to us, we do possess the ultimate power of how we choose to respond.<br /><br />VF<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Bodhi Bum:</span><br />I don't, by any means, mean to hold you up to a measuring post and say that you have arrived, and have nowhere more to go. I realize you are just at a moment in your life, and still have a lot of learning and growing yet to do. However, from my perspective, I see where you are, and am judging myself against your progress. What would life be if we strived to arrive at a certain point, and lived "happily ever after". Obviously, we never arrive, we just are, and continue to struggle.<br /><br />My only observation is that you tend to struggle a little less than the rest of us. A little less than myself, at least. You know nothing of me, and yet I know so much of you. Or at least what you put down on these pages, and what you have chosen to reveal.<br /><br />I once, and still do, dream of the quiet simple life that you left the door open for and find yourself living now. And yet being the perpetual dreamer I found my little foray into thailand life somewhat destructive, both on my personal beliefs and my finances. An all to common theme, of that I am more than well aware.<br /><br />I am striving for the peace of mind that will allow me to extract what is good and what I find I need from that place, but also the strength of character to forego what is not, and ultimately destructive of everything I seek to attain. I've always prided myself of having the clarity to see what I want, and the moral certainty to go after it and make it so. Recently I've found out I'm mortal, and too easily at home in the sewers so to speak. Turns out it's a little harder to clean yourself off after rolling around in the mud, than I once imagined.<br /><br />I think what struck me about your writing, is that you don't come across as preaching. But rather, talking from someplace where you are quite familiar, and yet have risen above. I think it's much easier to look at the wind blowing across a rice field in the evening sun and find contentment, when you know there is nothing better, or higher, or more satisfying out there. Just over the horizon. Most people always are thinking, what if? What more? What am I missing? You have contentment which is above what most people seem to have. I can only guess, but I would say that it is because you have seen the other side of the coin, and now know the true meaning of happiness. A house. In a field. In a valley. With your trappings of happiness.<br /><br />I know no one can ever truly be happy. And there is always the what ifs? I more than anyone know about freedom. I've lived out of my suitcase for the past seven years, lived in hotel rooms in 25 countries in seven years at last count, value my freedom above all else. But yet found myself one days craving a base. Somewhere to come back to every now and then. Which ultimately led to a rather unadvised condo purchase down south from you. Needless to say my attempts at putting down roots haven't gone according to plan, and hence my retreat back to the road to replenish the coffers and reprioritize the future plans.<br /><br />The only inspirational words I can find at the moment are that, "as little power as we have over what happens around us or to us, we do possess the ultimate power of how we choose to respond."<br /><br />Funny how you quote the only thing which really makes any difference or sense in life. Your future is what you make of it. Period. Plain and simple. That's it. You are the sum of your actions.<br /><br />I have always strived to bring my actions in line with my true intentions. But I think I have always hidden behind the one truth that everything I do, everything I've done, has never been done in ill will to anyone. If anyone, only to myself. I've always treated everyone around me as I would want to be treated, despite repeatedly finding that I rarely ever get the same in return.<br /><br />From what I read from your posts, you say that you always were rather guarded to those around you, that you always kept a safe distance and complete control, and only started to open up with your wife. To soften so to speak. Myself, I've always been a bit of a softie, but only for the girls. and that has gotten me into more trouble than I care to speak about. My dad was a softie, hence so am i. I've always said I shouldn't change, and yet now I find myself debating that.<br /><br />Anyways, the point is that you seem to have validated for me, intentionally or not, that you can still be a caring human being with respect for your partner and people in general, with an open and introspective mind. And yet still have the iron mask on that allows you to survive in a tough world full of guys that try to drag you down to their level. If you could last most of your adult life in Bangkok and yet still emerge a caring and sensitive soul that you seem to be, then there is hope for the rest of us. Or at least for me.<br /><br />Bodhi<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Village Farang:</span><br />Reading your comment, I feel as if I might be glimpsing a previous version of me in the mirror. Certainly doors once opened can never be fully closed. Life leaves its mark (or mud) whether we know it or not, as you have found. I assure you my control and apparent suit of armor were donned only after surviving my share of pain, as self protection to guard what semblance of humanity, that remained untainted. For some, the pursuit of women, is born of contempt and conquest and primordial urges. For me it was a romantic and idealized pursuit of perfection. It took me longer to work through that than most, and arrive where I am today. Somewhere along the way I came to the realization that happiness cannot be acquired or bought but must be found within. If you cannot find happiness with what you have, you will never find it with what you acquire, purchase or pursue. I don’t necessarily agree that there is nothing better out there. I have not found perfection but I have perhaps perfected my view of what I have.<br /><br />While it is true that Bangkok has brought many a man to his knees with its well documented temptations, there is no better place to explore the often dark and unseen corners of our being. Hidden amongst the dangers is the potential for great discovery and self knowledge. Somehow I do not find myself overly concerned about your path. Your intellect, instinct and introspection will surely guide you to where you need to be.<br /><br />VF<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Bodhi Bum:</span><br />I think that's what I saw in you as well, which sorta put the mirror up and gave me a view of a potential future path to get to where you are. And again I hate to keep talking as if you are a goal to be reached, a point in life to be attained. From your side, I can imagine you not quite wanting to feel like you're being held up as some future finish line. It's not your place, or position or age, really that I'm looking at, but rather your present state of mind. Some people are born with a good heart that make them a decent person, an open, inquisitive mind that allows them to find the simple, true pleasures in life, and the strength of character, will, conviction, to not squander their ideals and waste their potential. Some people, and I would have to put myself in this category, have got the heart, the ideals, and the curious mind, but sadly struggle with the conviction part of it.<br /><br />When I first read your story, I came to the conclusion that you are likely a lot like me. But like anything, if you start with all the good ingrediants, then it's just a matter of working on the willpower part of it. And you seem to have confirmed that indeed, you have gone through your share of trials and struggles in Bangkok over the years, as I imagine only a true Saint would not. And Saints are boring anyways, so if you were on saintly side I doubt I would have made it past your second post.<br /><br />But the point is that you learned your lessons, had your lofty ideals crushed more than a little, adapted, survived, and yet still retained your good heart.<br /><br />I know how jai dee gets thrown at every guy who can pull a 1000 baht out of his pocket, but the reality I've found, which I think has troubled me more than anything, is the same observation that you made in your previous post. Most guys who come to Thailand are the dregs of their own society, and they approach the girls in a fashion which is completely alien to me. I, like you, am a true romantic.<br /><br />My father once said when I was a kid that the only thing important in life, is a beautiful girl. A very simple statement, but one strangely enough I've never forgotten. It seemed at the detriment to everything else, I pursued that one true beauty in life. With usually less than stellar repercussions. How do align your love for all womankind, when you treat each one like a rare flower. But each flower is different, and unique. And there are so many of them. And of course butterflys can never rest with just one flower. It seems the rules are fair when the vast majority of guys who approach girls as simple pin cushions, the girls know where things stand. Feelings don't get hurt. But when you treat a girl with respect and dignity, the rules get confused. Hearts get broken. Simple ideals get not so simple.<br /><br />And hence, there is one true truth. Life is messy. Which is more than half the fun of it. But for how long can you dive in and roll around in the mud, all the while professing your lofty ideals and honorable intentions. In the end, you still get messy, along with the rest of the creeps and miscreants. And are left wondering if indeed you really are all that different indeed.<br /><br />It would seem the solution is in the conviction, per say. In the power of will to stay above the messy underbelly of life. To realize the true contentment is in a morning walk on a mountain trail with your dogs, not a morning walk out a disco with your latest prize. I can see beauty in each. But the two are so hard to reconcile together. One is ultimately life affirming, while the other is ultimately destructive. Can the two be reconciled, or is it a matter of coming to a point where one is naturally replaced by the other. I know these are questions that obviously are not new to your or anyone who makes a life there. As you said, it's not like closing a door, and that's that. The door will always stay open just a little bit, so as to tempt you back through every once in a while. I'm not good with temptation, hence my looking to you and your commendable convictions. Hopefully hoping they might rub off on me.<br /><br />I figured that I was always a very stable, centered, honest person who could make a life, but it seems my approach with the girls is what undoes my every time. How do you treat every girl like they are the one, true meaning of this existence, a treasure to be enjoyed and explored and appreciated. And not have feelings develop that will invariably turn bad and lay everything to ruin.<br /><br />Apologies for my ramblings, but it seems you are one of the rare few guys I'm met over the years who hold the romantic ideal for girls. It's very rare. And of course the answer to all my questions here are patently obvious. And you are the prime outcome of your trials and tribulations which are mirrored back on myself. The answer is clearly to find one, and put all of your work and attention and emotions into. My only problem is that I love them all. <br /><br />But I'm sure after getting burned a few more times, I'll figure it out. I'm a little like Pavlov's dogs in that way, I keep getting burned but I keep coming back for more. Only question is when will I wisen up and find that one special one. Save a plot in the rice field next to you for me. I'll be there eventually.<br /><br />Bodhi<br /><br />February 2, 2009 9:59 PM<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Village Farang:</span><br />Sorely lacking in grace or tact, the old soothsayer at the bar was not far off. At least as far predicting that you were entering a stormy phase of discontent. Surely, however, there are some who are repulsed by the dark side of life, just as there are those who are drawn to it like a moth to a flame. <br /><br />You seem to be in that state of limbo where you are still trying to reconcile your original belief structure with the expanded, messy universe you now inhabit. You still judge things, right or wrong, good or bad, based on the beliefs you inherited. Might I put forth the proposition, that there are no “truths” and we believe in things, not because they are “true”, but because they are convenient. <br /><br />Consider the multitudinous and contradictory nature of beliefs that abound. Each contradicting the others, while all maintaining absolute certainty that they alone are true. Perhaps a world with no beliefs at all, would fall into anarchy. But I believe one can take the position that, “I believe, or don’t believe, because I choose to,” without the need to judge or declare the absolute truth of it. The only difficulty being that one must own the consequences of ones actions based on said beliefs, unable to lay them off on someone else. Surely there is room for a few free spirits to inhabit the realm beyond conformity and blaze their own trail and form their own beliefs. <br /><br />As for finding “that one special one”, in my case she found me. My only claim to fame is not being stupid enough to let her go because of some silly rules I followed.<br /><br />VF<br /><br />February 4, 2009 8:17 PM<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Bodhi Bum:</span><br />Hi VF,<br /><br />Thanks for the comments. I know I can be a bit long winded at times, and figured if I was going to write blog length comments, I might as well do my own blog.<br /><br />Cheers,<br />BodhiBodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07287144806676862923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469307833156633909.post-2496230184093687832009-02-06T22:56:00.000+04:002009-02-11T00:00:38.949+04:00Waxing PoeticI've been posting for quite a bit now. I first started back in 2004 when I had just finished my first trip to SEA. Of course that trip was supposed to have been a little two month around Asia trip between jobs, to find myself some, to figure out my head some more, and to get a little enthusiasm back in me to tackle my great professional career that was to come. It didn't come. I didn't leave. I didn't travel the great expanse of Asia. I didn't cover South East Asia. I got to Cambodia. And I didn't leave. For a year.<br /><br />Of course that life wasn't feasible, being only in my late 20's and all. At the start of a pretty promising career. Burned out before it even began. But regardless still at the start.<br /><br />So I had to leave the jungles, park my beloved bike, leave my beloved girls. Say goodbye. With stars in my eyes, and a yearning in my gut. I left. Back to the world. And if you care enough to glance back through these pages, through the archives of my new blog laid out here before you. You will find the start of my blogging life, way back in the summer of 2004. You'll have to deal with the (Originally Posted) tags, since all those old posts were froma collection of emails, other blog sites, etc. All collected now here in one place for you enjoyment. Thank me later.<br /><br />I've been blogging for a long time, in blogging years, I guess. But never out in the open. For all eyes to see. It's mostly been for friends and family. The occasional blog over the years when I've gone somewhere new. Seen something out of the ordinary. Done something extraordinary. My life has always been about travel, so it's easy to do a travel blog when you see places in your normal travels that most people only see on the news.<br /><br />But I think I want something new here. Something which I can keep. In one place. Somewhere where I can lay down my thoughts, irrespective of where I've been this day, irrespective of if it's interesting, with disrespect of who might be reading. I've always done my limited blogs with always the presence of mind of who might be reading... what should I say, how will it be read? Whatever. I want to write, for me. For myself. And not worry about the punctuation, the analysis, the judgement, whatever. Just for me.<br /><br />I've got lot's of time at the moment. It's funny how the more time you have, the more time you have to pour your heart out. It's a fact of life I'm now well, well aware of. When you are living your life, you couldn't be bothered with telling others (friends, family, strangers) about how you are living. When you are dreaming about living your life, you find yourself strangely driven to put your words down for others to see. It used to be everyone wanted to write a great Novel. Now it's the great Blog. <br /><br />Times change. People do not. My life is now on pause. Hence you are fortunate enough to be subjected to my onslaught of words for the foreseeable future. At least until I get a life again that is. If you choose to stick around, we might become friends.<br /><br />BodhiBodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07287144806676862923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469307833156633909.post-47844953039549423292009-02-06T16:58:00.000+04:002009-02-06T17:36:07.482+04:00Jebel Hafeet, UAENeedless to say, living in the desert, in a Muslim desert no less, was never really on my wishlist of places I wanted to call home. If I had a choice in the matter, it's not difficult to guess how long it would take me to pack up my bags and catch the next plane to Thailand. Back home to my little condo overlooking the Gulf of Siam. Back to where my heart yearns to be.<br /><br />But my heart has nothing to do with the matter. Unfortunately. And the mind says to buck up and shut up, and stop winging. And so, since I am stuck here in the desert, and I have never been one to just sit around dreaming about the future and wasting the present, I figured I might as well get my head out of all these Thailand blogs and stop daydreaming, and actually go see what is right out my front door.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj98EKCNbF-4KQnlqK_SMEYXv5frdjUSrzPosb0L3okjPqWxYhi-9lnYdqD_2ivoSCUEE9eSsFnYIlrQAaPE7oXxt9AY7uK9i4A37E3u6jkcTaUOzf2EFwbRLj_OcIDnp_o-GW8w96j4zU/s1600-h/IMG_0010.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj98EKCNbF-4KQnlqK_SMEYXv5frdjUSrzPosb0L3okjPqWxYhi-9lnYdqD_2ivoSCUEE9eSsFnYIlrQAaPE7oXxt9AY7uK9i4A37E3u6jkcTaUOzf2EFwbRLj_OcIDnp_o-GW8w96j4zU/s400/IMG_0010.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299677220540579970" /></a><br /><br />Hence my little day trip I took today. To Jebel Hafeet. The biggest mountain in the United Arab Emirates.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1ji7J29aBIXet8P-349QnOHnRop-JLj5fMH6NJ0ATrUcqcmbe7qRxXjosOFkd9n5YlGaaZsDMDc1z4yFcFCax6OjPG3OIOteMIh1RjUmeAwkfGfNVVmZ0jiRO7U0C5LZVctuNkQrgAxQ/s1600-h/IMG_0012.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1ji7J29aBIXet8P-349QnOHnRop-JLj5fMH6NJ0ATrUcqcmbe7qRxXjosOFkd9n5YlGaaZsDMDc1z4yFcFCax6OjPG3OIOteMIh1RjUmeAwkfGfNVVmZ0jiRO7U0C5LZVctuNkQrgAxQ/s400/IMG_0012.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299677218417345570" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5yRx_uu07uu2PCsL95wJotULE47mZPddpT8M3BshoqObx70paAQLJVF55AU67eQcaZMuPJhwbtH-w7_hLWMGdVaSi4L8wpDfS4U9dQWIR_TQX6QfqeDa2zwyRrvE311Iinw2AF-s7fkM/s1600-h/IMG_0016.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5yRx_uu07uu2PCsL95wJotULE47mZPddpT8M3BshoqObx70paAQLJVF55AU67eQcaZMuPJhwbtH-w7_hLWMGdVaSi4L8wpDfS4U9dQWIR_TQX6QfqeDa2zwyRrvE311Iinw2AF-s7fkM/s400/IMG_0016.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299677214836787202" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5r7-FTNxVBt-09Ye_97Ipoio32y7flmpsDLFwlqs8kwmSed-vk-87LRaBtG6oUc8N8PdVclZEonGIWaMxhy6mMm6vbOnrnDebkpwckT-7fVU6EF-iYmcA3PBsi2ibBybVDzpKHlIcQeo/s1600-h/IMG_0032.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5r7-FTNxVBt-09Ye_97Ipoio32y7flmpsDLFwlqs8kwmSed-vk-87LRaBtG6oUc8N8PdVclZEonGIWaMxhy6mMm6vbOnrnDebkpwckT-7fVU6EF-iYmcA3PBsi2ibBybVDzpKHlIcQeo/s400/IMG_0032.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299677214776078210" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhabBhu64ZOb0JnAcHcJr_VN03B8Ka-81Ejzs2zpUklQnlBMfedjYLmlVKQIX5qnPCOgMWO0e_Fr0skAYQvpkNXwDrs5zV6MbTU-5l1iltXURhtGfP9GiCHOLg5X0LD36beADDA4U4V4dk/s1600-h/IMG_0042.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhabBhu64ZOb0JnAcHcJr_VN03B8Ka-81Ejzs2zpUklQnlBMfedjYLmlVKQIX5qnPCOgMWO0e_Fr0skAYQvpkNXwDrs5zV6MbTU-5l1iltXURhtGfP9GiCHOLg5X0LD36beADDA4U4V4dk/s400/IMG_0042.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299677206216124786" /></a><br /><br />Jebel Hafeet is located in Al Ain, which is about a 1.5 hour drive from where I'm based in Abu Dhabi. It's right up against, and overlooking, the border with Oman. I've done the road trip to Dubai over a dozen times now, and have even ventured once out past Dubai to Sharjah and Umm Al Quewan. But was far from impressed. The UAE is a big dustbowl of a country, with the most boring scenery you can imagine. Abu Dhabi is by far the biggest Emirate, and is composed mostly of flat hardpacked dirt, with sand dunes starting up the closer you get to Al Ain. Al Ain is an oasis, so it's pretty green which was a nice change of pace. I've been stuck in the desert so long it's amazing how a burst of green trees when you come around a corner can lift your spirits.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfiBXhx9bgmXW55BgOG0A51wnmUL-oMRCZilJDAVLf99WLTyVUMF7GgSfddCueu02oo1LgqcYfXMXy3igXX1m6xe02isHXIORXProFONIS3NucXYe82w3UvxgpSvNMkjGV9ZtgwFKIwkQ/s1600-h/IMG_0043.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfiBXhx9bgmXW55BgOG0A51wnmUL-oMRCZilJDAVLf99WLTyVUMF7GgSfddCueu02oo1LgqcYfXMXy3igXX1m6xe02isHXIORXProFONIS3NucXYe82w3UvxgpSvNMkjGV9ZtgwFKIwkQ/s400/IMG_0043.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299676748326179298" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAisI35z7jXErx-EEPyjTHRQE-ULVmiYVlXUqFwe8VqAay9XBT33jYLdge21xROtDRUIuShhh6gBjZ4qhpgH0ZmmWavr2jZmcECM7oRAW_g5CUTA-riEsP-Go3jrdhVz1URcuYSPJzQKs/s1600-h/IMG_0051.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAisI35z7jXErx-EEPyjTHRQE-ULVmiYVlXUqFwe8VqAay9XBT33jYLdge21xROtDRUIuShhh6gBjZ4qhpgH0ZmmWavr2jZmcECM7oRAW_g5CUTA-riEsP-Go3jrdhVz1URcuYSPJzQKs/s400/IMG_0051.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299676750161727138" /></a><br /><br />So with desperate need of having my spirits lifted, I hopped in my little Yaris rent a car and hit the road around noon. Long, boring ride there, but I found BBC on the radio so entertained myself on the ride there quite nicely. You can see Jebel Hafeet mountain right when you pull into Al Ain, so with most signs in Arabic, I was still able to find my way to the mountain. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7kvyPf2etxzyrAwGaA3nuhuxi-YNICewAEPC7QPbMieT7Et1e2389Zr-_onyM5QhMg9FI9SJlfvZib1zzoli3L8_WuaA08IzCVSWDBgPaWGRm0r6rPtsDhAxcwxk-Q3ZaYoQRR_0ESi0/s1600-h/IMG_0052.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7kvyPf2etxzyrAwGaA3nuhuxi-YNICewAEPC7QPbMieT7Et1e2389Zr-_onyM5QhMg9FI9SJlfvZib1zzoli3L8_WuaA08IzCVSWDBgPaWGRm0r6rPtsDhAxcwxk-Q3ZaYoQRR_0ESi0/s400/IMG_0052.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299676747235657170" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSJLTKVMd15ysV_5JePAv-jkSTMlWZXw9VhXBl85_ZS99jGVkTAoo6QKnhAdgRWu3HLSXiZqkkZQPSsqmQW0lIr4Clo3uBVlZtqQxgk-8YT1LBLNLuyvuede0jI40NAZQBuCKTmKzlm4U/s1600-h/IMG_0053.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSJLTKVMd15ysV_5JePAv-jkSTMlWZXw9VhXBl85_ZS99jGVkTAoo6QKnhAdgRWu3HLSXiZqkkZQPSsqmQW0lIr4Clo3uBVlZtqQxgk-8YT1LBLNLuyvuede0jI40NAZQBuCKTmKzlm4U/s400/IMG_0053.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299676747479328610" /></a><br /><br />I read somewhere on the internet that the Jebel Hafeet highway was considered one of the most beautiful mountain highways in the world. And it's actually hard to dispute that. Simply for the fact that there are few other countries in the world which have the money and balls to make a highway like this straight up to the heavens. It's pretty amazing. The roads are so twisty that it's a miracle they could make this highway. And it's high. Real high. My ears started popping only half way up. And my ears have never popped anywhere on land, only underwater and in planes. I actually have a bit of an earache today, since on the way down I thought i was Speed Racer and imagined myself drifting around the mountain curves. But then a real racer (eg: the usual Arab in their obscenely expensive muscle car that they don't know how to drive) decided to race me and I let him pass in order to conserve my life. That's what happens when you give a guy on a camel a handful of cash and tell him to go buy the fastest car he can find. No wonder the UAE has one of the highest road fatality rates in the world.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgFdGrJSGJyMrdCdW9bVlq7oKnR0hAuUSpQ20WF8tBg_7M_na5cktwMeZ6V2FLx48ITahLSZr1T_SPQdj_4zrU5sqdRIKCP593Cgz7h2E7jDt6qPs45ezai-ye6QpDNWSW6mDhDjGiy3U/s1600-h/IMG_0057.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgFdGrJSGJyMrdCdW9bVlq7oKnR0hAuUSpQ20WF8tBg_7M_na5cktwMeZ6V2FLx48ITahLSZr1T_SPQdj_4zrU5sqdRIKCP593Cgz7h2E7jDt6qPs45ezai-ye6QpDNWSW6mDhDjGiy3U/s400/IMG_0057.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299675940902200258" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI1JboL-iIkMtpnS4ZguoSWszX5cpvzCf3HL8dNiLk9KWAbD6rXuRvg5CghCJU0TB6VyNlZYSoSY_OHCQSPMHHu4izqFYEh7h_ThwNtUeJ5WcWx2jGoYopaw5aTGEoVAMsN4lamHAMDGk/s1600-h/IMG_0059.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI1JboL-iIkMtpnS4ZguoSWszX5cpvzCf3HL8dNiLk9KWAbD6rXuRvg5CghCJU0TB6VyNlZYSoSY_OHCQSPMHHu4izqFYEh7h_ThwNtUeJ5WcWx2jGoYopaw5aTGEoVAMsN4lamHAMDGk/s400/IMG_0059.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299675937073978482" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiK3WIA2NlsaBthkOr4WrVwDdslyFGEVYMvu4RcX-3KdPXdCbfHiQ28ZXGr2HBbnFbMphfFwury7eyyhCkkOlBJEBl6mrpllf16CcQg2uhdxMDmdl2T-Ij3sxvaXFKM2B3zlNNej5v42k/s1600-h/IMG_0061.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiK3WIA2NlsaBthkOr4WrVwDdslyFGEVYMvu4RcX-3KdPXdCbfHiQ28ZXGr2HBbnFbMphfFwury7eyyhCkkOlBJEBl6mrpllf16CcQg2uhdxMDmdl2T-Ij3sxvaXFKM2B3zlNNej5v42k/s400/IMG_0061.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299675935329767730" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx9_WzOWQZrjTKguuT0fztlw9XNIDCq-ixrZ3PqOlvRVG1sJy_1EvbNE_RIyCcV7p4-SBMgiwFWR6BJDsyN6s3UVDHycTYmCPDRWh6neE1MyFB3bINNeRmDj3FbZBUtPhj5hxlYq9Hr8Y/s1600-h/IMG_0065.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx9_WzOWQZrjTKguuT0fztlw9XNIDCq-ixrZ3PqOlvRVG1sJy_1EvbNE_RIyCcV7p4-SBMgiwFWR6BJDsyN6s3UVDHycTYmCPDRWh6neE1MyFB3bINNeRmDj3FbZBUtPhj5hxlYq9Hr8Y/s400/IMG_0065.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299675932263099506" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLGY24aUa3_C3_PhS8OEL_KvZhzeBCbWHClawzq12WtU5Q7PFCg-PUngy5D9xm7XbryEenKDpUGv8UfuS_H9TOAY3EO2h5QBWcBqmlUZwvXLe5_BY-tp4E4ttk70X7n5ftWmzzg5ppQmo/s1600-h/IMG_0072.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLGY24aUa3_C3_PhS8OEL_KvZhzeBCbWHClawzq12WtU5Q7PFCg-PUngy5D9xm7XbryEenKDpUGv8UfuS_H9TOAY3EO2h5QBWcBqmlUZwvXLe5_BY-tp4E4ttk70X7n5ftWmzzg5ppQmo/s400/IMG_0072.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299675927672236386" /></a><br /><br />So it was a decent day out. Nice to get the pics and say I was there. Still hasn't taken off the edge I've found myself struggling with lately. It's only been a few months since I left Thailand to return back to work, but for some reason this time it was harder to leave than usual, and harder to stay away than ever before. I've settled on this life of compromise, living at home in Thailand for part of the year, and returning to work overseas for the remainder. It's the best of all possible solutions, since I am no where near retirement age, and otherwise I would have to choose either, or. In this case I can have what I want, at least for some of the time. It's better to be happy for half of the year, and miserable for the other half. Or at least that's what I thought. <br /><br />Recently my brother commented that he thought I was living my life on hold right now. And I guess in a way that's true. I guess I'm not unlike many Thailand expats that live most of the year at home like a hermit, so that they are able to afford that precious time back in LOS. I always thought that was a sad state of affairs. But in the end, what other viable alternative is there. The only reason I've chosen this path is that with my earning potential I have the ability to only have to live this life for a certain length of time, then I can finish with this work thing and get back for good. However, that period of time is not insignificant, and the longer I go the longer it seems to stretch out before me.<br /><br />Anyways, the here and now is a solo day trip to a mountain in the desert. Which I thoroughly enjoyed, and will have to suffice for adventure for now.<br /><br />BodhiBodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07287144806676862923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469307833156633909.post-76842506306432806622009-02-05T18:50:00.000+04:002009-02-06T13:32:32.328+04:00Kuwait (Originally Posted Nov 30, 2008)So my month in beautiful, boring Kuwait has now come to an end. About Kuwait, I'll say one thing. It's one of those places where you would rightfully never, in your right mind, actually go to just for the sake of going. Like who, one day, wakes up and decides that for my next vacation I think I"ll go to Kuwait. My South African client said it best when I said the one thing Kuwait lacked was sights for the tourists to go see. And he looked at me and asked, "What tourists?". And yeah. True enough. I don't think in my entire month there I actually saw anyone that might be classed as a tourist. Everyone there is either there because they are Kuwaiti, or because they are there to make money. Like me. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhECnS3G6NkK3_bq0Kborgd2sHrtM5cDXSaXP1OU7r_h7GmtN07VRSP3P2zmgsy7hVLcMwz7A2H8CLIP1jYquKflu9fQZZhbC8_lcDq96bVHg-qyAP6L1oD41En-oz1IVQv-VZqvfwuiyY/s1600-h/IMG_0002_8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhECnS3G6NkK3_bq0Kborgd2sHrtM5cDXSaXP1OU7r_h7GmtN07VRSP3P2zmgsy7hVLcMwz7A2H8CLIP1jYquKflu9fQZZhbC8_lcDq96bVHg-qyAP6L1oD41En-oz1IVQv-VZqvfwuiyY/s400/IMG_0002_8.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299613744102592258" /></a><br /><br />But still. I can proudly claim I've lived in Kuwait, add it up to my long list of countries that I've visited or lived in. Just checking, I'm now up to 24 countries at last count, Kuwait being no. 24. Or exactly 15% of the world. Funny, seems more than that. 15% doesn't seem like very much, especially since I've been living out of hotel rooms for the past six plus years. My goal, remote as it may be, is to make 100%. Only 85% to go. Gotta get this work thing over with so I can hop on my motorbike and cross em' off in quick succession. Doing it this way, one country, one month a time with work is gonna take forever. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgckKmnS3IT9Nixrj_IWt5JXIkzV0PcPaR5UuwD6FnBVHwoQZJ9BqIK-P0NChMuOD_gu_cNusBQ_VW0cxwKX3reCO0fZg1MKLUY-LUP97jPlo38bLWNHBIoTDSAuaTT5MiKgijv8C3-oCQ/s1600-h/IMG_0005_6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgckKmnS3IT9Nixrj_IWt5JXIkzV0PcPaR5UuwD6FnBVHwoQZJ9BqIK-P0NChMuOD_gu_cNusBQ_VW0cxwKX3reCO0fZg1MKLUY-LUP97jPlo38bLWNHBIoTDSAuaTT5MiKgijv8C3-oCQ/s400/IMG_0005_6.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299614396453215746" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZVa1d0aSVxEqgAOr55vRXMqYwtSby9yka6V6nRVA_59m59XJhyi8xPH-U8VxyX0VvNBmSVQhFcSTKnOrGrBKrngr5MUV6p2t6rahmi5w4dOhyIi98ovy9Qmi5WlI0RoWc8-VE752WAaA/s1600-h/IMG_0012_5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZVa1d0aSVxEqgAOr55vRXMqYwtSby9yka6V6nRVA_59m59XJhyi8xPH-U8VxyX0VvNBmSVQhFcSTKnOrGrBKrngr5MUV6p2t6rahmi5w4dOhyIi98ovy9Qmi5WlI0RoWc8-VE752WAaA/s400/IMG_0012_5.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299614397264366450" /></a><br /><br />So I finished up work at my client on Thursday (Friday and Saturday is the weekend over here. Strange but you get used to it). And flew back home to Abu Dhabi on Saturday, after a small hitch at the airport on Friday. So back home now, and back into work again today. But it's December, and them Arabs love their holidays. So Tuesday is UAE National Day, and a day off work (they have the biggest fireworks show in history to date planned for that night, of course planned to be bigger than the last biggest fireworks show of all time that happened last week in Dubai for the opening of the Atlantis Hotel, and was all over the news. This was, in true Abu Dhabi style, is going to be even bigger). Then next week is Eid holiday (no. 2 since I've been here) so pretty much the entire week is off. Then third week I'm back in Kuwait for a week, then back here for the Christmas holidays and the parents are flying in to visit. So gonna be a busy December, but with lot's of holidays. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5qp5qFkDk90D6aGO69BiukKiFN3DJy8qsn3v4ZK0WmjPR7E_rsjZdybAS7LRUjN03AERBXVjI8TL9kAxy4siJMG_H4pUzEU1JB66vEigR6_j0Adv0KE6Vk9TBEkr2n1xCWBKnu6ujFc4/s1600-h/IMG_0016_4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5qp5qFkDk90D6aGO69BiukKiFN3DJy8qsn3v4ZK0WmjPR7E_rsjZdybAS7LRUjN03AERBXVjI8TL9kAxy4siJMG_H4pUzEU1JB66vEigR6_j0Adv0KE6Vk9TBEkr2n1xCWBKnu6ujFc4/s400/IMG_0016_4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299614397890068978" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg47jSNUVEjzEA8UJqfAP-zE3Ts-CKublvfnkiXZ_qE6eI-BXw5s82vl6IXNoCQ2lg3c1kWgaLOcgjQ_H6n8kWkOi1qJ1haqIbmcvFqi4A-q0fUwhVXTNGVMVchKAOhph8vswFRyzvaTFE/s1600-h/IMG_0022_3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg47jSNUVEjzEA8UJqfAP-zE3Ts-CKublvfnkiXZ_qE6eI-BXw5s82vl6IXNoCQ2lg3c1kWgaLOcgjQ_H6n8kWkOi1qJ1haqIbmcvFqi4A-q0fUwhVXTNGVMVchKAOhph8vswFRyzvaTFE/s400/IMG_0022_3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299614393545391410" /></a><br /><br />So here are a few pics I took around Kuwait. Like I said, it's a really beautiful city on the sea-side. The actual city leaves a lot to be desired, but what else can you expect from a city built on the edge of the sea in the desert. <br /><br />BodhiBodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07287144806676862923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469307833156633909.post-71869679080484126412009-02-05T18:49:00.000+04:002009-02-07T01:59:32.467+04:00Bodhi of Arabia (Originally Posted Nov 14, 2008)So it's back to work once again. And back to travel blogging once more. Funny that I travel blog when I work, but when I travel for fun I'm usually too busy having fun to have time to write about it. <br /><br />But now I've got more than enough time to kill, being landed in the land of our Muslim brothers. Who strangely enough believe that a beer is so evil that it warrants being banned from an entire country. Right now I'm resident in the tiny little country of Kuwait, which is pretty much nothing more than a dustbowl sitting on top of an ocean of oil. The locals like to say that gas is cheaper than water. Thought it was just an expression, but it's actually true here. <br /><br />So since I last wrote a travel blog, seems I was back in South Africa working in Joburg. My little two week business trip there turned into a whole year, which flew by. All I've gotta say about South Africa is that it's the most dangerous country in the entire world, and Joburg is the most dangerous city in the entire world. And I paid that little disturbing fact absolutely no heed. None. Looking back I'm not quite sure what I was thinking, but I guess it was my (misplaced?) sense of invulnerability that kept me from getting shot. Had a few close calls, mugged at knife point once, guns pulled on me twice, but came out without a scratch. And with some great, one of a kind stories. <br /><br />The summer saw me boarding a plane to Thailand with plans to take a month or two off and settle into my new condo which had just been completed. One or two months turned into several more, and then I kinda lost count. Funny how sleeping into until noon and taking long motorbike trips to the islands and back, can make thoughts of returning to work just a bad taste in the back of your throat. I knew I had to go back, I just didn't particularly want to. Hey, what's the harm in moving your return flight back another two weeks? And two weeks more. Then two weeks more. Before I knew it, two weeks became 9 months and by that time I had become a local. Unfortunately, there was another local who was a right shady character who decided he wanted what I had. Namely my girlfriend. And made sure to drive me out of town right quick. So I took the hint that it was well and truly time to stop sleeping in till noon and board the plane back to civilization.<br /><br />So of course I couldn't have timed my return any better if I had actually had any inclination outside of my own little simple country thai lifestyle, that the rest of the world was quickly going to hell in a hand basket. So of course my expected jump back into the job market wasn't quite a jump, but more like full on faceplant. How was I to know that the Great Depression #2 was around the corner? Luckily I saw it coming in August before it all hit in September, so I accepted a position out in the Middle East. Specifically in Abu Dhabi. No, not Dubai. Abu Dhabi. You know, the city next to Dubai. The richest city in the world! I've given up telling people I work in Abu Dhabi. Nobody has a clue where it is. So I just say Dubai now. <br /><br />And to make matters even more interesting, I actually am not working in either Dubai or Abu Dhabi right now. They sent me to Kuwait for a month, so I've got two more weeks to go. Kuwait is that tiny little speck of a country positioned right below Iraq. It's funny how this place is spitting distance from Iraq, but you'd never know there's a war going on an hour's drive away. It's like living in Elliot Lake with a war going on in Massey. Except I can't see Indians blowing themselves up or setting off road-side bombs. Might make the drive to Toronto interesting. <br /><br />So I'm now resident in this tiny little city where every Kuwaiti citizen owns a small fleet of cars. The teenagers spend their Friday nights roaring around town in Porches and Ninja motorbikes. But you can't even buy a beer. Bud sells non-alcoholic beer, but I couldn't bring myself to go there. <br /><br />Here are a few random shots from today's weekend walk around the city:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixpdU0mShWvc8lto44Uzu8CgDWHIuuFt8QEt7xxK1n784Kop7qtOTsczYwMsDKq6VjgLM4og8jQBOYs7fjTDpwpu9t-3OWQbZbLcs3yJgLCTQ8YPiYLddtAqyxRknANq5M3NweLNcwCNs/s1600-h/IMG_0029_4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixpdU0mShWvc8lto44Uzu8CgDWHIuuFt8QEt7xxK1n784Kop7qtOTsczYwMsDKq6VjgLM4og8jQBOYs7fjTDpwpu9t-3OWQbZbLcs3yJgLCTQ8YPiYLddtAqyxRknANq5M3NweLNcwCNs/s400/IMG_0029_4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299614392073622402" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizWs_rHtGwegahfwS9KC9HVAlcytZ19f3rfrCXibRhv_mfca9TKo9fXe9FnAmxTyLnpI0aSDrS3h2PP0kHjAJHKfzxpnCLLPwHQOb4_w-m38FTmV7DgYWD1L9c2dYlnvMO0xD4wqkyA74/s1600-h/IMG_0031_4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizWs_rHtGwegahfwS9KC9HVAlcytZ19f3rfrCXibRhv_mfca9TKo9fXe9FnAmxTyLnpI0aSDrS3h2PP0kHjAJHKfzxpnCLLPwHQOb4_w-m38FTmV7DgYWD1L9c2dYlnvMO0xD4wqkyA74/s400/IMG_0031_4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299614083117902418" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp6QexQKlVqNTz1FZb-egpt_x7HkWZmxBpsxM6NNghaFWJp1_FSUff5GlrHN8JKRUTfgkZj1n8waWen-TsGY3ObaxuKFcI_D3NaAql5dBOBXddJDt_-MjhtPjPWqZYP19EIcfWnrfS3gw/s1600-h/IMG_0032_3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp6QexQKlVqNTz1FZb-egpt_x7HkWZmxBpsxM6NNghaFWJp1_FSUff5GlrHN8JKRUTfgkZj1n8waWen-TsGY3ObaxuKFcI_D3NaAql5dBOBXddJDt_-MjhtPjPWqZYP19EIcfWnrfS3gw/s400/IMG_0032_3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299614086897033410" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjetkdaVnlHBqclconTtGOqtdF1YEjm7k6uyEJf8IUyPS2F3gdtdlA4tL2gwibFenz-9U3w_vv8W5i_Sb-158vIk5keGzv-cmT8JF69iXAWXM_28aCqnsDUnrpNDMFXcvJ5zT3Opejfl1s/s1600-h/IMG_0043_2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjetkdaVnlHBqclconTtGOqtdF1YEjm7k6uyEJf8IUyPS2F3gdtdlA4tL2gwibFenz-9U3w_vv8W5i_Sb-158vIk5keGzv-cmT8JF69iXAWXM_28aCqnsDUnrpNDMFXcvJ5zT3Opejfl1s/s400/IMG_0043_2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299614081092143362" /></a><br /><br />I was out for a walk today and came across some Arab motorbike show or something. And I saw my old bike, my R1, that I rode in Thailand all last year. And the dream bike I want, the BMW R1200GS, for my pending around the world tour. Hmm... Someday. In the meantime I can just dream about it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhld09o0MOjCfT2Y6YFVGzK7hXovVkfC_D0WIOt5NLsA0UDkxR8-uaofySAD38XVkcvCfXlGAJLx2gyGMmCnfK66_H2qKOIlQFz1mP9AoUx-P3hv3UDTU7k2kjo4pzy12qpdKcb-rugIBM/s1600-h/IMG_0075_2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhld09o0MOjCfT2Y6YFVGzK7hXovVkfC_D0WIOt5NLsA0UDkxR8-uaofySAD38XVkcvCfXlGAJLx2gyGMmCnfK66_H2qKOIlQFz1mP9AoUx-P3hv3UDTU7k2kjo4pzy12qpdKcb-rugIBM/s400/IMG_0075_2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299614081733003698" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisR3JadwcaW-6l1TCiD4v_s5HPb9-oUOfN36NGY3B8vrjL0lVtJK1k7C4fkX-i2MtJYy3NSpfUrDuhOR2WU4aTNiKMrH52lcQmDvTT22Fkkgatvyaq-lxz-ITdKwo7UgWU6KsURSOsL0w/s1600-h/IMG_0076_2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisR3JadwcaW-6l1TCiD4v_s5HPb9-oUOfN36NGY3B8vrjL0lVtJK1k7C4fkX-i2MtJYy3NSpfUrDuhOR2WU4aTNiKMrH52lcQmDvTT22Fkkgatvyaq-lxz-ITdKwo7UgWU6KsURSOsL0w/s400/IMG_0076_2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299614082033650754" /></a><br /><br />So there's the quick update on my life, if anyone cares or not. And to be perfectly honest, I'm only writing this because it's 9pm on a Friday night here in Kuwait, and I'm dead sober, there's no bars or clubs to go out to, and I'm bored. So too bad. <br /><br />BodhiBodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07287144806676862923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469307833156633909.post-82352655214462242512009-02-05T18:48:00.001+04:002009-02-07T12:48:11.688+04:00Out of Africa (and Canada) (Originally Posted Jan 18, 2007)Hey all... Just another update to my life, few and far between though they are lately. The short and small of it is that I'm now back resident here in my newly adopted homeland of Africa, South Africa to be exact, after having flown halfway round the world to Canada for Christmas and back. <br /><br />I wrapped up work here on Dec 15th with plans to head back to England to do the last week of work there before flying on to Toronto to see the family. But plans went astray and I decided to take a much needed break to just take in the crazy nightlife scene of Joburg, or JOZI as the locals like to call it. <br /><br />After that was Christmas back in TO, and then home with the fam. Nice to be back on my home turf, and the holidays were an amazing break from it all. Couldn't have been better. But two weeks is never enough, and although The bro only had a week and a half, it was still tough getting back on the plane. But not so tough this time since I wasn't flying back to winter in Ol' Blighty, or England as they call it, but rather onwards to middle of the African summer. I swear, it was a pretty big shock to the system after leaving Canada (which really wasn't cold at all), and England which was as wet and overcast as usual, and walking out of Or Tambo airport in Jozi into 33 degree, blinding summer. <br /><br />The cab ride from the airport to my new place was a culture shock all over again. But it's funny how quick a place can start to feel like home, cause it's so familiar here now. But such is life. When I step off the plane in Toronto I feel like a big weight has been lifted and I'm actually back home again. But I get a similar, but very different feeling when stepping out of Don Mang airport in Thailand, like I'm finally back home again in a strange way. And even Heathrow stepping on to the Paddington Express I feel like it's a homecoming and a strangely comforting arrival. I was surprised to get that in some small way landing back in Joburg, but this place is a unique and amazing place. Now of course it's also affectionately known as the 'Murder Capital of the World'. But hey, you can't have it all. In the end you can't really beat good ol' Canada. Amazing country, clean, beautiful, safe, and home. Nothing wrong with having a couple homes though. <br /><br />BodhiBodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07287144806676862923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469307833156633909.post-28969384969621353852009-02-05T18:46:00.000+04:002009-02-07T12:49:09.260+04:00South Africa - Still Here (Originally Posted Dec 8, 2006)Funny how this two week little trip has now turned into just my life, pretty much. It's kinda funny how I've compartmentalized my life to the point where I can go anywhere in the world on a minutes notice with a tiny little suitcase, and where I lay my head becomes my home. My hotel is in the swankiest part of Joburg has turned from a nice weeklong holiday into my home sweet home. <br /><br />It's quite the hotel this place. About a week ago I was out by the pool on a Saturday afternoon having a beer with a couple work guys, and who sits down next to us? Only Richard Branson, the Virgin guy. I used to hang out at the Virgin MegaStore in Times Square when I lived in New York. Now I'm sitting right next to the guy drinking a beer and having small talk. Cool guy, totally unpretentious and all he could talk about was his new venture in South Africa where they've gotten the government to allow them to get customers to switch from the other networks to them with their old phone numbers. Ed asked him about his spaceship that he was building, and he was big on the whole space tourism thing. <br /><br />Week before Cherie Blair, the British Prime Ministers wife, was poolside and my friend Lisa had a big talk with her. Other than that there was some British soap opera stars, and also Beyonce was here with Jay Z, but I didn't see her. I looked. A lot, but she must have stuck in her room. <br /><br />Here's some shots from my balcony of the summer lightening here in Joburg. Pretty amazing storms.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisyA3ucDmli01e0ErfEAEOttwmevqH3gUn7hhzR1BaUy-dzLjOuDeIw5_VUT_tJIQ9YLTvKES4Y4SPVOEi4iPdx9snw9jbw8gB8A7iROuuTquq5t3fpCyNBixClFNUuMfOx9dixTaJR_E/s1600-h/IMG_0772.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisyA3ucDmli01e0ErfEAEOttwmevqH3gUn7hhzR1BaUy-dzLjOuDeIw5_VUT_tJIQ9YLTvKES4Y4SPVOEi4iPdx9snw9jbw8gB8A7iROuuTquq5t3fpCyNBixClFNUuMfOx9dixTaJR_E/s400/IMG_0772.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299652696107639234" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipsyexSp3PNEK72q3y7dgyYV8NO0d81SLjDPCR5RXKsVKDVM7-Jc9RO5gZW9Oldo1lKwfil2bpVhJqNBxYP2MAMrlHtjoGvU2NbC54ZOFfR_fi7j_hruFOH2oVmeA3GzVR59aS8uC8QY8/s1600-h/IMG_0777.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipsyexSp3PNEK72q3y7dgyYV8NO0d81SLjDPCR5RXKsVKDVM7-Jc9RO5gZW9Oldo1lKwfil2bpVhJqNBxYP2MAMrlHtjoGvU2NbC54ZOFfR_fi7j_hruFOH2oVmeA3GzVR59aS8uC8QY8/s400/IMG_0777.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299652706221102850" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzatqLbjdHWsY_q9yRPTug3qTw4Pkg1R0xfZ9bXdbwucn-zWNiSyQisCdUJn1gDUEbL77TkxCqBcfxf6QxgxyOydWQCmfVMcXllAXWOAU3zdpNmQ7_pjuorJJ4zZa76C4rPCEmQHQY-jw/s1600-h/IMG_0775.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzatqLbjdHWsY_q9yRPTug3qTw4Pkg1R0xfZ9bXdbwucn-zWNiSyQisCdUJn1gDUEbL77TkxCqBcfxf6QxgxyOydWQCmfVMcXllAXWOAU3zdpNmQ7_pjuorJJ4zZa76C4rPCEmQHQY-jw/s400/IMG_0775.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299652699669850578" /></a><br /><br />BodhiBodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07287144806676862923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469307833156633909.post-44861654166041856932009-02-05T18:44:00.001+04:002009-07-25T14:28:07.312+04:00South Africa - Part 2 (Originally Posted Nov 15, 2006)So my time in South Africa which originally started off as a two week adventure, has now become a three month job placement. I'm here for the long term and it's now become just another job, albeit an interesting one in an interesting place. I never really thought I would make it to Africa, and funny enough, being here it's almost like I really still haven't made it to Africa. At least not the real one. All those pictures on TV when you're growing up, Bono trying his best to help the starving masses, genocide, rape, starvation. It's all a little much to take in. But to be honest I've seen about as much of that here that I've probably seen back home in Canada, or the Uk, the US, or Australia, where I"ve lived. The sad reality is that people suffer, thousands die every day, but it's not in your back yard, or even the average white South Africans back yard. It's tucked away where you don't have to see it, and deal with it. Just the way it is. Sad, but true I guess. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwoD6GZg_jz2Ve5NPPcZZ2z9rhIDI-POntz3TS2XPeN1OgFH3X058i20-faFyfCxhdR-agb5NZBgCQ9IBQpB12xr5w0QIZeq3K_ejrBScGYXTuhwKycDoef6JC6HC6mUSS2MMuL9hnksY/s1600-h/IMG_0180.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwoD6GZg_jz2Ve5NPPcZZ2z9rhIDI-POntz3TS2XPeN1OgFH3X058i20-faFyfCxhdR-agb5NZBgCQ9IBQpB12xr5w0QIZeq3K_ejrBScGYXTuhwKycDoef6JC6HC6mUSS2MMuL9hnksY/s400/IMG_0180.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299653586901660850" /></a><br /><br />Strange how I'm sitting here in relative luxury, surrounded by the trappings of success waited on pretty much hand and foot, when just outside the hotel door is Africa. It may not be at my front door, but if you drive just about twenty minutes out of Joburg you start to see the shanty towns and tin shacks. But hey, I've seen more of those in Asia, where people are quite happy and contented with their lives living in those same small shacks. Not saying I'd want to trade places, but it seems that poverty seems to weigh down a little more intensely here, and the close family ties and love for each other that I've found in the poorest slums of Asia seems to be replaced by a much darker and hopeless feeling here. I know that the desperate starvation of Ethiopia, senseless genocide of Rwanda, and religious slaughter of Sudan are about as far away from South Africa as Iraq is from America. But here you get a sense of it, and the real Africa I guess really isn't all that far away. <br /><br />But what are thoughts of death and starvation, when you get to visit the Lion Park and play with baby lions?? Two weekends back we got tired of working on a Saturday morning by the pool on the laptops, and decided to head to a Safari. Problem is, the closest real Safari to Joburg is about five hours away. So instead we settled for the Lion Park. It was only about a half hour drive from the city, and we got to go four by fouring in the bosses new company car. I warned him I snapped my mother's front axle on her Z24 doing just the same, going offroad in a sports car, but he didn't listen. And right by the duck pond we got stuck, he floored it, and something snapped underneath. We were able to drive out, but the car is toast, and he had to get a replacement next day. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOsxyTH3Rys5kETmtCRbq41H3QlmPgpPDxJEWVmup-vsTPac0EFfw0uDowzeIsZ4yFsXrm6dU_VitC2kSYrXbVunI16AHwl8QDS-cTSp7OP-yoNPpgOi5ucN0eXkUp5tbDPEkqzGbu7S0/s1600-h/IMG_0413.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOsxyTH3Rys5kETmtCRbq41H3QlmPgpPDxJEWVmup-vsTPac0EFfw0uDowzeIsZ4yFsXrm6dU_VitC2kSYrXbVunI16AHwl8QDS-cTSp7OP-yoNPpgOi5ucN0eXkUp5tbDPEkqzGbu7S0/s400/IMG_0413.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299653353518773906" /></a><br /><br />The park was ok, quite a few animals running around the place. But the highlight was playing with the baby lions. They were four to five months old, and amazing. Everyone was scared, since these babies were actually about the size of a good size dog, with fangs as big as your thumb. But they were so tame I couldn't help swatting them around and playing with them just like a big playful cat. Worked fine for a while, until one of them got a little too excited and decided to clamp his claws into my arm. Drew blood, and took a minute to pry him off, but no major damage done. <br /><br />Here's a few pics of my new apartment.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXzqwCcZ1nq6HwmAe86THCiGVahkkaMTRn8BgrcG4qTbLkhmyqm3QvD5cKybiwegDAtwUmhp2oNZcaBz1bG-8S3_F3FXyKO_omVnBoosg-ZkPAHWgws9jJz-h5s0vfYIUO-Mfm-3cN6hc/s1600-h/IMG_0717.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXzqwCcZ1nq6HwmAe86THCiGVahkkaMTRn8BgrcG4qTbLkhmyqm3QvD5cKybiwegDAtwUmhp2oNZcaBz1bG-8S3_F3FXyKO_omVnBoosg-ZkPAHWgws9jJz-h5s0vfYIUO-Mfm-3cN6hc/s400/IMG_0717.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299652693592585858" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirUFqD_BRnmyNgTT5l061eIPHLaqXjI_BvOw3mnXRqlQTYej7ouuxjipBJKeJpXy-Q8v2PptD6w9UJeW0NdCxgF3EglxPgTl8c1ItIWeQcSEzKHZ8WHuvZ36f7qFPUUZut52VY1tscr60/s1600-h/IMG_0710.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirUFqD_BRnmyNgTT5l061eIPHLaqXjI_BvOw3mnXRqlQTYej7ouuxjipBJKeJpXy-Q8v2PptD6w9UJeW0NdCxgF3EglxPgTl8c1ItIWeQcSEzKHZ8WHuvZ36f7qFPUUZut52VY1tscr60/s400/IMG_0710.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299652687633190786" /></a><br /><br />Next weekend we decided to head a little further afield, and ventured out to some mountain with some big long, strange Afrikaner name, to do some Canopy Tour absailing thinging. Basically they just run cables from one side of a gorge to the other, back and forth, hook you in, and give you a big shove. It's a hell of a lot of fun, and a good day out. The pics speak for themselves. <br /><br />This weekend everyone abandoned me and flew back home to London, leaving me here to mind the ship and run the show at work. So this past weekend I pretty much just chilled out pool side, did a little work, got a little sun, sipped a few cocktails and enjoyed the easy life. Unfortunately it's now Monday and the easy life has come to an end. Till next time.... <br /><br />BodhniBodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07287144806676862923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469307833156633909.post-47335508401878476632009-02-05T18:43:00.001+04:002009-07-25T14:28:23.469+04:00South Africa - Part 1 (Originally Posted Oct 14, 2006)So where does today find me? Funny enough, Africa. A place that I never really had a whole lot of interest in going. Mostly because I never thought of actually buying a plane ticket to come here when there were so many other places I wanted to explore. I always knew that Africa would be a place to explore, but it definitely wasn't high on my list. But when the company wants you to go somewhere, you nod and say yes and hop on the next plane. <br /><br />So I got sent down here from the UK by my company on a work assignment. Not quite the African adventure of dreams; riding camelback across the dunes tracking lions, camping in the desert... But South Africa is not really quite what I was expecting from Africa in general coming here. I was expecting to step off the plane into blinding heat, little skinny kids running around, and Sally Struthers accosting me for donations. Ok, so maybe not Sally, but the heat and the fat bellied kids, sure. What I got from SA was a cross between Beverly Hills and Ethiopia. Living side by side, literally. On the same street. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBeen6Yowm1JzheXURHk90_aAMasSzEthOSp3daJMf7iMBixhbbkhXfBXAQvJNT20GQWnb2u0wEhk7FGesFwN0Mocsm8HrqXgjP36nmGDObgMde1KV-u17lfY-Z4aCeoYYLl4bdR7cg90/s1600-h/IMG_0107.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBeen6Yowm1JzheXURHk90_aAMasSzEthOSp3daJMf7iMBixhbbkhXfBXAQvJNT20GQWnb2u0wEhk7FGesFwN0Mocsm8HrqXgjP36nmGDObgMde1KV-u17lfY-Z4aCeoYYLl4bdR7cg90/s400/IMG_0107.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299653847815253826" /></a><br /><br />So this is Johannesburg, the most dangerous city in the world, or so they say. Good ol' Joburg, or Jozi, as the locals call it, is a strange, strange place where the company tells you that if you step three feet beyond the protected border of their downtown office, you will get your throat silit for your laptop, and hey, just for the sheer fun of it. Last Wednesday a group of outstanding Soweto citizens decided to make their way into Joburg and try to gently remove the safety deposit box from a couple of "cash in transit" security guards. Next thing all hell breaks loose at one of the busiest intersections in downtown Joburg (only a few blocks from my office), and the 15 guys decide to shoot their way out through a crowd of innocent bystanders. 1 baby shot dead on the back of her mother, and seven in hospital with gun wounds. Just another day in Joburg. <br /><br />But despite all that, it's an interesting place which is starting to grow on me. Like anywhere, the danger is mostly in the (paranoid) mind of the beholder. As long as you're careful, don't take stupid chances, (and have your hotel Mercedies pick you up anywhere at anytime, at your beck and call), you'll be fine. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjByWPbLF8dCcLdq-8Tc1DjxuiXC96eApZ8n5eBKmi_55Nj937uQIp5CQbFqpQ7tA6_Ne_YBiTf5m9q8Nh6AOKSxGDJMGzil9ICXv0t0-UXJG1bOW_SZb51O_sDmXanBd9aadiq3Au1Qj0/s1600-h/IMG_0021.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjByWPbLF8dCcLdq-8Tc1DjxuiXC96eApZ8n5eBKmi_55Nj937uQIp5CQbFqpQ7tA6_Ne_YBiTf5m9q8Nh6AOKSxGDJMGzil9ICXv0t0-UXJG1bOW_SZb51O_sDmXanBd9aadiq3Au1Qj0/s400/IMG_0021.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299654163614451890" /></a><br /><br />I originally was sent here for two weeks, and now that's become just over ten. So my quick little trip to Africa has now become just another full time job. So the English cottage, "Box Tree Cottage", that Mike rented and I had big plans for is now with Mike to enjoy, and I'm back living in hotels for the next two months. Just goes to show you can't make plans when you can't guarantee what you'll be doing from one day to the next in this job. But at least I can do a little more travelling around whenever I have a free second here in Joburg, and see a little more of the real Africa that i haven't quite managed to find yet. <br /><br />Till Part 2. (when I can fix my bloody camera with my missing software back in the UK, and get the rest of my pics off and posted). Till then... <br /><br />BodhiBodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07287144806676862923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469307833156633909.post-19178545016730667842009-02-05T18:41:00.001+04:002009-07-25T14:28:37.351+04:00Thailand Summer Trip (Originally Posted Aug 29, 2006)A quick update here. I took off four weeks from work to head to Canada to see the fam and do some UK visa stuff. Surprise best moment of the year came up when my mother decided she wanted to accompany me on my visa business trip to Ottawa. I've spent zero time alone with my mom, pretty much ever. But this was something which was priceless. Time alone with your mother, where you get to know your mother. It's something that you know, a bond that you feel, but it's never brought about into the light of day how important it its. This trip brought it out, and I couldn't believe how amazingly cool my mother is. I love her, I respect her for how she raised us. She is the most important person in the world to me. On equal footing with my dad of course. But this trip really showed me how much of a person she was, away from the mother stereo-types. My mother is damn cool.<div><br /></div><div>We had a pint of beer in a real Irish pub in Ottawa. We wandered around downtown Ottawa and tried to sneak into a summer outdoor music festival. And my mom was up for sneaking in. Amazing. And we bunked in a top hotel, and finished my UK visa, and drove back to Markham.</div><div><br /></div><div>Back in the UK with my UK visa worked out, me and my bro decided to do a short thai trip. We'd done the Europe long weekend trips a lot, so I wanted to show him where I truly loved to be. So we had about two and a half weeks in Thailand. Mostly the point of the trip was to do the paperwork for my new beachside condo which was just finished, two years after buying the thing off plan. So I signed the papers and still have about two weeks until the land department will do the inspection and sign over the title deeds. For the rest of the trip we headed down to Koh Toa for some diving, over to Koh Phanghan for some biking and the Full Moon Party, then back north for some partying and off to the airport. Great trip, but it's now done and back to work. Back in the UK and missing Thailand. Like usual.<br /><br />Went to Creamfields in northern England this weekend with the bro and partied with 50,000 of the UK's finest. It was like every one of the best parties with the best DJ's you've ever been to, in one place, in one night. Pretty amazing.<br /><br />Two more weeks of work here in London, then moving back to 'Madchester', or well, Knutsford, whch is close to Manchester. Just watched '24 Hour Party People' tonight which chronicled the rise of the Manchester scene from punk through to the rave scene, through to what it is now. I can say from a few party weekends there that it's a cool town with a whole lot of history. Probably have a lot more to say in the next few months....<br /><br />Bodhi</div>Bodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07287144806676862923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469307833156633909.post-32523109598636135392009-02-05T18:40:00.002+04:002009-07-25T14:32:03.471+04:00Queen's BDay Bash (Originally Posted June 18, 2006)So what is a typical sunny, spring Saturday spent like in London? Well, of course since it was the Queen's 80th b-day I had to stop by with a few of her closest friends at Buckingham Palace and give my congratulations. It was a very intimate affair, with only family and close friends. Then off to Leicester Square to see catch a few Broadway shows. And finish off the day with a quick sidetrip over to Sri Lanka for an hour. <br /><br />Ok, so it didn't happen exactly quite like that. But close. <br /><br />It was the Queen Mum's 80th and I did stop by the palace to give my congrats. Along with about half a million other people from pretty much everywhere in the world. It was the annual Trooping of the Guards, which has been done on the Queen's b-day for centuries I take it. It used to be done so that all the different battalions would be able to identify their unit by their colour and uniform, so in the heat of battle they would stay in formation and not get disorganized. It was also a great show, and an impressive way to show the power of the British empire. The Queen used to ride around horseback and inspect the troops, but nowadays she's a little old for riding around on horses. So she takes the carriage around instead. <br /><br />It was a really cool thing to see, and I was totally blown away how close we all were to her. Literally she was riding in her carriage down the Mall (the long street that leads to the Palace) with people a stone's throw away on either side of the street. She was just sitting there in her purple dress, with the Duke of Edinborough at her side, waving away to everyone. God forbid any crazy person decides to take a potshot at her to make some political statement. You didn't even need a gun, maybe just a fairly long stick or something. That's one brave old lady, and it made for a really impressive show, being that up close. <br /><br />Later at the castle I forced my way to the front of the crowd, and had a great spot for when pretty much the whole royal family (extended family) came out on the balcony to watch the cannons go off, and the rifle battalions do their salutes, and the amazing jet formations that flew over. I could see the Queen, the Duke of Edinborough beside her, Prince Harry, Prince Charles, and a whole lot of other adults and little kids I didn't recognize. The jets coming over were amazing, and there were some huge ones. <br /><br />When the Queen went back inside and it was all over, I took a walk over to Leicester Square to catch the free Broadway shows they were putting on in the park. Not every day you can catch Mama Mia, Lion King, the Producers, Stomp and Blue Man Group for free. Only parts of the shows of course, but usually the best parts. <br /><br />Then to finish the day off I stopped by Trafalgar Square to see what was up, as there's some kind of party going on there every weekend. Turns out this time was Sri Lanka day in London. So I hung around for the shows, and ended up with a couple free t-shirts in the deal. But it was already dinner time and I caught the Tube home. <br /><br />Typical London Saturday. <br /><br />BodhiBodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07287144806676862923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469307833156633909.post-71301316225310310562009-02-05T18:37:00.001+04:002009-07-25T14:31:47.853+04:00Weekend in Barcelona (Originally Posted June 3, 2006)So another bank holiday weekend just passed here in the UK last weekend, and we decided to do the usual long weekend activity in Europe and do a "short city-break" as they call them here. Whereas if you were in Canada you might take the May 2 4, grab a 2 4 of beer, a tent and head out for a little camping and fishing. That's not really an option in the UK where they caught their last wild trout in 1685 or something. Not to mention that the island is completely devoid of any serious large animals. You got a lot of bunnies, but not much else. <br /><br />Anyways, I digress. So last weekend we hopped the plane after work on Friday and headed for Barcelona. 'Barna' as the locals call it, is only about an hour forty minute flight from London (and close to the same from Liverpool where Mikey flew out of). We both landed pretty much the same time at around 10:30pm, and had to catch the bus from Girona airport into the Barcelona. Ryanair only flies into Girona, which is an hour twenty from the city, but any other option to fly directly to Barcelona is like three times the price. I found two tickets for 144 quid each, which started the weekend off fairly cheap. <br /><br />So by the time we got to Barcelona it was already midnight. We caught a cab to Las Ramblas from the bus station, and got dropped off at Placa Real where the hotel was. Now I booked this hotel site unseen off a hostel site on the internet, and although the reviews said it was a little dodgy the location couldn't be beat. And were they right. Our room was pretty standard, but open the balcony doors and you walk out on our very own balcony overlooking the square. Placa Real square is pretty much the heart of the city. Las Ramblas is the main street, and Placa Real is the centre of the action. It was activity 24/7 with people eating out in the restaurants in the square by day, and thousands of drunk tourists drinking 1 Euro spanish beers and partying in the street. It was a pretty crazy place to stay, and although a little on the loud side trying to sleep, it was the ideal place to be based for a few days. <br /><br />The first night we didn't get settled and out onto the streets until almost 1am, so we pretty much just to stick close to home and wander the streets. The armies of little men selling 1 Euro beers in the streets kept us well stocked for our travels. Now Barcelona I was told doesn't get going until well after midnight. Now that's hard to beleive, even London is rocking before 11pm on the weekends. But the Spanish don't seem to come out until the rest of the world is already in bed. Even on Sunday night we thought about going out early as it was Sunday and people had work the next day, but we were told not to even think about having dinner until 10pm cause then things would be picking up once dinner was done. So a lot of beers and a cool clubs, and the sun was up so we dragged our drunk selves to bed for some early morning sleep. <br /><br />Second day it was beautiful sunny blue skies and 32 degrees. Nice change from cloudy old England. So we decided to cure the hangover immediatley with a jug of Sangria and a selection of seafood Tapas right on the strip, Las Ramblas. Proceeded by a wander down to the ocean, and along the pier to check out the beaches. We made it to the first one, and the bro went for his very first swim in the ocean. I forgot my shorts so had to pick up a pair at the beach, for approximately the price of a small car. Highway ransom at 74 Euros, but jeans weren't gonna cut it in 32 degree weather. <br /><br />That night we got going late as directed, and went to check out a few clubs. First was closed, but the second turned out to be in a castle thingie up on top of a mountain, called Le Terraca. It was an open air club, with palm trees actually growing out of the dance floor. Pretty amazing club, and we even got to watch the sunrise from the balcony. <br /><br />Sunday we did another wander down the beach, and found that there were actually a number of beaches. At about beach number three, we stopped for lunch at a beach side restaurant and polished off a pan of piella (Spanish national dish, which is like baked seafood rice concoction, and really, really good). Two jugs of Sangria went down as well while Mikey tried his best to burn himself, and I tried my best not to (but still did). After that the bro ended up with one big red burn on his knee, which doesn't make much sense, and I ended up with a bad farmers tan. After lunch we kept walking and we made it to beach number five I think, after having passed the touristy beach, then the mixed beach, then the kiddie beach, etc, until we found the cool, young beach. We had the brilliant idea to stop and buy a six pack and a bag of ice, and had a little afternoon party/siesta on the beach. Of course by this point the sight of endless varities of breasts had become commonplace, but I still had to get a pic of one to prove to everyone back home that the girls actually do let it all hang out in Europe. Although I'd say it's probably more common in Australia. At least 50 percent of the girls on Sydney beach are topless, while in Barna I'd say it's more like 20% at most. <br /><br />Switched hotels Sunday night to a backpacker hostel in Placa Real and hung out with a couple Canadian guys on a post-uni trip through Europe. Sunday we did the touristy thing and caught the sight-seeing bus around Barcelona. The cathedral was absolutely amazing. It's the only cathedral in the world that is actually still under construction. It was started about 120 years ago, and is still going strong. I don't know if the Spanish are just really slow builders, if they take way too many siestas, or what, but the detail they put into this thing is crazy. It was designed by Gaudi, this famous Spanish architect you designed half the city. <br /><br />Sunday night we had dinner, grabbed our bags from the hostel and headed to the bus station. Of course we left with plenty of time before our flights left, but on the way there I checked the schedule and saw that the last bus for Girona airport was already gone. So after 115 euro taxi ride we made it there with plenty of time to spare. Flights were pretty uneventful, except that it was after the long weekend and the Customs line at Stansted airport in London was about an hour long. Tired and burnt out at 12:30pm, standing in a line for an hour is not fun. But made it back safe and sound and already have another week of work done. Chill out weekend this weekend, to save the energy and money. <br /><br />BodhiBodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07287144806676862923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469307833156633909.post-55610438681617271732009-02-05T18:35:00.001+04:002009-07-25T14:29:08.684+04:00Weekend in Prague (Originally Posted April 28, 2006)It was another bank holiday weekend last weekend here in the UK (why are all the UK bank holidays in the spring, and then you don't have any days off the rest of the year hardly?). So what to do? How about a trip to Prague. <br /><br />I've been wanting to check out Bohemia for a long time, and after a quick check of where we wanted to go, Prague seemed the obvious choice. Plus with all the budget airlines now, it costs next to nothing to fly around Europe. That is of course if you buy at least a month in advance. Which of course I didn't do and had to pay about 260 quid for my flight on EasyJet. <br /><br />You'd think they'd be sick of drunk Brits making fools of themselves on stag parties, but it was a chilled out place. I did fly over on the plane with two stag groups, both of them all dressed out in stupid costumes and drunkenly singing their football chants. But thankfully we didn't run into any in the city. <br /><br />Prague is an incredible city and it didn't dissapoint. Besides having the reputation of being the British stag capital of Europe, it has some really good nightlife. But as a city itself I really came away liking the place. It has incredible architecture like I've never seen before, an amazing amount of history, and being Bohemia it has a really cool laid back vibe to it. Plus it's easy to get around, not too big, and very friendly people. <br /><br />The food is a strange one, since there seems to be more Italian pizzerias in the city than anything else. But we did try dinner one night at an authentic Czech restaurant with the great name of Jazz and Beer. The meal of Goulash and dumplings was amazing, and the jazz was pretty good to. <br /><br />I think it would be an amazing city in the summertime, and I'll probably have to check it out again when it's hot. But overall I was definitely impressed by the place and rank it up there with a lot of the better cities I've been to.<br /><br />BodhiBodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07287144806676862923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469307833156633909.post-16648479160328049322009-02-05T18:27:00.001+04:002009-07-25T14:32:26.946+04:00St Paddy's Day Dublin (Originally Posted March 18, 2006)Now what is better than celebrating St Paddy's Day and getting pissed on green beer? Actually celebrating it in Dublin with real Guiness and Harp beer, and none of the green crap that turns your toilet bowl green at the end of the night.<br /><br />It was a great weekend trip and an easy jaunt since we were both working right close to Manchester airport in Knutsford, and was only a short half hour hop over to Dublin. It turned out to be a pretty crazy party, although I'd have to say that New York probably has a bigger party. Although no where near as authentic and cool.<br /><br />Now I've been a lot of cities, and my impression of Dublin was moderate. It's a nice, small city with some great people. But brutally expensive and frankly not all that exciting. Of course St Paddy's day had people from all over the world coming for that one party. But I get the impression that on a normal weekend it would be kinda quiet.<br /><br />But like everyone says. If you want to experience the true Ireland, get out of Dublin and see the countryside and the small towns. That will have to be another trip.<div><br /></div><div>Bodhi</div>Bodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07287144806676862923noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469307833156633909.post-89657254938661296272006-03-12T19:42:00.000+04:002009-02-10T23:58:16.818+04:00Cruising the Peaks District<b><span style="font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">This Saturday found us waking up semi-early (before noon) and heading out on the road with our new found Texan friend, Adonis, to explore the Peaks District of Northern England.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><br /></span></span></b><div><b><span style="font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Adonis had his company car decked out with a GPS, so we just plugged in the city of Sheffield, which is just across the Peaks National Park, and set off.</span></span></b><div><b><span style="font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/mini-DSCN0937.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/mini-DSCN0937.jpg" border="0" hspace="10" vspace="10" alt="" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br />A chilly looking shot from our hotel window last week in the morning before heading off to work. I thought this was a pretty traditional looking English shot.<br /><br /></span><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/mini-DSCN0945.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/mini-DSCN0945.jpg" border="0" hspace="10" vspace="10" alt="" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><br />So it was a quick drive out of Knutsford north through Stockport and on into the increasingly hilly country as you head East into the centre.<br /><br /></span><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/mini-DSCN0959.0.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/mini-DSCN0959.jpg" border="0" hspace="10" vspace="10" alt="" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br />It's an amazing change as you head out of Cheshire which is all flat countryside and heavily developed, and you get into the Peaks area with the hills rising up around all the towns.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><br />Then the towns end and you drive up into the clouds. Literally in this case as it was a foggy day and the hills were spectacular.<br /><br /></span><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/mini-DSCN0966.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/mini-DSCN0966.jpg" border="0" hspace="10" vspace="10" alt="" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><br />It's incredible how a half hour drive takes you out of what is typical English countryside into something which more resembles Greenland or Alaska with barren tundra landscapes and mountain ranges in the background.<br /><br /></span><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/mini-DSCN0968.0.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/mini-DSCN0968.1.jpg" border="0" hspace="10" vspace="10" alt="" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><br />Pretty beautiful landscapes, with a lot of hikers from the surrounding area out for days roaming the hills.<br /></span><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/mini-DSCN0969.jpg"></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br />We took various photo opportunity stops along the way. Even though we actually live and work here, we still played the tourists for weekend.<br /><br /></span><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/mini-DSCN0970.0.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/mini-DSCN0970.jpg" border="0" hspace="10" vspace="10" alt="" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><br />The roads were tiny and windy, and hazardous. This one was called the Snake in the grass, or something like that.<br /><br /></span><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/mini-DSCN0976.1.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/mini-DSCN0976.1.jpg" border="0" hspace="10" vspace="10" alt="" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br />Our last stop was in a fair sized town called Buxton, which I had never heard of but turned out to be a beautiful city with a ton of amazing buildings. It was getting dark by that time, so after checking out the local beer at the last pub we were off and back home to Knutsford.<br /><br /></span><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/mini-DSCN0987.jpg"></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br />So all in all a great day out crusing some new parts of the English countryside.</span></span></b><div><br /></div><div><b><span style="font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Bodhi<br /></span><br /></span></b></div></div></div>Bodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07287144806676862923noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469307833156633909.post-15496990163005842232006-02-12T19:06:00.000+04:002009-02-05T18:19:52.672+04:00Chester, Cheshire - Saturday Afternoon Trip<span style="font-size:100%;">So the week is over and another weekend has come around. Busy week at work, but the weekly report back to the client went well. <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/DSCN0894.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/DSCN0894.jpg" border="0" hspace="10" vspace="10" alt="" /></a> My little progress spreadsheet had a lot more green lines on it than red, which basically means that I struck off a whole lot of controls this week, much more than the client was expecting. So I make the boss look good since he can do his weekly status report to his boss and show some stats that make him look like a great manager. So with the week done and the weekend here, I got up early Saturday morning and caught the early train to Chester. Chester is the capital of Cheshire, and a really old city with a lot of history. <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/DSCN0879.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/DSCN0879.jpg" border="0" hspace="10" vspace="10" alt="" /></a>I passed through a few weeks back but didn't have batteries in my camera and didn't stop for long. This time I charged me camera and left the whole day open. The ride down was interesting, mostly since it turns out that there was a Chester V Stockton football match going on that day and the train was pretty much full of 16 year old football Hooligans. They were drinking the whole way and since there was only a few seats on the train I ended up having to sit right in the middle of them. As soon as they heard my accent I ended the focus of a little unwanted attention. I had to play the Canadian card, then next thing I know I'm doing football chants. I learned one new one that they plan on doing at the next World Cup in Germany. "Two World Wars and One World Cup, Doo Dah, Doo Dah". Not sure how that will go down with the Germans, but guess we'll see.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/DSCN0884.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/DSCN0884.jpg" border="0" hspace="10" vspace="10" alt="" /></a> So the City of Chester is one of the little English cities which has a whole ton of history and a whole lot of blood in it's past. Chester is called the Gateway to Wales, since it's right on the Welsh border, and is the city where way back in the 16th century the English launched the all out assault on Wales to bring it into the big British empire. <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/DSCN0888.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/DSCN0888.jpg" border="0" hspace="10" vspace="10" alt="" /></a> The city is originally an old Roman city, and the Romans built a big wall around it to protect it from the barbarian Welsh across the River Dee. It was an outpost back then, and it stayed that way far a long time for about 1600 years. And then the English had the bright idea that they wanted Wales too. So they used Chester to launch an assault into Welsh territory.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/DSCN0878.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/DSCN0878.jpg" border="0" hspace="10" vspace="10" alt="" /></a> There's a whole lot history around Wales, and it's the only city in the UK that has a complete Roman Wall around it which still stands. Actually, the original Roman Wall was a lot smaller, but the Saxons in Medieval times extended it to wrap around the city right down to the River Dee.<br />The city itself was rebuilt up in Victorian times in the style of the Medieval architecture, with the white and black timber buildings. It's pretty noticeable around the town as it looks like an old Medieval city. <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/DSCN0897.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/DSCN0897.jpg" border="0" hspace="10" vspace="10" alt="" /></a> But it ain't Medieval no more, since it's now a big old tourist city. This town where once the war against the Monarchy had the city bombarded with cannonballs, and thousands of people died. Now it's a big old tourist city with packs of Chinese tourists wander around snapping pictures.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/DSCN0904.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/DSCN0904.jpg" border="0" hspace="10" vspace="10" alt="" /></a>So the big thing to do in Chester is to check out the Roman/Medieval Wall and take a walk around it. Which means walking around the entire city. So I figured that since I there, I may as well get a little exercise and walk the wall. turns out I wasn't alone. Seems to be a big weekend thing with the tourists and the locals.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/DSCN0919.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/DSCN0919.jpg" border="0" hspace="10" vspace="10" alt="" /></a> It was a great day out and a whole lot of walking, but I got to see the city and get a bit of history in. Plus there's nothing better than finishing a good afternoon walk off with catching the England V Italy match. I only got the first half, then just made the end of the game back in Knutsford just off the train.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/DSCN0923.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/DSCN0923.jpg" border="0" hspace="10" vspace="10" alt="" /></a> So it was a good Saturday afternoon. And now it's Sunday evening and the weekends pretty much over. Back to work again tomorrow, but ain't that just the way. The weekend comes, and next thing you know it's time to go back to work again. Oh well. That's life."</span><div><br /></div><div>Bodhi</div>Bodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07287144806676862923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469307833156633909.post-12810790540344771982006-02-05T01:57:00.000+04:002009-02-05T18:19:28.784+04:00Scouser Bodhi Goes to Manchester<span style="font-size:100%;">So it's the weekend and Saturday and a beautiful, grey, cloudy day. But what's new in the great British winter. Work is done and the weekend is here. <br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/DSCN0777.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/DSCN0777.jpg" border="" hspace="10" vspace="10" alt="" /></a> Woke up early this morning with the plan to hop the train from little Knutsford and go out exploring the great wider area of semi-Northern England. Haven't done much exploring cause I've been too busy at work. <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/DSCN0780.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/DSCN0780.jpg" border="0" hspace="10" vspace="10" alt="" /></a>So I planned today to play a Scouser and explore the local Manchester culture, but found out pretty quick that Scouser is a less than polite term for Liverpudians (aka from Liverpool). I guess that would make me a Mancurian (not to be mistaken with Manchurians, aka Japanese China circa 1941). <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/DSCN0781.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/DSCN0781.jpg" border="0" hspace="10" vspace="10" alt="" /></a><br />The local UK slang is tough to grasp, but from what I can see most Brits don't get half of it themselves either.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/DSCN0787.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/DSCN0787.jpg" border="0" hspace="10" vspace="10" alt="" /></a><br />Good day out today and had a good tour of Manchester. It was only 40 minutes from Knutsford on the train, and an easy ride. I got off the train at Piccadilly station, walked out the front door and had no idea how far anything was. <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/DSCN0816.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/DSCN0816.jpg" border="0" hspace="10" vspace="10" alt="" /></a>It's a big city and I could have been five miles off High Street for all I knew. So I hopped on the free bus (it said Free Tourist Bus on it) and took the ride downtown. Turns out Manchester city centre is not all that big and I hopped off after three blocks. I tried to find the river which runs through the town and the so called wharf, and liternally walked right over it and kept going without hardly noticing, cause it's more like a little stream than a river. <br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/DSCN0807.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/DSCN0807.jpg" border="0" hspace="10" vspace="10" alt="" /></a><br />By the river is Manchester Cathedral which like most old English Cathedrals is pretty impressive. Although, this one didn't quite measure up to Salisbury Cathedral anywhere close, at least this time I figured out how to take indoor pictures with my camera (* use the MUSEUM setting).<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/DSCN0818.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/DSCN0818.jpg" border="0" hspace="10" vspace="10" alt="" /></a><br />It's not a huge city, but the city centre is pretty much one big department store. Apart from the Medieval Manchester area which is what you usually think of with old English towns with their history. Manchester may have history, but the Mancurians seem to have decided they prefer the 21st century and skyscrapers and department stores are better. I honestly think there is more shopping in Manchester than any city I've ever been in. The Arndale shopping centre takes up about ten city blocks and is about a quarter of the whole downtown. I was talking to a local and she said that after the big IRA bomb in 96 they pretty much started over downtown and rebuilt it all brand new.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/DSCN0824.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/DSCN0824.jpg" border="0" hspace="10" vspace="10" alt="" /></a><br />The one thing that stuck out was the styles there. Seems half of the kids were total goth or punks. And the girls were mini skirted tarts, or Slappers as they like to call them here. <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/DSCN0825.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/DSCN0825.jpg" border="0" hspace="10" vspace="10" alt="" /></a>I've never seen so many girls in 2 degree weather wearing a micro mini skirt, belly shirts and a half pound of makeup. The girls were out on a Saturday afternoon looking like they were done up for a nightclub. <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/DSCN0828.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/DSCN0828.jpg" border="0" hspace="10" vspace="10" alt="" /></a>I saw a lot of that up north in Newcastle, and was warned about the Geordie girls, but it's worse here.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/DSCN0865.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/DSCN0865.jpg" border="0" hspace="10" vspace="10" alt="" /></a><br />In all, it's just another city, albeit an easy one to walk around with a fair bit of history and a whole lot of shopping. <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/DSCN0870.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/DSCN0870.jpg" border="0" hspace="10" vspace="10" alt="" /></a>Had a good day and caught the Rugby Six Nations, England V Wales back in Knutsford. England won.<br /><br />Not much else to report.</span><div><br /></div><div>Bodhi</div>Bodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07287144806676862923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469307833156633909.post-67182781662884087642006-02-02T02:13:00.000+04:002009-02-05T18:18:49.152+04:00Hump Day<span style="font-size:100%;">Ok, it's Wednesday. Hump day. Middle of the week. Only two more days to go till the weekend.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/1.2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/1.2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a> Pretty standard week this week. The new job has turned into a pretty decent little contract. This is the first time that I've actually worked as part of a large corporate Internal Audit team and it's amazing to see how it works. Audit by trade involves a ton of travel, and the consulting side of it is pretty much all travel. But I never really thought that the permanent staff doing this would be the same.<br /><br />The internal audit department is essentially a row of desks with monitors and laptop cradles. So no one owns a desk. You just sit down wherever there is an empty desk and plug your laptop in. Everyone splits their time between three or four offices, from the south coast to London <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/DSCN0769.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/DSCN0769.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a> to the midlands to the north. Kinda cool because it's easy to do in the UK, since the country is so small that you can move around and still not be more than a few hours from home. So every day I go into work I don't know half the people there, and once I get to know someone, they're more than likely gone the next day. So today I go in and out of the usual 20 people, there's 3. I thought for a second I screwed up and came in an hour early. But nope, just the crazy life of an auditor. Auditors are crazy. Really.<br /><br />I was out last Sunday morning and pretty much took only one pic of these Canada geese that seemed to be kicking themselves that they flew all the way from Canada only to find out that the water is frozen here in the UK the same. Although this was the first pond freeze of the year that I've seen here. But it's bloody cold now and today it dropped below zero for the first time during the daytime. Too cold for me.<br /><br />Anyways, life is good and nothing much new to report. Just working hard, making money and working on the well rounded physique.</span><div><br /></div><div>Bodhi</div>Bodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07287144806676862923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469307833156633909.post-42096170882620585522006-01-22T18:43:00.000+04:002009-02-05T18:18:11.194+04:00Going Nutty in Knutsford<b><span style="font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">So where does this fine winter day in the new year of 2006 find me? <br /><br /></span><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/59567469@N00/89708018/" title="photo sharing"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><img src="http://static.flickr.com/27/89708018_a47b276a03_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><span style=" margin-top: 0px;font-size:1.2em;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/59567469@N00/89708018/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">My Home Away From Home in Knutsford. Ok, so it's the only home I've got.</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> </span><p></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Well, I'm now resident in a tiny, sleepy little English town called Knutsford. Not the most reconizable of cities and definitely not on the tourist trail, but this little place is kinda hidden gem way off the tourist path.<br /><br />I had some misgivings when my company told me that they were sending me to someplace called Knutsford, especially since the last time I was working in the greater Manchester area was last year exactly this time and I ended up in the Industrial area of Oldham which is famous for nothing more than the race riots between Pakistani and British National party (read Nazi) members. Thankfully this place is nothing like Oldham, and is actually a kind of agricultural area turned bedroom community for the rich and famous of Manchester.<br /><br /></span><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/59567469@N00/89708023/" title="photo sharing"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><img src="http://static.flickr.com/26/89708023_cc3f37f3c9_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><span style=" margin-top: 0px;font-size:1.2em;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/59567469@N00/89708023/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">The Mansion. This place is huge and hard to believe one family actually lived there. The place is amazing and the grounds are huge.</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> </span><p></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">From my digging and visit today to the Historical Center of Knutsford, I've found out that the unfortunate name of this tiny town is actually taken from a Danish king called "Canutsford" who forded the river Lily in 1016 to help establish the town. Their other famous temporary resident is the American General "Blood and Guts" Patton who was here in 1943 with his men to prepare for the invasion of France in World War II. Strangely enough, just by chance I was wandering the town yesterday and came across the old American Recreation Center where the American soldiers relaxed with the local women before the hell of the mainland Europe invasion.<br /><br /></span><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/59567469@N00/89708021/" title="photo sharing"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><img src="http://static.flickr.com/34/89708021_c242163eb8_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><span style=" margin-top: 0px;font-size:1.2em;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/59567469@N00/89708021/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">The famous General Patton spent time in little Knutsford. Actually, from wandering in Tatton Park I found out that Patton and the British practiced parachuting in the middle of the big fields to prepare for the invasion of France where they had to parachute in.</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> </span><p></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/59567469@N00/89708026/" title="photo sharing"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><img src="http://static.flickr.com/40/89708026_454985e624_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><span style=" margin-top: 0px;font-size:1.2em;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/59567469@N00/89708026/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Cows with free reign of Tatton Park. The deer were more impressive, but the batteries in my camera ran out on Sunday right before I saw them</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> </span><p></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">This is a really tiny town of about 25,000 and has a ton of history. The town center itself is really nothing more than two streets (King Street and Queen Street), with an old 1200 year or so church. But you can tell that it's really, really posh. I wasn't sure why at first, but quickly figured it out when I was told to go check out Tatton Park which is right off the main street. <br /></span><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/DSCN0726.0.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/DSCN0726.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><span style=" margin-top: 0px;font-size:1.2em;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/59567469@N00/89727863/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Beautiful wide open spaces. But jets passing over every two minutes. Tatton Park is right in the flight path of Manchester airport. And they wake me up at night too in my hotel.</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> </span><p></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">This is a huge, huge park with Tatton Mere (big lake and swamps) and the best preserved Victorian Mansion and estate in Britain with a massive Victorian garden. I spent the day yesterday hiking Tatton Park and checking out the Garden along with all the stressed out Manchester workers who have come back home to the countryside and spend their days letting off steam in the park. <br /></span><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/DSCN0694.jpg"><br /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Free land in Britain to hike is tough to find and here there is a ton of it. It's an amazing park with huge herds of deer roaming free around the park, people fishing in the Meer and tons of people riding horseback. A pretty nice place to live I'd say, and since my hotel is about a minute walk from the park entrance I'll be taking full advantage of it.<br /><br /></span><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/59567469@N00/89708029/" title="photo sharing"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><img src="http://static.flickr.com/12/89708029_e74cddbfef_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><span style=" margin-top: 0px;font-size:1.2em;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/59567469@N00/89708029/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Fishing in the Meer. It looks like a Northern Ontario trout lake, but in reality is only a small depression in the field that filled with water.</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> </span><p></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">So yesterday I hiked the park and checked out the gardens (mostly the Japanese gardesn since they were rated as the best Japanese gardens outside of Japan).<br /><br /></span> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/59567469@N00/89708030/" title="photo sharing"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><img src="http://static.flickr.com/41/89708030_dfa5665b5d_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><span style=" margin-top: 0px;font-size:1.2em;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/59567469@N00/89708030/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">The Gardens of the Mansion. The Posh Astrocats own private lake.</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> </span><p></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Today I woke up early and had my usual Full English (free) at the hotel and then took a run for an hour out in the park to burn off those sausages and blood pudding. I actually got a new addition to my Full English today, fried toast. Never had that one before, and it raised the greasy goodness of a Full English breakfast up another notch. Toast soaked and fried in butter. Yumm. It was so good that I knew it was shortening my life about a year every bite so I had to leave half of it on the plate.<br /><br /></span><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/59567469@N00/89727863/" title="photo sharing"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><img src="http://static.flickr.com/35/89727863_cb170f34d8_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><span style=" margin-top: 0px;font-size:1.2em;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/59567469@N00/89727863/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">The Japanese Gardens. I went tramping through the japanese gardens looking for the perfect picture before the park warden saw me and less than politely asked me to get back over the line.</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> </span><p></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br />So the hotel is quaint Victorian and very nice, the work is boring but easy (until the Q1 2006 work kicks off and I'll be missing these boring work days), I've got nature at my doorstep, and life is good. Until next time.</span></span></b><div><br /></div><div><b><span style="font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Bodhi<br /></span><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/DSCN0743.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/DSCN0743.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><span style=" margin-top: 0px;font-size:1.2em;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/59567469@N00/89727863/">I woke up this morning and took a run in the park, and had to take this shot of the early morning sun through the mist over Tatton Mere.</a><br /></span> <p></p><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/1600/DSCN0747.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4977/1973/320/DSCN0747.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><span style=" margin-top: 0px;font-size:1.2em;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/59567469@N00/89727863/">Picturesque little place. I can see why the Manchester city crowd drove up the prices to live here.</a><br /></span> <p></p></span></b></div>Bodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07287144806676862923noreply@blogger.com1