Fly Fishing

There is lots to like about my new sport but here is a quick summary.........no queues.

No crowded surf breaks
No ski lift lines
No fighting for a seat
No traffic jams
No problems parking
No drunks with big eskies (cold boxes) full of beer being noisy.

Just tranquility, rhythm, awareness, focus then adrenaline and finally a sense of accomplishment.

But damn it's cold. Having just emerged from wading in a snow melt lake, I still can't feel my feet.

A Cheese Sandwich

You would think that such a universal thing as a cheese sandwich would be of ease to an international 4 star hotel

I just flew in to Ho Chi Minh City, Saigon, in southern Vietnam. fascinating place which seems to have inherited the French tradition of eclectic building codes where nothing seems to match. It's as though the architect burns her plans and starts anew with each building on the street totally ignoring the ones beside..

Traffic is best described as a swarm, like bees. Any obstacle such as a pedestrian or car is simply swarmed around without so much as a pause. This is the one place I reckon I would never ever drive no matter what.

Service in the hotel is nothing short of exceptional, except when I ask for something outside the circle.

Waitress: please sit sir, can I help u

Me: I would like a cheese sandwich please, no vegetable or salad and no mayonnaise

Waitress: certainly sir and drink?

Me: Diet Coke thanks.

That morning during a conversation with the people who brought me to Vietnam I was complimented on how clear and easily understood my English was. My accent is best described as Mid Pacific, not broadly Australian, tinged with UK English and a touch of Californian. All good however.

Said Waitress arrives with toast and butter. Where is the cheese I ask. She points to the butter and says " there sir"

Me: no sweety, that is butter not cheese

Waitress: no sir it's cheese.

Back and forth we go, finally she gets it and leaps off and this time returns with the cheese.

Vietnam, having been excluded for quite some time from the world after the war, struggles to truly deliver. By gosh they try hard though, nothing but smiles, but it seems most expectations fall short of the mark.

I will come back though one day, everyone smiles and is super friendly, traffic not withstanding.

The Diet Coke was awesome. I wonder if Uncle Ho drank coke.

The Hat

I have always fancied myself in a Hat. Not just any hat but one of substance. A mans hat, fit for all hat purposes.

Over the years I have worn everything from beanies, to baseball caps, various Islamic skull caps, even a Fez (and yes of course it was a red one). Never though have I considered a proper Australian hat. An Akubra. Until, whilst browsing their catalogue one day I came across the Adventurer, made by Akubra in my home state. It's me. My daughter agreed. Had to have one after that.

A second thing I have always fancied, and given my years of travel I have never done, is to wander my own home state. Inland, the bush, the outback. Given Akubras rural roots, what better place to go to buy a hat.

The search begins. Sydney to Mudgee, thence to Nyngan. Nyngan on the edge of the cotton belt and officially the beginning of the Outback (so the signs proclaim) has a hat shop. They have all styles of Akubra. No adventurers though.

On to Cobar, the mining town, nope. So to Wilcannia. there is nothing repeat nothing in Wilcannia so it's on to Bourke. Nope, but being a little desperate at this stage as I was heading out of the outback with no major town until I reached the coast, I bought a Cattleman. Very popular style the guy tells me. I buy it. I wear it. It keeps the sun and rain at bay. But this is NOT my hat.

My sister takes a look at the Cattleman, puts it on. It soooooo suits her. She swipes it. I need to go buy an adventurer anyway.

So on I go to Moree, lovely town, sat in a hot spring for an afternoon wondering just how to get this hat there. No adventurers.

Then Grafton, nada, Byron, nope, Ballina, never heard of them. Then Taree, nope.

Finally a guy in Gloucester who has had his hat shop for 38 years tells me I am the first person to ever ask for one. I now really really have to have this hat. I fly fish a few more streams but the urgency is growing. So it's off to Wyong, nope, Newcastle, nope, Forster nope. Port Macquarie, never heard of them, didn't believe there was such a style, had to show them in the catalogue.

Then, in despair ( I discourage easily eh?), I decide to ring their Kempsey distributor. Not only has she heard of them, she will check her stock if I wait a minute. Sure, I wait. And wait. And wait some more. She comes back on the phone and says sorry no stock, plus it's a ten week delivery from the factory she thinks. Despondently I tell her the story thus far, kindly she offers to ring Akubra and ask what they have. Akubra is also at Kempsey. She will ring me back in the morning.

Next day, sunshine, crystal air, lovely espresso. Phone rings. It's her and she says, " you won't believe this, Akubra have one only of that style in stock and it's your size". I race to Kempsey, pay her the money and then zoom out to the factory to pick up My Hat.

Just as the lady from Akubra was giving me the hat, she notices a slight imperfection on the ribbon which she says is easily fixed with a bit of steam. Off she goes with My Hat promising a speedy return.

Fifteen minutes pass. I am getting nervous. She walks in with a guy whom she introduces as the Manager and says "we would like to talk to you about this hat". Oh yeah? What now?

The guy takes me outside and we have the following conversation

The Guy: you obviously know your hats so I want to show you that this hat has a slight mark on the top.

Me: can't see any mark there

The Guy: well I don't want to sell you this hat so can you pick another style please?

Me trying to stay calm but my tone is about -10 icey cold: Mate, I went from Sydney to Nyngan, to Cobar and Bourke, then Moree to Grafton and every point in between to get this hat. I AM HAVING THAT HAT.

It's 12 degrees and I am sweating, wondering why I havent bought a gun with me.

The Guy: Sorry mate, you are misunderstanding me, this hat is your hat, but we want you to choose another one as well.

Relief. MY HAT, and I don it right there. 4500 kilometres after the search began.

I head to Jnidabyne and the Alps with my hat on. Still haven't taken it off despite wind, rain, a bit of snow, lotsa sunshine. Does everything

Oh and the second hat? It's a plainsman. Lovely as well, but not an adventurer.

If you go bush, you are not dressed until you have an Akubra on. www.akubra.com.au

You can order them on line but it's not as much fun as my search.

Oh and by the way, I have lots of slightly used baseball caps, beanies, and Islamic skullcaps for sale. No way will I sell the Fez

My Home

And the fundamental question to our reality on earth is this. Do we live in a society or do we live in an economy?

I don't believe the two will ever mix comfortably. It pains me that people would view our world in terms of economic outcome let alone judgement of ones fellows by their net worth.

Irrespective of the fluctuation of a notional currency or economic deficit, we still have the capacity to sustain ourselves at life without the necessity of commoditization.

Is greed and power lust that ingrained in us by Madison Avenue?

Gosh I hope not.

Come round for a coffee, say hi. Both are free

We Love the King

Much has been written, photographed and video'd recently about the struggles of the Thai populace as it comes to grips with the information age and the emerging perception of rights for its working class.

The press and indeed most commentators resident or otherwise focus or are focused (by whom we should ask) on the contrasts of the internecine oligarch wars and the general person on the farm and how iniquitous his/her life is by comparison with the rich elite. The perception that its this inequity that fuels this "class" war stoked by warring elite faction leaders, is perhaps a ruse being promulgated by the media to polarise those that are within the debate, and to boor those of us who stand without such that we give it the usual 3 day outrageous indignation treatment then move on.

You see, Sompong on the farm is willing to be as rich as anyone else in the district. He has no problems with the consumer society. This is hardly a communist/workers unite scenario at all. Thailand has never really been that way inclined.

The real issue is all about the I am more worthy than you syndrome, distinctive in all societies royal (lower case intended).

What the heathen peasant underclass fail to accept is that Thailand is owned by a guy who tells everyone he is the King and hence above them and their rightful master. He is one of the richest men in the world, certainly the richest ruler. And his blood, so the fairy story goes, is different from yours and mine. His is blue. Stop laughing, Thai's believe it, why shouldn't you?

For his blueness, he gets to control vast amounts of land and to get everything for free and he also controls what you can say or not say about him and his royal court. Speak your mind and you end up in Gaol. Toe the line and he lets you pay taxes. Winner eh?

So what is a King (or Queen for that matter)? Why do they have this power to command us? They are not elected, they don't really contribute anything to our society, in fact they really don't even make good TV. They do monopolise land and create social structures which polarise us into courts royal and the general peasantry. They do pass their blue blood down to their kids and the fairy tale seems to perpetuate itself down the generations. Their eliteness is aided by their appointment of courtiers who are almost as elite as the king. Generals, clergy, judiciary, serious other land owners. They in turn promote this bluebloodedness on so that they have some clear societal differentiation. In other words, they are on top and you clean their streets (and their kids streets and their kids streets).

Maybe the Thai people have a need for an overlord. The Red Shirts may not agree with that. Cant say I do either. The king seems to think its warranted though as the advertising on TV, cinema and roadside hordings all to tell us how wonderful he is costs taxpayers a fortune.

Parasites.

Can we draw a few parallels here to other command and control structures? Appropriate land for the exclusive use of the elite on a higher force basis? Control the serfs, get them scared and in debt?

These people can only "lead" us if we let them. This scares the wits out of the so called elite. Given the massive information availability nowadays called the internet, their sham begins to lose its gloss and we see them dressed in our clothes, no blue blood, just people who take a dump in the morning like we do. 


So whats the justification for the class polarisation? Yep, thats right, nothing.

Same message to the god boys. Your time is well passed, stop sucking the people dry and go do something useful. 


Maybe the new rulers of the world might give the king of thailand a job if he ever gets honest and distributes all his billions to the real Thai people. MacDonalds has a good seniors program. Its an honest days work. The catholics could seriously decrease world poverty by giving up all their treasures they've snuck off with over the centuries.

Time for revolt. Don't accept that anyone anywhere is better than you are. Help your brothers and sisters understand. Don't be afraid, thats what the king needs, your fear to keep you loyal. Stand up. Think about it.

We love the king  

StrayLya

Mate.

Lets have another go at that spelling, Ozzztraeleeya. Yep thats better.

20 years later. A quadrillion frequent flyer points on the worlds shittiest airlines. I am deposited, like an empty bottle for recycling, back in my "birth" country. Woo, awesome, good food, nice air, civility and weather. That strange phenomena that makes the temperature fluctuate and the wind actually blow. And rain of course, not some massive 5 minute tropical dump of water then mega hot and sweaty, but cooling gentle rain. Cute eh?

So whats changed in my absence?

Let me digress a little bit (its my blog, and eventually you will get it).

A group of 12 year old boys would meet on a Friday night. After school, dinner etc. The evening would be spent watching early music videos (the show was called In Focus if my memory is still functioning), then the real entertainment of surf movies. Early the next morning, as in still dark, we would walk to the nearest railway (about 5 km) to catch the first train to the city. Then a ferry to Manly the closest beach.

All day we would surf, even if there wasn't any, we would still paddle out into the slop dodging the old sewer pipes (heritage listed now) and arguing with the lifesavers who always stuck their bloody flags where the surf was good. They would try and move us off, we would take great delight in tear arsing through the motley crowd of swimmers (lesser creatures in a surfers mind) until they either moved the flags or the swell direction/tide changed. Evil bastards life savers.

Then home, via the ferry, train and walk. A quick sleep, then Sunday, the same trip. Every weekend.

Dedicated? We were normal for the time. The concept of walking and long public transport hikes wasn't really something we ever complained about. Ya just did it. There wasn't really an option anyway.

Sustenance was easy. From stealing milk left at doorsteps (sorry yeah it was us) to great australian foods like fresh bread and devon, milk, hamburgers (not american style at all, even remotely), sandwiches, fish and chips. We would each have about $2 in todays terms. Quite often, we would accumulate change.

You would just leave your towel and thongs (sandals) on the beach. Go surf, come back and everything was exactly where ya left it. Mind you, we were not angels.

We drank water from a tap. Plenty of them around the city.

As we got older, we got mobile and weekends or weeks (school holidays) were spent tramping the coast. We would hitch hike our way north or south and live encamped on a beach, surf, eat, sleep, surf eat sleep. It was a wonderful lifestyle.

At age 15, a mate and I travelled all the way to Queensland on a hitch hiking road trip which saw us away from home for 6 weeks. We lived where we could. Caravan parks, camping grounds, in schools when it was raining. Our creature comforts were a spare t shirt, a sleeping bag, wax and a kerosene lamp (my Mum insisted that we take it, god bless her).

My name was (and still is) Mike and I was pleased to meet ya. The whole world was a wondrous place.

No mobile phones, no internet, no TV, no deadlines, no fear.

So do I see any changes?

Would you let your 12 year olds go wandering on weekends? Would you drink the water? Can you have a day out without  spending over $50 per head? How about walking 5 km to the nearest transport hub? Leave your stuff unlocked/unguarded?

Get my drift? I could go on and include the fast food invasion and the whole lifestyle convenience thing, but really what's the difference between the Australia I left and the one I just returned to?

Simple. Fear.

The beaches are still there, not many axe murderers catch the train and water is free. Half a loaf of bread and 250 g of Devon is still so cheap.  You can eat and drink what ya like so long as ya keep moving.

TV paralyses us into thinking the world is a nasty place. It rarely is any such thing.

Take a hat, walk out the door and off down the road, no need for the phone plenty of others have them if you really need them. Enjoy the sun and trust people. What a difference you will make.

I love youse all (unless your a lifesaver)

Islanders

A gentle breeze wanders sideways through my afternoon
I gaze abstractedly at the sea lapping below me dreaming where it might take me.

Another island day, punctuated with the change of tides and strength of wind, time itself seems irrelevant.

Islanders.

They come from everywhere and between them have done most things. None of it means a great deal in their present mindset. Nothing is rushed, no force, genuine people abound. Some work, some don't need to, all are accepted, religion, colour, sexual preference, ethnicity all celebrated, everyone welcome. All are coloured with a self reliance and a timeless spirit eager to share without any competitive thought. The vortex they create is magnetic, easily capable of overpowering.

Clothing is functional, shoes are for formal occasions. The goal of the day is to appreciate what surrounds.

I find myself finally unwinding and learning to celebrate the silences between conversations without any self consciousness. No longer a pregnant pause or a negative space to be filled by some form of entertainment such as music or TV. Now a chance to listen simply to the wind. Feel the rain on my face. Appreciate the suns warmth and the nights cool.

Manyana, tomorrow. Maybe I will find my shoes.