The 6th 'D' of dodgeball...

is apparently 'Drinking'.

As is my wont, I heard about a stupid quasi-sport taking place, and immediately signed up. Unlike the swamp soccer (ASS is going to have to give the comp a miss this year) finding players keen to join in was no trouble at all. So it was that the 'Rambo Academy of Dodgeball' was born (you had to play in fancy dress, and a set of camouflage t-shirts was the easiest costume we could come up with).

For those who don't know how Dodgeball works, watch the movie. It's basically the same, apart from the fact that you can't get eliminated by a head-shot. The madness was held in an indoor sports centre in Canary Wharf, and featured teams of cheerleaders, smurfs, crab people, movie heroes, and even a team dressed as members of the scooby gang. From game number one, everyone's sides were splitting with laughter. Dodgeball truly is the greatest sport on earth...

After a few hours and several pints, Team Rambo found themselves in the final, but had the popularity of the GloboGym Purple Cobras. In a best of 5 show-down, we beat the movie heroes (although John Travolta put up a decent fight) to universal booing. I don't care if they hate us, as long as they fear us.

This was honestly one of the funniest days I'd spent in a long long time. The simple joy of throwing things at people, and watching people get hit by things, is one that cannot be denied (I'm sure Freud would have had a field day with Dodgeball if he'd been around). If you ever get the chance to play, do it. And if you're a natural, who knows? Perhaps you could turn pro?

Final stop on the cold war tour

I'd seen Vietnam and it's nominally communist society. I'd been to Moscow and taken tourist shots of the KGB headquarters (the tallest building in Moscow, as the joke goes... you can see all the way to Siberia from its basement). Now it was time for the real thing: Castro-led, government-controlled, US-embargoed Cuba. I actually booked this holiday just a matter of weeks before news broke of the Fidel-to-Raul handover, so I wasn't sure what I would see by the time I got there. Fortunately all the doomsayers predicting and immediate McDonald's and WalMart invasion were wrong, and the only difference was the appearance of "Viva Raul" graffiti alongside fading "Viva Fidel" slogans.


A week in Havana still didn't seem like enough. Sure, we stayed in the made-for-tourists Habana Vieja, but trips to the outer suburbs and other towns showed the marked contrast with the life of locals. Although the sight of people living in over-crowded and crumbling apartments was a shock, you soon realise that you're the only person that seems to mind. Kids play baseball or football in the streets, adults sit by their door listening to music, having a drink and chatting to anyone passing by... just goes to show that the corollary of "money can't buy happiness" is that poverty doesn't force you into misery. Compared with the constant stream of downcast, frowning faces you see on your daily commute, you have to start wondering if 'our system' is so vastly superior.


The trip to Cuba also gave me reason, and time, to get in some reading. Apart from reading up on the history of the island, I also thought I should get acquainted with Cuba's literary connections. Hemingway is of course one of Havana's major draw cards, and we stayed in the hotel used as a setting for Graham Greene's "Our Man in Havana", so I thought I should give them both a read on the trip. "Our Man in Havana" is a fantastic novel set up with a farcical plot of 1950's espionage, which presciently foreshadows the Cuban missile crisis. As for Hemingway, having somehow gone through life up to this point without ever reading any of his work, I opted for "The Old Man and the Sea" and it absolutely absolutely blew my mind. I still can't believe that educators will insist on destroying literature for teenage boys by forcing Thomas Hardy onto the curriculum when they could be reading this. Both books are fantastic and worth reading to get a picture of a Cuba and Havana that unfortunately no longer exist.


I won't bore you with details of the trip itself, because I could rave about it at length. I'll just say that if you ever get the chance to go, you should. And if you do, you should definitely stop off in the Museo Del Chocolate.

Home, Bitter-Sweet Home

April saw me back in Australia for one whole week! I don't recommend spending over 2 days in transit for less than 10 days at the destination... the cost-benefit just isn't worth it. But when Nath tells you, er I mean, invites you to be best man at his wedding, you can't really say no.

The week back home was one of the most hectic of my life: I managed to squeeze in a road trip to Canberra to get my shiny new HSMP visa (haha! take that British Immigration Authority!), a visit to Mackeral to discover some new form of middle class low life had stolen the rigging from the hobie (lousy yachting bum! or hobie hobo, if you will), a horror visit to the RTA where I finally got my full licence (look out road users!), an ANZAC day pub crawl (hello sailor!) and long enough with my family to have a huge falling out. Oh, and a I think there was a wedding in there somewhere.

Apart from the bad bits, it was great being back in Sydney. I didn't really suffer the reverse culture shock that people had warned me about, I didn't pay enough attention to my receipts to notice if things were much more expensive than I remembered them, and I didn't get ridiculed for having a pommie accent (okay, once). There was actually a part of me wishing I'd been refused the visa so that I could stay... On the other hand, it was good getting back to London where I have a bed and can just veg out.

Anyway I just want to say a huge thanks to Nath and Dyalan for helping me out during the week, an even huger congratulations to Nath and Emma, and a massive thanks to everyone who came out at such short notice to drinks on the Sunday - I'm sorry I didn't get to sit and chat with everyone in full, but it was great to drink some good beer in good company. I'll be around longer next time, I promise.

Mark's telegram for Nath and Emma - UNCENSORED

For those who know Mark, they would have been able to tell that the telegram from him I read had been censored for public consumption. Here it is in its full glory...

Hello Nathan and Emma, congratulations. From the first moment I saw you two together, although I was busy throwing Oporto chips at cars, I could tell it was love. You complement eachother so well, Emma is bright, full of life and has great taste in music, Nathan has... well.. (Pause) great friends like me! Although I can't be there today I feel like the spirit of the occasion is inside of me, much like Nathan was inside of me many times before you met.

And no thanks to Jono for finding this xkcd gem of a wedding toast after the event. I would have used it, I swear.

Much needed updates

I'm finally getting around to documenting my travels from the end of 2007, and will post them with historic dates, so scroll down if you want to see why I now love the rat race, and hear about my attempts at surfing.

I promise to write more often from now on. No, really...

Kevin 07 at LSE

So it seems my conversion to political nerd and hack continues... I heard Kevin Rudd was giving a lecture at LSE and decided I just had to go. Sad, I know. Not that easy it turns out, since over 1000 people applied for tickets within minutes of it opening, which puts Kevin up there with major rock bands in terms of ticket interest! At least he's a celebrity for being successful in the political arena, rather than vice versa.

Anyway, thanks to Rach I was able to attend and actually see the man whose name I wore in XXL pride last year, and who made so many people in a dodgy Wetherspoon pub deliriously happy one Sunday morning. The speech itself was as expected: talking about his policy agenda and how it ties in with the UK's, interspersed with some occasional Pom bashing (which was lapped up by the adoring 99% Aussie audience).

The themes of the speech that I found interesting were his acceptance of globalisation, and plan for 'middle-power democracy'. Clearly, governments can no longer ignore the global climate (whether it be in the arena of security, economics, or the environment, which he did note are not distinct areas any more), but it sounds like he may be biting off a bit more than little ol' Australia can handle. Solving climate change, fixing Afghanistan, combating terrorism... all worthy goals, but it sounds like Kim Beazley might be right (Rudd's pace can't be maintained: Beazley SMH 8 Apr 2008) - Kevin seems to be spreading himself too thin, and it might lead to mistakes (he did refer to the United Kingdom as the United States at least once during the lecture). On the other hand, it's good to see a leader who has aims and ambitions go beyond keeping the electorate happy until the next election.

The idea of Australia exerting 'middle power diplomacy' is an interesting idea. Without a roaring economy or rampaging defence force, it's hard to imagine people taking notice of what Australia has to say. But as Rudd points out, Australia is well placed to act as a 'knowledge broker' between the waning powers of the west, and the rising powers of the orient. There should be someone to provide advice on the growing pains of development, and perhaps a non-threatening voice with no real power agenda of its own is more likely to be appreciated than the 'bullying voice of western powers trying to cling to their position.' Whether or not Australia has the skills or people to manage such a relationship is another matter.

It looks like Rudd, and the Australia he now leads, are signing up for some Herculean tasks. It's good to have worthy goals, but I hope he, and Australia, haven't bitten off more than they can chew.

Sorry.

There have been two moments recently that have made me feel more homesick than ever before: the change of government late last year, and the new government's historic apology just the other day.

I've been lapping up the online coverage from London, and the story even made it to the London Metro (a free trash rag given out so you have something to do on the tube). Radio-callers and Liberal voters can scream til they're blue in the face, and die-hard hippies can whinge that 'sorry day' is a mere symbolic panacea to assuage our collective guilt and doesn't go far enough. The fact of the matter is, even from the other side of the world, that speech and the events of Feb 13 showed an Australia more united and more hopeful than I can ever recall. I wish I had been there to be a part of it.

The other moment I would have loved to have been home for was the election. Years of political cynicism disappeared in a flash when Kevin07 rolled into town and onto facebook. I signed up to leaflet at Australia House, and more surprisingly, actually went along and got involved. As token as my effort was, when it came to watching the results at 8am in a dodgy Wetherspoon pub with other ALP supporters, I couldn't have been more excited. The atmosphere was electric, the pink champagne was flowing (we actually drank the bar dry!), and everyone was in a fantastic mood, knowing that back home, things were getting better.

To all you folks back home, keep up the good work!

p.s. Kevin, I read the speech online before I heard your reading of it... I'm sad to say it sounded better in my head. Emphasise the tricolon!

Not the sort of powder you get in Sydney...

The one area in which Europe far surpasses good ol' Oz, we must admit, is ski fields. Once New Zealand becomes the next 2 states of Australia this will be debatable, but for the moment it is sadly true.

Although not a snow bunny by nature, having a week off between jobs in January I decided to book a package trip to go snow-boarding in Chamonix. I made the booking with a company by the name of 'SpeedBreaks'. Harmless enough I thought, but it turns out to be a subsidiary of another company called SpeedDater, and apparently I'd booked myself onto a singles skiing holiday... Many will now be thinking wistfully of snow trips with university ski clubs and the associated shenanigans. Think again. Remember, I'm travelling with brits here, and most were single for good reason. Fortunately, a few others had made the same mistake, so we were spared any painful 'getting to know you' games.

Embarrassment aside, the week on the snow was absolutely astounding ('gnarly' in the parlance of serious snowboarders I believe). Having not been on a board since a few day trips from Canberra, I was grateful for the fact we were staying at a UCPA centre - as usual, the French know how to do things, with their network of non-profit centres making elitist sports accessible to the masses - with free tuition. By the end of the week I was cutting turns off-piste and playing in natural half pipes and loving it... I'd tell you about the apres-ski goings-on, but alcohol-amnesia prevents it.

Having been so impressed by the UCPA in January, a group of us decided to get in another cheeky long-weekend of snow (organised by ourselves rather than joining another singles trip) over Easter staying at the UCPA centre in Flaine. While it may be an abomination of a building, it is right at the foot of the slope, and covered in a foot of powder (as everything was while we were there) I'm prepared to forgive them. Again, the Alps delivered. Fresh snowfall every night and another flurry most days made for perfect boarding conditions. The highlight of the evening activities was without a doubt the snowboard instructor singing Nirvana's 'Rape Me' on karaoke night. A very modern serenade...

Sadly the weekend, and the season, ended. There were more than a few moments on the slopes spent considering ditching everything and becoming a snow-field worker so I could do this all year round... but the risk of turning something so magical into just a mundane job wouldn't be worth it.

Beetrootin' across the USSR

Moscow NYE
Originally uploaded by patfoz.

During a tumultuous period where I was constantly tossing up whether or not to quit the UK , I decided that I definitely needed to have done some more travelling before heading home with my tail between my legs. One of the results was a more or less spontaneous decision to sign up for a trip across Russia over Christmas and New Years with some buddies from the ABS.

Choosing a destination on a whim like this can be extremely liberating - you have no overblown expectations, you have no real preconceptions about how good it should or will be, but on the flip side, you have absolutely no idea of what you're getting in to. It wasn't until I'd already handed over my massive wad of savings that I found out Russian winters often dip below -30C, and that there is still a major issue with tourists being ripped off by corrupt police. Nevertheless, a little research (any guidebook) and preparation (new thermals and snow gear) had me excited about peering through the rusty iron curtain.

The trip kicked off in St Petersburg, which completely lived up to everyone's reviews as one of the most beautiful cities in Europe. The Hermitage was even more extensive than I was expecting, and after half-a-day staggering between the halls crammed with art, I was very much ready to have a culture detox by checking out the freaks in the Kuntskamera. Sublime to the ridiculous.

In a similar vein, following one night spent at the ballet seeing a modern interpretation of Giselle (which no-one could follow - I blame the suitcase of babies and the fact the duke and the dancer looked alike), we saw 'Feel Yourself Russian!', a cheesy show of folk music and dance. Despite the cheese factor, it was a fun night out and the Cossack dancing is mighty impressive. That was followed by a night on the turps in an underground bar. By the time we surfaced, the mild winter had turned to blizzard and no one could remember how to get back to the hotel. Luckily the vodka fairies were looking out for us.

Next stop on our Russian odyssey was Novgorod, birthplace of the Russian nation. Legend has it that the town came to prominence when a local fisherman named Sadko caught a magic fish that taught him to become a percentage-taking middle-man... Sadko is honoured in the highest possible fashion in Russia - there's a vodka named after him.

For me, our brief stay in Novgorod was the highlight of the trip. Unlike St Petes and Moscow, it is a proper Russian country town, surrounded by bleak fields and buffeted by ice-cold winds roaring across the plains. It's also where we saw a Russian man so drunk he couldn't defend himself when his wife started beating his head against the wall. Yes, Novgorod showed us the real Russia!

Moscow was something else again. A huge metropolis that could be any other, except that everything isn't quite right. Public transport that runs efficiently and on time. Huge mega-clubs where the men are more interested in actually dancing than watching the topless dancing girls. Mullets in fashion. We braved the crowds and military cordons to get into Red Square for the NYE fireworks, and for the first time in a long time, I didn't find it disappointing. Just being in such an iconic place, with such a huge crowd made it all worthwhile. And we weren't even drinking vodka!

Like the trip in Spain, this trip was made all the better by the people sharing the journey. Thanks to Cass and Craig for letting me tag along, and to all the other Beetrooters for making it a great week. Funnily enough, as soon as I touched down in London, I started feeling completely miserable again...

I'm not dead yet

Recently a new television channel became available on our freeview box... this channel seems to be more or less devoted to showing Top Gear during my non-working hours. All of them. As a result my posting has been very lax of late.

I'm starting to see the same episodes for a second time now, so regular service should resume shortly...