Burger, Fries, Coke

Was in Hungry Jack's, aka Burger King, last weekend, setting into a Whopper combo, and I had a pang of Western liberal guilt.

Here I am, eating probably more in a sitting than a couple of billion eat in a day, in the heart of Consumerism Land, malls to the left of me, malls to the right (here I am, stuck in the middle with you), where the advertising is all powerful, that your life is not worth living if you do not have example of brand A in your life. Though yes, it is usually more my cynicism that sticks than any actual distaste for the world we live in.

Let alone thinking of all the carnage in the world - I have never been witness to any actual violence, and the worst I have seen on the roads is a car versus a post, a bit of glass scattered around but no actual injuries that I could see. Versus as say, Baghdad, and its daily death toll in the scores. Or the chaos in Zimbabwe, or the gang warfare in Rio, for two other examples.

Am reading a good book about the defeat of Germany in WW2, Armageddon by Max Hastings, and the battles, especially the Eastern Front, in particular Berlin were just brutal brutal brutal. A passage that has stuck with me the last couple of days, regarding the fall of Berlin -

'Casualties on both sides were dreadful. "The first really wounded man I saw", wrote a German housewife manning a Red Cross shelter, "was a boy who came straight from the street running, running, with the whole lower half of his face blown away, a bloody gap, no organ of speech left to scream, and his eyes still fully aware and sick with horror."'

Yes, that could have happened on the Western Front or any battlefield of modern history, the point being that I am cosseted away in the peaceful part of the world, eating big fatty meals, with not much idea of real pain and hardship.

Despite this easy living - or perhaps because of it - I have tried to top myself twice, have major bouts of depression, and am currently having anxiety issues. Seeing a psychologist even - go figure.

Three Nil, Let's Have It

Oh mi god, we won the series three nil. How the fuck did we do that?

It's not often New Zealand can celebrate in trans-Tasman cricketing competitions, our last real purple patch being the mid-80s, perhaps 1990 at a pinch. Oh, we have had good teams on paper, and often played well enough and won a few games, less so recently, but to win a one day series or test series against the Aussies, well, it hasn't happened in a while.

Even in the recent tri-series over here in Oz, we played really well, but it was a case of almosts - almost beating Australia in two games, almost getting to the finals only to be pipped by the English. Well, when the Chappell-Hadlee annual one day series came along last week, I think there was a bit of duality in my mind - here we go again with the Australian winning procession, or let's see how they do without the home crowds, even the thought of a bit of revenge if we were lucky enough.

And then the rout at the Cake Tin in Wellington, Oz all out for 148 and the Kiwis romping to a ten wicket victory, the first Australia have ever suffered in all the one day games that they have played. To put in another context, that is like Manchester United fighting for relegation or the Detroit Red Wings not making the playoffs.

But then there was the excuse making - Ponting and Gilchrist, two of their best batsmen, if not the best in the world, out of the side resting, Andrew Symonds, Michael Clarke and Brett Lee injured. There has been a lot of talk about how when Symonds got injured Australia started slumping, losing against the English for example, but surely one man does not make a team.

Was all set in my mind for a loss on Sunday in Auckland, especially after heading out with Australia having scored 330-something. Did shopping, watched a movie, was shocked when I was told that New Zealand had gotten the target.

So that was the trophy won, and less excuse for Australia this time, the batsmen had done their job okay, and the bowling line up is only really missing Lee, perhaps Symonds, as impact players. And from the Kiwi side for the third match, Bond and Vettori, our two best bowlers, were left out to recover from slight injuries.

Again, the Australians batted first - the first time after winning the toss, I thought that perhaps Hussey was seeing whether he could actually defend a total, practise for the World Cup, after failing to do so the previous two games. And again, the Australian batsmen went nuts - Matthew Hayden doing the bully boy thing with 181 not out, highest Australian one day score ever, leading to a total of 347.

New Zealand were 4-41 at one stage, and then 5 in the 110s somewhere, Fulton putting together a nice fifty. The game seemed lost, and we could console ourselves with a series win still, but McMillan went ballistic. A 67 ball century, fastest by a New Zealander ever, beating Jacob Oram's one from about a month back - that being in a losing total of course. Then McMillan and another two wickets out cheaply. All looked lost.

McCullum and Gillespie came through with the goods. A-fucking-mazing. A win with three balls to spare. The Australian bowling attack at the moment is utter cack. The four highest successful run chases have been against Australia in the last fourteen months or so, three from New Zealand, the other from the South Africans, with that near 900 runs in a day game.

You have to grin sometimes - Gilchrist has been in the media today saying that the timing of this one day series was not good for Australia. They would rather rest and prepare for the World Cup than play in New Zealand. I'm sure he wouldn't have been saying that if the team had been winning. And I would have thought playing foreign conditions would have been a positive because isn't the World Cup, like, in the West Indies this year?

Oh, and Gilly apparently saying there was little point to the series over the Tasman as well - umm, a quick three game sprint over five days, versus the annual procession of the tri series over here which seems to take forever, and only one or two prelim games are ever actually crucial? Comparison, much?

For a crucial hour, the last of the game, I didn't have any coverage, because FM radio doesn't do sport - what I was listening to on the bus home. Got home, was told that in the latest bulletin that McMillan and the other two cheap wickets had gone and it was looking bad - went up to my room to turn on the sports radio.

Bliss, sweet bliss with Brian Waddle talking to McMillan about the win. Almost as good as a Rugby World Cup final win.

Fingers crossed for that, the rugby thing, later in the year as well.

Unusual

I had a Saturday night out, which I haven't done in quite a while, or perhaps not since I came back from Canada. Oh, I have had Saturday nights out since then, watching the rugby comes to mind, but tonight was with other people even. It is Chinese New Year tomorrow, the Year of the Golden Pig apparently, and I went down to the Brissie version of Chinatown to take photos and partake in the celebrations. The Valley is always an interesting place.

Of course, my digital camera is over in New Zealand with my mother currently, awaiting the auspicious day next week when my grandparents meet my niece, all of two years old and cute as a button. Will seem strange to see photos taken with my camera that I wasn't actually there to take. Seeing as I won't likely be there to see both the niece and grandparents in the same room at the same time, thought it was a good idea to lend Mum the camera.

So, while my first choice camera is on the other side of the ditch, I was reduced to using my old skool film camera tonight. Even worse, it is an APS one - no, not Australian Public Service, Advanced Photo System. Was going to be the next big thing in photography, but got side swiped by the digital revolution. That said, it, and the sibling camera I 'kind of somehow' broke in Munich during Oktoberfest 98, served me very well for about nine years there.

Just was strange having to actually put my eye up to the viewfinder and squinting into the shot, as well as the not being able to see what I had taken or editing straight away. Looking into that small window after the vague approximations one can do with the digital, almost felt claustrophobic. And not having fifteen settings as per the digital was really getting to me as well. Back to the days of click and hope, with me wondering how many hands, heads or feet got in the way of the true subject of the shots.

I should make another attempt to break out of this not going out rut. My birthday is coming up soon, so will be an excuse to go out. Although I have noticed I am currently off the invite list for workmate stuff. With all the new twentysomethings around the place, I am feeling a bit out of the loop, and dare I say it, feeling a bit old. Will see how things go.

There was a time, not so long ago, where I wouldn't even go out of the house on a Saturday, to a movie, shopping or anything, so progress is being made.

Priorities

Typical. Just as the first real debate on Australia's contribution in Iraq for years is taking place, I find The Biggest Loser to be more entertaining in the 7pm timeslot than ABC News - I don't get home in time for the earlier, commercial news bulletins. Not that they ever cover much of anything of importance anyways - oh, two mass shootings in the US, well, we could mention it, but let's run with ten minutes of 'she said she said' about the Corby's instead.

Also, the whole of the US House of Representatives, and probably the Senate as well, are having a debate about the Administration's surge of twenty thousand troops into Baghdad. I think this is the first full debate on Iraq since the 'vote with us or you are supporting the terrorists and will get kicked out of office' rubber stamp before the midterms in 2002.

Just wondering how anyone can suggest that things are going well over there, when on average 100 Iraqi civilians are getting bombed, shot and generally killed a day, and the whole society is being brutalised. And thinking how lucky Australia and the Prime Minister have been that our casualty toll hasn't been in proportion to the American ones - Our Diggers, a hundred times less the size of the US military over there 'should have' given the country thirty body bags, maybe.

And what exactly do the troops do over there anyways? There is minimal to nil coverage of it at all in the media, apart from when Defence Minister of the Month needs to have a photo op. I think in regards to Afghanistan, I saw a report where most of the activity the troops are doing over there comes under the category classified information - I would cynically assume that the same applies to Iraq.

In my slow, very slow detachment from all the bad news of the world, I even managed to take a pass on the Economist last week. Had to buy it this week though, what with the B2 stealth bomber on the cover, on the way to Iran - just imagine me drooling like Homer Simpson over the whole military hardware imagery thing. F-22 Raptor stealth fighters, pfft, not even in the same ball park, people.

Back to local politics quickly, is good to actually see the same issues that I am concerned about, climate change and Iraq are the ones that come quickest to mind, are actually gaining traction with the politicians and the media. Not so sure about the Australian people in general, two million viewers to Mercedes Corby does drugs last night and all. I was pretty well transfixed by tonight's 7.30 Report, debating industrial relations in a mostly calm, collected sense. Long may this continue until the election.

I would add 'and beyond' to that last sentence, but pigs would fly as well.

Homework

2001

- Talking it up before getting over there;
- Concern about a male friend she stayed with, confrontational email conversation, what if?
- Travelling time thirty hours, via London;
- Dumped within five minutes of arrival;
- Feeling of shock;
- Can we at least sleep together, no;
- Slept in an adjacent room, could not go to sleep, one of the longest nights of my life;
- Took sleeping pills for rest of time there;
- Apologetic, okay, it's over, but let's enjoy this as much as possible;
- Kept myself together while on 'holiday', barely;
- Very twilight zone feeling, grey, drab winter, and feeling of loss, dislocation;
- $200 worth of birthday presents, I still gave them to her, stupid;
- Did some tourism stuff, but all overlayed with sense of shock, loss, dread;
- Utter devastation on trip home, and on return;
- Black period of life ensued.

- Apologetic;
- Compromising;
- Stressed;
- Tried to keep lid on emotions;
- Tried to force degree of comfort back into friendship, relationship, for example, touching, hugging, sharing personal space.

2003

- Her reading my email account and the relationship almost breaking up the day before I had a job interview;
- Pressure of not being able to work while my finances were deteriorating;
- Feeling a lack of emotional support;
- Arguing, patching things up, but never actually resolving anything;
- Moving into a new house, more a sense of 'our' house than hers, although still a feeling of not doing my bit;
- Going out maybe once or twice a week, a lot of time on computer, a lot of time talking to friends;
- Weekends usually good, we went out and did things together;
- Always almost going home, changing times and dates;
- Delay in work permit, argument over phrasing in an email 'self sabotage', sent application to wrong consulate;
- December one argument too many, made plans to leave;
- Will I or won't I leave, still unresolved until I got to airport, got out of car.

- Withdrew into myself;
- Was submissive in most arguments;
- Constantly flip flopped on decisions, frustrating everyone I knew, especially the morning of my flight out of town;
- Sneaky, made plans without telling people;
- Perhaps happy and unhappy 15% of the time each, rest of time mostly a sense of flatness.

2007?

Airports I Have Known

Spent most of Monday travelling, including a six hour stint transitting Auckland airport. Always lots of fun, sitting around trying to entertain oneself. And once I had flown into the domestic terminal, I had to wait about three hours to even check in to the international flight. So waiting around, and having to keep an eye on my suitcase. At least with it only being a weekend trip, and not 'ohmigod I am leaving this country with my entire life in a bag' - trust me, I have done those before - it wasn't too heavy to lug around.

And the Superbowl was on the television to at least distract me for some part of the time waiting around. Although being by oneself, drinking coffee is probably not the best way to watch sports. Among friends, with lots of alcohol is usually better. Of course, has been a while since I have been with friends in a bar, and overdoing alcohol with dilantin pills is definitely a no-no.

Always interesting listening to conversations start up between strangers at airports or other travel hotspots - the Contiki 'meet up before travel' bar in London comes to mind in that second category. For instance, on Monday I heard the usual -

'who are you going for'
'Indianapolis because Chicago are always beating my team, Detroit'
'wouldn't that category of beating Detroit include most of the league'
'well at least we have the Red Wings'

- morph through the usual stasticial wizardry that American sports fans can come up with from the top of the head onto -

' what do you do'
'environmental scientist at Florida State, Tallahassee, down here after doing a trip to the Antarctic'
'wow, Tallahasse had a crap year in the leagues, didn't they'
'yeah, we even lost against Wake Forest, at home, 30 to nil - I was in London checking the scores online, screamed, and my wife came out and said what's going on'
'it's the coaches to blame - you can have the best players, but if they're not motivated...'

- finally leading into a discussion about how tariffs protecting the American auto industry (which are crap cars anyway as told by the two Americans conversing) are ruining any competitive advantage the US would have in green technology.

Hippy boy from Portlandoregon - said that way every time he said the city name - would have liked to import those Mercedes Smart cars, those ones that aren't much bigger than a postage stamp, but wouldn't be allowed by federal regulations. He rides a bike you see, rather than pollute the atmosphere with another car, and by the time I left, the Superbowl having ended, they were working their way up to a rant about George Dubya Bush and current environmental policies I think.

Earlier in the day, there was another group of Americans watching the game at another bar, towards the end of the second quarter and Peyton Manning was just tearing the Bears defence to shreds, and one of the girls said out loud, 'just stop him!' and then looked sheepishly around, embarrassed to show that much passion for the game, in an airport bar of all places.

On the way over to New Zealand, last Friday, the sunglass shop in Brisbane airport was playing The Prodigy's Smack My Bitch Up, which may or may not have been appropriate for a high visibility retail store with probable high density pedestrian traffic around, especially at 10am in the morning. What on earth would the kiddies think? Though it must be a totally boring job, however many times I have seen sunglass stalls at airports, and maybe once or twice I have seen people looking at the merchandise.

Although the six hours in Auckland awaiting transit pales into insignificance compared to the twelve hour stint I had at LAX one time. Connecting from Auckland to Chicago (or possibly on the way back) and a change to the itinerary basically at the last minute, maybe with about five days warning from my travel agent. Back in the days when you did go to travel agents to figure out your holidays.

The twelve hours was an absolute killer - I wasn't flush with money, so forwent - if that is a word - the option of going into LA or Santa Monica or any of the other destinations in the city, to save money and stick around the airport. Thus started me reading Anthony Beevor's book about Stalingrad, for two hour stints at a time, getting up, finding another seat, and then starting reading all over again. Never again will I spend that long in an airport. Even the six hours in Auckland last weekend was probably a mistake of mine.

Airport time always seems to drag though, even if you are in airport for only two hours it seems like twelve. And it is even worse at night or in the early morning. When I was in Cairo, I had to be out at the airport by 6am I think, and thus I went by taxi from the hostel I was staying at around about 3.30 in the morning. Dark, foreign, couldn't check in, and only hard metal chairs to sit on for about two hours. It felt like forever.

It's funny, I can remember going to the airport, I can remember waiting to check in, but after checking in I can't remember a thing until getting back to London and booking to stay in a pencil box in Kensington for about 70 quid a night, and getting onto the Underground from Heathrow to the airport. Nothing about the flight whatsoever. I guess my memory banks were full to overflowing remembering all the six weeks in the Middle East beforehand.

And here I go again, talking about my travels, when others easily switch off and get bored with other people's experiences. Sorry, will wrap it up here and think of a less boring topic for my next one.

Paul

There And Back Again

Went across to New Zealand for the weekend. No, not glamorous jetsetting or similar, instead popped in to see the grandparents, for the first time in two years. My grandfather, who is battling two types of cancer at the moment, seemed better than I had been led to believe prior to the visit, and seemed quite happy about things.

They had gone for a medical appointment a few hours before I arrived on the Friday night, with Grandad coming right out and asking how long did he have to go. The doctor said well, if it was a slightly different cancer, well, then it could be six months, but then swerved by saying my grandfather's case was a bit different and there wasn't really a set timeframe. My grandfather was pretty chuffed with that reply, and through the rest of the weekend was focussing on the six months - I got the impression that it was a bit longer than he expected he had.

He didn't seem to be too bad, health wise - apart from his legs. He needs a couple of launch attempts to get out of the chair in the lounge, and at times he was shuffling instead of walking. With a touch of the coughs from time to time. Also, he is very much stay at home now - he didn't leave the house at all while I was there, even when he was left by himself, and it didn't seem that he had the inclination to. He was out tilling a patch of soil in his vege garden for about half an hour on the Saturday, and that seemed to exhaust him for the rest of the day.

He was vague at times, for sure, but from my point of view, it is hard to really notice a difference at this point - being vague can sometimes be very similar to being stubborn, not listening to what others are saying, and being in a sulk, all of which my grandfather has been known to do. And with me sitting back and listening the time I had there, it was interesting to listen to Grandad try to say something a few times and then be talked over by other family members. Although me being a fly by nighter, as opposed to other family members who deal with it seven days a week, it's not really my place to say much on that.

His attention span comes and goes, but then that was always an issue with my grandfather. Watching absolute crap movies and he was able to concentrate for the duration. Get something he didn't want to watch and ten minutes later, well, there would start the channel flicking. Yes, I know I am similar in regards to remote controls, but at least I wouldn't do it in company.

The first night I was there, my grandfather surprised me by being sharp as a tack about the subject of cooked breakfasts. Never had them at home he said, but had them out at the bach when hunting - shot pigs, deer, rabbits, and 'tame sheep' when they could get away with it. But apart from that couple of minutes of sharpness, he didn't really talk about the past, and even though I wanted to hear all the stories, I didn't want to push it in case he couldn't remember, with him then getting frustrated or angry about that fact.

It was just very nice - sitting out in the garage, facing out to the neighbourhood in the sun, while Grandad was reading the paper. Or sitting out with the grandparents at the garden table, Grandma talking about how Wellington was during the war, Grandad sipping on a shandy. Or having breakfast with them, or just sitting, talking in the lounge, all the while trying to hear over the TV or friggin talkback radio.

Grandma and I only left the house twice, to stock up on lollies and have an ice cream at the local shopping mall on the Saturday, and pick up some pies for lunch on the Sunday. Steak and cheese has never really caught on as a pie flavour across this side of the Tasman, has it?

Watching an hour and a half of One Foot in the Grave on UKTV Sunday morning, realising that as I get older, I get that show more than I did when I was young. The perfect company to watch it, with the grandparents. And then getting my moment with the remote, watching MTV for half an hour or so - oh, woe betide Generation X, is Jackass the best we can come up with?

Vicki had made a scrapbook up from last time we had visited the grandparents, two years ago, and was brilliant to see Grandma poring over it in delight. This time around, I took about fifty pics and about twenty minutes of video from my digital camera. Was taking the video so various people could feel as if they had been there, and then as I was taking more and more footage, thought that it was just a good idea in the first place. Showed the videos to my parents when I got back, and they seemed to appreciate it.

Grandma, well she seemed okay for the most part, a tad tired perhaps, but that is understandable - what I got for 60 hours or so, she gets 24/7. Was nice to hear her talk about the old days, one story being how she used to play cards with her father for the housekeeping money. Her father was such a cheat and almost always won. The housekeeping always had to be put back though, so Grandma would be able to do the shopping the following day.

Was nice hearing the grandparents laugh during the weekend, sometimes both at the same time, which was even nicer. Big hugs goodbye, though no pending sense of finality, which some goodbyes have. Of course, I need to be less tardy with the next visit than I was with this one.

We don't remember days, we remember moments.

Paul

Blood And Water

I am visiting family this weekend, over the water of the Tasman Sea. Seeing my grandparents, as my grandfather has been pretty ill the last six months or so. He has battled prostate cancer for the better part of a decade, and something is up with his lungs the past few months - possibly a secondary cancer, possibly just a cold or flu - but his general level of illness is such that he is healthy enough for the moment, but when things do go wrong, they will go wrong very very quickly. It might be anytime in the next eighteen months when that something happens.

Have felt guilty that it has been two years since I have seen them last - while my mother is going over every two or three months, they are her parents after all, my father gets over every six months, and my siblings have each been over more recently than I, well, yes, feelings of guilt have been affecting me about all this. The sense of avoidance perhaps strongest among those feelings.

Being there will be good, flying over tomorrow, Friday, coming back Monday, but the hard part will be saying goodbye on the way home. Not looking forward to that at all. And my grandfather is a lot frailer than I saw him last apparently, and he is a lot vaguer than he used to be. The onset of dementia or Alzheimer's perhaps.

About eight to ten years ago it would have been now, I was back from Europe, my parents had not yet left for Oz, and we all lived down the road from the grandparents. Or, whenever I was moving around between flats, I used to come back and stay with the parents maybe every second weekend. The point being, that on Saturday afternoons, we went a-visiting to the grandparents, and a very traditional paternalistic setting of roles ensued. The women stayed home to chat and stuff, while the men went over to the pub.

Of course, when I was a kid and we used to live in the same town as the grandparents we went around to visit and all that, but as a kid we had the afternoon filled with Mickey Mouse and Woody Woodpecker video cassettes. Being a man in that eight to ten year ago timeslot meant I went over with my father, grandfather and sometimes an uncle to the pub.

In between me watching the rugby, or each of us shouting a jug, or the obligatory hot chips with extra salt, I just loved listening to my grandfather talk about how things were in his younger days. He was too young to get drafted into WW2, thank goodness, but still he had stories of going into Wellington and seeing fights between the white and black US soldiers, seeing some of them just lying in the streets in pools of blood, possibly beaten up by the MPs to 'restore order'. How he worked in some sort of mechanics yard, where he made things out of junk metal, which was pretty rare anyways back in those days, rationing and all, and a lot of the stuff going off to Mother England - or how they came across stuff and didn't report it, to get around the rationing.

Or the post war period, when the Dutch got kicked out of their East Indies - now Indonesia. One of my grandfather's buddies was known as 'The Dutchman', and apparently he had been part of the army sent out to Indonesia to try and re-pacify it. Instead, on the losing side of another of those south east Asian wars, he came to NZ and settled down.

I always meant to just put a tape recorder down on the table and just record the conversation, where ever it went, but of course best intentions up against my habitual procrastination, well, no guesses as to what side of me won there. And now, if he is really starting to be vague about things, well, it may be too late already to get those old stories out of him again.

It may be a gruelling few days if things have really gone as downhill as I have been hearing. But at least I am not avoiding anything for any longer than I have already - it will be great to see them, but it may be a bit painful to say goodbye.

Just thinking back to that last goodbye of Dad's father, who died in 1991. A week after we had our last visit and he was so ill and everyone kind of sensed that he didn't have much left in him, and trying to think back to what 15 year old Paul was thinking - I think I thought it was very awkward, saying what felt like a final goodbye, and with a lot of the family members around, extended family members, just giving a weakish handshake.

Or thinking back to two years ago even, when last I saw Mum's parents, not knowing when I would see them again, and giving both grandparents a huge hug.

Can't write any more tonight, the screen is fogging up for some reason.

Paul