Singapore Besties Get Hitched!

It has truly been a sanity saver to have a couple we are great friends with in Singapore. Without them, we may have gone crazy being on our lonesome. Our livers might not be as appreciative, but we certainly wouldn't be as happy in Singapore as we are without Mort and Rochelle.

Our first night out together in Singapore was one that will never be erased from my mind, for all the wrong reasons. Oh, there was plenty of fun. Lots of pre-drinks, funny photos, and I'm sure lots of laughs. I can't say I really recall most of the night though, as I ended up being carried out of the bar by Dave whilst wailing 'I'm never drinking again!' This was after a few bonding sessions vomiting in the toilets with Rochelle and sitting in the smoking room, pushing the two sections of a couch apart and vomiting on the floor in between. Hey, it's better than on the couch right? Well done, thoughtful disgracefully drunk self. Dave still comments that he's never heard a person say the typical line 'I'm never drinking again' whilst still actually drunk.

We have had plenty of big nights since. Another highlight was the Tiger Crystal Party on Tanjong Beach which you can read about here. We were so proud to be in bed by around 11pm that night. It took care of our hangovers, which we usually nurse while sitting on the Morton's couch chatting, watching TV or the boys play FIFA. Another highlight was me breaking my record of never having a hangover vomit the next day. That was taken care of after a trip down the lift in their building after a particularly big night, and then later again after the taxi ride. Stay classy, Hayley.

Another benefit of this brilliant friendship is the fact that without Rochelle's help, I might not even live in this (stupidly hard to find a job) city anymore. Many thanks go to Rochelle for hooking me up with my job, which may go down in history as the worst managed place ever, but still, the kids are amazing and it's money coming in which is always good.

So, our Singapore besties are now Mr and Mrs Morton. We were pretty chuffed 1. to get an invite to this exclusive soiree and then 2. to be involved in the ceremony! True, our cameos weren't deemed important enough to make the official wedding video (I cry myself to sleep most nights) but we were delighted to be a part of such a lovely day. It was a classy, fun and tearful event. 99% of the tears coming from the groom, which I'm sure he'll never live down, but good on you Mort you SNAG, you.

The whole point of this rambling post is to say CONGRATULATIONS Andrew and Rochelle, and thank you so much for making our time in Singapore so much fun. We love you guys and hope we'll always be friends. Hopefully our livers can handle it.


(PS, better late than never right?)

Its Been A While, But We Still Love You.

I haven't blogged for a while. Its been a pretty turbulent time for us. Mum is sick and we don't really know what might happen there and Hayley continues to savagely beat me with a hammer she nicknamed "Bam Bam". I'm trying to type something out funny here to try and spark me up so apologies for that last joke.

We were in Melbourne for an extended stay recently. We were originally just coming for a couple of weeks at the the start of September for a couple of weddings, but had to come home early when I got the news about mum. We're not really sure where its at at the moment and waiting to see how she reacts to the treatment before they speculate on her chances. Needless to say I haven't been the chirpiest character of late and as I write this, I have been struggling not to break down in tears for most of the day. The stuppiest little things will set you off at a time like this.

To give an example, mum had a test today that could reveal something simply awful for us. My sister was here during the week and we called her on speaker phone on Tuesday night. She was talking about how they'd go and get something for lunch on the way back to the hospital. Mum hasn't had much of appetite of late, but just recently has started really enjoying her food again. She told us how much she wanted a meatball sub from Subway and that they'd get one on the way home today. I remembered this and sent a text to her to wish her well for the test and asking her if she'd got her sub. She responded that the sub was "bloody beautiful". I for some reason felt like Subway also and in some kind of retarded honour to her had a meatball sub myself. I sat in Subway by myself, doing all I could to stop myself from bursting into tears. And I have been holding the tears back since.

I've also started smoking again, much to Hayley's dismay. The first thing I wanted when I got the phone call wasn't a hug, wasn't to get extremely drunk or anything like that, but a cigarette. I went straight to the shops and bought a pack and I'm pretty sure I smoked the whole thing in a night. Now my brother had also started smoking again, but he being made of stronger fibre than I (I think its the stuff they make fridges out of) gave up freely of his own will. I on the other hand come to work everyday determined not to smoke, only to get upset or stressed about mum or the fact that our off shore support team at work are simply awful and incapable of the simplest of tasks (really hope none of them are reading this). The worst thing I've heard though was when Paully finally decided to tell his mates about mum and what he was going through. When he told them he was obviously out drinking because the man is an emotional steel trap when sober. Shit goes in there but you'll get nothing come back out. But on the drink you will start to see a steady trickle of emotion seep out that will never be seen if alcohol wasn't part of the equation. So Paully is having a dart and a jar telling his mates his mother has been diagnosed with lung cancer. And what does his mate say? "Oh that's real clever, your mum has lung cancer and you've started smoking". I will come down there and finger you roughly if you keep that kind of tone up young man. Mum is a life long non-smoker, and whilst I think dad and I both shat ourselves thinking it was our second hand smoke, the type of lung cancer mum has is the most common form found in life long non smokers.

It looks as though Hayley and I may be on our way home at the end of our year here. We had wanted to stay on and will be very sad to leave but I think the gravity of the situation calls for our return. So I wanted to go through some of the funnier things I have seen in our year thus far.

The funniest thing I have seen this year and possibly ever actually happened in Melbourne. I was sitting out the front of our office on Bourke St when I looked up and saw this short Asian dude walking like he was Bruce Lee or some shit. He had a very intense glare going on and I had to follow his eyes to determine what had him so concerned. I look at where he was looking and two school kids where sitting on a bench laughing at him. The next thing this guys breaks into what I would describe as some kind of retarding Bruce Lee/Robot dance in slow motion. Without being able to act it out for you, it probably doesn't work, but just picture some guy trying to make out that he was going to go all Kung Fu on your arse, but instead just looked like he was wasn't sure if he sizing you up for a fight or doing the robot. In the end the school kids got up laughing and walked away, presumbly for fear of laughing so hard they pop a hernia.

Something else that I always look back and laugh about were the drinks in Manila. I remember when we got there everyone recommended we try a Blow Job. I was quick to respond by ensuring them I had enjoyed such a thing previously, but had a girlfriend back home and would be spending the next month willingly without that comfort. Basically a Blow Job in alcoholic terms is a shot of Baileys and Cointreau I think. Now when we were first ordered a round the waiter brought them out on a tray and gave us each a straw. We Aussies all looked at each thinking "Sorry? Straws? I don't think so". Next thing the waiter pulls out a lighter and sets the things on fire. Now that condescending look on our faces when we were presenting with straws turned to confusion. One of the locals who was with us dived in with the straw, drink still on fire, and necked all the liquor which extinguished the flame. So we thought this was great. It hurt a lot but it was something a bit different. After spending two nights necking these things, we had enough of our insides burning and when it was my turn for a round of shots I was instructed in no uncertain terms that we were not to have Blow Jobs under any circumstances. So I went to the bar and looked at the shooters menu. I saw a B-52 and thought "We have those at home I think and I've never them on fire so that should be safe". I ordered the round and the waiter said he'd bring them out for us. I went back to the group and not long after the waiter brings out a tray with shot glasses, all of which were on fire, and a hand full of straws. The group erupted and turned on me. I stood there defending myself claiming he either misheard me and thought I asked for Blow Jobs or they also set B-52s on fire over here. And I am quite sure it was the latter. Everywhere we went they seemed to try and set something on fire. We got to the point where when we ordered a round, I'd get my lighter out of my pocket and wave it at it saying "No fire. No fire". The absolute epitomy of this obsesssion with alcohlic combustion was at a nightclub one night in The Fort. I could see the waiters walking around with bottles of Champagne. Strapped to the top of the bottle was a fire cracker throwing off sparks. It was as if they'd bought a crate of the stuff, got a bottle out, poured it into a glass and tried to set fire to it. Clearly the Champagne didn't ignite and the guy was left standing there trying to work out how he could sell it. "If I can't burn the fucking thing it'll never move." So they strapped a fucking fire cracker to the top of it in the hope of creating the illusion it was on fire. Genius.

Anyway, Hailz and I will continue to enjoy in the Land of the Lion, albeit under some difficult circumstances, namely "Bam Bam". We hope to squeeze a few more solid blogs out before we wipe ourselves clean of Singapore (I am really very happy with this sentence). To everyone back home who we missed while we were there, we are sorry to have missed you but 1. Melbourne was far too fucking cold to do anything but wallow in front of a television and 2. I don't like any of you (I'm trying to say it was a difficult time and I spent most of it with my family). We'll be home at Christmas and I'm sure Hailz will be trying to get me down to Warrnambool thinking I might ask Pat for her hand. Settle Down.

We love you all and will see you very soon, but not before we get very fucked up several more times for your enjoyment.

Bintan

August 14th marked the one year anniversary of Dave romantically asking Hayley out in the back of a cab on the way home from a party. It was time to celebrate.

It has been a crazy year really. Not only did we never intend to be in a relationship, we never intended to move overseas together and you know.. be all in love and shit.

In the midst of the rush to get Dave to India, we left booking our trip quite late. We jumped online and researched places in Bali, but decided to go somewhere closer. We thought Bintan would be nice, but judging by the reviews on most places, we would melt to death in stifling rooms, be eaten alive by sand flies, eat disgusting food, be charged crazy prices and have terrible run down accommodation and facilities. We narrowed it down to a few options, and I think we nailed it. Yes, our accommodation was nothing flash, but when you're surrounded by idyllic views and lots to do and see, who needs a fancy room.. you're only in there to sleep! We loved every minute of our trip, so all the whingers really need to have a cup of cement. Also, sand flies really aren't the fault of the resort, are they?

Bintan is an Indonesian island just 50 minutes from Singapore by ferry. We quickly learned that you need to get on and off the ferry FAST. To ensure you can actually sit together, and to avoid long lines at the strange and annoying visa process stage. For the trip we became like many others- there is a Singlish word for it but I can't think of it - Singaporeans who are afraid of not being first for something - always pushing and wanting to be in front. *update: thank you Rochelle, the word is kiasu! *

The hour long bus trip to our accommodation took us by surprise. One, because we had no idea it was going to be that long, and two because it was a bumpy, dark and hair raising experience. Dave's head hit the top of the bus many times, and a sharp right turn caused us both to come out of the seat. It took us both by surprise, and being in the aisle seat, I wasn't expecting Dave to come crashing out on top of me. But his slow reaction time meant we were both catapulted half into the aisle, causing much laughter from the people behind us (who almost lost it too) and giggling that was difficult to suppress from myself.

All was forgotten about the seemingly never ending bus trip as soon as we arrived. A cool sea breeze, palm trees and a stunning view. We seemed to have stumbled upon some kind of European orgy though, prompting someone at the bar to say 'You picked the wrong weekend to come here.' Being the old couple that we are, we were hardly impressed but soon got over it once we were distracted by the bar barely being able to provide any of the drinks we wanted. It seemed the horny Europeans depleted their alcohol supply. They did say they were usually quiet, so we guessed they just weren't prepared. It could be however that things are so laidback there, that having items on the menu doesn't actually mean that they feel the need to provide them.

We sat and had a few cocktails before wandering off further down the beach, away from anybody else. It was lovely in the dark, looking out over the water and climbing on the volcanic rocks. (If I am to believe Dave, who is clearly a geologist)

Our room was in a great location, away from the reception and bar/cafe area so it was very peaceful. Except when a few people realised there was a gorgeous palm tree right outside our room perfect for photos. But that didn't last long, so we were able to continue relaxing on our balcony overlooking the water, frowning on the happy young Europeans like a couple of 70 year olds.

We had a bit of a sleep in on Saturday and walked the 1km down the road to the sister resort. Here there were many more facilities, all for our use as well. We sat and had drinks and lunch (first cocktail at 10.45am much?) before hitting the pool. Everyone was jealous of our ball (good idea self). We then headed to a restaurant out on the water for another drink and to explore some more, before having a massage together. It was my first ever proper massage (an outrage for sure) and it was quite relaxing. Nothing like wearing disposable underwear and having your butt massaged to bring you together as a couple. Dave admitted to nearly giggling like a schoolgirl when they got to the buttock area. He also nodded off quite a bit, which I was alerted to when I heard him jolting awake. I think I'll be more relaxed in the future for massages now that I know what to expect. They did do some odd maneuvers though, so who knows if I got anything like a standard massage. 

Saturday night we had our own private table at the back of the Sun Moon restaurant, outside overlooking the water. The food was delicious, and the staff so lovely. They were so shy they were hesitant to come over to us without being called. They are SO polite, always saying excuse me and even asking if they could set the table. Really lovely people. 

Sunday was our anniversary and we had a few hours on the island before we headed for the ferry back. We finally swam in the ocean, and made our way out to a little island about 200 metres from the shore. We may have got there a little quicker had Dave not been so scared of everything on the bottom (not that I blame him, but you just have to not think about it too much and soldier on!) But he showed me how he is a sea ninja' and karate chopped his way through the water to safety whilst giving me this gem of advice; 'fuck things up first, ask questions later.' The walk was totally worth it.The water was crystal clear and it was such a refreshing swim. Even if the water didn't even reach our waists at any part of the journey.

Then it was time for the bus home. (after 2 strawberry milkshakes, which I'm very sure contained no milk, but were delicious regardless). You would think that this bus trip should be pretty uneventful given that we knew how long it would take and how bumpy it would be. Plus, we could see out the windows this time. How wrong we were. We ended up breaking down not once, but twice. Somehow this didn't really phase us, I suppose we realised there was really nothing we could do. All was well in the end though and the bus started again and got us to the ferry terminal on time. It didn't stop Dave and I from really urging it up all the hills we encountered. 

The ferry home was nice and rocky at the start, nothing like a bit of motion sickness. We made a mad dash for me to clear immigration and I got through in about 2 minutes. When we fly, it takes me much longer and Dave goes straight through, only to have to wait ages on the other side. This time, we again were prepared. After some duty free whisky was procured, we headed to Mort and Rochelle's house to watch Richmond beat Sydney - yes! Then we headed to Orchard Road. We went to Marche for dinner (a swiss market restaurant that I am quiet enamoured of) and saw Horrible Bosses which we both enjoyed. If only everyone would stop laughing at length at every tiny joke so we could hear the following jokes, that would be great.

Bintan was truly beautiful, such lovely views and pristine water. We had a great time and we are already planning more island getaways. It was a great way to celebrate a crazy, fun, life changing and eventful year.

Happy Anniversary, Us.

From the Lion City to Cat City

Borneo. Its kind of one those places where you hear the name and think, isn't that place meant to be absolutely fucking crazy? Did stuff happen there some time? As it turns out, I did happen to read in the Lonely Planet that Head Hunting was once a common past time in the region. The locals would like nothing more than to hap hazardly lop of another villager's head. As I say this I'm sure you're mulling this over and thinking that surely this happened some time ago and everything is above board now. Let me put your mind at ease by saying yes, it was some time ago. So long ago in fact that Peter Andre was a marketable figure at the time and it was those crazy cats over the border in Indonesia as you can imagine who were doing the chopping this time around. The Sarawakians haven't partaken in such delights for some time now.

In all seriousness, Kuching in the Malaysian region of Serawak is quite a lot to take in. Indeed Hayley's stomach struggled with this the entire weekend courtesy of the soup she endured Friday night. The city is known to be a cultural smorgasboard and it certainly didn't disappoint. To be honest it felt at times like I'd necked a 12 pack of Yukult and was O.D'ing on the Shirota Strain. Just walking around and looking at buildings was enjoyable for me, as stupid as that sounds. I must say, it isn't for everyone. Whilst there is a selection of high end hotels to keep the most distinguished traveller happy, the grime of the streets below is likely to get enough sand in your vagina to make the trip rather uncomfortable for you.

You get the feeling that the waterfront boomed about twenty years ago and then went arse up. But there is this character to the place. There is something about it where you see a gutted building on the Main Bazaar and you think "oh wow, so thats what it looks like on the inside". You see a grimy, shitty old terrace house, but it has this amazing character to it. I think for me, it was the open clashes between various cultures. There are still glimpses of the colonial times under the Rajah James Brooke that somehow mould into place amongst the modern mosques and beautifully presented temples.

I'd arranged for a kayaking trip that included a trip to a nature reserve outside of the city. We arrived at the nature reserve in time for the feeding of the orangutans. Having read very thoroughly the instructions provided by the kayaking company, we hadn't brought Hayley's very expensive camera, instead opting for disposal cameras purchased at the airport 7-11. So we're at this wildlife park, there's guys getting around with iPads taking pictures, some guy has this mic hooked up to some ridiculous camera as though he was looking to make a POV film and here we are, kicking it old skool, snapping away with two disposal cameras thinking fuck me I hope these come out. I think it might have been the first time Hayley used a film camera. These kids these days. Have no idea what it was like growing up back in our day.

So as I mentioned earlier, Hailz was suffering from quite a severe case of food poisoning. We were sweating on whether she'd actually be able to get involved in the kayaking. From the time we left our hotel to the time we set off in our kayak she'd managed 3 voms and 2 bits of toilet. I'm sure she won't mind me saying that. No, thats fine isn't it, sharing that amount of intimate detail with everybody?

So somehow this little Trojan kept it together and we row row rowed our boat merrily down the stream (YEEESSSS, so happy I got to type that and it made sense). Along the way we got to stop off at a number of kampungs, the Malay word for village (God I've become such a wanker. Could have just said "village" surely.). These villages could only be accessed by a kind of rope/cable suspension bridge which the locals would come flying over on their scooters while we timidly trembled across the thing as though we were in "The Temple of Doom". It was really quite a cultural experience seeing these villages. The scenery has to be seen to be believed, pure jungle, amazing cliff faces and huge mountains in crazy shapes. We swam at the bottom of a waterfall and kayaked into a cave. It was brilliant.

This was probably our last gasp of effort on this trip. Hayley sunk further and further into the traumas of food poisoning, which lasted until the Wednesday, and my sunburn meant the 30+ degree heat and humidity outside was almost unbearable as I sought fluids and food suitable for Hailz' predicament. It helped that our room on the 17th floor was beautiful and had a stunning view, not to mention the fine selection of television scheduling which included the Miss America 2011 Pageant with guest host Kelly Osborne. Scintillating viewing.

Two Weeks In India

This is about the third time I've sat down to write this post. Hence it is a week and a half since I've returned that I'm posting it. Maybe this is because the lovely Hayley couldn't come with me and as such I am a writer without a muse. Maybe it was because I felt the first two attempts were pretentious bullshit that violated the nature of our postings. Maybe India is just a confusing and contrasting place. Whatever the reason, I hope I've got it right this time.

Fucking India hey? Has anyone ever been there? The place is fucking mental. Its genius and I love it. Where else in the world can you be sitting in the hotel reading your morning paper when a goat wanders past the front window? Where else do you have drive on the wrong side of the road in peak hour traffic to get around two cows blocking the right hand lane? Where else are you constantly confronted with food that raises the question in your mind "will this make me shit myself later?" The place is absolutely crazy.

I think I could very easily get used to Indian life. Yes its dirty, yes its chaos and yes the food is a mind field of bowel movements, yet I love the food, I love the dirtiness and how raw the place is and the chaos, whilst confronting at first, somehow only adds to its charater. Its something that you quickly become accustomed to also. On the way back the airport we were very nearly T-boned not far from my hotel. Had that happened when I first arrived I would probably have been hospitalised for shock, but having seen and experienced the way the roads function for two weeks, I simply smiled at how ridiculous it all was.

I recall being incredibly flustered when I first arrived. I got into Mumbai at around 11:30 p.m Sunday night and had to jump straight into a car to take the 3-4 hour drive to Pune to start work the next day. Despite my height making it typically difficult to sleep in car, I did manage to fall fast asleep. I woke up as we pulled into a truck stop at around 1 a.m. I got out of the car half asleep, managed to buy a packet of smokes and a lighter (which was the first time I had done such a thing in about 2 months) and then stood there just trying to take everything in as I smoked a cigarette. The stop was a row of stalls and vendors on the roadside and there were so many people there, especially for that time of night. I remember there was Hindi music pumping out loud and a shit load of people looking at me. I wasn't really sure if they looking at me as though thinking "what the fuck is he doing here?" or thinking "what the fuck has that guy taken?" given the state I was in, however given the number of stares I acquired throughout the duration of my stay I'd say it was the former.

Despite the looks, which sometimes inspired a jump on the part of the proponent to mimic my stature, the people were simply lovely. The guys in the office were absolutely amazing and made the time there so much easier and enjoyable. They took me out for the weekend to enjoy the real Pune, and not the one I saw in the Hotel lobby. Turns out the joint was actually the Indian capital at one point when the Peshwas ruled. There are statues of the Peshwa king all over the place and the palace grounds still stand in the centre of the city, despite the palace itself being burnt down. It is quite a funny place inside the walls of the palace. The inside is quite peaceful with its lawns and historic nature, but spilling over its walls is the fucking incessant sound of car horns.

That was the first impression I had of India, "lay of the fucking car horn champ". I remember getting out of Mumbai airport and being led to the car and all I could hear was car horn after car horn. I thought that it must just be busy being a Sunday night and that everyone was eager to get home. I was very much mistaken. I think the only thing Indians love more than cricket is getting the fucking car horn in traffic. The project manager for our supplier over there informed me that he has 3 different settings for his car horn. If you don't listen to the first two setting, the third is probably some form of the brown note which will cause you to shit yourself (That is about the third time I have mentioned pooing in this post, for those who are keeping count).

I think the contrast this palace presents is somewhat symbolic of where India is at the moment and why it is such an interesting time to visit. When you go to a department store there are sections dedicated to western styles, however the traditional garb still features prominently. This kind of mix can be seen everywhere. Its like the West is coming and they're ok with it, but they want to hang on to who they are and where they come from. In a way they're really thumbing their noses at those anti-G20 fucks who's only claim seems to be that globalisation is killing off all cultural identity and heritage. Well here are a people who proudly hold that culture in the highest regard whilst they propel themselves into the global economy with growth of 7-8 percent per annum (Oh yeah, there is nothing like an economic statistic to ge things hot and steamy).

I think perhaps the coolest example of this that I saw were the lorries that were decked out in traditional Indian ornaments. The whole front of the chasis would look like it was designed to star in a Bollywood film.

Now thats not to say that India is comepletely on its way. If you watch TV you would think these guys have money coming out of every orifice they possessed. Sachin Tendulkar, MS Dhoni and Shahrukh Kahn are on every second commercial promoting products for the affluent lifestyle. Cable TV, Sony Plasma TVs, 3G mobile phones. But then you get out on the street and these are no where to be seen. Stray dogs and goats eating out rubbish of the side of roads like a fucking gypsie animal jamboree. Tents and sheds constructed out of whatever material could be salvaged to build the family home. Run down apartments with half the building missing. Its a completely different place. Now I could go into the corruption of the place, but I think we all know about that and I think India deserves better than this. The locals have a fantastic sense of humour about themselves and the way their country is run. The video below was on an email getting sent around the office. It uses clips from a Bollywood out at the moment called Singham and has pasted the Prime Minister's head over the main charater's. It is probably the funniest bit of political satire I have seen in a long while and is a far cry more intelligent than those fucking "I bet I can get 100 000 Aussies who want Julia Gillard to take her top off" Facebook pages circulating around at the moment.

The thing I think I found most remarkable was the scenary. When you think of India, you think of the city streets cluttered and dirty. In Pune, whilst the city itself is in line with this, it is surrounding by beautiful mountain ranges. I was blown away by the drive back the airport and the trip we took out to the ranges over the weekend. The place was so green due to it being monsoon season and there was waterfall after waterall. After about the twenty or thirtieth waterfall on the drive back it was almost like "come on, now you're just showing off aren't you? Oh look at me I've got waterfalls coming out of my arse" but it was truly remarkable. We drove past small waterfalls falling right next to the road. I would attach some photos here to show you what I meant but my photos are rubbish so I won't bother. Just close your eyes and picture it in your head. Nice yeah?

So I come back from India very surprised and hoping to get back soon if the lovely will indulge me. It is simply brilliant. To all the guys over there, if by any chance you are reading, thank you for being so welcoming and making my stay so wonderful.

Peace and love to my Lord and saviour, I'm out.

Whinge

Dear Cardigans, Tights, Boots, Beanies, Socks, Layers, Jeans and Hoodies,

I really miss you. We shall be reunited in September and it will make me so happy.

With love,

Hayley

Chop Stick Bastards Stealing Our Jobs

This post might get a bit serious in parts, but I'll try and keep it light hearted.

I am currently in India working with our supplier here and came across a hilarious article about Indian Call Centres training their staff about how to handle Australian customers. The article refers to us as drunkards who haven't long had a tertiary education system. I think my favourite quote mentioned that if call us on a Friday we'll be "smashed". This guy obviously knows his Aussie culture. I don't know of any other nationality that uses that term. I also had to laugh at the comment refering to our choice of mobile phones as I sport my Nokia "four digit number" that I bought for $20 in Manila.

Now you might read this article and get a little hot under the collar. I'm sure one or two of you will fly off the handle. This is the precise reason why this article is considered news worthy. But is it really news worthy? Would Channel News Asia ever run a segment on how white people think Asians can't drive? Would the New York Times ever run an article on how the rest of the world thinks Americans are fucking annoying? Would an Indian newspaper ever publish an article on how Australians are commiting hate crimes against Indian students and calling them "opportunist"? Well actually yes on that last one they would, and they pumped the shit out of the thing.

But my point is, this is a perfect example of all the stupid things we think about one another. I may mention one or two stereotypes along the way as I blog our way through the eastern hemisphere, but there is reasoning behind it. I'm reminded of a sketch on the Dave Chappelle show where a couple of Arabs are sitting at the front of a plane talking in Arabic about American Idol. The camera then pans back to the row behind where two African Americans are thinking "great, we've got a couple of terrorists on our plane". The row behind has a middle aged white man with his daughter wondering how these African Americans could afford business class. He assumes they must be rappers and needs to keep an eye on his daughter. Behind him are two native American Indians who are worried the white guy will steal their in flight magazine or something in the same way the way white man stole his land. Then just to really slam it home, behind the natives are a couple of bison worried the Indians will kill and eat them. To finish the sketch the camera backs to Dave Chappelle passed out in his seat with a newspaper across his lap and the headline "America United".

And this is my point. We all think these absolutely ridiculous things about each other. Some of them are based on loose facts, some are a bit funny and some are just a fucking disgrace. Why I may make stupid racist jokes with tongue in cheek is to highlight just how stupid it is that some of us geniunely believe this stuff and hold it against one another. I think there are certain things that we do that we can all laugh at, as long as everyone is comfortable with it. But I think to say that one person can't be trusted or is lazy or are lesser than you just because of their background is laughable.

This is perhaps a strange tract to take in a blog that is primarily a pisstake. I think part of the reason I felt like writing this is seeing the signing of an agreement between Malaysia and Australia for an immigrant handover or whatever the fuck they're coining it. Watching the last election a thought crossed my mind. I watched two parties who weren't out to win an election, they were just trying not to lose one, who didn't want to say anything in case what they said meant they'd lose the election. So what became the key issue? Boat people. Boat people in my view is political code for "I have nothing worth saying that will change the course of this nation". It is a distraction. Think about all the other issue we have in everyday life. We are at a unique a point in time. We had the baby boomers generation where our parent's parents fucked like rabbits and pumped out kids in the "populate or perish" era. If you look at the make up of our population and plotted the number of people per age group in bands, the bands around the 50-60 age bracket are particularly swollen compared to those below it. Why is this an issue? Currently, and this is an issue across the western world who "laid back and thought of England(or their respective country)" all those years ago, there are about 3-4 employees to retirees bludging of welfare cheques. Over the course of the next 10 years or so, when the golden oldies start retiring, we are faced with having 2 people in the work force to every retiree. Welfare payments are already at level that is almost negligible. Imagine where they're heading in the coming years.

Now look around Aus and think of all the areas we have failed to invest in. We have a skills shortage, massive holes in healthcare, holes in our infrastructure. We have environmental issues that need to be addressed. We don't have a single public transport system in the entire country that operates adequately.

Now I might show flashes of my leftist twinge here, but these are all things that should have been invested in during the Howard years. In this country we saw sustained growth for some 13 years. Our tax receipts grew year on year over the course of this time. We had the funds to start to put in place some real plans to move the country forward. And what did Howard and Costello do with this? They paid off our debts.

Now on face value, great idea. Debt is never something we wish do live with, but unfortunately we are forced to in certain times. However, this is thinking in terms of the individual or the household. I like the analogy of economist Andrew Charlton who in his book "Ozenomics" made the point, that yes, the goal of your average household is to get to the point in life where you are debt free. However in the business world this just won't do. You tell me how long any CEO would survive if he kept a zero balance for liabilities on his balance sheet. What that says is the business doesn't think there is anything in the market worth investing in, meaning the business is either going to go broke or needs to change what market it is in. This is a little off topic, I'll admit, but I do like to harp on the fact that the last Liberal government was indirectly telling you they thought the nation had nothing going for it.

Maybe it wasn't that at all. If you think back to the Howard years, whether you view them as a triumph of Australian leadership or an era of nationlistic tyranny, what was the key platform they built their policies around? What did they bring to the election table every three years? Boat people.

To be fair, we did see the rise of one Pauline Hanson who had a hand in changing the Australian political landscape. She made enough noise to have the two major parties shut her down. But it was under Howard that the issue of immigration became a key focal point in Australian politics. Why is this? When you think about the issue of whatever your turn of phrase is for them, be it boat people, be it illegal immigrants, be it assylum seekers, be it those chop stick bastards coming here stealing our jobs (to whom I ask, will you drive me home at 4am on a Saturday morning while I try not vomit in the back of your cab and sing to whatever Gold FM are playing? Will you serve me my sausage roll at the 7-11 at 4am while I think I am the funniest person alive and try and work just how drunk I am right now? Will you clean the toilet in maccas after I've rained down hell on the thing from whichever orifice was appropriate at the time?) how do they honestly affect your everyday life?

For the average Australian are we geniunely impacted so heavily by people entering the country that we are willing to let an election be decided by it? And a more important question, because this really shows what happens when you take your eyes off the prize, are we willing to let 13 years of sustained economic growth pass by without seeing our government make any headway into solving our real key issues? The Howard government's legacy will be remembered forever as taking a strong stance on people illegally entering the country as long as we are not willing to accept that what it really did was create a distraction for long enough to save itself from having to make a decision about the direction of the country. Leave the poor bastards alone and get focused on the real problem facing Australia, a lack of real leadership.

Thanks for reading this if you read it the whole way through. I'll try to get back on assignment next time and
get some of the other posts I've been working on out. Who is your favourite genius, James Hird or James Joyce?