Seconds after I rolled the car to a halt I popped the bonnet and did what every man does well; I stared at the engine, and let out a “hmmmm…” I’d later learn the “pregnant” radiator pipe was impregnated by a back draft of fumes and the car was in need of what us humans would call a heart transplant. The side effect of this decay, was a ten day delay that forced us into a major u-turn. There was to be no harvest work left in the South Australia wineries, so we had to get to the northern state of Queensland – pronto. Continue reading ‘Mundane in the Membrane’
Monthly Archive for April, 2009
The nickname of Varanasi is carried on a hushed wind around those muttering it subconsciously at its entrances. Varanasty. This can be interpreted as slightly disrespectful, but I assure you for the benefit of my legal team I have an ingrained respect for the Hindi HQ. Continue reading ‘The Reprint: ‘Fading Memories’’
My last weekend in England was spent in the thick, vice-like grip of the Glastonbury mud. It remains one of the greatest weekends of my life, and it was where I was first introduced to the wonders of the Silent Disco. Continue reading ‘The Reprint: ‘R to the E to the B’’
Kathmandu is not the dirtiest city I’ve ever been too. That award is divided between Naples, Marseille and pretty much every north Indian megalopolis. Marseille has some room for appeal, the binmen were on strike (it’s France, go figure). Naples suffered the same affliction, but for some reason I’m throwing their right to appeal out as I’m pretty sure the piles of garbage covered up greater evils. Like bodies. My life was threatened on several occasions. Well, twice – the remaining times were suicide plans incase I got stranded there. Continue reading ‘The Reprint: ‘The Daily Commute’’
I’d swept Tasmania like a runaway wind. Enthused by the ocean I swooped through forests, rose up and over valleys and flirted with falls. I was spellbound by beaches, wonderstruck by wildlife and hammered by history. I’d smelled fish’n’chips, forest dew and Devil poo. I’d eaten oysters so fresh they almost asked my name, and wallaby pie so moist I knew not who to blame. I’d been worn out, welcomed in, torn down and picked up. With this in mind, it was time to enter my final region; Tasmania’s north. Continue reading ‘Northerly Wind’
Imagine you watched a big American city elope for a walk. It uprooted its underpins, stretched out its girders, slipped its streets into its subways and polished its double-glazed glasses. It packed its parks into its malls and just wandered off into its own horizon. “Bye, Big City. See you again sometime.” Continue reading ‘The Reprint: ‘Moving Times’’
