August 31, 2005

That’s what I like to see – Dedication to the tea

Left unplucked and unpruned, tea bushes will turn to tea tree’s - During the 16th century, the Emperor of the Yunnan province of China liked a certain type of tea but his servants couldn’t reach high enough to pluck the tips needed for his favourite brew.

So the Emperor had specially trained monkeys pick the leaves for him meaning he could continue to enjoy his favourite brew.



And such practices continue to this day



That’s what I like to see – Dedication to the tea.

Spo | August 31, 2005 | Comments
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August 30, 2005

True Faith In The Rush…

….then this weekend I watched War Photographer about 2 years in the life of James Nachtwey , a celebrated award winning photographer (some say the greatest ever in his field) and someone you should definitely check out via the link and tracking down the documentary if you can – startling real life images grab your attention and take you right into the heart of the situation – I watched and knew this guy was an artist and that his pictures highlight situations to try and bring the world in on such matters – to be our eyes in the storm – but my thoughts on the rush began to gather momentum – that this guy was so reserved, laid back, aloof and detached in real life, yet when he was taking pictures he got as close as possible – right there alongside – and it seemed he changed into a different person then – he says he channels the emotion of what he sees into his work – truly tremendous work – that’s how he deals with it – that’s why he gets so close – to fully suck it in.

“I have been a witness, and these pictures are
my testimony. The events I have recorded should
not be forgotten and must not be repeated.”
-James Nachtwey-

(Click for lyrics)

The other week I was running and listening to Paul Van Dyk, going with the music, this wave of euphoria hit me, it worked its way from the back of my head, as though someone had put a hot towel over me just after coming in from the ice cold - take that feeling and multiply it by a 1000 – that’s too vague perhaps – difficult to describe – New Order said it better - I feel so extraordinary - like something’s got a hold of me - I get this feeling I’m in motion - a sudden sense of liberty – they call it joggers high, but Holy Fuck, to be this strong I thought I was recalling the stratospheric times of drug fueled wonder from the past – a sensory flashback – back on the terrace of the Plymouth Warehouse on Union street or enveloped by the smoke screen of the Brunel Rooms, looking down from the Opera House balcony – I wouldn’t say feeling like a million dollars – as I don’t think money buys this sensation – it can buy the items that create the sensation – but the feeling its self is priceless - I kept running – faster and faster – my heart rate hit 190 – then I started to come down – in many ways – that kind of rush – that adrenaline hit – achieved this time without the chemical encouragement – unless as I say, it was a total recall – not possible without the sensory memories of the past – but still the body created that feeling again….

Maybe it was a total recall from the Homelands drugged up Bungee – idiot boy am I, pills make pupils dilate, I feel fucking great but coulda busted my heart rate – but that day I said – I don’t care coz I’m not there - I don’t care if I’m here tomorrow - again and again I’ve taken too much - of the things that cost you too much - feeling good enough I wanted to see if it could get better – ecstasy + bungee = award of Holy Fuck Me! – I haven’t smiled so much for so long ever since. These days simply going on the London Eye freaks me out to be honest. These days not so stupid perhaps… well the car thing was stupid…

Other times I recall feeling flight like this – Pirate Galleon - Chessington world of adventures - aged 13 – sitting at the back – the HUGE ship went vertical – holds its position - I was lifted from my seat – mid air – bar wasn’t tight enough – I felt myself falling forwards for a second – then the boat swung forward and the seat collected me again – but that second I was in the air – staring at the vertical drop – Holy Fuck - that was terrifying yet my senses tingle thinking about it even now – (that’s got to be a hell of a way to go by the way – fall out – vertical drop – hit the concrete pit below – then as you raise what’s left of you, the boat swings down, grinds you into the floor and flings what’s left into the wide blue yonder – Death by Pirate Galleon – name a worse way to go and I’ll give thee kudos – I still won’t go on those rides again to this day)

Barnes, Kirsty and I sitting in a field waiting our turn – smoke the good smoke – then comes the call – 5pm last flight - two days of basic training we were about to be flung out a plane at 3000ft while a wire attached would pull the cord – they said all you gotta do is fall, direct yourself to the drop site and try not to fuck up the landing – yeah and what about the bit were you tell yourself this makes sense as you hang in the open doorway as the engine noise roars, the wind howls and below there are wheat fields that look like knee patches and villages that look like lego? That bit – right there – that Holy Fuck moment – when you jump and let go – your body and your brain is telling you it makes no sense damn it – but you do it anyway – those 4 seconds of tumbling freefall before the shoot opens were indeed a rush – but I think it was the first second looking down and letting go I always remember.

The chances are - we’ve gone to far - you took my time and you took my money -
Now i feel you’ve left me standing - in a world that is so demanding

In Hanoi on the back of Tri’s motorcycle sans helmut – piece of shit bike with no indicators, wing mirrors, petrol gauge or speedometer – he pulls out round the bus in front as we turn left out the box junction into the two lane one way strip - but here comes the truck from the right pouring into the same lane at speed – I felt the kick of the gears as I looked back at the trucks engine gauge gathering force - must of made it by inches – horns blared the bus braked hard we pulled infront and the truck broke past us – people pointed stared wide eyed – giddy laughter – Beechawaawaa - pull over you damn dirty Ewok – I need to take the breath that was nearly stolen - Holy Fuck.

My morning sun is drug that brings me near - to a child I lost replaced by fear - Jumping off the Death slide at Typhoon Lagoon aged 14 – impress the Cali girl in the Bikini – foolish boy – Ok, jump and don’t look down – too late - those initial seconds were special Holy fuck moments – as you catch some air, just falling before the slide and water takes you again - I spent the rest of the day with the attendants voice ringing in my ears “what ever you do, don’t uncross your legs” I certainly regretted not following that advice but I didn’t regret jumping.

The time after Brunel’s, Dibs and I drove up the road from mine to Anna’s at 3am – flying on something foreign to the body – but it’s a short drive – pulled the blind corner without stopping at the top of the hill – green van missed us by inches – lights, horns, tires – then nothing - what are the chances – middle of nowhere – 3am – but still – Holy Fuck.

Same with the car crash – both of them actually (just remembered the other one in UK) - boom goes the dynamite – tree’s and bushes flash up in view and then are sucked under the wheels – what the fuck? Where’s the road gone? Girls screaming - walls approaching - seems like we’re watching this on the big screen windscreen - then we’re back on the flat – Holy Fuck we’re ok – silence – then laughter – can’t think when I’ve said fuck so much in such a short space of time

And it seems strange that every time after these moments I came away grinning like the Cheshire Cat won the lottery, a bag of coke and a weekend at the playboy mansion.

And it seems that every time my last words on this earth would’ve been “HOLY FUCK”

I used to think that the day would never come - that my life would depend on the morning sun

I don’t think like that anymore – but I don’t fully regret the times I did - behind so much of what goes on in life there are people chasing that feeling of extraordinary liberty – trying to recapture the child of pure rush, now replaced by fear in a world so demanding - whether they know it or not - running towards that Morning sun which can destroy them - then jumping into the shade at the last moment, before everything burns to cinder.

Spo | August 30, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - UK | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

August 29, 2005

Where have all the half Monkeys gone?….

Mari-Jo made me muse upon the thought of if we all evolved from monkeys you must have had various monkeys all co-existing with each other while at various stages of the evolutionary scale – monkeys, half monkeys and good ol’ Neanderthal man, so where pray tell have all the half monkeys gone? – so instead of sitting there just wondering about it I decided to go and look it up and here is a brief selection of what I discovered:

• 98.4% of our genes are the same as the chimpanzee
• Chimpanzees can use sign language for terms as abstract as “like” and “different”.
• Imagine a human chain where a girl stands with her left hand holding the right hand of her mother, who in turn is holding the right hand of her mother with her left and so on and so on. In order for the chain to reach the chimpanzee it would only need to go on for an astoundingly short 300 miles. (which is short when you think of millions of years etc)
• It has been recently revealed that female monkeys have affairs with males from other monkey tribes and keep it a secret from members of her own group.

So azz you can c, zee chimpanzee iz perhaps ze half monkey missing link I woz musing about. Bet they have been nipping off and rolling joints for years while the documentary makers haven’t been looking – swinging in trees, lying in the sun, having lots of sex and eating bananas. Splendid. Makes you wonder who evolved from who when you read that.

Spo | August 29, 2005 | Comments
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August 24, 2005

Yawning is very contagious….

Spo | August 24, 2005 | Comments
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August 22, 2005

More Hazards of being a Tea Taster….

Spo | August 22, 2005 | Comments
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August 21, 2005

Soothing Hangover Music….

This morning I sat outside drinking water like I’d just discovered it - trying to take away the heavy mind that Johnny Black had left me with - I found solace in a fine feline called Feist, whose name is the best word to make Dutch people say and whose album is called Let it Die - I picked it up after catching a brief random review in the Jakarta Post t’other day.



This siren’s voice is phonic chocolate - she sounds like the girl every guy wants to sleep with - reading up it turns out she was in a Canadian indie band called Broken Social Scene and she appeared on ”the Build up” and ”Know how” from Kings of Convenience’s Riot on an empty street - here we get her breathless vocal front and centre - no trimmings - pure smooth and soothing - backed up by simple piano and acoustic guitar, with snapping fingers, a hint of synth and some handclaps.



I love it when you listen to music and every track plays as a soundtrack to images and stories you unconsciously conjure. For example When I was a young girl is the song to listen to as you lazily swing the girl of your dreams around with one hand and drink Tequila from the bottle with the other - Mushaboom is fine foot tapping tom-foolery that should one day accompany a Wes Anderson movie montage moment, there may be no better way to start your day than listening to this - The Gate Keepers got you stoned walking through wheat fields - Let it die has to be a last song in a smoke filled dimly lit Jazz club, blue spotlight on a siren at the end of the night - One Evenings got a Joni Mitchell 70’s funky thing going on, the aftermath to a lazy heist maybe - Lovers Spirit is getting drunk watching the rain knowing you’ve fucked up - Leisure Suite takes the sultry mantle from Michelle Pieffer sliding around on that piano in Fabulous Baker Boys..... it’s all good and furthermore I’ve not heard anything like it for a very long time.



There’s even cover of the Bee Gees’ ”Inside And Out” which she gives a seriously shuffling funky dance off styling to.



It took a little while to grow on me - guess the mood has to be right - and that mood came around swinging in a hammock with a hangover - this voice was all I needed to hear - took away the Johnny Walker Black Haze - replaced it with sonic fruits - stupendously scrumptious sonic fruits.

Spo | August 21, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Film / TV / Music

August 21, 2005

Never say Potato again….

We discovered that Johnny Walker Black is actually a lot stronger than I’ve ever given it credit for and an empty bottle at the end of the evening means you will certainly suffer the next day.

Spo | August 21, 2005 | Comments
Film / TV / Music | Kaneheads Kompanion | Ojeni | Personal

August 20, 2005

Things that sound like Obi Wan Kenobi should of said them….

“Laws are for the obedience of fools and the guidance of the wise, young Skywalker”

Spo | August 20, 2005 | Comments
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August 19, 2005

To Have Caught Him Doin It….

Lance: They should be fucking killed. No trial, no jury, straight to execution.
Vincent: Boy, I wish I could’ve caught him doing it. I’d have given anything to catch that asshole doing it. It’d been worth him doing it just so I could’ve caught him doing it.
Lance: What a fucker!
Vincent: What’s more chickenshit than fucking with a man’s automobile? I mean, don’t fuck with another man’s vehicle.
Lance: You don’t do it.
Vincent: It’s just against the rules.

We went for lunch at Citos and I parked in my usual fashion - that is to drive straight into a zone without the need for any parallel or reverse malarkey - I have gotten this far in life without being able to park so I may aswell continue - life is simpler this way.

Upon returning the alarm key failed to flash - the car was already open - seems as though I’d left it unlocked - my fault for always walking away and pretending to be a gun fighter - sometimes you miss when you think you shot the guy - you’re not that good, punkass - then Robin noticed the sports bag was gone - fuck it - I was going to get a haircut and go the gym after work - brought the bag - normally I’d go home first pick up my gear and then go - but I look like a scarecrow and it all worked out so well time wise - feckity feck feckaloona-feckass feckstein - congratulations you fuckwit.

First off reaction is that this is the karmatic punishment for being a doofus and thinking you are Jesse James with a key alarm (sometimes I do the gun shot sound effects - I am Jacks childish ambition) - leave your car unlocked, this is what happens fucko - gotta buy new shirt, shorts, socks, shoes - ah..... the I-pod - cuntbubble - in the end that burns due to the cost but not the love - the music is important and that sits safe on the laptop - these things can be grudgingly replaced - congratulations on the score - you didn’t steal it, I let you take it......

.....but then later on I can’t find my apartment keys - fucktabulous - fine, I’ll sit around for the replacements and there is no link to where I live meaning a change of locks - but those keys had my god damned real-scorpion-in-amber-Jurassic-park-style-key-ring-attached - I found it in some freaky Hanoi street stall - it scares children - its a Mean Motor Schooler Scorpion Frozen In Time God Damn It.....

......and then I realise my dark blue loafing T-shirt was in there - cost next to nothing - seems millions of years old - made by no one famous - but my most treasured shirt by far - in that I am Dark Blue Golden - now gone forever - the places that shirt and I have been....

......and then to stick the knife in - I look for my baseball cap to pen in the scarecrow effect - my baseball cap with the picture of a bull dog on the front - like Spike out of Tom and Jerry - except a more bad ass version - a Veitnam veteran Spike perhaps - a Spike who will break a few eggs to make an omelette - and its one of the few baseball caps I’ve encountered in life that actually fits on my stupidly shaped melon head - unlike the average cap it doesn’t make me look like king of the super doofus people - it was in the bag - now to be seen adorning some light fingered Indonesian opportunistic fiend.... oh how now the blood boils.....

....Boy, I wish I could’ve caught him doing it....

....I’d have given anything to catch that asshole doing it....

It’d been worth him doing it just so I could’ve caught him doing it

I swear if I see some skanky assed Indonesian motherfucker wearing a Liverpool shirt, Bulldog baseball cap, black trainers, carrying an airwalk bag while listening to a bashed up I-pod playing Manu Chau’s ‘the bongo tune’

I’m gonna find myself a blowtorch and get medieval on his ass.

Spo | August 19, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal

August 18, 2005

Genius in the Simplicity……

Wil E Coyote - his genius was never rewarded

While meloncollyfloweredupinadubdaze sitting on hill at Creamfields in 1998, Mari-Jo made me ask why someone hasn’t invented a device that acts like the P.K.E meter out of Ghostbusters or the motion tracker from Aliens that allows you to find your friends at music festivals.


It would be so simple - each of your clan carries a little device in thier pocket which sends a unique signal to your tracker and you follow the little dots until you are reunited.

Maybe it could be intergrated with mobile phones in some way and work independent of the service reception which is never good at these things - even if you do get a connection and they hear the phone ringing in the first place conversations with people at such events generally consist of ”what? I can’t hear you?” “I’m over here!” “what” “by the speaker” “eh?”.

So easy to get lost at those things even when you are sober of mind - wandering wasted you’ve got no hope of seeing anyone again unless chance is kind....


I read in the sunday times a guy called Charles Melcher invented the beach book - pages that are immune to water, sand, suntan lotion - 750,000 copies sold - best sellers about to be issued in such a format - he’s moving onto water resistant diving manuals and grease proof cooking books - genius in the simplicity - but obvious for all this time - and in the article the guy didn’t come across as being one of histories greatest thinkers - just a lucky son of a bitch that dropped his book in the pool one day and thought to himself ”that sucks” ”someone should do something about that” - then suddenly - Boom goes the dynamite! - you’re a millionaire on easy street.


Genius in the simplicity.....

Spo | August 18, 2005 | Comments
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August 17, 2005

I’ve always wanted to do that…..

Yesterday I drove home via the toll road - rain was kicking down and break lights were abounding - I skipped the first exit as it’s always a nightmare to get out of there - the next one is a 1km or two along - but as soon as I went past the first, traffic came to a halt - three lanes solid - not moving - this could take a while - I sat for five minutes or so - nothing moved - Fuck it


All that time in UK getting stuck heading on the M3 or M25 going to London - all that time thinking would they catch me if I just busted down the hard shoulder for a mile? camera’s, police, drivers with mobiles pissed off you are breaking the law - no can’t be done in UK - wait in line - it will pass eventually....


Here it had to be done though - I’ve seen traffic like this here before - it could be anything from 30mins to an hour for this short stretch depending on the fuck up ahead.


Fuck it.


As I took the lead disciples followed - full beams fixed to show we’re coming - reams of solid static traffic looking on - I’m going home - cleared it to my exit under a minute.


Damn it felt good. 

Spo | August 17, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia

August 17, 2005

Now that’s what I call Tea Trading….Somalia

But this pales into comparison to tea trading in Somalia.

Spo | August 17, 2005 | Comments
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August 16, 2005

Sometimes Nature is Not Cool….

The 1 inch long Candiru is the only vertebrate known to be an internal parasite of humans. When you answer the call of nature while bobbing in the waters of the world, this nasty little fella swims up your urinary tract and once in there can’t be removed without resorting to surgery.


This is because of the erectile spines on it’s head and gill covers that mean you can’t remove it without taking what it’s attached to along with it (perhaps an analogy would be trying to pull a fir tree backwards through a basketball hoop).


To make matters even worse these spines pierce the hosts skin and drink the blood of their victim’s….


......anyways point being, that is some very nasty shit so do not pee in de sea (or rivers of South America).


Dread the the day Pesky Scientists discover this creature and try and find a cure for cancer resulting in something going horribly wrong and they are accidentally unleashed in waterways all over the world.

Spo | August 16, 2005 | Comments
Kaneheads Kompanion

August 15, 2005

The Hazards of being a Tea Taster….

Spo | August 15, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Kaneheads Kompanion

August 14, 2005

Do Not Mix….

Spo | August 14, 2005 | Comments
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August 14, 2005

The Deadly Teenage Lothario…..

Nobody likes desperation or ultimatatums - its good advice - you should tread carefully to make sure the message gets across without accidentally straying into these two minefields of cringeworthiness.


Bearing this in mind I have decided that the best way to tell a girl how you feel is as follows - I’m going to sing her a song complete with dance routine like this spotty spindly ginger Michael Jackson impersonator - he wanted to impress a girl called Aicha so sent her this webcam video - luckily some god like individual shared it on the internet - what woman could resist this deadly teenage lothario’s charms


(for those on a dial up the above link is 5.4MB, but I think the dance routine at the end is one of the greatest movements to music this world will ever see)

Spo | August 14, 2005 | Comments
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August 13, 2005

Genius Movie Quote Malarky….

In the same way that Barnes asked for a band name at 5am - should he of asked for a the best movie quote in the existance of cinema I would of said:

Spo | August 13, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Film / TV / Music | Kaneheads Kompanion

August 12, 2005

Unconscious wisdom….

Yesterday afternoon I had a vague flashback of getting text messages in the middle of the night (my friends in UK never really get that I am 6 hours ahead of them - that or they simply don’t care and like waking me up) - I checked my phone and found the following:


Barnes: 535am - how about this for a name of a band? The Commentator
Spo: 536am - ill Gotten Gains
Barnes: 540am - What! For a band name? Perfect!
Spo: 548am - yes - now sleep


Later I told Barnes that ”The Commentator” sounds like a communist newspaper and also reminds me of the Communards - neither of which are a good thing to be associated with when naming a band I feel. I say go with my instantaneous dream world derived reaction of ”Ill Gotten Gains” - sounds a bit like a bad assed outlaw or a serial killer I guess, but it is quite enjoyable to say.


Like Cellar Door.


Or Confucius Crocodile.


Other suggestions welcome.

Spo | August 12, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia | Film / TV / Music | Kaneheads Kompanion

August 10, 2005

And what drink would you like with your meal sir?….

This was from the actual snake restaurant

I’ve got some fairly gruesome video clips of the whole cutting out the still beating heart and drinking it thing - but they are on my nokia phone and I’m not sure how to host on the site - plus the MB size would be difficult to upload using this shitty Indo dial up I have.

Plus I have made the ladies in the audience feel sick enough I think (so don’t keep scrolling if this is the case)

Below is from the kicthens - they skin the snakes which are still thrashing around - don’t know what the deal is with snakes but even when they cut the hearts out they still keep on going for a bit.

Freaky reptile little bastards.

Once the skinning and killing is done they chop and grind the whole thing and your meal consists of pure snake - cooked, boiled, grilled and any other cooking type euphemism you can think of. They even go as far as to make a whisky using the snakes… erm.... apendages - as shown by Tri below:

The words I think you are looking for are:

“No Fucking Way!”

The Answer is:

“Yes Way!”

Snakes are Scrumptious

spread the word

Spo | August 10, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Vietnam | Kaneheads Kompanion | Personal | Pictures

August 10, 2005

What’s in the bag you freaky old bastard?…

When I was in Nam at the end of the first tea season, it came time for me to go back to the UK for a bit around the beginning of December. Mr.Noodle, being the legend that he is, wanted to do something for me that was distinctly Vietnamese and asked which I would prefer from Dog meat lunch, an hour with one of the girls in the brothel next door or a souvenir.

Dog Meat is one of the most repulsive things that can ever have the misfortune to end up on your plate as far as food goes - in North Vietnam the older generation consider it a special meal eaten based on lucky times during lunar months or what not. I never got my head round lunar months - Hanh was always three different ages based on different calendars and tried to wangle different birthdays as a result - absolute nonsense - you don't count the 9 months before you were born and your birthday is a specific time of year, not different depending on Chinese or western calendars - I might be as sharp as a bubble sometimes but she wasn't going to win that one.

Anyways - Dog meat - rank - six different ways of cooking - all as bad as each other - and a disgusting purple paste to dip it in - the smell of which sticks with you for days afterwards. You go to a new country and embrace the culture never turning up your nose at anything that is put in front of you - grin and bear it like that scene in Indiana Jones and the temple of Doom when they go to the village for the first time and Willie has to eat that gooey insect stuff.

However once you've done the initiation stuff you can then move on saying its not for you - at least you tried it - no offence to anyone is caused - sometimes such new experiences turn out to be surprisingly pleasant, like in Lam Dong when Mr.Thang was passing me a plate of an unidentifiable crispy pile of gubbins saying "please! please!" so I duly obliged, scooped some of it up and then realised he was in fact saying "Bee's! Bee's!" - but they were quite spicy and none too bad and I ended up polishing off the plate.

Dog meat on the other hand I will never ever entertain as a possible item for consumption ever again. Putrid is not a word to be used lightly - but in this case applies. The only plus points to the North Vietnamese obsession with eating dogs is that there isn't much barking at night and the streets are a bit cleaner. I kept telling folk the reason the rest of the world doesn't share their appetite for the four legged friend isn't because we see dogs as furry little members of the family - it's because they taste fucking disgusting. So I politely declined Mr.Noodles offer of Dog meat lunch. I also politely declined the offer of an hour with one of the girls in the brothel next door (it was supposed to be a hotel but we had seen the comings and goings and knew what was going on) - Hanh would not of been impressed and I also stick to the rule of ones backyard not being a place to dance with the devil in the pale moonlight if you don't want anyone to know you do the tango. But the third option of Souvenir? intriguing... what could the devilish fiend come up with? Snake Whisky. Ok - I've seen this stuff around - pretty much everywhere you go in the northern part of Nam there are little cafe's and restaurants with giant jars filled with ghoulish monsters pickled in super strength alcohol staring back at you. In Nghia Lo I had a very unpleasant experience whilst in the hands of the government tea association - a meal consisting of the boiled insides of a goats stomach (use your chopsticks wisely) washed down with several shots of an indeterminable cloudy liquid from a bottle with no label.

Always beware the bottle with no label.

As I was the guest (or because they wanted to fuck me up) each member of the party toasted me in turn - this of course meant I drank something like ten shots while they each had one - the liquid turned out to be local whisky that had been mixed with the stomach bile juices of a bear - an hour later I felt like I was tripping my nuts off - and not in a good way - in a paranoid shit everyone is out to get me and I can't sleep kind of way. I took revenge in the best way possible - shaking their hands the next day, smiling promises of much business in the future and then royally fucking them via the back door and going direct to their suppliers shafting them out of every cent. Fuckers. So yeah - snake whisky and Mr.Noodle - I thought it would be like the little bottles you see sold in the tourist shops around Hanoi - not even sure if they are real snakes in those things - but suffice to say I wasn't expecting what happened next. Bearing in mind I had a hangover, it was 10.30am and I had more or less just got to the office - people asking me questions at this time generally get the response that will allow me to end the conversation in the quickest amount of time possible - so basically I agreed to everything without paying attention. Mr.Noodle and Tri disappeared for half an hour or so and then Noodle returns with a little old (60ish) man on the back of his motorcycle. Tri (my translating partner in crime) was nowhere to be seen and apparently still sorting the money needed to pay for what was about to commence. The little old man shuffled into the courtyard just outside the office and sat down about to go to work. He carried with him numerous garden canes, knives, razorblades along with a large jar and a petrol can. He also had a large sack tied at the top with string. A sack that was moving in several directions. Shit.

Other members of the crew had come to watch - but no one really capable of translating my protests of "holy fuck what the sweet Jesus are you about to do you freaky little bastard?" - the little old man looked up at me with his one good eye (the other one was blind - I shit you not) and emitted a sort of cackle that said "now the white man is going to see some seriously fucked up shit" and he promptly undid the noose on the sack to let free your common garden spitting cobra.

Just like in Raiders were Indy gets too close and the thing is riled up staring at you with black eyes and fans out - for a second I'm transfixed - the next second little freak man has grabbed the cobra by the tail and lashed it in the air smashing its head on the concrete - much hissing and writhing goes on but the old man keeps smacking the cobra into submission - then once satisfied that the snake is suitably disorientated enough to let him get closer, he takes his other hand and pinches behind the back of the head forcing the mouth open - he then lets go of the tail and takes a razor blade, slicing all the way from top to bottom - feeding out the entrails and insides and discarding on the floor behind him.

Once this is done he opens the petrol canister and washes off the blood and sinew with what is apparently the local whisky within. Then the garden cane is inserted into the snake and he proceeds to twist and curl the body into the bottom jar. He then repeats this act with two more snakes - all similar length of just short of a metre or so - smacking them around, slicing them up, blood everywhere, guts on the floor, washed off with whisky and curled into the jar. Then he fills it up with the remainder of the contents of the petrol can and voila! snake whisky - and even then the snakes were still twitching..

I was told that it should ferment for a year before we tried to drink it and that the seal should remain firmly closed during that time. Over the period of the next year the whisky turned a variety of colours ranging from light green to dark yellow - my next door neighbour warned me that men go blind if they are not yet strong enough to drink such things and only folk past the age of sixty should attempt to consume the stronger locally produced stuff. This was all I needed to hear to give me a get out clause when the day came to crack it open - I'm not drinking that because there is a fair chance I will go blind God damn it.

We thought about it though - a friend of mine complained that we'd be drinking the sediment of the insides of the snake which he could see floating around at the bottom - I didn't think there was that much in there so shook it about a bit - not a good idea - some of the whisky escaped from the lid and a fierce petroleum smell filled the corner of the room - I got some on my hand and couldn't get the scent off for a week.

Definitely. Not. Drinking. That. It still sits in the corner of the Hanoi office turning different colours every once in a while.

That was the thing about working in Hanoi - there never seemed to be an average common garden day at work - you never knew when something like a freaky old bastard with a bag full of snakes was going to turn up.

Spo | August 10, 2005 | Comments

August 9, 2005

True none the less….

Back at work again I find myself falling asleep all over the place - how this is possible after a week spent more or less in bed could be confusing to some, but the answer is you don’t sleep when you are ill - you just step into the mind of a crazy person for a while - seriously, remembering some of the more inspired mind fucks masquerading as dreams while under the more severe effects of the virus, they were a chaotic cacophony of nonsensical gibberish that actually seem like a controlled thought process.


I’d awake gasping for air like I’d been held under water for too long and realise that I’ve just been to the place insane people spend their time 24/7 - this can be quite exhausting dragged out over the period of three or four days when the virus was at its strongest, so now I need proper sleep - I’ve got all the energy of an 83 year old mouse with lung cancer at the moment.


Luckily I was able to stock up on some decent sleeping tablets and also enjoy the freaky fruits of some of the hospitals pain killers during my hiatus last week. That’s the thing about these expat clinic’s - they are there to cure you but they are also there to make money at the same time - so all the cool pharmaceutical drugs of choice are there for the taking while you are fucked up and charging to insurance.


The nurses were babes of the highest order - and not just because of the uniform - but hospitals are not the places you are really looking your best, they are hardly likely to come away swooning saying things like ”the pasty faced pale English man with a virus throwing up bile and whacked out on painkillers talking codshit is really hot - I’m going to ask for his number”


When I left the clinic I was still high on the painkillers, I staggered out telling the doctor how wonderful she was and how all the nurses deserve a pay raise and were truly the most beautiful women in Indonesia.


I probably wouldn’t of said all that if it weren’t for the painkillers, but it was still true none the less....

Spo | August 9, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia

August 5, 2005

Star Wars in a Bag….

Ahh the happy memories as the writing cascades towards the top of the screen.... Invasion of small ship carrying the lovely Leia, run you Droidy fools! Don’t fire, no life forms aboard! Vader and his foul stench! “U are part of the rebel alliance and a traitor! Take her away!!” Jawas! Little trampy midget dellboys! buy these droids Owen, thery’re cool “Uteeni!” “But dad I wanted to go to the Toshi station and pick up some power converters!” Come back here punk farm-boy Skywalker shouts after lil Artoo does a runner, Ben Kenobi booyakkas the sand-folk! “Help me Obi wan your our only hope dagnamnit!” Uncle Owen! Aunt Peru! Shit! They’re skeletons! “U must come with me to Alderan if you are to learn the ways of the force!” Cantina band & the chopped off hand! Check dat tune! Solo mixing it up tells Greedo can kiss it! Docking bay 94 kicks off! leg it! Alderan got knocked the fuck out! wait up! that’s no moon mother fucker! Chewie! lock in the artillery power how many times do you need to be told! Tractored bugger! “the princess?! she’s here?!” rich eh? Hairy Prisoner transport Shoot em! shoot em all! Boring conversation anyway! into the compactor after you’re a little short for a Storm-Trooper! 3PeeO sort out that garbage 363427! “Get this walking carpet out of my way!” Obi sorts the tractor beam and has mystical comeuppance at Darth’s hands, ok though as he can speak from beyond the normal world! Swing that chasm, hold on to that princess & Get on that ship and fuck those Tie fighters the fuck up! Don’t get cocky kid! “Whaddya think a princess and a guy like me?” “NO!” (easy Luke she’s your sister mate) Destroy a Death Star? I’m up 4 it! “Moneys all you care about if that’s all you want then that’s all you will receive!” Hans’s outta there, thinks its suicide! Luke’s Red 5 leading the way! “They came from behind!” “Gold leader to red 5 get set up for your attack run! Arggghhhh!” Hey! Smug General! we have analysed their attack and there is a chance...”evacuate!?! in out moment of triumph! I think you overestimate their chances!” Luke, Wedge and wimpy tache boy Biggs go for the big money shot as Darth scoots around causing all manner of mayhem! Just like Beggars Canyon! “Wedge get outta there you can’t do any more good!” Wedge blags it while tache boy gets it! Luke use the bloody force son! Luke you’ve turned off your targeting computers are you fucking mad?! 1 minute to rebel base destruction! “The force is strong with this one must be related or somat!” “I’ve lost Artoo!” “I have you now!” “VAT!” “Yahoo! lets blow this thing kid and go home!” Luke shoots his load Sparkle! Sparkle! Boom shakalak! Princess looks ravishing Han gives her a cheeky wink! he’s in there! Medals! Medals! Medals! Medals! …none for Chewie though. …End.

Spo | August 5, 2005 | Comments
Film / TV / Music | Kaneheads Kompanion

August 4, 2005

Storms Subsiding…..

This was in Nam last year when we were up north in Yen Bai coming back from the tea plantations. The mother of all rainstorms kicked off, we took shelter under the tree’s to wait it out, listen to the roar and watch the bombardment. Then, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped - the menacing dark clouds went their separate ways, the light from the heavens poured through and then the serene tranquillity resumed.Mr.Noodle started the engine and we drove on home.


Sort of how I’m hoping things are going to go from now until Saturday after getting back from the hospital.

Tropical Bacterial Virus’s suck even more than the movie Cursed.....

.....and I really do fucking hate that movie with an unbridled passion, so do not say such things lightly.

Spo | August 4, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Vietnam | Pictures

August 2, 2005

Do not underestimate the powers of the dark side….

Last night was horrific - yesterday was a false dawn indeed - the virus came back with all guns blazing and now I'm heading to the expat clinic - get a specialist on the case - but not Martin Kove Cobra Sensei from the Glass Trap though - he'd just use some DDT and chomp a cigar or two.
Anyways - back in a day or two I hope
muchos Gracias for the well wishes so far amigo's and juanita's.......

Spo | August 2, 2005 | Comments
Blogging | Daily Life - Indonesia

August 1, 2005

Pills, Thrills and Bellyaches….

Happy Monday - well in the sense that it wasn't as bad as Sunday - in the end, due to the fact that I didn't have a severe headache and the only part of me aching was my neck, it was determined that I didn't have Dengue fever - also I'm not displaying a multitude of flu like symptoms related to not keeping anything down regardless of how it tries to find a way out....... yes that's a relevantly nice way of putting it... all in all I just had a nasty virus. Sunday turned out to be the worst of what it had to offer - which I sweated out like the loafing soldier I am (!) and Monday has been spent restocking on water and food along with a new batch of pills - all resulting in allowing me to watch the evil virus's power diminish like when Mad Max finally took out Master Blaster in the Thunderdome and was left with that evil scrawny midget dude. If I was back in the Uk for example, such flu like virus type stuff would not be anything worth worrying about - but out here and as my experiences in Africa have taught me, such inconsequental symptoms could be the brewing of much larger misfortune. Dengue fever sounds particularly nasty: "Dengue fever usually starts suddenly with a high fever, rash, severe headache, pain behind the eyes, and muscle and joint pain. The severity of the joint pain has given dengue the name "breakbone fever." Nausea, vomiting, and loss of appetite are common. A rash usually appears 3 to 4 days after the start of the fever. The illness can last up to 10 days, but complete recovery can take as long as a month. Older children and adults are usually sicker than young children"

"Most dengue infections result in relatively mild illness, but some can progress to dengue hemorrhagic fever. With dengue hemorrhagic fever, the blood vessels start to leak and cause bleeding from the nose, mouth, and gums. Bruising can be a sign of bleeding inside the body. Without prompt treatment, the blood vessels can collapse, causing shock (dengue shock syndrome). Dengue hemorrhagic fever is fatal in about 5 percent of cases, mostly among children and young adults"

The greatest time I was ever ill & punished was when I was in Malawi back in 2000 - I thought I'd gotten used to the heat in Blantyre where I was based down south, my fair skin seemed to be registering a bit of character I thought. Therefore when we went up to the lake at the weekend, I reckoned I was Kool n de gang to go a wandering without the need for protection from the suns dastardly scorching rays - little appreciating the higher altitude - 20 mins along the lakeshore more or less, my girl friend Debbie thought I looked a little cooked so we started using sun cream again.

My friends Paul and Sarah plied me with liquor and we drove back to Blantyre - I slept as stiff as a board and then when Patrick the driver came to pick me up the next day for work, I pointed to the back of my neck and good old Patrick grimaced and exclaimed something in Chichewa along the lines of "fucks sake mate! what the fucking Jesus of Mary Mother of God is going on with your God Damned neck! are there gremlins growing in there??"

During my blissful haze I remember watching the Prophecy with Christopher Walken and Eric Stolz, about Angels and Demons walking amongst us carrying out an ongoing holy war - and the effect of the film had me fiercely tripping out thinking that all manner of things were going on all around us yet we just weren't picking up the signs yet - needless to say folk I tried to explain this too thought I was fucking nuts - and once I'd come down off those pain killers retrospectively so did I.

Spo | August 1, 2005 | Comments