Stupid Is As Stupid Does

I was whingeing on FB about how booking this Melbourne hotel on the interfukt was a mistake, as the booking company had charged me the full week up front and not merely taken a deposit. This meant that if I checked out early I would lose that night's money. Well work is paying but it's the principle, right? Next time, I'll let our travel agent do it.

Tomorrow (Sunday) I have a mid-morning flight to Auckland for some work cleaning out the last habitats of the Tooki-Tooki bird, to get them off the endangered list and onto the extinct list where they belong. Today (Saturday) was a birthday brunch for my sister down in Geelong, an hour's drive south-west from Melbourne.

Smart me thinks well, if I stay the night in Melbourne in order to catch my flight, I won't be able to drink much, and as we are all either good or lapsed Catholics down in the Western District that is not the preferred option. Instead, I'll check out of this lovely historic place in buzzing Chinatown, forfeiting the charge for the night, have a few champagnes at lunch and maybe afterwards and stay at my mother's or sister's place (depending upon where I fall down drunk asleep), then wake up earlier than originally planned and head to the airport clearheaded.

Plan A. Right?

E@L packs his bags. E@L takes his bags to the lobby. E@L gets his parking validated. E@L checks out. E@L goes to the car-park in Lonsdale street. E@L exits the car-park and drives to Geelong.

OK, borzengurs, what did E@L forget? Answer, below.

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No, you work it out yourselves, E@L feels too stupid to admit it outright.

At my mum's place, I found the hotel's number with the robot on directory assistance ("Can you be more... specific?") and asked the hotel if they could hold my room after all. They were happy to let me come back up and use the room, as it had already been paid for.

Suffice to say I couldn't drink (much) at the brunch today... and am now too tired to go out in Melbourne on a Saturday night (for fear of getting bashed up, essentially).

Do'h!

E@L

The Road To Bali (aka Highway To Hell)

Checking out in a minute, but just a brief comment (HA!) or two about this god-forsaken ironic quotes paradise end ironic quotes.

It took me two hours to get across Kuta to Legian last night. About 15 minutes normally. Nevermind that the address I was given was wrong and I ate by myself, but to go 200m in 20 mins is just bullshit. With the amount of money that has poured into Bali over the years, primarily from Australians - surfers at first, yobbo tourists and their yobbo little brats of kids later - you'd think that SOME of that balance of trade would go towards doing something with the infrastructure. Despite its fame as a tropical mecca, it is one of the most tourist unfriendly places I have ever visited. It makes Chiang Mai look like Paris. Way too narrow, unmaintained streets; chaos at every jammed intersection; completely ungracious road-manners (no, you CAN'T get in, even though it means I will block the oncoming traffic for another 20 mins); cars parked in the most inconvenient and unlawful places; motorcycles clunking against panels as they weave through; pedestrians hopping like deer suddenly into the headlights because the footpaths are jammed with hawkers, rubbish and ankle-turning broken tiles...

OK, I am staying at Kuta these first few nights before I move up to Ubud for a week, but the fact remains that this is a third world shithole - even the ocean is shit here, chocked with detritus and flotsam, dark and uninviting (wrong season I am told).

Of course we know where the tourist money does go - down the greedy throats of those bloated ultra-corrupt politicians and businessmen (same thing) in Java, minus the 10% that is pulled off at EVERY stage of the logistical transfer of the loot. Christ, even the typists have to take their cut before they will prepare any documents.

What the fuck am I doing in Kuta? I don't surf any more, so why come here? Ah, that's right, Mates Rates at the resort and an upgrade to a suite.

For all this ruin, I blame Bob Hope, Bing Crosby and Dorothy Lamour (who was a Mexican lady by the way. Not many people knew that, even in the bigoted film industry at the time).

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Hope to calm down by the time I get to Ubud.

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[Addendum] Which is not to say that my resort isn't gorgeous and marvelous btw , and that the rest of Bali isn't beautiful. Last time I stayed in Seminyak, much more peaceful; and the time before that was just after the 2nd bombing, so it was very quiet, even in Kuta.

Sigh... Bad news. My camera battery has died and as I left BOTH my chargers in Singapore it looks like I'll be iPhoning the Kodak moments for rest of my trip. I'd upload them, but I am on the new Netbook and it is am not synch'd to the iPhone.

E@L

Attack Of The Killer Lounge Bands

Aiyah, my ears!

Made the big mistake of trying to sit and read my book in the bar-lounge of the Sheraton here in Subang Jaya (satellite town of Kuala Lumpur) this evening after dinner. They had a band... Merve and The MagicTones have nothing on this crew.

Yoodermeeahebratheen! Dasweedersowdedakasi, orbey! Orbey!

Is there some special school where they go to learn to slur like that? To pitch it all up their sinuses? To change the vowels sounds around randomly so that "A" become "O", "E" becomes "Aiyah!". To drop the last syllable of every word?

The skinny, toneless, but cute-because-she-IS-skinny girl had nearly finished some song or other before I recognised it as "Complicated" - the song, not the arrangment. Eo cal' ni' ennirsto' or wer'. I thought it was a Gaelic call to arms sung through an amplified pile of dirty laundry.

And hey, you, the muthafucka on the all-instruments-in-one "organ"! Turn the fucking volume volume down, the feedback is crystalizing the alcohol out of my brain!

I'm so outta here!

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The book, by the way is The Other God - a history of dualism in ancient religions. You know, the Devil as an equal to God rather than merely a fallen angel, or as duelling twins, Demiurge and Absent God, Osiris and Seth, etc... It is a tad dry, like most non-fiction from 15 or so years ago, but still fascinating.

There is one myth that is was Jesus who got Eve pregnant and was the father of Cain! Another where God and the Devil were black ducks flying over the waters, diving into the depths to bring up sand and so create the dry land.

Amazingly deep learning is evident. I won't remember a word once I close the last page I am sure, but it is really has me for the moment.

Why?

There is no anti-Catholic like an ex-Catholic, as they say. Or was that 'smoker'?

E@L