Cultural Amnesia: Necessary Memories from History and the Arts written by Clive James
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
This book is a wonderful, entertaining collection of descriptions of a collection. I didn’t know all the people described. Along the way I enjoyed learning a hell of a lot even about the ones I thought I did know. Clive James is the master narrator. He connects stories, intertwines histories and has an amazing insight into the abundance of literary styles and influences.
My new employer is big into health & wellness. I was caught up in the emotion and nominated with the team to run the full marathon, my third Dubai marathon in four years.
This is a blog about a marathon I ran. So I should start with all the excuses from the outset.
With that out of the way, I can share that this was an amazing, painful, gritty, enjoyable run.
I joined forces with a 4 hour bus which formed from the Striders running group. Four hours was always going to be a stretch goal for me this year. But i figured their pacing would assist to tame the cheetah in me that usually goes out too hard.
Perhaps typical to Dubai, it was a dodgy bus. It disintegrated practically before it began, with all members having different plans how to reach their goal. After the usual pre-run rituals, I positioned myself with those whose strategy was to go slowest.
For something different I had planned to listen to Rock My Run. It plays pumping music and adjusts the beat to your preferred pace, or heart rate.
It only worked until I opened my running tracker. Oops. Then I switched back and it only worked until my phone went onto standby. So I gave up on that just as we were about to start. The crowd of runners at the start began to move forward and I needed a plan B, so I just put the music on my iPhone onto shuffle.
It was a fitting song for that moment, Sam & Dave’s “Hold On, I’m Coming”.
The song soon after was Adele – Chasing Pavements. If I had planned ahead I wouldn’t have included that in the playlist. What depressing lyrics for a marathon:
“Should I give up?
Or should I just keep chasin’ pavements
Even if it leads nowhere..”
The pace was much slower than what I’m used to. It gave me the opportunity to watch more of the other runners, and enjoy being part of such a special event. I’m always in awe how there are so many different people running the same course. There are the professionals and the rest of us. Then there are all the different ages and body types. And some have every piece of gadgetry and all the expensive running brand apparel, yet they get overtaken comfortably by a guy with a pony tail wearing what looks like his pyjamas, although I suspect he may have even come directly from a Shisha cafe.
Another guy was singing out loud and waving his hands around with great enthusiasm which was fun for everyone around. The lady beside me suggested he wasn’t even listening to anything, the headphones were just for show. Ha!
Perhaps the most inspiring thing I saw on the day was the blind marathon runner. He and his companion had already turned around several kilometres ahead of me. I struggle to walk 10 paces with my eyes closed without being overwhelmed. It’s impossible to fathom, running at full pace with just a string tethered to someone whom you trust to be your eyes. He received the loudest cheer from me and my fellow runners.
I felt strong and I could keep up this pace for the whole race. I thought. Around 28kms I began to hurt, and my counterpart in the bus was slowing too. I realised at this point it would only get a whole lot worse from there.
And each kilometre did get worse.
I thought I had just hit the wall early. Nope, those were just contractions. At 37kms I could physically not move forward. I stopped and let the various points of agony take over my legs. I stretched. Well, I tried. Then after a lot of grimacing, I started to shuffle forward again. I appreciated the encouragement from a fellow runners. Everyone was hurting, everyone wants each other to succeed.
As I continued I had to increasingly adjust my running style to avoid the cramps in my legs.
It got to the point near a water stop I recall I was approaching a bottle top on the road yet I couldn’t lift my foot high enough to clear it.
If I stopped it would take longer. So with determination I just continued with whatever tiny amount of movement I could manage, and kept moving forward. Then it was just a count down. 5kms to go. 4, 3, 2, are we there yet? 1km then I turned right onto Umm Suqeim road and the finish line came into view. It still looked so far away.. Though nothing could stop me now.
I crossed the finish line. All I could do was stand frozen and enjoy the relief from no longer having to move my cramping legs. It could have been a minute or five, tho I suspect it was somewhere in between.
I stopped tracking my running activity on my phone. My phone’s battery was down to 7%. My own battery might have been lower.
Before we both switched off I called my wife to tell her which tree I’d be passed out under.
Despite the hardship, perhaps because of it, I thoroughly enjoyed getting through my sixth full marathon in eight years.
It hurt, but not as much as the regret of not doing it while I can.
I started a new job three weeks ago, so it was probably time to take a few weeks’ holiday.
The airport was terribly busy with everyone wanting to escape for Christmas. We thought we had a stroke of luck when tired Owen’s crying got the attention of the immigration workers and we were brought to the front of the queue. The joy was short-lived when he spotted my family were on cancelled visas, and downed his tools. In Dubai when you change jobs your former employer cancels the visa, then the new employer will sponsor you with a new working visa. Due to timing I only had myself sponsored, and would get my family processed on our return. Being Australian citizens we’re entitled to Visa on Arrival. But there was a problem with this plan. Last time we came back from holiday, immigration incorrectly stamped our passports with a Visit Visa – despite us being residents. This stamp combined with cancelled residence visas caused all the confusion. It took a lot of Arabic debate between the officers back in the office to get to the bottom of it. We arrived at the airport extremely early, which was extremely fortunate because when sanity eventually prevailed, we only just scraped though to the boarding games in time.
It was a relief to land in Sri Lanka. We pre-arranged a local driver to take us around for all 10 days. First we’d travel from the airport in Columbo to Kandy to visit the elephant ophanage.
Elephants are lovely, big creatures. It was my closest encounter. Although they’re clearly quite beautiful, I couldn’t help but screw up my face as I smelt the terrible odour. Then it was a slight relief to learn the stench wasn’t the elephants at all, it was the smell of the rolled cigarette which the elephant handler was smoking.
All the boys, all five children and the two Dads went into the water to wash the elephants with a well-used shard from a coconut shell. We imagined the elephants were enjoying it, tho I sensed the big beasts let out a sigh of relief when we left them.
While we were on the way there the boys were all keen to ride the elephants. Once it was time to line up though, they all got too scared. After seeing Owen the baby bravely joining Elle and I, eventually the other kids warmed up. The boys all began holding the accompanying parents incredibly tightly. Then before long, we usually had to check they were still there and ask them to hang onto us.
The rain had started by this time. The temperatures were fine though. It was a lovely change for people living in Dubai.
We stayed in the hills above Kandy, and we had our second encounter with animals, seeing large troops of monkeys in trees all around the hotel. The boys all got a kick out of seeing them jump around. Tho the sign on our window indicated they’re not just cute, and that we must keep the doors and windows locked.
We went into town for a cultural show and dinner. Our waiter became our friend when he learned we’re from Australia. He mentioned how the Australian cricket team won their test against India, adding “Good, we hate India”.
Once home we had a couple more drinks in the bar then retired to the rooms. I know at least I was extremely tired. As I was going to sleep there was a bit of noise from downstairs. I remember saying to myself, I hope they don’t ……then… Zzzz.
The next morning we went to the Sri Dalada Maligawa – or (Buddhist) Temple of the Tooth. We had to be respectful and wear long shorts. Though this was slightly contradicted when they asked me to remove my shoes.
The ancient relics there were very impressive. And we all enjoyed the journey through the temple, which coincided with their day of worship. It was disappointing to hear that as little as twenty years ago the place was under threat and getting attacked by the Tamil Tigers.
Everything inside there seems peaceful now. I saw a boy maybe in his teens in traditional orange monk sarong. He looked quite stoic in the same attire as his fellow monks from hundreds of generations gone by. Then the boy pulled out his smart phone and took a picture of the proceedings.
As we walked back to the van I asked Lewis what’s been the highlight of trip so far. It wasn’t the flight, elephants, monkeys, cultural show & fire walking, Buddhist temple, or sightseeing. It was the hotel.
The next day we ventured further North to visit a historic tea factory, established 1840. When you first arrive in Sri Lanka it’s quite special to first see a hill of tea trees. By day three you realise it’s noteworthy to spot a hill with no tea growing.
The tea factory tour was quite interesting. I’ve been to many brewery and distillery tours in my time. I’d never have imagined there was a similar story and complexity and craft to the humble cup of tea.
Dogs are a lot more trusting of Sri Lankan drivers than I was. Everywhere we drove you’d see dogs laying 1/3rd on the edge of the road, without a worry from dog or driver. Tho perhaps that explains why after driving for long periods you’ll see so many of them limping around.
All the roads we drove on (which was mostly the same one road) had three lanes of traffic driving, tho they only had two painted. It sort of seems like every road we were on is One Way, they just happen to be one way in both directions.
For some variety we caught a local train meeting our driver a few stations away. On the train there was a sign “No Tobacco No Liqour“. I can only imagine it’s some very posh kind of alcohol.
I loved seeing the Singalese script on signs everywhere. With all the near symmetric curly squiggles it’s perfection decoration. It may even communicate some kind of language.
Another item on the To Do list from Bentota where we were staying was to visit the Brief Garden. This was a memorial to the architect and notable figure of the area Bevis Bawa, who happened to share uncommon first name with Elle’s father. The gardens were lovely, and well kept. Inside was very artful and interesting. But the more we saw, the more concerned we were. Mr Bawa was clearly an art buff, though it seemed his art and statue collections had one thing in common, most featured very naked men. The statues in particular were eyebrow raising to say the least. Our sons were thankfully not teenagers yet, so they didn’t spend the time giggling (like us parents did). Instead we got quite a few innocent questions about why all the pictures and statues had large things exposed. The place was difficult to find, though it was certainly quite quick to escape from.
On another day we visited Galle to do some more sightseeing. Immediately as we parked we had people descend upon us to offer saris and other knickknacks. We kept moving to see the fort and other things, all the while trying to make as little eye contact as possible.
One particular guy I certainly didn’t want to make eye contact had a few bags next to him as he urinated on the wall. The others had passed by him to take in the ocean. I had Owen on my shoulders and now that he had finished his business we were sadly in his path. As he spotted us, he said in a husky voice “Cooooo-bra. Cooooo-bra.” As I slowly registered what this word meant he threw out two baskets in front of me, and the basket lids magically popped off and out jumped and hissed TWO “BEEPING” COBRAS! The others reported that I swore loudly and simultaneously jumped in the air and sideways away from these snakes. For people that don’t know, I HATE snakes. Particularly when they’re venomous and thrown at me, while I’m holding a 21 month old baby. It took me some time to walk back around this guy to continue our sightseeing. And maybe it took a few days to get the thought of this horrible scene from my thoughts.
With all our adventures it was easy to forget that it was Christmas Eve. That evening Santa visited. He stole the tinsel we bought in a Sri Lankan store and made a Christmas tree and left a few gifts – despite us being away from home. I thought it quite interesting how santa managed to place the problematic baubles in the dark – perhaps while getting eaten alive by mosquitoes cause he was putting all this up while wearing just his underpants. In fact at one point, resort security doing a sweep of the garden area with their torches, but fortunately for all concerned they didn’t spot him in this awkward position outside the suite.
Early on Christmas morning I saw the figure of someone walking outside towards the makeshift Christmas tree. My family was still asleep so I opened the curtain to check if it was one of the other kids. Instead it was the Sri Lankan guy who cleans the leaves from the resort grounds. He was paused in front of the tree, looking curiously up at all the tinsel and scratching his head. I then saw him pick up one of the gifts from the ground and read the name card. Seeming satisfied it’s nothing he needed to worry about he turned around and spotted me looking out at him, he gave a big smile and a thumbs up. It was a great start to Christmas.
It wasn’t until later in the morning when the kids took their presents that I noticed a big dried snake skin resting in the shrub next to our Christmas tree. It made the night’s tree-decorating activities in the dark a lot more extreme, especially with the freaking Cobras still fresh in my mind.
Something different you see on roads of Sri Lanka is the position of the cemeteries. We saw no elaborate areas for graves. To an outsider they seem placed almost randomly by the roadside. Sometimes they spread across on each side of the road. From the two grave stones I read, the deceased lived til they were both 93. Not a bad innings when the average life expectancy in Sri Lanka is 74. Although I suspect in the Southern reaches a lot of the headstones were marking the graves of much younger people due to the tragic tsunami that hit the area in 2004. It was devastating to still see the after effects of this, with many houses never rebuilt.
On the way home we bought some traditional Sri Lankan masks, after clearing up some confusion with our driver that we didn’t want to go to (Church) Mass.
And it was around this time that we hit another Sri Lankan holiday milestone and finished the bottle of local rocket fuel called Arak. Perhaps a good indication of its quality, we couldn’t work out if it’s a whisky or a rum. Another indicator of its quality could be when we asked the guy at bottle shop if we drink it with coke, he was insistent you drink it with almost anything. Perhaps a sign of drinking too much of it, we were incorrectly calling it Akra almost all the time
Early one morning I thought I heard the standard sound of an ice cream truck, perhaps playing Green Sleeves. But don’t be fooled, the truck that’s doing its rounds isn’t filled with sweeties, ice creams or ice lollies. It’s the sound of the curry samosa and savoury snacks truck. Mmmm.
The day before we left we had quite an unexpected encounter, like something from the X-Files. Well, not quite. Actress Gillian Anderson happened to be staying at the same small resort as us, with her sons. On my walk to breakfast she asked how old our boys were. Her sons were roughly the same age. All the boys played well together and had lots of fun. To us it seemed nothing different from just another lovely mum and kids spending time together, apart from the fact that the older boys secretly referred to her as “Pegasus” (from her film Johnny English).
Our last day of sightseeing we went to Hikkaduwa. It’s a popular beach area with backpackers. We went out in a glass-bottom boat and saw the variety of sea life, including a large turtle our boat captain nearly decapitated a snorkeller to show us. Again, if you asked my boys what was the highlight of that day it wouldn’t be the boat trip, or even patting a turtle further down the beach. They enjoyed making mines in the sand with anything they could find, like empty rum bottles, and boxes for rum bottles.
On our last day I woke up to the sound of heavy rain. There had been quite a few days with some rain, but this was now bucketing down. So naturally I just had to get out and run in it. The streets in heavy rain are quiet. When I eventually found people under the roofs of shops for cover they looked at me quite baffled. To be fair, only slightly more baffled than when it wasn’t raining.
Our return flight was departing from Columbo. This allowed us the opportunity to meet up with our dear old Sri Lankan maid Dilika, who left Dubai to live in the outskirts with her large family. It was so lovely to see her again, though her family went to way too much trouble with lunch for us. We always liked Dilika and kept in touch. We had heard when she got back to Sri Lanka she had a little girl around the same time as we had Owen. What we didn’t know til we met was the daughter’s name happened to be Owenya! What a lovely coincidence.
After our sad goodbyes, with time running out in Columbo before our flight we managed just a little bit of sight-seeing from the van.
It was fun to be driven around Columbo hearing where all the national team cricketers used to play. Our driver’s son is the captain of the Columbo University cricket team, so he had A LOT of cricket knowledge – or perhaps he had the amazing cricket knowledge of an average Sri Lankan.
While they are united in their love of cricket, I found there’s no consensus on who is the most famous Sri Lankan cricket player. To the average Australian it would most probably be Muralidaran – the controversial spinner/chucker extraordinairre. Some of our Sri Lankan friends suggested Sangakarra. He could certainly be the most famous based on the number of signs bearing his image. Other suggestions ranged from Malinga, who is certainly very recognisable; and surprisingly Arjuna Ranatunga.
The final memorable landmark we were shown was the new-ish Sri Lankan parliament building. It’s an interesting design, looking quite grand and important, but with still enough local Asian charm. Our tour guide informed us the building’s architect was none other than Mr Bevis Bawa. The same character whose house we visited at the Brief Garden. We were a little impressed to see the handy work of the guy whose house we visited. But we were also a little curious he didn’t incorporate any impressive phalluses into the construction.
We got to the airport with lots of time to spare. Just as well cause we hit another hurdle. At checkin they shared the Immigration rules are we must have either a valid visa, or if you’re able to get a visa on arrival (like us) you must have flight tickets for an onward journey. We already knew we couldn’t move our visa situation forward any faster, so we had to buy some tickets. Fortunately the airport is equipped, and very experienced, with this. So, by a stroke of luck we finished our holiday with some new flight tickets back to Sri Lanka so we can do this whole holiday again. 😀
Or most probably, we’ll just seek a refund.
“Istuti” Sri Lanka, and thanks to our friends travelling with us, and our wonderful driver Naranjin.
We’ll not forget this holiday, well the boys won’t forget the hotel and the mine they built on the beach.
Pushing the Limits: Life, Marathons & Kokoda written by Kurt Fearnley
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
Two weeks ago Champion Australian wheelchair racer Kurt Fearnley won his fifth New York Marathon. This book is a touching reflection on his life, his trying sport, and the immense challenge that anybody would face completing Kokoda – let alone from someone moving without the assistance of their legs. It’s quite a talent that in a book I could relate so much with Kurt, yet find so much inspiration from his amazing efforts. It touches you, informs you, and leaves you warm with satisfaction that the world is a better place for hearing from this Aussie character achieving his dreams.
Future Perfect: The Case for Progress in a Networked Age written by Steven Johnson
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
Despite Johnson never using the term ‘New World Order’, he highlights very well some of the scenarios where networking and social technologies have revolutionised how society has now learned to organise in the face of new challenges. He also sketches out an interesting future we could enter if we continue to embrace some of the best organising principles that he brings from fascinating success stories. ‘Future Perfect’ successfully shows that there is a large current of change possible if we embrace the benefits that could come from seeing and living a new world order. I’m in!
I’m drinking another bottle of VB (Victoria Bitter) beer. It’s a beer I’ve always disliked, though I drink it every year on this day.
It means another year has passed since my good mate JPS passed away. A guy that was full of life, and a fridge often filled with VB.
This day is devoted to reflecting on the guy, and the great times we had together. The fact I drink VB is to give him something up there to laugh at.
Just thinking back to the day of the funeral makes my eyes water remembering the tributes, including the touching words and song from Tim Freedman of The Whitlams fame – an Australian celebrity who became a good friend of John’s.
I had the daunting honour of giving the eulogy on behalf of his friends and colleagues.
For some reason I thought I’d post the eulogy here today for posterity, without some of the more personal points.
17 November 2006
“JPS began working working with us on the 20th of March, 1989 as a Cadet Draftsman in Engineering. Within a year he had his first stint as a Forms Analyst.
In 1997 he moved permanently into the Forms Unit; gaining promotion to Senior Forms Analyst in November 2002. It was there he remained until he left the department on 18th of May last year due to his deteriorating health.
John took great pride in the work he produced, and enjoyed mentoring young employees joining his area. His no-nonsense approach when dealing with superiors earned his team’s respect. But I think overall, John will be remembered in the work environment for the nonsense he would start at any opportunity.
I had a ball working in the same section as John. A lot of people did. His practical jokes and clowning around were memorable, to say the least. Sometimes the audience wasn’t in full support, but that usually didn’t stop him.
Virtually no one on our floor could get a haircut without getting the third degree from John; about the hairdresser being an apprentice, or hoping we kept the receipt for a refund.
It got to the point that if you got a haircut, you’d just automatically visit John to get the ribbing out of the way.
John loved writing, he really should have authored a book. His imagination and creativity shone through in the amazing email messages he sent to huge audiences almost every day to get a laugh. It was easy to forget that behind the great lengths and vivid descriptions of his hilarious yarns, was the fact that he was sitting there typing away at a snail’s pace with his only functioning hand. But it was well-known he would go to any lengths to get a laugh.
While I had a ball working in JP’s section, I felt that I failed when trying to do his job.
I couldn’t sustain nearly as many groups of people that called on JP at anytime for a laugh.
Only JP could find enough time for that many people. And only he had the jovial character to leave an impression with anyone he met; along with the charisma to draw such large crowds into his circle.
My feelings turned to frustration when I was John’s manager for a short period. I learned what a long line of managers before me had learned. He wasn’t meant to be managed.
It really made me question myself. Why was I trying to set the rules, when John was having so much fun breaking them. Yes, John was the perfect antidote for anyone taking themselves too seriously.
I doubt we will ever find someone who loved life as much as JPS.
Regardless of the difficulties he faced, John never resigned from the things he enjoyed:
We can all learn a lot from JP’s enduring love of life, and his ability to stay positive throughout all his challenges.
I’ve learned, a long life should never be taken for granted, but having happiness right to the end can be – when you have the right attitude.
John, thank you for letting my family and I into your life. Thank you from all of your colleagues that enjoyed your company, humour, kindness, and lasting friendship.
We are sad to lose a friend, and to see an end to the good times spent with you. But we’re relieved you will go through no more pain.
We lost John many years too early. But we can all make sure that the memories of good times remain.
”
Thank you JPS.
:’-)
The Light Between Oceans written by M.L. Stedman
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
What a touching tale. Such beauty. Such poise. Such a curious journey. I found myself so drawn to the characters, that, with each new circumstance, I reflected if I’d have done the same. I enjoyed this novel immensely.
War Horse (War Horse, #1) written by Michael Morpurgo
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
I enjoyed reading this with the kids. Such a wonderful, beautiful story. We were enthralled from start to end, and felt each twist and turn very personally.
Do the Work written by Steven Pressfield
My rating: 2 of 5 stars
There were some great messages, and it was well-structured advice from start to end. Tho once finished I can’t help but wonder, Is that it!? Seems more of a high level presentation than an informative guide.
Joyland written by Stephen King
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
I’ve always considered Stephen King a master of stories featuring surprising characters and gripping events. Joyland took me completely back in time into the interesting world of carnies. It was enjoyable from cover to cover, with the right amount of suspense and soul.