Thearley

Hamburg: We all live in a yellow submarine...

2007-04-13T23:31:00.000+09:30

"Get back! Get back to the place where you once belonged...." or words to that effect were amongst many other lyrics that John and Paul were famed for singing. And I have done just that, last Thursday I returned to the UK from Hamburg bringing my brief German adventure to a close.

Liverpool may be primarily credited with producing the Beatles, but to a considerable extent it was Hamburg that nutured the band's talents (certainly during their early years). Hamburg's paralells with Liverpool are uncanny; just as in Liverpool you can visit the Cavern Club, so too in Hamburg you can visit the bar in the red light district of St. Pauli where many of the Beatles' first gigs were staged. Furthermore, just as Liverpool is one of Britain's principle ports located on a major river (the Mersey), so too is Hamburg a major riverbank port (on the Elbe); perhaps it was the similarities that first drew the Beatles here? Alternatively, perhaps it was the reputation of the red light Reeperbahn in St. Pauli that attracted them. I took a walk through the notorious district, apparently only second to Amsterdam's (in quality?, seediness?, or what??), and had a hard time shaking off all the 'ladies of the night'- they really are quite persistent! Eventually I made it through the gauntlet and settled in for the Man Utd vs Roma Champions League fixture at an Irish pub. And boy, was I glad I did!!! 7-1!!!!! It was almost enough to make me forget the shame of Adelaide United's A-League final debacle.

My seafaring prowess is no secret, as any of my crew who joined me on my epic voyage up the mighty Murray in 2004 can attest. In Hamburg I could not resist recreating a little bit of movie magic by hiring a row boat to trek down the mighty Elbe in much the same way as two of the more successful escapees in 'The Great Escape' do in the closing scenes. I too rowed past and beneath the tilting masts of giant dockside cranes towards the open seas and freedom!!! Unfortunately for me, I was limited insofar as I had only hired the craft for an hour and after about 20 minutes I got caught in the wake of a passing container ship and almost capsized. Yet, my nautical know-how saw me through and whilst I didn't make it to the North Sea I did at least make it back to dry land. Since the war, Hamburg has developed into one of Germany's (and Europe's) more cosmopolitan and permissive cities as the heaving red light district illustrates. It is appropriate therefore that any visitor should visit the Museum of Erotic Art. Whilst I feared (or hoped??!!) that much of it would be crude porn, I was pleasantly suprised to find a degree of sophistication employed in dealing with difficult subjects. Much of the material was actually quite good, demonstrating an artistic talent, but other stuff was less impressive, bizzare or just disturbing.

The remainder of my three days in Hamburg I spent wandering the city centre or following the numerous canals between the old warehouses down by the riverside. Whilst it is a beautiful city, well worth a look, it doesn't really measure up to either Berlin or Munich and not much else of note happened during my time here. However, as a footnote, it should be recorded that in Hamburg I sampled my first water pipe (orange flavour). Very enjoyable and I'd like to purchase one of these for my own enjoyment in Adelaide, anyone know where I can get one?

Ich bin ein Berliner!

2007-04-10T23:33:00.000+09:30

Ah, JFK's famous words can still extract a giggle from any German when muttered by some ignorant foreigner. But let's face it the Germans haven't much of a sense of humour.

Yesterday I moved on from Berlin to Hamburg, so it is now time to recount my time in the German capital. I was in Berlin for the four days of Easter so it was a bit quieter than it might have been, but nonetheless it was still heaving with tourists and the nightlife I sampled didn't show any sign that it had slowed for any observation of religiousity.

Friday night I picked an area and club at random (I didn't fancy relying on lonely planet), which proved quite a shrewd move on my part since it was so good I almost saw sunrise. Things turned sour the following morning however when I woke to find my bag and it's contents (ie my clothes) soaking wet. It seems that one of the girls in my dorm had come back drunk during the night at some point, opened a bottle of water and spilt it all over my stuff. The evidence was all about for me to see: wasted girl asleep upside-down and still in party rags, half empty bottle of water by her bed (bottle top removed), bottle top half way across floor. I rest my case your honour. That is certainly the version I prefer to believe, the alternative of course is that some git took a piss in my bag. I washed all wet garments just in case.

The whole washing and drying routine consumed time on Saturday, but eventually I did get out to see some of the sights later on Saturday and Sunday. Berlin is particularly fascinating since it has been at the centre of so much recent history. Many cities have claims to historic events and people, but few could claim as much important history as Berlin during the 20th century. Inevitably much of what there is to see is connected to the war or division of the city during the Cold War; I did the whole holocaust memorial and Jewish museum thing, went up to the top of the Reichstag, had a look around Check-point Charlie and checked out the remaining stretches of the Berlin wall.

Just for a change, or to get away from all the war stuff and blokes flogging Soviet fuzzy hats (you actually bought one of these didn't you Nick?), I went to the museum for the Bauhaus design school (who I believe have an outlet on Rundle st?). This is quite interesting, but even there they have a section dedicated to how the war and Third Reich adversely affected them.

Well, not much else to report. Given Hamburg's location on the Elbe river and it's reputation as one of Europe's largest and most important ports (second only to Rotterdam I think?) combined with my justly reknowned nautical prowess, many more adventures should ensue. I return to the UK on Thursday so will update on Hamburg from there.

Munich: Surf's Up

2007-04-06T07:23:00.000+09:30

I have in the last few hours arrived in Berlin from Munich, and before embarking on anymore adventures I should probably keep my faithful readers abreast of those events that occurred in the Bavarian city.

As I wrote in my last post, Jens did take me to a bar (although not filthy or crowded with buxom Bavarian babes) and we watched the AC Milan vs Bayern Munich clash together. Bayern were arguably lucky and unlucky in equal measures; both AC Milan goals (especially the penalty) were dubious but then Bayern were lucky to equalise both times. We watched the game with a friend of Jens named Björn, who got utterly bladdered.

Whilst in Munich I did the typical touristy things around the city centre, but what was of particular interest was the Dachau concentration camp site just outside of Munich. I had only intended to spend a morning looking around the site, but given the time taken to get there and back and then the actual size of the site and exhibition I ended up spending a whole day there. Unlike a friend (who shall remain nameless), I was not tempted to whistle the 'Great Escape' theme tune.

Those of you familiar with German geography will know that Munich is not anywhere near the sea. But I can tell you that I saw surfing in Munich, and as soon as I can work out how to upload a photo then I will do so for all of you. On a small river in the centre of Munich a few die-hard adrenaline junkies spend everyday surfing a single wave that is created by some sort of change in depth or ridge at the bottom of the river. Apparently two people died doing this last year, and despite signs forbidding swimming and surfing it still goes on and the police do not try too hard to stop it. It attracts a fair crowd (with good reason) on the bridge passing above the river.

So whilst by day I fulfilled the role of foreign tourist, by night I did as all good Germans do and passed the time in one of the many cavernous beer halls. I didn't get to all the big ones, but I am proud to say I had a few steins in at least 3 of the main halls and gardens.

Finally, today rather than pay close to €100 for a train from Munich to Berlin I hitched a ride with a guy who regularly drives between the two cities and allows people to pay to occupy the spare seats. It cost me a fraction of the price (€25), and only took marginally longer because of the traffic. I must now turn in for the night as I am quite tired, but will write again soon about Berlin at Easter.

Ps. Number of times Lonely Planet has lied to me (including the time mentioned in previous post): 2 (Latest instance concerns location of fictional hostel, and please note that my edition is March 2007)

Don't mention the war...

2007-04-03T19:28:00.000+09:30

... I did, but I think I got away with it!

I said that I would update this blog with my European adventure, and so here goes.

Unfortunately I must start with some bad news. Having come to the other side of the world at great expense and inconvenience in order to put myself under scrutiny of the UK's Army Officer Selection Board, I failed. I went down to Wiltshire last week from Tuesday through until Friday and took part in various outdoor obstacle courses, group command tasks, written exams and oral discussion sessions. I thought I had done all that I could, but at the end of the week I simply did not measure up to the army's expectations. I am told that candidates often fail the first time, but then gain entry at a second attempt, but still I am quite disappointed and 2007 seems to be rapidly turning into a year of disappointments and failures (in contrast to 2006, which for me was quite a good year). Perhaps 2007 is to be my annus horribilus (as the Queen referred to 1992)?

Anyway, I now find myself in the country that gave the world Mercedes Benz, Heidi Klum, Angela Merkel, Volkswagen and the most despotic tyrant the world has ever known. I met my pal Jens in Munich yesterday and I am to stay with him for three nights before moving on to Berlin. Jens is to take me tonight to watch the Bayern Munich vs AC Milan game in a filthy German beer hall crowded with buxom Bavarian babes, so that may cheer me up after my latest disappointment!!

Anyway, not much more to report. See you all soon.

Ps. Number of times Lonely Planet has failed me so far: 1 (trying to find non-existent Internet cafe)

Thearley rejects calls to kill-off blog

2007-03-20T08:10:00.000+10:30

In recent time many have suggested that just as the farmer takes his blind old incontinent sheep dog out to the barn with a trusty double-barrelled and blows the mother away, this blog ought to suffer a similar fate. Their reasoning is that this blog is rarely updated and when it is the topics covered are seldom relevant. Yet with Thearley's latest adventures this blog is set to be given a new lease on life.

I travel today to the land of my birth to go before the Army Officer Selection Board (AOSB), which consists of a gruelling three-and-a-half day assessment course that can be best described as a boot camp. Applicants who successfully complete the course are then eligible to enter the Royal Military Academy at Sandhurst. Upon completing this 'boot camp' I will travel to Munich to stay with Jens, my friend I met in Chile. Those wishing to learn more about Jens (or even see a photo) should consult this blog's posts for the first half of 2005 when I was in Chile. I will then make my way from Munich up through Germany, possibly across to Holland and Belgium before returning to the UK in order to return to Oz, arriving on 17th April.

This Blog will now follow these adventures.

NEW ADVENTURE COMING SOON

Advice to Campbelltown Council

2006-11-06T19:39:00.000+10:30

I am relatively lucky in the sense that I live quite close by to the University of South Australia's Magill campus. Whenever the need arises for me to journey there in order to collect some books or to knock out the odd thesis, then all I need do is take a short 10 minute stroll. This is arguably quite convenient, especially given that many who trek there have to do so by multiple buses or spend much time stuck in traffic if they drive.

However, upon arriving at the campus it is almost always necessary that I comb my hair. On my 10 minute journey my hair seems to gather various bits of interesting flora. About a week or so ago I bumped into Emil in the library and he had to help me pick gum nuts and petals from my hair. I dare say it was a scene reminiscent of a nature documentary when you see a family of apes going through each other's hair for lice or edible grubs. Furthermore, upon my arrival this evening I have so far detected 1 gum nut and 2 blossoming buds.

I have only one wish: would the Campbelltown council please invest more money in adequately pruning rogue plant life that conspires to infest innocent pedestrians' hair as this is quite clearly a problem in our municipality and given that we have recently had a council election I think it is high time this most pressing issue is addressed.

By the way, Thesis=finished, 2 items of coursework remain, more comprehensive post to follow completion of academic activities.

World Cup Legacy? A-League odyssey

2006-07-10T20:19:00.000+09:30

Long overdue blog: I started this the day of the WC final and have only just seen fit to finish and publish it... profuse apologies to the diehard Thearle Army.

We have traversed the breach; that seemingly unconquerable space that exists between last season and the next season. In England it is known as the cricket season, here in Oz.... well nobody really notices. The point is though that there is for a period of at least a month, and often longer depending on whether it is a world cup or Euro championship year, a void in which no real football is played.

The 2006 World Cup came to a close over a month ago in a fashion that cannot quite be described as breathtaking, nor spectacular, but rather perplexing and with perhaps a touch of disappointment. Italy have without doubt been one of the better sides of the tournament, but their performance and victory in the final was neither glorious nor deserved.

Their route to the final included only just overcoming minnows Australia, they had arguably the easiest of the quarter finals, and they were less than impressive against the yankees. On the other hand they did fend off an impressive Germany, and accounted for the Czechs who were touted before the tournament as potential winners.

However, the point is that Italy did not deserve to win the tournament in the same way that other champions have deserved to win it in the past. But then again, none of the teams this time around really deserved to win it. Sure there were glimmers of brilliance, but no one team stood out as consistently better than the rest and thus deserving of the title "Champions of the World". In sum, it was a mediocre tournament which will bequeath no real legacy. A case in point: some of the younger players earmarked for future brilliance were truly dismal. For instance, Wayne Rooney although coming back from injury and playing in a fucked up formation only succeeded in making himself look more and more like an alcoholic Shrek. With regards to Cristiano Ronaldo, I like to apply the Shane Warne theory: that is, although he is undoubtedly a gifted player, if he couldn't play then what would he do? He would be one of those vicious skin heads you see out on a Friday night spitting and swearing like there is no tomorrow. The only talent he has is football, and even that he couldn't adequately display in Germany, the only exhibition he made was of his un-sportsman-like, vicious streak which he demonstrates through his continued diving. I truly hate him.

With regards to Australia's performance, it was probably one of the only positives that I can think of that came out of the tournament. More importantly though it has put Australia onto a steep learning curve. Australian fans will soon come to the realisation that World Cups are more about disappointment than jubilation- believe me I am an England fan, I know!!! Only one team can ever win and although Australia may do that some day, I can't imagine that it will be in the near future.

Anyway, since the World Cup ended there hasn't really been any regular football to talk of. But now the premier league has begun and this coming weekend the A-League (mark 2) will begin. What can the AUFC diehards expect this year we might ask, given their form in the pre-season cup, would it be too much to ask for a championship? Doubtless Veart and Qu will dissapoint, Aloisi will whinge, Van Condom will be shit as will Cornflake. What of Dodd? given his recent form and prowess in the Australia shirt then we have reason to hope that he may bring some light to the gloom that so often shrouds Hindmarsh. The point is though that although AUFC so often look very amateur, the opposition are quite often not alot better. We can therefore expect the red army to be in the finals. The odyssey begins again, all aboard with Kossie... destination glory.

Van Halen heralds Australia's birth into the second round

2006-06-23T08:00:00.000+09:30

There was a beautiful women to one side, and to the other some git trying to steal my wallet. I was wearing a dress made out of Big Bird (of Sesame Street fame) feathers and standing in the foyer of the Casino. Incensed by the breach of my personal space and more importantly the confines of my wallet I start laying into the aforementioned git in an attempt to knock all his teeth out. All of a sudden though, Van Halen's "Jump" starts to ring out all around me. This is odd I think, I pause momentarily from my amateur dentistry, Van Halen has never been the soundtrack to my dreams. Then I wake up, dream over, it is 3.30am and my phone is ringing- Van Halen is my ringtone.

A definitely more awake and possibly slightly inebriated Emil is on the other end of the line: "are you coming down to the Hood to watch the game?" It is of course the morning of Australia's clash with Croatia, and although I have planned to get up (in another 45 minutes, NOT at 3.30am) I have to answer in the negative. I have trouble enough, dragging myself from my pit on cold mornings before even the crack of dawn, it is a little far fetched to imagine me getting myself to the Hood at that time.

I do get up to watch the game, in front of a roaring fire with Ol' Pa. And those of you who also saw the game will know it was well worth the effort- I won't go into the details. The result of course was to Australia's benefit and they will now face the Azzuri in the second round. Although some of the Football wasn't particularly pretty, there was definitely ample amusement. Firstly the Croatian coach on the touchline looked as though he would have a coronary at any moment, which provided plenty of chuckles. And then, Graham Poll, the referee made a complete tit of himself. He effectively sent off the same Croatian player twice, liberally distributed bookings and the occasional red card, and yet when physically manhandled by Croatian players took no action. To be honest though, Graham Poll has been making a cock up of the job for a long time; it is well known that Premiership games under his direction regularly turn into an exhibition of his ego rather than any sort of Footballing prowess.

One of the more interesting consequences of this morning's result is that Australia will now face Italy. Just as in recent days Croatian-Australians have faced a dilemma over who to support, no doubt the substantial Italian community in Adelaide will experience similar problems. It will be amusing, to say the least, to see all those so-called 'Italians' who have never been to the country, speak very little if any of the language and sound more like Crocodile Dundee than Pavarotti, claiming to be Italian and supporting the likes of Totti and that baffoon Buffon.

Regardless of tensions off the pitch though, it promises to be an exciting clash and I can say this time that I will be down the Hood (given the game will be at a more godly hour) to cheer on the green and gold.

The profits on the bus go round and round...(or is it 'up, up and up'?)

2006-06-16T21:16:00.000+09:30

This blog may disappoint many of you given that we are almost mid way through the World Cup, but I am sorry to say it has nothing to do with Football. Rather I turn my attention to generally all-round-good-guy Mike Rann. Mike is a particular favorite of mine but recent decisions, or to be more precise one decision in particular, has rubbed me up the wrong way.

Mike Rann is of good stock (English), and although his eyes are definitely a bit fucked giving him a sort of Car Salesman image, he is the sort of guy that I have always felt some degree of admiration for. In particular his shake up of the legal profession, vis a vis overruling the DPP and the parole board may on first appearances seem to be populist in policy orientation, but a walk down Rundle Mall any day of the week is testament to the fact that there are a lot of weirdos in this town and they ought to be locked up and then left there.

However my rant here shall not concern his many successes, but rather his most recent gaff. You may have heard over the past few days of plans to hike up public transport costs by 10%; the alledged justification is rising petrol costs. Adelaide's public transport system is to be quite honest a shameful shambles, and already the cost is by no means justified by the quality or frequency of service- we are definitely in no need of a price hike.

I am a frequent commuter on the 106 which takes one on a rather mundane run down Magill Road and into town along North Terrace and onto Pulteney Street. It is widely accepted that users of public transport do so in order to be at a certain place at a certain time. This is however a logic that seems to have escaped the brainstrust at TorrensTransit; all too often I am left stranded at stop 14 when the scheduled bus arrives very late (ie. just in front of the next scheduled bus) or fails to materialise at all. Assuming one does actually manage to get on a bus, then one can expect to be greeted by some miserable sod in the guise of a bus driver, with a frown and glare of contempt. I mean if they don't want to be bus drivers then nobody's holding a gun to their head, as my wise old Grandfather says: If your going to do a job (no matter what it is) then do it well. I don't think it is too much to expect a courteous hello occasionally, rather than the sort of death stare that I imagine the Nazis reserved for their most hated Jews.

Coming home is not much better, it is not uncommon to travel home with 2 or even 3 106 buses following each other! Really! The people at TorrensTransit really have their finger on the pulse so far as efficieny is concerned.

My chief point is that until something is done about the shambolic state of the transport system in this city, then no price increase is justified. There is very little coordination of the services, that is to say that very few of the buses connect easily with the trains or the tram or other buses for that matter. Mike's not doing a bad job, but this is definitely a gaff of monumental proportions.

Public announcement of the impending and summary public execution of Frank Farina

2006-04-02T12:46:00.000+09:30

Dear all please forgive my somewhat tardy 'blogging' recently, but now that I have something to ply you with I shall do so:

Please visit the below link to discover how Frank Farina has most recently disgraced himself:
http://www2.sbs.com.au/opinions/index.php3?id=69086

How anyone can argue that SBS don't deserve the rights to the World Cup is beyond me, they provide without a doubt the best football coverage in this country bar none. Your other pay-TV charlatans will charge you the earth just for the privilege of watching a game and then serve it up with a side offering of some dick like Robbie Slater.

Nah, give me SBS anyday; all power to Les, Andrew, Simon and Craig, they're true professionals, unlike Fucking Frank- an amatuer drama queen...... if only I had one bullet, it would be for you Frank.

The hunt for a quick buck resorts to animal cruelty

2005-12-20T13:54:00.000+10:30

Firstly, profuse apologies for not having written sooner; however what with Xmas/ New Year and my rather heavy workload I've had neither the time nor anything of significant interest to write about. However my recent excursion to the Oxford in North Adelaide has given me inspiration to put finger to keyboard for the greater good of society once again.

The issue of poker machines/computer games and Western society's inability to use them responsibly has been regularly recycled by the major sources of respectable current affairs such as Today Tonight and A Current Affair. So it is that given the longevity and degree of social conscience of my blog, that I will too examine the issue drawing primarily on my own recent experience.

Those readers who have ever attended an Adelaide United home fixture will no doubt agree with me that it is no occasion for the faint hearted. Although the ability to throw away the game all within the instance of one ill conceived and mis-directed Carl Veart foray into attack has in recent weeks been cast into doubt given the Reds' prolific form, it remains legendary. And so the recent fixture against Queensland was no different, despite the apparently comfortable 4-2 win glimmers of the inadequacy of old were there to tease the faithful. All left the ground relieved in light of the win, yet safe in the knowledge that should the need ever arise, the side for all South Australians will willingly deliver a complete implosion.

Such drama and tension tends to build up one's hunger and garner quite a thirst. It was then with light relief that my trusty side kick and I retired to the Oxford for a bite and a few pints of the amber fluid. I gorged happily on one of the mammoth schnitzels- I'm no schnitzel aficionado, but in my experience it was pretty good and I'd be grateful for a second opinion. Sufficiently stuffed I cast a curious eye over my surroundings, in such a manner that one does when one is contemplating muttering something profound: I burped. A few likely lads were huddled at the bar, over the far side a DJ plied his trade despite the apparent lack of recognition from the gathering crowd and the usual smattering of chicky babes mingled amongst increasing male glances. Finally I swung my gaze across the bar and to the near wall where a pinball machine stood idly alongside a clearly more popular 'game'.

This second 'game', surrounded by a happy crowd was the curiously named Big Buck Hunter: Call Of The Wild. Naturally enough, or perhaps in my naivety to all things vaguely technology orientated I thought initially that the game entailed the quite innocent hunting down of as many Buckys as possible and then clubbing them to death with cans and various other wares from Woolworths (I'd like to beat Bucky with a cucumber). I was, however horrified to discover that the basic aim of the game is to decimate the native fauna from a variety of areas of North American wilderness. Wielding an attached electronic shotgun, inebriated patrons are pitted against helpless deer and various other fauna (including ducks and chickens in one stage) in an effort to kill or maim as many of the poor dears (pun intended) as possible.

My revulsion was palpable, in a time when the content of such games is being widely debated and environmental issues concerning endangered species are (or should be) at the top of most Western national agendas, I was disgusted to find such a game that clearly some insensitive fool is profiting out of. This is I feel only one, and at that a very small, example of business profiting out of the continued environmental destruction of our planet. Of course it is happening all the time and I don't profess to be totally innocent (after all I drive a car that spews god-knows-what into the atmosphere), however if we are to make even a miniscule attempt to start clearing up the mess we've already made then I would urge all readers to boycott the Big Buck Hunter game at the Oxford in an attempt to save North American ecosystems.

Nb. If you can't contain your primitive cravings to inflict pain on some poor creature then pay Bucky a visit.

Total Football (Formerly titled: Shove your f*@#ing AFL up your f@$#ing arse sideways !!)

2005-11-18T16:35:00.000+10:30

What a week for Australian football and I am not talking about the egg shaped ball variety, rather the beautiful game that unites so many globally regardless of creed, colour or religion. Firstly, unless you've been living in a cave, you'll realise that Australia has qualified for the World Cup (world's largest sporting event bar none) for the first time since 1974. Secondly, closer to home Adelaide United have consolidated their place at the top of the A-League. And lastly, however certainly not leastly, the Iron Chefs vindicated this seasons hard work by lifting the Windsor Castle Division 3 title after a nail biting final.

This week's world cup qualifying tie between Australia and Uruguay should I feel go to show that on the world stage AFL pales into insignificance by comparison. Those of us who watched it on the TV will remember the atmosphere that resonated through our screens, then imagine actually being there as a few lucky friends and my old man were- I am sure in time they will grace us with there own comments corroborating my argument that there is no substitute to watching your country in such a life and death struggle of the beautiful game. There exists no paralell in AFL to this, quite simply AFL will never and cannot ever hope to emulate the kind of global appeal that football generates.

My chief beef is with dickbrains like Graham Cornes, who argues that the name Soccer should still be applied to the round ball game and Kevin Sheedy, who recently suggested that Melbournians should attend the "hybrid" (I use the term with a sufficiently mocking tone) international rules test rather than the Victory's home fixture against Adelaide United. Firstly Graham Cornes should get out of his car yard a little more often, and quite frankly the Advertiser ought to rebuke his weekly column because I know of few people who value "Cornesy's" opinion that much.

With regards to Kevin Sheedy, I'd say only this: in the sentiments of the great Liverpool manager Bill Shankly, football is not a case of life and death, it's more important than that. This is certainly a sentiment that Melbournians have come to understand, given (A) the large and vocal crowds that the Victory have drawn to Olympic park and (B) the huge crowd that gathered in Federation Square earier this week to watch Australia create history on the big screens. It is probably hopeless to think I can single handedly convert every Australian to the round ball game and of course sheer folly to prophesise the coming of AFL's death knell, however it is important to note this week in the evolutionary tale of Australian football and recognise that the 82, 000 strong crowd in Sydney and the countless millions nationwide that followed and watched the game couldn't give a monkey's toss what sporting bigots like Graham Cornes and Kevin Sheedy say, think or do. So far as I am concerned, such people can remain in their ivory towers whilst the enlightened majority bask in the glow of a new dawn in football for Australia.

Turning to other news; a season of dedication and perseverance paid off tonight for the Iron Chefs who emerged victorious from a close run final to hold aloft the Division 3 title. 1-0 down at half time, Thearley levelled for the yellow army after a goalkeeping error and the Chefs played out normal time for a draw. Golden goal extra time saw the Chefs dominate and Bucky Reitano snatched the winner a la bresciano. It should be noted however that it wasn't all plain sailing for the Chefs, initially scared by going a goal down as No Gary No contrived to steal the Chef's glory. To the Chef's credit though, they pushed harder and harder as a team; an effort that ultimately paid off. The team has truly come of age, the level of dedication amongst the players is demonstrative of the level of team bonding that has grown since the teams inception nigh on a year ago. The Chefs will be back next season the defend their crown and new members are always welcome.

As a closing note; Adelaide United vs Sydney FC, Sun 27/11, 4.30pm kickoff
Support your local side and the growth of the game, we should get our own little Red Army together and march on Hindmarsh. Anyone who wants to see Dwight Yorke of Aston Villa/Manchester United/Trinidad&Tobago fame let me know.

Observations from the Uni evening study sessions season '05

2005-11-08T21:19:00.000+10:30

Some observations from my now nightly ritual of going to the Magill campus to fry some brain cells in front of a computer screen in a vain effort to finish all my papers:

1. There is always a mob of Asians/wogs/people of middle eastern heritage hiding around a corner ready to come and occupy the computer suite that I have just set myself up in.

2. Once I am set up- with all books, journals, thermos flask of tea and the odd apple in place, the aforementioned mob descends upon the suite and occupies every computer around me.

3. Conversation in foreign language ensues.

4. A banquet is declared and the Magill vending machines are raped. Despite the signs prohibiting eating and drinking in the computer suites, the mob does so anyway.

5. Inbetween eating, drinking and talking various members of the mob wander about aimlessly from room to room so as to associate with sister-mobs who have decided to harrass some poor sod in another room.

6. The mob doesn't seem to do any work, which to me seems to make the whole expedition to Magill pointless. Presumably they fail- or I hope they do!

All for now.

Saucy Salsa

2005-10-05T20:58:00.000+09:30

Aren't I such a hooray-henry? I've found something to write about that won't bore the pants off of people who aren't particularly into my irreverent Iron Chefs match reports. Since the lack of particularly constructive suggestions (other than the penile extender man) in light of my previous post, I've again had to resort to tales from the romantic novel that is my relationship with a certain young Goddess.

This posting is almost a throwback to the days of yore; during my Chilean sojourn many of you may remember my somewhat failed bid to become the next big thing in Latin music, taking a number of Salsa dance lessons. Since my return to land of the long brown wasteland, my endeavors into the world of dance have been restricted to a brief fling with El Capitan and a pirouette with Bucky that saw his Pale Ale spiral through the air at Supermild (I am reliably informed that this instance of ultimate gayness has gone down in Supermild folklore).

Prior to meeting me (the greatest day of her life), the young Goddess was an avid dancer and she was I feel a little dissapointed to discover I had 2 left feet. Our early relationship was punctuated by instances of me propositioning the young lass with pleas to let me dance with her, however all too often I was scorned by a sharp turn of tongue. Whether it is my new found latin charm or some other admirable trait, the Goddess has recently become much more receptive to the idea of dancing with me and on Monday we attended our first Salsa dance class.

The Monday night 'drop in' salsa dance classes at The Gov' are as way of an introduction to the complete novice and I was quite suprised to realise the level of interest when the class started with close to 50 people (80% of which are incidentally female). This one guy, Julio, runs the gig and all us whiteys stand in lines learning the basic steps in a fashion that I thought made us look more like yee-haaing, toe- tapping line dancers. Finally, you get to throw it all together and the gals have to grab a lad (or dance with another gal), the Goddess (after some prompting) grabbed me which may not sound all that suprising when one considers that the other lads hadn't got 5 months first hand latin experience under their belts. So you can imagine, I was quite the happy camper having a bit of a dance, but wouldn't you know it something had to spoil it.

You see, the literal translation of "Salsa" from Español to English is "Sauce", and indeed the salsa is a bit of a saucy dance. SO you can imagine my dismay just when I was getting into my groove, when Julio shouts out that we have to change partners. This went on for the remainder of the evening: I danced with women old enough to be my great grandmother, 1 girl who couldn't stop giggling and a rather large lass whom I daren't hold in the small of her back for fear of losing my hand, if you follow my drift. Alas I wasn't to dance with the Goddess again that night, but trying to look on the bright side of life I didn't have to dance with any sweaty old geezers either, so it wasn't too reminiscent of Chile then.

For the record I didn't have it as bad as the Goddess, amongst others she danced with Mr "Smelly breath 2005"

Reality Blogging: You choose the issue, I write about it, then you vote my arse off the net

2005-10-04T11:30:00.000+09:30

It has come to the attention of the author that a sizeable slice of his online audience have become somewhat disenchanted with the incessant Iron Chefs match reports, and indeed many long for the days of regular Chilean updates (perhaps because I was conveniently absent?). Alas though, those days have gone and now unfortunately despite popular belief, my life isn't really that interesting. It is in fact hard to draw any worthy writing material from days spent at good ol' quiet Magill campus, so I invite readers to put forward their own suggestions for future posts.

Also due to the continued misunderstanding over my REAL opinions and the refusal of certain people to grant me time to speak my mind in certain fora, I refuse to write any further about the A-League.

Diehard Chefs fans however should not feel too neglected, what follows is a very brief Chefs update:

The Sunday just passed the Iron Army descended on the Windsor Castle again, on high still from the previous week's pillaging of the Glenside Old Scholars V. Some however were still wary as the Goddess was in attendance; something that has in the past always provoked a shock landslide capitulation amongst the Chefs ranks. However this week it wasn't to be, although the Chefs started somewhat lethargically they eventually found their groove and romped home to a 5-1 victory over the much fancied 5 down. Lethal strike duo, El Capitan and Thearle both featured on the scorers sheet with 3 and 2 respectively. Other players of note included Bucky Reitano and Andre in the defensive lines who tried to break a few legs, Afro Adonis floating through the middle and definitely taking a far more vocal approach to the game than the Captain. None of the opposition are worth noting.

Leading goalscorers (total as after matchday 11)
El Capitan- 23
Thearle- 18
Afro Adonis- 11
Bucky Reitano- 9
Andre- 3

According to John: The A-League

2005-09-27T12:15:00.000+09:30

Readers may or may not have heard of the horrendous US sitcom "According to Jim" starring (I use the term loosely) James Belushi (or is it Jim?). Briefly occupying a primetime channel 7 slot it has now been relegated to sometime mid afternoon, that's how crap it is. Although the fact that it screens on channel 7 in the first place should be a dead give away to the crapness.

Anyway this pitiful excuse for humour gives rise to the far better "According to John". In this issue of "According to me" I will examine the newly formed A-League, elaborating on my own views of the competition given my prolonged love affair with the beautiful game.

Firstly however a (very) brief Iron Chefs report: There isn't much to say really, we won..... wait for it...... 24-1 !!!!!!!!!!!! The opposition, Enfield Utd were without a doubt the crappest opposition ever. They fielded 2 girls (I am no sexist but this was definitely not a winning tactic) and the remaining 3 male players were possibly Glenside escapees (I mean it in the nicest way possible). Iron Chris Assikas who had until this week only managed a solitary goal single-handedly savaged the visitors piling on a whopping 10 goals! El capitan contributed with a mere 6, Bucky Reitano with 5 and Thearle with a slightly underachieving 3. It was however slightly embarrassing that we managed to concede just one goal and highlights a need to work on defence. And so the wildly warped goal tally looks like this:

Leading goalscorers (total as after matchday 10)
El Capitan- 20
Thearley- 16
Chef "I only score when the opposition are disabled" Assikas- 11
Bucky- 9
Andre- 3

Now to the A-League: I don't wish to start over again with my A-League thesis, those of you who have not read my formative views will find them at www.shaunsalright.blogspot.com under the comments of an article titled "Blueprint for success- Craig Foster speaks some sense".

Essentially I am very happy with the new look A-League and I am indeed pleased that the world game at last has a viable platform in Australia. However there are I feel some points to be improved on if the game is to flourish. In an ideal world the A-League will rightfully come to prominence in Australian sport usurping all other codes and bringing Australia in line with the rest of the world (with the exception of the fuckwit US) worshipping the round ball game. This however is perhaps a pipe dream and unlikely to come to fruition. My first problem is people like Les Murray on SBS. Some of you may have read his columns and books and realise that he is one of the leading proponents for football in this country and indeed he has I feel done a lot for the game. However his chief failure I believe is not securing the TV rights for the A-League for SBS. Rather when one's side is playing away, one must have access to Rupert's "Do me up my foxhole"TEL in order to watch the game. On this vast continent it is unlikely that all that many fans are able to travel frequently to away games, putting the games on free-to-air TV however would allow all to see all of the games. Furthermore when one does have access to FOX, one is far more likely to be watching the football, rugby or other "exotic" channels. My point here is that the A-League needs to tap potential markets where the AFL and NRL haven't already gone. If good quality football were screened on free-to-air TV, then I think it would gain a lot more interest. However currently the only good quality football that free-to-air viewers have access to are early morning european games and the occasional Australian national team game (please debate quality).

To be honest I am all ranted out at the moment and cannot be bothered writing further, however I have other issues with geographic representation of clubs, the marketing of clubs as cheerleader backed side shows and the scheduling of fixtures. Watch this space.

Hearts cease to beat as the Chefs are beaten by the "Easybeats"

2005-09-19T16:15:00.000+09:30

The seemingly unbeatable Iron Chefs have been beaten. But they were no easybeat as the "Easybeats" rose from obscurity to claim the league's biggest scalp. The Iron Army (image at left) were visibly distraught as their valiant boys in yellow went down 4-3. The Windsor Castle had for a solid 8 games been a fortress in which the Chefs dominated, however this week the walls were breached.

The game looked promising though as there were a host of young female fans in attendance, Chef Assikas The Younger (Chefs number 1 draft pick for next season) was also spotted on the terraces and the Real Chef Assikas sported a rather fetching pair of extremely short white shorts- someone throw the water please!! ooh ahh!

The Chefs were playing catch-up all day and the scoreline would suggest that the "Easybeats" outclassed their opposition. However spectators witnessed a wholly different affair. After conceding the first goal, El Capitan drew the Chefs back level and then after conceding a second, Thearle did likewise. Yet somehow they just could not clinch that vital goal that would propel them into the lead. They would try in vain though; Chef Assikas unleashed the wrath of Zeus' wind in a goalward direction however couldn't breach the keeper's defences, likewise El Capitan and Thearle perservered to no avail.

The Chefs then employed a cunning ploy; a Trojan horse, Bucky made sporadic forays into attack catching defenders unawares and unleashing a few strikes, however still the Chefs wouldn't find the net. The Easybeats then put the peddle down and went into a 4-2 lead and the Chefs were all at sea. Some suspect officiating allowed precious time to pass away and the Chefs could only manage a solitary consolation goal courtesy of Thearle.

On a brighter note, the Chefs did gain the 1 bonus point and are expected to remain top of the table. Also Thearle closed the gap on El Capitan at the top of the leading goalscorers tally:

Leading goalscorers (total as after matchday 9)
"El Toro" El Capitan- 14
Juan Luis- 13
Bucky- 4
Andre- 3
Son of Zeus (have you seen those legs?)- 1

Asian Tigers curried by Iron Chefs

2005-09-14T21:00:00.000+09:30

UEFA officials are scratching their heads this week after receiving an official application from the Iron Chefs Football Club for admission to the Champions league. The application comes only days after the Chefs notched up their 8th consecutive win.

Disoriented (or the Cambodian second 11) were this weeks prey as the boys in 'Egg yolk yellow' looked a little frazzled as they took the field; "boozing & cruisin" has become an almost institutionalised trait of some players. Fans fears were justified only minutes into the game as the Asian tigers pounced on a loose ball and put themselves into the lead. Truth be known, El Capitan Balestrino looked as though he might defect halfway through the game; "those Asian boys have such beautiful eyes". However both the captain and the rest of the team stayed the cause with gritty determination. As the game dragged on though the Iron Army fell silent in fear that they may be witnessing a cataclysmic almost orgasmic defeat, the silence was only broken by the distant chanting of the Barmy Army as England won the ashes... can you hear it?... can you? .... ha ha ha ha ha ha ha 5-0 whitewash?... aha aha ha ha ha ha ha hahhahshh ah hahah hahah hahah hah hahah a hahhaah h ah

The Chefs went in at half time one goal down and seriously worried. However soon after the resumption of play it was as though the Chefs had received some kind of Flintoffesque inspiration, Thearle struck early and the game was drawn level. Yet the twists and turns kept on coming, almost immediately Cambodia struck another chopstick into the Chef's wok. Greek Chef Assikas went beserk, the frustration was obvious and the Chefs were in disarray. However calm prevailed and both Andre and Bucky tightened up the defence (and their backsides, after the Captain had threatened to do untold things to them if we lost). This is actually a curious point, as El capitan is known to be a little quiet on the pitch, many of the Iron Army have called for a more verbal approach to the captaincy. Afro and Rob both contributed well in creating chances and Afro in particular seemed to regain his form as he peppered the opposition goal from distance. However it was Thearle again who combined well with the Captain to draw the Chefs back level.

In the dying moments of the game it was the "White ninja midget" Bucky who leapt like a leper from the defensive line to nail the coffin shut. 3-2 and the Iron Chefs narrowly maintained their winning ways.

Leading goalscorers (total as after matchday 8)
El Capitan- 13
Thearle- 11
Bucky- 4
Andre- 3
Afro- 1

Online Poll: How long can the Iron Chefs maintain their winning streak?

Good God!.... or has he been a bad God?

2005-09-01T20:34:00.000+09:30

ADELAIDE. Thearle esq. Papal envoy reports.

The mighty Lord God (pictured right in a recent family picture) was brought before the Adelaide magistrates court today on charges relating to the Environment protection (water quality) act 2003. The charges relate to incidents in the distant past and so the act has been invoked in retrospect; a move that God's lawyers are challenging.

Specifically the charges relate to the parting of the Red Sea which took place in an unspecified place and year (something-or-other BC). Family friend of the God family, Moses has also been implicated as an accomplice based upon written evidence presented to the court during the opening morning of proceedings:

“And Moses stretched out his hand over the sea; and Jehovah caused the sea to go back by a strong east wind all the night, and made the sea dry land, and the waters were divided. And the children of Israel went into the midst of the sea upon the dry ground: and the waters were a wall unto them on their right hand, and on their left” (Exodus 14:21-22).

Lucifer De Vil QC acting for the prosecution referred specifically to Division 1 of the act, which states:

General obligation to avoid discharge etc. into waters
(1) A person who is undertaking an activity, or is an occupier of land, must take all reasonable and practicable measures (not being measures that themselves cause environmental harm) to avoid the discharge or deposit of waste from that activity or land—
(a) into any waters; or
(b) onto land in a place from which it is reasonably likely to enter any waters (including by processes such as seepage or infiltration or carriage by wind, rain, sea spray, or stormwater or by the rising of the water table)

The prosecution case noted that the remains of Egyptian chariots in the red sea constituted excessive waste and a real threat to the local fragile ecosystem. Furthermore the exact loss of life resulting from the washing away of countless Egyptian lives was tantamount to genocide and murder charges could be brought before the court pending further evidence.

God who has lived a somewhat reclusive lifestyle since these and other events around the same time, refused to comment as he left the courthouse this afternoon. However he did point his finger to the sky in a somewhat rude gesture causing a sudden crack of lightning and this writers trousers to fall about his ankles.

This story will be updated as news comes to hand.

Chefs Crush Speed Addicts (Bucky Reitano new face of Road safety campaign: "I am not road kill")

And in sporting news this weekend just passed, the Iron Chefs stretched their winning streak to seven games consolidating their grip on first place in the Windsor Castle of Doom Blogger's conference league. Faced with a demented opposition clearly made up of ex-felons and Glenside escapees the Chefs were cool and calm as they swept aside their opposition in a 7-2 belting. El Capitan Balestrino scored an impressive 4, Thearle added 2 and Andre "The Giant" also added his name to the tally. Phil was sublime in goal, exerting a strange gravitational force that saw almost every opposition shot reach his firm grip or go skidding wide of the posts. Andre "the Giant" crushed all in his path as he maintained the Chefs defensive line in typical fashion. However Afro Assikas, who has been plagued by a recent back injury and subsequent poor form (see goalscorers tally) has been in rumours linked to local rival Real Madras. The Iron Chefs fan club has in response to this latest revelation set up an online petition to stop the loved Greek player leaving the club (add your name to the petition in the comments below).

Leading Goalscorers (total as after gameweek 7)

El Capitan Supremo Balestrino I- 13

Thearle- 9

Bucky "Rest, revive, survive" Reitano- 3

Andre "The Giant"- 3

Afro Assikas- 1

Middle East roadmap to peace- who needs it?

2005-08-31T20:32:00.000+09:30

Image at left: The most intelligent thing that George W Bush has ever done? Resigned to both being obese, stubborn and completely detrimental to any kind of peace in the Middle East, the Israeli leader and his Palestinian counterpart consider ending it all.

Ahhh, the only thing that could make this image better would be if ol' George had a third gun for himself. Anyway folks this posting is unfortunately not a political rambling for your reading digest, rather it is just a quick line by way of an apology for not posting recently. I know the diehard readers had anticipated another fascinating Iron Chefs report, but Greek Chef "Aphrodite's lover" Assikas has kindly taken that responsibility this week. However I have included below an updated goalscorers tally:

Goalscorers (total as after matchday 6)
El Capitan supremo Balestrino- 9
Thearle-7
Bucky Reitano- 3
Andre "The Giant"- 2
Afro "spineless (in the sense that he has a bad back, not his lack of courage)" Assikas- 1

Anyway I hope to post again soon, I am contemplating putting God up on trial since I figure that he has a bit to answer for, so that hopefully will provide interesting reading. Take care all, will be in touch as soon as I have had God charged with something (no offence intended to the devout).

Cheers.
Her Majesty's most law abiding, faithful, trustworthy and just generally a "good guy" subject
Thearle esquire

Self service dining room opened at the Windsor Castle

2005-08-22T12:56:00.000+09:30

Season ticket holder numbers have skyrocketed at the Windsor Castle in recent weeks on the back of the Iron Chef's impressive start to the season. Club officials have seized the opportunity (and cash windfall) opening the league's first self service dining room, for players, officials and fans alike. Greek Chef "I'm definitely not lebanese" Assikas christened the glitzy new facility by purchasing a whole chicken, loaf of bread (heavily reduced to only $1.50) and bottle of orange juice (also reduced). The feast that ensued was reminiscent of the good ol' days when men were men and not a bunch of preening, prancing ponies. However suggestions that the Iron Chefs preen, prance or have anything to do with ponies would be folly in light of two physical encounters over the past two weeks.

Firstly to matchday 4, where the Chefs faced a team of dubious quality (the name of which I confess to have forgotten). Anyway I won't dwell on it too long, the point is the Chefs were 2-0 winners thanks to Andre and Rob and Phil keeping a clean sheet in goal. The scoreline doesn't really reflect fairly on the game, and the score should have been more like 18-0. Notably Thearle squandered numerous chances, Afro was on target but not lethal enough and Captain Marvel ran a bit dry. But a win is a win and the Chefs extended their winning streak to 4 games.

Now to the more recent encounter (yesterday), where the opening of the "Ghandi George Feasting Hall" threatened to overshadow the actual game. Boystrous crowds (when men were men etc) milling about enjoying the bountiful fare on offer in the dining hall delayed kick off. However it was a game worth waiting for.

The Chefs looked jaded early on and conceded an early goal, suggestions are rife of stricter curfews on the star Chefs players, most of whom seem to lead some sort of playboy lifestyle. Some fans have felt disenfrancised in recent weeks as they lose identity with their Captain; "Balestrin seems to want to model himself on Beckham" one punter noted. Of course these disgruntled fans refer to the Captain's recent appearance in Alpha magazine with Rob's red hot top ten tips for a clean shave and his new deal as the new face of Gillette (the best a man can get). Furthermore Chef Afro seems to have read the column, sporting a new DIY hairstyle and cementing himself as the Chefs pin-up boy, he modelled the "un-showered dirty legs look" when he donned the coveted yellow shirt yesterday.

Nonetheless, the Chefs held their heads high and Thearle coming off the bench heralded something of a turnaround. The supersub drew the Chefs level promptly slotting past the hapless keeper. Then came what many commentators hailed as the real turning point in the match, a clinical Thearle strike of epic proportions swerved into the top right hand corner to put the Chefs ahead. Soon after the break Thearle struck again for his hatrick and to put the Chefs into a comfortable 3-1 lead.

The Chefs never really looked threatened again, both Bucky and Captain "Cleanshaven (the best a man can get)" put the issue beyond doubt with equally dutiful strikes. 5-1 and the Iron army were elated, can the chefs be stopped? This seems to be the question on many pundit's lips now, although having the best record in the league they still only sit second. But few would doubt that the Chefs will make a finals appearance and are the team to be watched this season.

Goalscorers (Total as after matchday 5)
Thearle-6
Captain Balestrin-6
Andre-2
Bucky-2
Afro-1

In an effort to expand this statistics section I will try to conduct a regular online poll. This weeks question is: Which Iron Chef sports the best hairstyle? (explantions and justifications welcomed)
Answers will be compiled and results published with the next match report.

Ha ha Glenn McGrath, slips on balls and wears a dirty bra (chant with gusto)

2005-08-16T19:17:00.000+09:30

3 tests down and 2 to go. The 2005 Ashes test series is poised on a knife edge, armchair experts can't decide which way it will go; will Australia pull off a "lucky country" escape to retain the coveted urn? or can Vaughan's valiant men restore dignity to the gentleman's game?

After a dismal showing at Lord's, all the critics had England written off again. My Grandad told me he wouldn't be watching any of the cricket this summer since England were a bunch of no-hopers. It would seem though that the second test at Edgbaston and the more recent third test at Old Trafford have proved both the critics and my Grandad wrong.

When Glenn McGrath, that well known cocky New South Welshman slipped on a ball before the Edgbaston test had even begun, it was his injury and absence that was blamed for the subsequent England victory. As though the fate of the Ashes were resting on his shoulders alone, Australians rejoiced in his swift return to fitness for the third test and expected a return to the days of old when an Australian triumph was more or less guaranteed. However Australia and in particular the cocky, over spoilt, devoid of any sense of reality Australian players were put on notice last weekend. The days of smacking England all over the wicket are over. Sure it may have ended in a draw, but there can be no doubt who the better side were.

The demi-god McGrath failed miserably in England's first innings and Shane Warne was the best of the Aussie batsmen again. England on the other hand continued to impress and it wouldn't be too fantastical to claim we are watching one of the best England teams in many a year (but that's not exactly a tall feat is it?). Anyway be warned Australia, you are on notice.

Trent Bridge, here we come. nb. We should have an Ashes night soon, we can all watch England teach the damn convicts a lesson.

As a closing note, I do not appreciate anonymous entreprenuers advertising their wares on my site, the comments section is for devoted subscribers only. This site shall not succumb to the type of terrorist activity that has recently dogged and all but destroyed another sister-site oldrob.blogspot.com

The love god strikes back at his Goddess, formerly titled: What do beastiality, curry and The Woolshed have in common?... The Goddess!

2005-08-13T13:44:00.000+09:30

Despite the above title I do not profess to be an expert when it comes to the female of the species. Indeed it is one of man's greatest failures I feel that he has not deciphered the web of intrigue that surrounds members of the contrary gender; especially put against the context of man's other great achievements. For instance, man has successfully imposed his churches and religion on the rest of mankind and more significantly used that religion to keep women effectively under his control as second class citizens (I've just finished reading "The Da Vinci Code", those of you that have read it will know where I am coming from). No mean feat, I am sure you would agree.

Nb. I don't fully endorse 'The Da Vinci Code", where fact becomes fiction is a topic for another posting, and the content is both extremely provocative and debatable.

Anyway despite my failings as a mere man, I have been involved in a mutually consential contemporary romantic arrangement with a member of the opposite sex for some time now and feel that I have a good enough if not sound platform for what I am about to deliberate. I am always struck with great interest to be around my male friends who harbour a desire to meet a socially acceptable young lady (ie. not a tramp) and to initiate an ongoing romantic understanding. Of particular interest is one young virile male friend/teammate/dancing and singing partner who has actually written a series of articles entitled "Women how I love thee" which explore the reasons (many but not all sexually deriven) why he loves women. Another young friend, let's call him phatty also displays a heady desire to meet female company and I doubt that I need mention Hoogster as many of us would be well informed of his exploits at his place of employ. These young men are not unique and my intent doesn't lay in vilifying them for these desires, indeed I believe I speak for most young men in saying most of us wish to meet some young spunkette. I am indeed lucky to find myself in such an arrangement , and do not seek to dissuade these young studs from their aims; so girls go out there and get 'em (they are all perfectly respectable young gentlemen) .My primary aim here is to shed light on what one actually involves oneself in when one embarks on a romantic odyssey such as the one I am currently involved in. What follows here is an account of a typical night out with the Goddess, since time spent with the Goddess is rarely a trivial affair, anything can and usually does happen. So then an account that draws on the actual events of friday night...

I finished a particularly busy and trying shift at work at 7pm, the nature of which was only uplifted slightly by the surprise visit of good friend Phatty T and the knowledge that I'd be meeting the Goddess after work. 7pm came around and sure enough the Goddess awaited me outside, we had planned to see a show at the festival theatre that started at 7.30 and so hurried down so as not to miss the start. It is worth noting here that I had agreed to go to this show one week earlier when we had both had a few drinks, and consequentially had forgotten exactly what sort of show it was (an infraction I feel sure that the Goddess will not forgive lightly). However the Goddess has always had an artistic side and I've trusted her taste and judgement without question, and so it was no different on this occasion and I looked forward optimistically to the show.

The goat or who is Sylvia? as I found out the show is called upon arrival at the festival theatre is marketed as a comedy and future classic, or more simply the one word description on the flyer says "unforgettable". I am inclined to agree with that judgement. Briefly The goat follows the story of an affluent American architect who has to tell his wife (whom he claims to love devoutly) that he has been having an affair with Sylvia, now here comes the twist... Sylvia is a goat. I began to shift uneasily in my chair as it became apparent that one of the core themes to the play is indeed beastiality. And not only was it confined to Sylvia the goat; geese, dogs and pigs also rated a mention. To say I was a little bemused would be an understatement, had the Goddess known what the play was about? if so then was she hoping to provoke some kind of reaction in me? These were both questions running through my mind. However it must be noted that I was thoroughly entertained if not a little sickened at the same time. The goat lived up to it's label as a comedy and I certainly won't forget it too soon. The Goddess giggled (as only she can) throughout the performance, a sweet innocent reaction that placated my fears that she may be trying to send me some kind of subliminal message. However this is becoming a bit of a recurring occurrence with the Goddess, on our very first date we saw a very strange Spanish film which involved a male voluntary nurse getting a girl in a coma pregnant, and if that's not strange enough the film is punctuated by random dream scenes in which the male nurse (in miniature) walks over the girl's naked body and eventually into her womb... via you know where... hm hm...oh gosh I think I'm blushing.

Upon leaving the theatre I needed a drink before going for a bite to eat, and so we ducked into the bar beneath the theatre (it's ok I didn't know it was there either) to restore our (or mine at least) composure. By now it was nearing 10pm and we were going to have trouble finding a kitchen still open, however just over the road from the Casino, halfway up Bank street is a most dubious Indian establishment named the Tandoori Hut. Upon entering one is greeted by a huge mural of the Taj Mahal which would make Ghandi George gush with homesickness. Looking around we realised we were the only people there, except for the chattering of Indian accents somewhere towards the back behind a huge mirrored wall in what one can only presume is the kitchen. Eventually a turbaned chap emerged and greeted us, I made mention of my tenuous links to the British Raj and he hastily ushered us to some seats (looking around nervously as though he feared a shortage of tables). As we were seated he mentioned that we could only pay cash since the credit card facilities had been shut down for the evening, I replied courteously that the wealth of the British Raj had been somewhat depleted since the days of empire (due to the filthy pilfering Indians no doubt!!!....... bite the bait Shaun) and not possessing a credit card then this would not prove a problem. Left to peruse the menu we decided to share a few things, selecting a few plates of choice rice, nan bread and then a Chicken Moghali (done the mongolian way- not very Indian) and a Lamb korma (despite the performance we had just seen). Another Indian fellow (un-turbaned) came to take our order and mentioned that since the credit card facilities were shut down we would have to pay cash, deja vous was beginning to set in. Having taken our order he left us to enjoy our meal, and I must say despite the rest of the restaurant being deserted I thoroughly enjoyed it- hearty Indian fare always gets me right there!! I made mention to the Goddess that I thought this would be a good place to come as a large group (at least we would be giving them some trade, and to be frank the prices were amongst the cheapest I've seen anywhere).

As we left into the chill of the night air the turbaned and un turbaned staff bid us "thank you, come again". We spent much of the rest of the night hopping from bar to bar, quite normal until the Goddess suggested that we go to the Woolshed to play pool (she has a mean competitive streak) and check out the cricket score (a topic for another post!!! Which I am sure I'll enjoy writing). I am sure most of you know (and sensibly avoid) the Woolshed, proclaimed somewhat dubiously as a country pub brought to the city. It was remember a Friday night and as we walked toward the entrance it was obvious that they weren't doing a brisk trade; only a few old gals line dancing, whilst Troy Dann (remember him!) and a few bruddas looked on drowning their sorrows with a few crownies (everyone knows that despite the apparent yuppie appeal, only bogans drink piss weak Crown Lager). So it seemed logical they might like our custom to boost the takings a little. Approaching the door the rather bored looking bouncer looked us over and as we went to enter I bid him good evening, however he stopped us just short of breaching the door and motioning towards me said "Sorry mate, can't go in. Wrong dress code".
[DEEP BREATH]
[DEEP BREATH]
Now I don't think I have ever been denied entry to any establishment for inappropriate dress code, let alone the bloody Woolshed!!! Those of you who know me personally (rather than just some cyber twit who writes random mutterings on this blog), will know that I try to take a certain amount of pride in my appearance (you have to do something when your as ugly as me!!). I don't think of myself as a "prettyboy" and I certainly hope that I don't come across that way, but I do like to make a little effort. On this particular evening I wore jeans, a shirt and vest; not overly "hip" or "trendy" I thought, but presentable. Those of you that have ever been to The Woolshed will know it as domain of the cowboy hat, bumster (outrageous) flare, flannelette shirt and steel cap boot (likely to have last seen wear amongst the sh*t on the nearest cattle station). And so you can imagine my incredulity at being denied entry to such a place.

It was all in all quite a surreal night and so hopefully you can take something from this, my message is to those of you who continue to write of your quest for the divine feminine. Take stock and beware, these girls you speak of are cunning creatures. Yet having said that, it all sounds rather nice, doesn't it?

Japan's greatest contribution to the cultural world & the Chefs continue their Iron march onwards and upwards.

2005-08-07T16:24:00.000+09:30

Word amongst the regulars around the usual haunts would have one believe that things are pretty same old, same old. Croatia's first boat person continues to snort things (read spilt cocktail) up his nasal passage and has recently developed an unhealthy zeal for talking of another bodily orifice, unique to the male of the species (use your imagination) and how he has read of painful (or so I imagine) penetrations of said orifice with unusual implements. Captain Cleanshaven has lately started to paint himself in a new light, becoming more militant by the day but not for anything of any particular importance, rather he has launched a damning attack against facial hair (of all things), labelling all those who choose to adorn themselves with a little stubble as socially irresponsible and insensitive to the feelings of the ladies. One can only presume that in the ideal world around rob that all the ladies think exactly the same and are attracted to exactly the same type of guy- but is that guy really Rob?

And those regulars would be more or less right, things are pretty much business as usual- after all the Iron Chefs won again this weekend, however I'll come to that shortly. Firstly I'd like to focus on the Saturday night just passed, having finished slaving away in my place of employ at about 12.15 I headed out with some of the boys in celebration of the Bearhunter's 21st birthday and had an extremely acceptable time, albeit not exactly atypical of a night with this group of delinquents.

Rendevousing at the Belgian Beer Bar we moved along to PJs where we quickly discovered that Saturday night plays host to the upstairs karaoke evening. Captain Cleanshaven who as many readers will know has a somewhat unhealthy penchant for all things Asian was keen, and I expressed enthusiasm given that it had been a whole month since I'd last strutted my stuff in Chile (I was suffering withdrawal symptoms). However others expressed reservations, in particular Bucky was concerned that he may be laughed at for his squeaky voice and Sanjeev "I only sing in Bollywood" George queried whether it mattered that he is black, at which point I suggested he could give us a Michael Jackson number.

Despite the reservations we all piled upstairs and soon had our names down for a few hits. Rob and I started us off with Ol' Blue Eye's "My Way", now I am no talent when given a microphone but I believe we were recieved well and warmed up the crowd for our upcoming headline act. I had never seen the Captain perform his solo "Blue suede shoes", but having seen it once I'll go on the record stating that I want to see more. "Chocolate for the ears" I heard one punter remark, but really he did sound like the King and he had all the leg movements going on as well. To his credit he also dealt with the usual (or in this case unusual) on stage hiccups well also- halfway through, his gyrating groin and leg movements were becoming a little over enthusiatic and resulted in causing the CD player (situated on the stage) to skip to another song.... "bee buba looba she's my baby" started scrolling up the screen, but he continued singing on in his creamy Elvis voice anyway! a true talent.

A few of us including the birthday bearhunter then gave a rusty rendition of "California dreaming" and finally Croatia's first and most shameful boat person and Dazza amongst others finished us off with "Can't stop" by the Chilli willies. The Goddess made an appearance as we were finishing "California dreaming", but I think she was glad to have missed "my way" (sang my way). All that was missing was Afro "Aphrodites child" the Greek's must-see cover of Van Halen's "Jump" and word on the grapevine has it that Hoogster gives a heartwrenching rendition of "sultanas on the grapevine" (line-dancing included) from the old Sultana Bran adverts.

The Karaoke at PJ's finishes at 2.30 so we had to move on. In the mood for one of the Chinese long necks that one can consume at Supermild we went there, only to find on arrival they no longer stock it. Nonetheless we perserved like the good christian soldiers (or islamic in phatty Tashkent's case) that we are.... (odd thing to have written actually, as I hold no particular religous affiliation and I am reasonably sure that "Ghandi" George is a good hindi boy). Still, we drank up and more importantly burnt up the dance floor. Readers may remember my brief dancing career in Chile and some of the lads were keen to see me at work, however the foxy Goddess wasn't in the mood for my foxtrot (she'd had enough of it friday night), so I needed someone else to dance with. The recently crowned King Captain Crooner stepped up and I must admit I blushed as he let me dip him. Next up was Bucky who I think must have been jealous, we tried a spin but the poor dear had forgotten to stow his beer somewhere- as we spun a spiral of coopers pale flew through the air, it was beautiful. All in all a very pleasant evening.

Moving along, a quick fire Iron Chefs report....

Sitting in third before Sunday's late 9pm fixture the Chefs were looking to consolidate their enviable start to the season. Schuma United (aka. Welland Green Grocers) appeared a formidable opposition (because they were all wogs and I get intimidated anytime I face a side that looks like the Italian national side- don't ask me why). The Windsor Castle was packed to the rafters in anticipation and the faithful were rewarded early on as Captain "I sing, dance and score goals" poked a tame shot passed the flapping goalkeeper of mediterranean extraction. The rest of the first half was a scrappy affair and the Green Grocers were getting increasing frustrated and agressive. Afro (who was already mildly pissed off since he'd missed the previous night's song and dance) had trouble keeping a lid on his rising temper, however he let his feet do the talking and proved a valuable asset working the ball from defence into the attack.

The second half saw the green grocers self destruct as bitter infighting and arguing with the ref gripped their team. The Chefs took advantage and played with a cool air of supremacy, they took their time and consolidated their lead when Thearle struck a commandment from heaven into the bottom left hand corner of the hapless grocer's net. Admittedly there were moments when the Chefs failed to close down the opposition attack quickly enough, the attackers didn't drop back at all times when needed, however Phil in goal played a blinder keeping his first clean sheet of the season. The Captain of the moment put the final nail in the coffin a few minutes from time when a loose ball came his way, he swivelled on it and struck it first time on his right foot finding the net. Both Andre and Bucky were pivotal in defence and the team can be happy with a third consecutive win. It's also worth noting that after the game Schuma United withdrew in frustration totally from the league- an all wog team that couldn't hack the Iron Chefs- I think I am cured of my wog intimidation.

Goalscorers (total as after matchday 3)
Captain Balestrin-4
Thearle-3
Afro-1
Andre-1
Bucky-1

Prodigal son returns: The beginning of a Chefs renaissance?

2005-07-31T20:49:00.000+09:30

Having now been back in Adelaide for 2 weeks it is probably time that I wrote something new, I am sure most readers will be glad of an end to Chile related postings. However this does leave me with something of a quandary; suitable writing material has become a little hard to come by- Eduardo may have been a dick but he gave me a veritable spring of hardy writing matter.

Today I turn my attention to the beginning of the Iron Chef's new campaign to secure silverware from the Windsor Castle- preferably winning it in emphatic style, but if we grow desperate we'll scale the walls. However firstly I'd like to say how nice it has been to see everyone since I've been back and to those that I still have not seen that I look forward to seeing you soon.

The Chef's new season began in earnest last weekend with a return to the side of the highly talented although equally modest Thearle. Although his absence proved not to be detrimental to the Chef's onfield performances throughout last season, it did herald something of a return to a classic Chef's outfit- old geezers who've been passing through the turnstiles at the Windsor Castle for years could be seen to hold back the odd tear last Sunday as they watched their valiant son don the traditional yellow attire once again. (Better move along- I could risk talking myself up a little too much)....

The traditional line up favoured by Captain "Cleanshaven" Balestrin included Phil, Bucky Reitano, the Greek god Afro, Thearley and the Captain himself. Speculation whether the veteran team could possibly be over the hill didn't deter the Iron Army from attending in force to see their aging charges take the field against what was definitely a sharper and fitter looking opposition.

Unpeturbed and lacking the benefit of a substitute the Chefs rose to the occasion. Captain Balestrin added his name to the score sheet twice, with Thearle scoring on return and Afro being rewarded for one of his many forays into attack also. Phil played a splendid game between the posts although conceding one goal may have detracted slightly from what was otherwise a positive beginning to the season. The Chefs finished 4-1 to the good, asserting themselves as an agressive competitor not to be dismissed this season.

This week's game was a family affair as Afro faced his brother who lined up for Undecided. Spirits were high as Chefs fans and players alike continued to gloat in light of their positive beginning to the season last week. Furthermore the addition of Andre who had been absent last week provided the advantage of a substitute to keep fresh legs rotating onto and off of the bench. Andre proved his worth only minutes into the game, netting the first strike and giving the Chefs the upper hand. Despite the lead the Chefs were looking shaky, Captain Balestrin was quoted after the game as having said "defensive play was sloppy and attackers failed to drop back on occasion, question marks hang over the conduct of players the night before a game- excessive drinking and partying seem to have become a cultural mainstay of our side and disciplinary action could be on the cards; I for one would like to see an end to facial hair". Sibling rivalry seemed to creep into Afro's game, although if anything it only added to the intensity with which he played. Nervous onlookers were later placated however as Bucky scored an absolute pearler resulting from some nice passing- reminiscent of classic Chefs fixtures. Thearle later consolidated the Chef's supremacy making it 3, although Undecided featured on the score sheet twice they were always chasing. The Chefs can be happy with the 3-2 win but go away with the knowledge that work is still needed.

Goalscorers(total as after matchday 2)
Captain Balestrin-2
Thearle-2
Afro-1
Andre-1
Bucky-1

Swing low sweet chariot (decrepit Aerolineas Argentinas Airbus-something-or-other:circa 1965), coming forth to carry me home

2005-07-05T03:30:00.000+09:30

Después de cuatro y media meses aqui, el viernes yo saldré de Chile. A ustedes yo les quiero decir "gracias" por todas las veces que ustedes me han escrito. Además, yo le debo decir "gracias" a Chile y su gente.

Durante los cuatro y media meses aqui, yo he tenida una perspectiva muy interesante para observar la cultura chilena; en obvio mis experiencias en Chile han estado definidas por la homosexualidad, las drogas y la prostitución. Yo no olvidaré nunca mi tiempo en Chile, pero más importante no he olvidados mis amigos de Australia.

Adios Chile, hola Australia.

how is the spelling/grammar nick?!

Faithful readers firstly sorry for writing the opening passage in Spanish, it's an unashamed effort at showing off. However I feel sure there are numerous errors, besides which it isn't anything too profound anyway. The time has come for me to bid "adios" to Chile and this posting is only as a way of a farewell to Chile and a thanks to all the readers that have returned weekly to stay in touch and check I am still alive. I express my profound thanks to you all and in the event that my Aerolineas Argentinas flight makes it to the other side of the Pacific in one piece then I look forward to seeing you all soon.

Take care all,
Nos vemos pronto
john

If your queer and you know it and you really want to show it, then you've now got a reason to clap your hands.

2005-07-01T03:10:00.000+09:30

This week saw the historic passing of bills in both Canada and Spain legalising gay marriage. In Spain, a typically catholic country the bill went one step further and allowed gay couples to adopt children also (this may have been the case in Canada also, however I have not read anything confirming that).

The stage now seems set for an orgy of similar behavior all over the globe, some prominent gay rights activists in Australia have called for the Raunchy Revolution to begin and in Chile the gayness continues as normal (according to my cohabitant Jorrit the Dutchman, Eduardo had a male prostitute in the bathroom to fix his pipes yesterday). This really shouldn't bother the Dutch though as they were one of the first countries to embrace same sex marriage and as regular readers will I am sure be aware a fellow "blogger" Hoogster of Dutch descent has famously dethroned himself of his closet several times.

After the Dutch set the trend in 2001, Belgium who has to do everything that Holland does (in fact I think Belgium fancies Holland) followed suit in 2003. The Scandinavian countries (who took free love little too far in the 60s and have never looked back) have a system of registered partnerships which just falls short of a marriage, but one can imagine that it's only a matter of time until they take it the whole way.

Recently deposed Australian football coach Frank Farina has in rumours been linked with clubs in the Spanish Primera Liga, citing the ability to stroll sunny mediterranean beaches amongst buff bronzed bodies and watch his latin charges prance about the Nou Camp or the Bernabeu wearing gay hair bands Frank said frankly "the opportunity to coach in Spain would be simply fab but I've also had an approach from Queer eye for the straight guy to take over the role as the FashionFag (horrid green&gold tracksuits for all) so I have to weigh up my options". Later queeried about the prospect of coaching in Canada Frank responded in the negative "too many guys with pasty white legs for my liking", he probably has a point though; pasty white guys in flashy white boots is perhaps not a good look.

Conservatives have predictably been quick to damn the new legislation, in typical conservative fashion damning all the vile sinners to hell. However a spokesman for the devil later announced that hell was getting a bit full and they wouldn't be taking anymore homosexuals since the right honourable Lord Satan desired an equilibrium from all cultural, racial, socio-economic and sexual groups, the spokesman added that they were particularly looking for sinners from white, conservative, middle class homes.

A crisis then seems set to grip decent society, with homosexuals barred from hell (temporarily at least, since it won't take long for hell to fill up with white, conservative, middle class sinners) where are they all to go? Asked whether some could be detoured to heaven St. Peter said that the good Lord was unavailable for comment and that his chief spokesman Jesus was on holiday in Ibiza with a close pal Gabriel, however he did suggest that John Howard might be willing to take some into his fab holiday homes at Baxter, Port Hedland and Villawood.

Radicals have suggested that we could all just tolerate them (the homosexuals, not the radicals). Such suggestions provoked a White House statement in which George Bush declared a war on tolerance citing the proliferation of Weapons of Mass Seduction(WMS) as a threat to our very way of life. But really shouldn't we be striving for a better way of life? is this really as good as it gets? Bring on the tolerance and the WMS I say.

Bambi returns, the great sock conspiracy and why the world would be a better place if the Americans hadn't won their war of independence in 1776

2005-06-29T05:28:00.000+09:30

Apologies for the long winded title, however I found it difficult to adequately capture the essence of this posting- you be the judge.

Firstly to the rather grandly named "great sock conspiracy" which really just describes my ongoing frustration with the local laundry, staffed by Chile's stupidest man. Typically I put myself through the agony of taking my clothes to the laundry once a week. A few deep breathes and then I enter to confront complete incompetence in it's purest form. Since I have been here, the the gross kilo-age of laundry I take each week has fluctuated very little, however one can be guaranteed that laundry-man will determine the load to be completely different to the previous week. Some weeks I am charged for one "carga" (one load) and other weeks for "carga y media" (one and a half loads). We then come to 2 key points that confuse me, firstly the cost between 1 "carga" and "carga y media" is almost double- how can this be so? I am no maths whiz but even I can work out that something fishy is going on. Secondly laundry man determines the load by merely looking at the basket that you have emptied your clothes into; surely this is a scientifically flawed method, no one man can determine the gross kilo-age of laundry simply by looking at it; some method of weighing the laundry is needed surely.

The frustration doesn't stop here, upon picking up my laundry (the same day, so admittedly it is convenient in this way- other chilean laundries hold your clothes for ransom until the following day or even over the weekend), laundry man accepts my payment and gives me a hand written receipt where he writes either "carga" or "carga y media" according to his whim and presumably magic sight that day. The thing here is that it takes him about 5 minutes to write "carga", I have to watch him physically strain to think how to spell it, how hard can it be? he must write it tens if not hundreds of times each day aaarrrrggggghhhhhhhhhhh.......C-A-R-G-A. I think on my last visit to laundry man I'll jump over the counter and write it for him. To top it all off, I have feeling he has been stealing my socks. I am not yet at the mid life crisis stage where one counts one's socks however I feel sure that I don't have as many socks as I used to. I may count them this week and see if he returns to me the same number, I'll let you know the result.

Moving on, regular readers will recall my account of the soap opera scale drama of the Eduardo-Jonathan break up and will no doubt remember one of the cheif protagonists Bambi (stage name, real name- Raimundo). In the aftermath of daytime TV's biggest shock since rich afro-american women were allowed to host patronising mummsy chat shows, I didn't see Bambi for quite a while. I later found out that he and Eduardo had not been the best of freinds after Jonathan had run off with Miguel and hence didn't expect to see Bambi again. However last week Eduardo and I went to Brians 24th birthday (Brian is an American friend of Eduardo's who teaches English to Chileans and also arguably "worlds most boring man"). The party was held in quite a nice apartment, particularly conducive to parties and I don't think I have ever seen so many (drunk)Americans in one place at one time (I did feel a little nauseous at times, particularly when some whiny woman from Wisconsin started to talk to me about the pronounciation of Aluminium), anyway Bambi was in attendance and although my first query was whether we would be treated to a drag show (the answer to which was a flat "no"), he and Eduardo made peace.

The aforementioned party leads to the final matter alluded to under this posting's title; although it was admittedly quite a good shindig- lots of people etc, Brian failed on one point. He'd obviously thought that he might as well try and cash-in on the affair, most invitees including Eduardo and myself had brought some booze with us as you do to a party however as most readers will know the booze you bring to a party rarely lasts the whole night. At this point many people stop drinking or simply pitch in with whomsoever else has some booze with them- things usually work out equal by the end. However the entreprenuerial (spelling?) Brian being host had stocked up on quite a bit of booze and at about 11.30 opened his own private bar in his apartment and actually charged people for a drink. One would have to pay Rumina (Brian's Chilean girlfriend- he infoms me he couldn't get an American one so came to Chile) then take one's receipt to Bambi (who was by this stage manning the bar, and drinking most of the stock) in order to recieve one's drink. Admittedly it was quite cheap, but is that just not absurd? Is it just me? Has anybody else ever heard of such a practice? if so I'd love to hear from you. I was not the only person taken aback, Eduardo although a close freind of Brian's, yet a total tight arse was a little miffed also. It must be an American thing, only americans would know how to spoil a party by charging for drinks (there was even a price list), they ruin most things.

Anyway, enough of a whinge for this week. Take care all.

A regular posting will follow soon...

2005-06-28T04:40:00.000+09:30

Readers, disgruntled Australian football fans should check out this site,
www.sackfrank.com
If nothing else it's mildly amusing.

A regular posting will follow soon.
Cheers

"¿Tienes fuego?" said the caveman to the gentleman

2005-06-23T05:01:00.000+09:30

As a regular contributor to the realm of internet literature I often come across other sites of interest and profound intellectual substance, many of which are written by close associates of mine. One such site readers may remember me referring to is www.hoogster.blogspot.com where one man's mission to completely reconstruct the English language according to his whim has gained a reasonable following. Recently though I've been introduced to a new site www.oldrob.blogspot.com written by "El Capitan Chef" (there you go Rob, now I'm even advertising for you!), the site which takes a pretty broad agenda is generally updated daily and thus far has attracted a phenomenal following, albeit a litany of comments concerned with arguing or counterarguing against other readers.

I was interested to read recently a piece amidst the aforementioned broad agenda over the issue of smoking and passive smoking, the talented author (and part time sharp-shooter) presented an impassioned and well thought through argument which struck a particularly resonant chord with me. I agree wholeheartedly with the authors position; "smoking is wack", however think that the situation in the ol' A-d-of-elaide is far better than where I find myself currently. Chile is certainly behind the times so far as smoking is concerned- in Adelaide smokers have a pretty hard time smoking anywhere other than at home and that only threatens to get harder for them in the future. However in Chile very little opposition exists to smoking and indeed I don't believe I would be too off the mark to state that I am one of very few non-smokers.

Smoking in Chile is like smoking used to be in Australia. One can freely destroy one's lungs and indeed those of their neighbors whilst having a meal in a restaurant (illegal in oz), walking through a shopping mall (illegal in oz, I don't think this was ever legal was it?) or whilst in a lecture (urr... I don't know if its illegal but it should be, cos dang that just stooopid). Of course like at home, there seems to be a few more girls that smoke than men, why is that? do they really think it makes them look sexy? are there men that like girls who stink like their dad's ashtray? Of course there may be some young-gun reader out there who would be quick to ask if I'm not being a little hypocritical- I have been known to puff the odd cigar from time to time (generally special occasions), especially in the company of Señor Hoogland. But my aim here is not to take the moral high ground and preach against all your vices- you're all damned vile sinners!... Rather I only wish to draw an interesting comparison between a country where sometime in the near future a man and his gal will be able to cruise the town and return home not smelling like a packet of Woodbines and a country where unfortunately your meal still comes with a side serving of smoke.

As a footnote, it's interesting to note that my typical daily experience with smokers isn't sharing their self induced condemnation (it probably is actually, but I just don't notice it), but rather I on average probably receive 2 or 3 requests a day for a light, in Spanish when one feels like a puff, one asks ¿tienes fuego? which literally translates as "do you have fire?". You can imagine my amusement the first time someone asked me this, but this brings me to my closing thought... no my 2 closing thoughts...
1. Isn't it funny how some languages translate into others?
2. Why do smokers never have a lighter and always have to ask someone? I mean if your going to by a packet of fags then logically you would think of it at the time- do I have a lighter? If not then buy one.... or better still do us all a favour and not buy the damn things in the first place.

Feliz Cumpleaños (happy bloody birthday to me)

2005-06-14T05:10:00.000+09:30

Muchas Gracias (Thankyou very much) to those readers who were kind enough to pass on their birthday wishes after my last post or have emailed me. For other ill-informed readers, I turned 21 today (14/6). 21 years on this godforsaken planet... the end is nigh I tell ye. If you'd told me 21 years ago that I'd celebrate my ability to legally drink in the US whilst in Chile I would probably just have gargled at you.

Chile has a pretty full schedule this week to celebrate the occasion, a student riot was held today in my honour and another is planned for later this week. Perhaps more excitingly I have a spanish exam on Thursday... woah!! get out those party hats!!

Eduardo promised a little while ago to have a little gathering and dinner for me, however nothing has been planned and given his recent behaviour (read last post) I think I can comfortably assume that he has gone back on that as usual.

I've not much else planned, will probably have a few drinks with the foreign student crowd at some point, although I'll probably steer clear of the Koreans from my spanish class after I broke a glass and a chair at their flat over the weekend. However I'll save any serious celebrations for my return to the realm of Oz and my beloved readers. However if any of you get the chance, have a Boags for me (I miss you James). Not much else to report, take care all.

Ps. Krystle see above title, you got it right.

The balding and not-so beautiful

2005-06-09T05:42:00.000+09:30

Readers please forgive me for posting so soon after my last posting, I realise that some of you may not have had the chance to read my previous post yet, however you can do so by scrolling down the page (amazing stuff this technology) to catch up, it's a cracker I promise.

Anyway I post sooner than usual because I feel that I must recount this "telenovela" (soap opera) for my beloved readers as soon as possible. You may remember that I returned from Mendoza in Argentina to discover that the family was no more, Eduardo and Jonathan had split up and Jonathan had upped sticks and left the flat, although at the time I didn't know why.

Over the past week and days the situation has become clearer to me, like a day in Santiago when it has rained and the smog clears to reveal the stunning beauty of the Andes....wow! what an analogy- write that one down Johnny.....urrrrrr I'm typing to myself.

Anyway here's how it goes children....

The protagonists are Eduardo, Jonathan, Bambi (stage name, real name- Raimundo), Miguel (Bambi's boyfriend) and me (sniggering).

It turns out that whilst I was on my Argentinean sojourn, Jonathan took a bit of a fancy to Miguel and the two of them left their respective (although not respectable) partners and so far as I know are living happily ever after.

At the time, I didn't realise that Eduardo was the "dumpee" rather than the "dumper" as he didn't seem too fazed about the whole thing. Eduardo had always been the more dominant of the couple and I had assumed (wrongly obviously) that he had told Jonathan to pack his bags.

Late last week this facade started to come undone for Eduardo, a series of drunken evenings led to emotional outbursts from Eduardo making the situation clear to me. I became a pseudo-counselor (not voluntarily I hasten to add) and I had to put up with such arrogant, self-centred statements (although terribly amusing) as:
"I am special, he can't have left me"
"Jonathan is a bad man" a statement I beg to differ with as I think him a reasonable sort of chap and I hope he his very happy with Miguel.

Moving along, Eduardo's response to the situation has been typical Ed' style with a bit of an extra twist though. Voluminous drinking (booze that I've bought), pursuant use of weed and cocaine and the icing on the cake?.......................... the last few days, consistently each day Eduardo has brought (or bought) a male prostitute home. Now I think of myself as a reasonably open minded chap and by god I've seen some weird shit, especially these last few months, but I struggled to construct any sort of rational response to this, especially since it has occurred normally at about 7 in the evening as I am tucking into my bangers and mash. A few nights ago, he had a 7 o'clock session and then there must have been a special on that night because another session occurred about 1 in the morning (for approx 2 hours according to Jorrit, whose bedroom wall adjoins Eduardo's) , actually poor Jorrit has had a few sleepless nights recently.

Furthermore, it would appear that Jorrit and I are probably funding this new indulgence. Recently Eduardo disclosed to us how much he pays in rent per month for the whole flat, an amount that is only marginally more than I am paying per month for my room. Then it is not hard to deduce that with the money Eduardo gets from myself and Jorrit per month for our respective rooms he is able to pay the rent for the flat, the bills and still come out with a slight profit (a fee for the entertainment perhaps?). I don't wish to appear insensitive to the difference between the Australian and Chilean economic environments, obviously the cost of living in Chile is substantially cheaper for a westerner; a fact that Eduardo loves to lecture about ("look at me the poor Chilean!!"). However I cannot take seriously a man who can't even be bothered to get off his arse in an attempt to find a job and blows what money he does have on drugs and prostitutes. There are many Chileans who are unfortunately substantially poor by western standards, however make an effort to improve their lot in life by going out to work each day. Admittedly there is a need for the Chilean state to start to take some degree of responsibility also, there exists no substantial social security system to speak of in Chile. However I have no hesitation in declaring Eduardo a leech or parasite, whom seems incapable of producing anything for himself- only consumes that around him.

To conclude, I cannot report on how Bambi is faring as I've not seen him for ages. I get the impression that he and Eduardo had a falling out as Jonathan and Miguel did a runner. I can now boast (although I doubt many people would boast about it) to live in a flat where the key themes running throughout the place include homosexuality, frequent drug abuse and prostitution.

Finally, in response to Nick's question with regards to the ownership of the handbag in the photo from my last posting; no it is not my handbag. Apparently it belongs to a lesbian who attended the humble (yet mad) gathering that night, Jorrit claims to have kissed (and converted?) her although I didn't see that as I spent a great deal of the time as pseudo-counselor in the hallway with Eduardo as he balled his eyes out. Jorrit informs me his main aim during his month and a half here is to get "a hot Chilean broad" (his words, not mine, apply thick Dutch accent here), if not then apparently he must return to Holland and marry his Russian ex-girlfriend (although I don't really understand why).

All for now. Take care all, Adios.

Winners don't use drugs... or do they?

2005-06-07T06:10:00.000+09:30

"Jesus the cocaine sniffing savior", originally uploaded by Thearley.

Chile 3-1 Bolivia
Reporter: "our man in Santiago"

Jorrit the Dutchman and myself made our way to the Estadio nacional a few hours earlier to ensure we got some good seats. However it seems that the rest of Chile had the same idea also. We must have stuck out in the crowd as we milled about looking for somewhere to sit because they started pelting us with cups and various other pieces of waste. I quickly deduced that we were definitely not in the family section.

We skulked like the cowards we are to row ZZ (right at the back) primarily so nobody could throw things down on us (I still ended up with confetti in my hair some how). We sat there for near on an hour and a half (thats how early we were) and tried to blend into the crowd. Jorrit bought all the memorablia he could to make himself look like a Chilean but just ended up making himself look like an american tourist. I settled for a Chilean flag which I hoped would double as a weapon if needed (as it happens the pole made of flimsy postal tubing stuff snapped during the first half).

The wait was worth it, the game opened as a physical encounter and the ref was enjoying using his whistle and cards so much that it began to look like a gridiron game (stop-start-stop-start-stop-start......NO STOP!!!). It wasn't long before the inevitable red card came out and Chile were down to ten men. In fairness the bugger deserved to be given his marching orders (he could have got a game with yatala old boys).

Not more than 5 minutes later, Luis Fuentes rose above the Bolivian defence (average height 4 foot nothing) to connect with an in-coming corner and headed the ball goalwards. The Bolivian keeper had obviously been to the same school of goalkeeping as David Seaman because he looked like a dick as he flapped about trying to save it. However to no avail and Chile found themselves a man down but a goal to the good 30 minutes in.

Jorrit and I joined in the singing of "no tienen mar" (you don't have sea) which refers to Bolivia being landlocked as a result of Chile stealing their patch of coastline in about 1884. Another favourite is "vamos a la playa" (lets go to the beach). We didn't have long to learn the lines though as Chile went another goal ahead.

Luis Fuentes found himself on the score sheet again with this second strike, pretty reminscent of his first; another corner although this time no-one connected and it was hoofed back into the box for Fuentes to practice what is obviously his favourite drill.

The second half was more of the same, Chile dominated but their attack was quite weak and they never really broke through. I was beginning to think they could only score from set pieces when Marcelo Salas (who hadn't done anything all game) found the ball in his path, stuck his foot out and ball found net.

Bolivia scored a concilation goal towards the end of the game, but it was of no consequence. The points and the night belonged to Chile, and didn't they know it back at the flat.

Jorrit (who by now is regretting coming to Eduardo's flat) and I arrived back at the flat at about midnight. The plan had been to have a few quiet drinks after the game with Eduardo and Jesus. Upon arrival, the two of them were completely rat-arsed, the Chileans must be like the Japanese or something- they can't handle their drink. Anyway we were greeted in the customary hug and let me kiss your cheek with my smelly breath gesture. Later in the night other dickheads would come-sniff and go, by this point Jesus had decided he would celebrate the victory by sniffing an andean ski field up his nose. He was later to be found laying on the floor wrapped in toilet paper with his arm elegantly shoved up his shirt (I wanted to shove it somewhere else!)

It was a pretty awful evening not least because of the company, but because Jorrit and I bought most of the booze and yet drank very little of it. Eduardo is one of those guys who never buys anything yet consumes almost all of what you have. I have this weekend resolved to kill the "plant" before I leave. I invite readers to offer suggestions of how to kill it and secondly I need a code name for my operation (Nick you love code names, what do you think?)

Take care all.

A "Hoogland" arrives.

2005-06-01T06:40:00.000+09:30

The above title is not a reference to Nicholas siring a love child, I repeat: I AM NOT PREGNANT. Rather it refers to one of his kind, his breed, brethren or species taking up residence in the flat. A flying Dutchman (of the kind that... fly in, rather than the locomotive variety) Jorrit (I am a little unsure of the name and it's spelling at the moment) has... flown in and become the latest addition to the flat. Actually I am suprised that this issue (Nick sporning new life, not Dutch tourists) has not come up before, his blog covers most other social problems I wouldn't be suprised in the future to hear that he's become pregnant through the somewhat lethal combination of persuant popping of "T's" and working his way through the aisles at his place of work as though he is one of the shoppers (this is an in-joke, sorry to those who don't get it... Nick are you up to aisle 3 yet?)

Re-reading this I am probably being a little harsh on the poor chap, sorry Nick I am sure that you will pay me back in kind one day.

Moving on, this Jorritt fellow seems quite interesting, he is a sports writer and journalist from Amsterdam and has written a book about Ajax Amsterdam training sessions. The book (rather unoriginally titled "Ajax training sessions") is in English as well as Dutch so I am reading a copy currently and it is quite an enjoyable read, I never realised there were so many jokes about Finnish football players; I don't think Jorrit likes the Finns (what did the Finns ever do though?). During his research for the book he spent a lot of time with the team, so has met amongst others Ronald Koeman (who was coaching Ajax at the time), of old Ronald (who wasn't a bad player during his time) Jorrit says he is a nice guy but a crap coach; "but I couldn't write that in the book".

Not much else to report. Although I will just mention that Jorrit and I are going to this weekends World Cup qualifying match between Chile and Bolivia. Those of you who are die-hard subscribers will remember that this blog used to feature the occasional Iron Chef's match report, so I hope to have another match report (Chile vs Bolivia) posted sometime next week. Watch this space.

Have a good weekend all. Happy birthday to the following people: Arif (21st), Krystle and Gryzby. Jason are you still alive? (Sorry I didn't get a birthday greeting to you in April but hopefully Nick passed on my regards as requested). Also where is Emil? The occasional profanity from your ill-informed mouth wouldn't go astray... anyway hope your well. Lastly hello blossom, are you out there?- Cherry.

Don't cry for me Argentina...

2005-05-26T05:17:00.000+09:30

There wasn't much crying in Argentina during my sojourn last weekend to the Argentinean city of Mendoza just the other side of the Andes from Chile. However I can imagine there may have been a few tears in Santiago during my absence as Eduardo and Jonathan have separated, now there are only 2 of us in the flat. I almost feel sorry for Eduardo (almost!!) but I can more than imagine various reasons for not stickin it out with Ed'. It's a shame really Jonathan was a nice guy and almost made it bearable living with Eduardo, I now have to face him alone.

I made the Andean crossing to Argentina with two guys both called Mark from Sydney, however we very nearly didn't make it at all. We had planned to leave on Thursday and arrived at the border early evening only to be told that the border had been closed 15 minutes earlier because with all the snow and ice it was too dangerous to let anymore vehicles through; so 3 hours later we found ourselves back in Santiago- 6 hours on a bus to end up where we started! The Friday we tried again leaving Santiago at 7 in the morning, arriving at the border to find the border open and the weather in our favour. However Mark or as I will refer to him "Markbeth" (due to his likeness to Shakespeare's character) had forgotten his passport and couldn't cross into Argentina... What did we do?....give up?.... no! we bribed the immigration officials!! for the price of 2 hotdogs and 2 bottles of coke Markbeth was allowed to pass. It was definitely the dodgiest and funniest thing I have been a party to since being here. To think that by buying the officials their lunch you can enter the country!!

Our actual time in Argentina was very "tranquilo" (easy-going), we saw Star Wars joined a couple of winery tours and gorged ourselves on the biggest Argentinean steaks you have ever seen. On the Sunday night we attended an all you can eat Argentinean BBQ restaurant for the equivalent of $7.50 Australian and I kid-you-not there were people with a whole cow on their plates. For some length of time we were doing our own thing and I took the opportunity to aimlessly wander around the town, perusing the markets and in one moment of cultural inspiration I decided to take a look in the museum of modern art, however once entering found myself at a choir recital (don't worry I was confused as well). The choir was very impressive, although I was disappointed not to have heard "Don't cry for me Argentina" and considered offering to give them my rendition of "Argentina, what's it like to lose a war?" which although a classic I concluded may have been inappropriate.

We were due to return on Monday so that I'd be back in Santiago to complete some work I had due on Tuesday. However wouldn't you know it, we got on the bus at the bus station and sat there for half an hour until they herded us all off again explaining that the border was closed again. We had an extra day in Argentina, I wasn't going to be able to hand my work in and basically the situation was inconvenient to say the least. Eventually we left on Tuesday and just when I thought things were going to be pretty straight forward the bus pulls over and stops. The driver aided by some old geezer who'd appeared changed a tyre; I don't know if you've ever seen someone changing a bus tyre but I certainly hadn't and until this trip hadn't realised how amusing it can be to see a few grown men and the odd old age pensioner struggling with a wheel over half their height (for the record I didn't offer to help, I was more than happy to watch and laugh as I had by this point developed a slight hatred of this particular bus company).

Having changed the tyre/wheel we continued towards Chile and threw ourselves straight into the biggest traffic jam of buses, trucks, tractors and the occasional mule that I have ever seen. We crawled along at a snails pace for over 6 hours; this turned what should be a 7 hour trip between Mendoza and Santiago into a 15 hour ordeal. Finally arriving back at the border we knew that we were going to be confronted by the same problem caused by the absence of Markbeth's passport and had formed a contingency plan, a plan that basically consisted of secreting Markbeth back onto the bus amidst the chaos that is the Los libertadores border crossing if he was refused entry back into Chile.

As it happens he was told that he wasn't going to be able to enter Chile and that because he had no travel documents whatsoever he had essentially been an illegal immigrant for the past 4 days (does that make me a people smuggler?). We were about to resort to the contingency plan when the Argentine official made some subtle signals- another bribe was on the cards. This time it cost Markbeth a tad more than simply lunch for a few fat Argentines, 50 Argentine pesos to be exact (A$25), but at least he got back into the country and boy was I glad that I'd now been party to 2 bribes; in my mind an essential South American experience.

Not much else to report now, hope all are well. Before we do part though it probably warrants a mention that if I shed any tears over the last weekend it would have been for the death of a football club; One man (and an American at that) owning what really amounts to a social institution is sacrilege. For over a hundred years many of the greatest football clubs in the world have been at the heart of many peoples social and sporting lives in the UK, if today a dollar value can be put on that sort of thing then in my mind it has ceased to live.

Ciao for now.

Stranger things have happened?...probably not.

2005-05-14T06:14:00.000+09:30

The family, originally uploaded by Thearley.

The concoction of various illicit substances, numerous late nights and a few too many piscos (Chilean national drink- a vile substance distilled from sweetened grapes of which I hope to smuggle a few bottles back into oz) has taken its toll on Eduardo and the lads. They've all been behaving quite oddly recently, actually I ought to really say "odder" since they were all pretty odd in the first place.

I returned to my hovel from uni earlier this week to be greeted by Jonathan who offered to show me his collection of gay porn on his laptop- an offer I strangely declined. Jonathan works (unlike his partner Eduardo) for IBM and has quite a flash laptop which he seems to use exclusively for downloading music and gay porn; I'm not sure whether IBM would approve!

I ought to correct myself here, as I have been referring to the laptop in the present tense when in fact I should be referring to it in the past. Jonathan was walking home from work a few days later and was mugged at gunpoint, the lucky fellow managed to get away with the laptop, complete I assume with the enviable collection of gay porn! It's quite ironic really, since regular readers will recall my last posting which referred to my encounter with a young hooligan, which by comparison with Jonathans ordeal is obviously a little tame, however I (if not Ed and Jonathan) have seen the funny side.

Moving along, the same day that I turned down the gay porn exhibition I also found Eduardo singing to his "plant". He probably doesn't need to sing to it as it has grown considerably since I have been here. I asked him the other day when he planned to "harvest" and smoke its "fruit", apparently though it needs to grow for almost another year and he plans to set up some artificial lights and things to help it continue growing; so in the near future I could be living in the next room to a drug lab.

Lastly you will notice that finally I have managed to upload a Chilean photo, this taken a few nights ago was the German couple's last night in Santiago so we had a little fiesta for them. The photo is of what Jens refers to as "the family"; those of us who have lived together for the past couple of months. Eduardo and Jonathan are the parents (Ed definitely being the mother) and the three of us they treat as children; I am really fed up with Ed's lectures on all things from the royal family (significant to Chile?- I think not) to how he hates Tio Sam (Uncle Sam; USA). Soon after this photo was taken I wanted another taken with Eduardo and the plant atop his head like a crown, I lifted it high into the air and forgetting how tall it had grown I bent it against the cieling. It now looks quite impotent, however I think it will live. Nonetheless Eduardo was quite upset and we haven't spoken much since. Pathetic little man, just wait until I leave in July- on my last day I am going to feed his "pet" a little poison, teach the bugger a lesson.

All for now, Be in touch again soon, have a good weekend all and GO THE CHEFS!!!

Pasting averted, but I remain hopeful.

2005-05-09T02:59:00.000+09:30

Greetings to all those who continue to subject themselves to my South American diaries. Please forgive my recent tardiness in posting, however almost unbelievably there hasn't really been anything worth writing about these past two weeks.

Pleased to see an English side in the Champions league final (even if it is Liverpool)... could have been worse though I suppose; thank god its not Chelsea- I don't think I could ever back Chelsea and I am not sure how I'd have felt if I'd found myself backing AC Milan- can't stand italian sides! Incidentally can anyone give me an Iron Chefs update- does the Windsor Castle still rock to the anthem "our restaurant rules" or is it more a case of washing the dishes to pay for your grub?

Since being here I've not actually played any football, a situation I hope to correct soon. There are whispers around the uni of a Chilean XI vs The Rest of the World match which somehow I've been nominated to organise. To be honest though I can't see it happening, organising anything here takes at least a year- efficiency isn't their strong point. Nonetheless I try to keep fit and trim in the gym at the uni 2 or 3 times a week, so hopefully that'll prepare me for an Iron Chefs comeback in the near future.

Its taken a while, but I've finally been attacked! I was beginning to fear that my time in South America would be marred by the absence of a good Latin style mugging- always a hoot! I use the word "attack" loosely here, it was more of a confrontation and I haven't any physical injuries to substantiate my claim. I was walking back to the El Departamento Loco (the crazy flat) from a salsa class I'd been to at another establishment (not the Jose Luis Tejo school, which I've left due to the somewhat high nature of the fees) when I was approached by a group of 5 obviously Borracho (drunk) youths (about 17 or 18 in age I'd hazard a guess). 4 of them more or less ignored me, but 1 (theres always 1) walked straight at and into me and started screaming profanities about 2 inches from my face. Now I might be a little hard at hearing, but the chap didn't really need to shout and naturally I felt a little uncomfortable getting so close to a guy I'd only just met (we hadn't even had coffee!), he was taking it all a little too fast for my liking. So I expressed my objection by grasping his collar and telling him in no uncertain terms that I am not an easy girl; my actual words were more along the lines of "get out of my fucking face"- I can be a nasty bugger at times, but you know what it's like when the old adrenaline kicks in. Anyway by this point his chums had taken an interest in the proceedings and it looked like I'd get a pasting if I hung around, so I made a beeline for the relative safety of the flat. It was a pity really, I've really felt like giving someone a good whack some days, it becomes tedious having things whispered about you as you walk past or shouted at you as a car drives past, but unfortunately this is a reality for people like me who are so obviously foreign in Chile. Having said all this though I must point out that I've also been fortunate enough to meet some really nice Chileans as well.

Not much else to report, I remain grateful to those of you who continue to stay in touch with me. Also I feel I ought ask, Hoogster are you suffering some sort of mid life crisis? The somewhat emotional nature of some of your recent posts has concerned me! (those interested should visit www.hoogster.blogspot.com).

Be in touch soon

Ps. Rob I am looking into Adriana Lima for u.

Cocaine, cats and karaoke

2005-04-27T02:35:00.000+09:30

Dear devoted readers, I remain grateful for the continued support for my little blog amongst it's now quite substantial circulation. This weekend just passed I spent in Valparaiso and Viña Del Mar which are on the coast about 2 hours from Santiago. Both cities are beautiful in their own ways although nowadays they are more or less as one city since the land in between has become populated also.

Valparaiso is a port city where a thick sea mist blankets the city all day and doesn't burn off until mid afternoon, obscuring the wonderful views that are possible from the various hills that make up the city. From the sea front port the city rapidly crawls higher and higher into the surrounding hills, the houses and shacks are built atop each other and funicular elevators which consist of train carriage type things on rails travel up the sides of the hills negating the need to walk from the bottom to top through the confusing streets. It really is very pretty almost as if something out of a fairy tale. Unfortunately though parts are quite dirty and where Santiago has an issue with stray dogs, Valparaiso has an issue with cats.

Viña del Mar although only a few kilometres up the road is like another world, the streets are clean, the lawns are neatly trimmed and someone has obviously made a point of rounding up all the dogs (and cats). It is very touristy and has a beautiful beach where if you squint hard enough you can just see the Sydney harbour bridge on the other side of the pacific. I am informed however by Leonardo that the water is damn chilly, so I didn't brave it (as it happens I don't have alot of luck with water anyway). Leonardo used to work with my Aunt and Uncle in Venezuela for the Danish shipping line Maersk. He still works for Maersk, however is now based in Valparaiso whereas my Aunt and Uncle are in Saudi Arabia and harms way (I think Leonardo got the better deal). I got in touch with him about a week ago and told him of my little sojourn to Valpo (as the locals call it) and Viña (as the tourists call it) and he kindly offered to give me a personal guided tour. We drove all day in his ute, up through the Valpo hills at suicidal speeds and then back down again and along the esplanade in Viña. I think Leo (as he wants me to call him) must have wanted to be a tour guide when he was a boy because he was obviously enjoying the whole thing a little too much. We had stops for photos at points that he believed to be the most picturesque, however he wouldn't permit me to be out of the ute for more than about 2 minutes before we barrelled up and down some more hills and over some cats (almost, don't worry cat lovers). Perhaps the most bizarre part came when he took me to see the local prison as though it is a "must see" on the tourist trail. The huge edifice of a building stands alone in a crappy old paddock with small barred windows dotting the whole thing, the poor souls inside (although they probably deserve to be there) lean out through the bars and wave at the passing tourists. I think I can say that I liked Valpo and Viña quite alot more than Santigao, and it was nice to actually see the sea for the first time in a few months.

Anyway back in Santiago now, the flat remains the same, Jesus or the "cocaine sniffing saviour" as dubbed by one of my readers (thankyou Luke) still makes an appearance (miraculously of course) every couple of days, stays a while, sniffs a bit, has dinner with Ed' and Jonathan, then promptly buggers off without doing his washing up. Most of Ed's other pals maintain this type of practice also, if they were only around once a week then I could understand it, but since they almost practically live there you'd think that they might make an effort to clean up after themselves. I mean really if you saw our kitchen most days you'd think there'd been a war in it (all 2 square metres of it).

Lastly, just thought I'd mention that the embassy shindig went well last week. Lots of free booze and nibbles, got to have a chat with the Ambassador and the Minister. Emil you'll be glad to know that I passed on your regards to Brendan Nelson (he really is a knob), he and you would have got on slendidly.

Until next time take care.
Ps. Just thought I'd mention that I have developed some sort of Karaoke fever, In Viña I sang at three different karaoke bars; "California Dreaming", "Horse with no name" and "Father and son". Got laughed at all three times!!

I'm a model, know what I mean? (probably not cos you speak Spanish)

2005-04-21T01:25:00.000+09:30

Hello all, hope all are well. Chile continues to present new and interesting challenges everyday and naturally the food war continues with Eduardo. Despite a brief cease in hostilities he resumed his now normal practices over the weekend and helped himself to my loaf of bread (the whole thing, not just a slice or two!), god knows what he did with it. Needless to say I am marginally annoyed, especially since I am STILL awaiting the installation of a light fitting.

My salsa career has sort of leveled out- at a crap standard. I don't seem to be improving much, but the instructor informs me that this is because I don't practice between classes (he may have a point). The novelty of dancing with a westerner has worn off and all the girls in the class try to avoid being designated as my partner now as my standard still lacks a certain Latin flair; even the dirty old man sighs with dismay if he has to dance with me!! However, Jonathan; Eduardo's "partner" says that he knows a good Salsateca (salsa club) and will take me in the future, so that should provide some practice.

With my dancing career looking shaky, I thought I'd better explore other career paths last week and tried my hand at a little modeling. Actually I hadn't intentionally set out that day to become a model but by about 11 in the morning I found myself on a catwalk strutting my stuff. I had been walking down one of the main streets in the centre of town when I was accosted by a girl who appeared to be selling something, having tried to avoid her and then ignore her, then tell her that I wasn't interested I finally gave in and followed her into a building (see "101 things you simply don't do"). Once in the "studio" I realised what it was, next thing I know I am watching another girl demonstrate a basic modeling routine along a catwalk. Then it was my turn, the music is turned on, and I am expected to do what this girl had just demonstrated; it involved lots of walking up and down, putting hands on hips and doing dainty little turns. Needless to say I must have satisfied the criteria since I was then herded into another room to sign up. I then learnt that I'd have to pay and that the course runs until October, so I respectfully declined and left the premises with a smirk!

I found Santiago's premier karaoke club on Saturday night, or rather I was invited to it by a group of Australians from uni. These are the type of places that the next J-Lo's are found or at least thats what it looked like. One Chilean girl must have sung about 10 times and really loved herself, to be fair she wasn't bad with the old microphone but she could have done without all the grunts and screams inbetween lines. Anyway some of the Sydneysiders I was with got up and belted out a few English language numbers, quite nostalgic and almost brought a tear to my eye!

I have had my first Chilean haircut this morning. Upon first arriving here one of the first things I noticed was the profuseness of dodgy hair cuts and I held grave fears that I would come out looking like a native. However having tried to explain what I wanted to the hairdresser (without success) I resorted to a photo of the "goddess" and I a few days before I left Oz that I have and indicated that I wanted it like that. She seemed to understand, but then I panicked a bit and thought she may have thought I was referring to the "goddess" rather than myself, and although the "goddess" always looks stunning I am not sure her style would particularly suit my head. The hairdresser seems to have attempted what is in the photo, and it doesn't look too bad although it could have been better.

I have (along with other Australian students studying here) been invited to the Australian embassy tomorrow night for a ministerial reception. One of Emil's pals; Brendan Nelson (destroyer of HECS and peoples futures......aka: Aus Education minister) is coming here for a tax funded holiday and so the embassy are having a bit of a shindig for him. Should be good, free booze etc. Then over the weekend I will be in Valparaiso and Viña Del Mar, so finally will be able to give you an idea bout the beaches next time I post. Until then, take care. T.

Pistols Drawn

2005-04-13T03:05:00.000+09:30

Farewell photos, originally uploaded by Thearley.

Dear readership, hope all are well. Some readers may (or may not) recognise themselves in the featured photo. Thanks to Smelly Krystle for contributing this.

Not much to report, although I had an interesting weekend. A party Friday night which seemed to be catering to a distinctly homosexual crowd....again(what is about this place?). Saturday night I was out for a few drinks with a friend and came home to find Eduardo and his friend Jesus (yes that is really his name) still awake and having a grand old time with cocaine. The dope habit hadn't bothered me but saturday night Ed' was really on another planet and wouldn't let me go to bed until he'd lectured me about the french revolution and why the British should behead the queen- a topic that in reality he hasn't a clue about. Asides from this he has been giving me the shits in other arenas also; I am still waiting for him to put a light in my room, currently I make do with a lamp, and recently he has taken to eating my food so that when I come home from uni I find things that I had planned to have for dinner missing.

Anyway we are at pistols drawn at the moment and I have been giving him the cold shoulder, I think he has worked out that I am pissed off but I am going to let him sweat it out a bit longer.

Enough moaning, however not much else to tell you. Take care all, be in touch soon. T.

Santiago Sleaze

2005-04-06T03:29:00.000+09:30

Dear all thankyou for your continued patronage and the overwhelming response to the last post; most of it utter tripe, but keep it coming. For those of you not "in the know", Gebs was a fellow inmate at NMHS and now owns and runs a leper colony.

Anyway not much to report since my last post, although you may have a giggle to know that I stood in some wet cement last week; some workmen were putting down a new footpath and failed to take the correct safety precautions such as blocking the way to pedestrians. Still I managed to get myself out ok and only had to give my shoes a quick brush down; at least I have now left a more permanent mark on Santiago.

This past weekend, I took my second dance lesson which went as well as could be expected although I still have trouble working out when we are dancing Salsa and when we are dancing Merengue (I am pretty useless at it all). You may remember when I posted about my first dance lesson that I wrote of a particular dirty old man whose shirt seemed to come further undone as the class progressed. This week his shirt was practically completely undone before the class had even begun and I held grave fears that other garments would be discarded. Fortunately this did not eventuate however I am convinced that he takes too much interest in some of the younger ladies of the class. This is not uncommon in Santiago, since most Chilean males seem to have a negligible CCC rating (Charm, Charisma and Courtesy) and indeed it is not uncommon for trucks to slow down whilst passing members of the contary gender and the driver to holler profanities, make smooching noises and to grope at his own chest. This type of behaviour seems to transcend all walks of life, a group of us foreigners (2 males and 3 females) went to the Mercado central (central market) for a "cultural" exercise for class last week, where numerous fishmongers, butchers and bakers seemed to take great delight in holding their produce to their chests as if holding breasts and then proceeded to behave in much the same manner as the aforementioned truck drivers.

Furthermore there actually exist numerous chains of coffee shops (like Hudsons in Adelaide etc), which are described in Lonely Planet as "coffee with legs" as they are exclusively staffed by girls in very short skirts for the viewing pleasure of Santiago's businessmen. Anyway there is not much of this behaviour going on in the flat since it seems to be a South American homosexual haven, however there is always something else strange happening there; the other day I came home to find Eduardo, Jonathan and Raimundo (Bambi) all sitting like gorillas from a David Attenborough documentry going through each others hair as if looking for fleas whilst making what can only be described as orgasmic noises. Needless to say I have given up studying there (although not totally given up studying...yet!).

Be in touch soon.
T.

Edmund who?

2005-03-30T02:25:00.000+09:30

Gebs, I have been in Chile since the beginning of March, I am on exchange here for semester 1.

Anyway to more informed readers, hope you all had a good easter. As you'll be aware from my last post I spent the weekend in Pucon with the German couple whom live with me in the flat in Santiago. Friday we hired a pair of motorcycles, without having to present a driving license of any discription and bearing in mind that I had never riden a motorcycle before. Despite almost causing an accident on my first attempt, I soon picked it up and we tore up the local roads all day, the only problem coming when a pack of dogs (suprise, suprise) chased us.

Saturday was our biggest day, we got up at 6am to climb Volcan Villarrica, which is an active volcano just outside of Pucon. It took about 4-5 hours climbing up the glacier through snow to reach the summit, where you can stand and watch whilst the volcano spits and bubbles lava, really quite amazing to think that you can climb it then stand as close as that to the lava- if there were anything like that in oz then the government wouldn't allow you within 10 kms of the damn thing. I think I really looked the part, with huge boots and crampons, an ice pick and huge backpack; the whole way up there Lenz refered to me as Edmund- alluding to Edmund Hillary (the first man to climb Everest, for those of you as badly as informed as Gebs). Coming down was a bit quicker as there are slides carved into the glacier, and you simply slide down the side of this mountain at quite a frightening pace- its a bit like going on a bobsled, but without the bobsled. However you then come back down to the snow line, where the glacier and snow stop and have to walk the rest of the way down.

Saturday evening we went to some thermal spas, which were nice but since they were in the middle of bloddy nowhere we spent most of the time on the bus. On sunday we went horseriding, which seems a bit tame compared to motorcycling or climbing a volcano, but it was another first for me and I had some horse named Ginder (meaning "sweet cherry") with a temperament somewhere between dementure and al-qaeda; the thing was insane. However I managed to stay on and by the end of the ride had a certain degree of control.

I am now back to uni, struggling still. By the way Chile drew 1-1 with Uruguay and this Wednesday play Paraguay. Be in touch soon.

I am the dancing queen!

2005-03-21T05:41:00.000+10:30

Greetings all subscribers, thanks for your continued patronage.

Last Tuesday I went to the Estadio Nacional for the Copa Libertadores clash between "Universidad de Chile" and "The Strongest" a Bolivian team. The Copa Libertadores is the South American equivalent of the Champions League, and you know its important when the officials are escorted onto the pitch under the protection of riot police who shield them with their nice cosy Roman style riot shields. It was a somewhat bizarre yet enjoyable evening, I was supposed to go with a group of Australians who I'd met at Uni; the plan was to meet at the statue of the naked man outside the stadium. I rocked up to the crumbling monolith that is the Estadio Nacional and asked a friendly looking, machine gun wielding policeman on horseback if he knew where I could find a statue of a naked man. Suprisingly he was quite helpful and I found the naked man statue, however in typical Aussie style my new amigos didn't show up; I later found out when leaving the stadium that there are about 15 naked men statues all around the stadium, each one depicting a different ancient greek olympic sport. Anyway I watched the game which finished with Universidad de Chile winning 2-1 and in terms of excitement was perhaps only surpassed by the incident at half time when some drunk tried to steal my sandwich; I'd gone downstairs to get something to eat and on the way back to my seat this guy approached me asking for some of my sandwich/bit-of-bread-with-ham-in-it, when I refused he tried to snatch it from me. He was quite persistent and I had to revert to English telling him to "f#%K off" and giving him a good shove.

Anyway my week only got better from here, I attended my first Salsa and Merengue dance lesson on Saturday afternoon. Talk about dirty dancing; there was an old guy who seemed to take too much interest in the young girls and gradually as the class progressed and he got hotter, he would undo another button of his shirt- by the end of the class he only had one button done up! For my first class I thought I'd done quite well, I didn't fall over or tread on anyones toes- so a success as far as I am concerned.

Saturday night, the whole flat went to the birthday of one of Eduardo's friends. It was quite possibly the strangest party I've ever been to. It is typical in Chile as many other latin countries to not start partying until 12 or 1 O'clock, so we (Eduardo, Jonathan, Lenz the German guy and Verina the German guys girlfriend) arrived at about 12.30. We had bought between us quite a substantial amount of booze, but it didn't really seem to last long since almost everyone else there helped themselves also. Eduardo's dealer; Max was also there and Lenz bought a joint, however there seems to be some sort of clause within Chilean drug dealing whereby when you buy a joint you have to let the guy who sold it to you smoke half of it! Max is quite the role model- he's about 30 and has a wife and two children, however seems to spend most of his time dealing and since Eduardo is perhaps his biggest client he is also around the flat alot. Anyway, there seemed to be most of Santaigo's homosexual crowd at the fiesta and at about 4 O'clock in the morning we were treated to a Drag show, by Raimundo (going by the stage name of Bambi) who is another close friend of Eduardo's although he doesn't deal. Apparently Eduardo who is an Actor/writer and pot head by trade also dabbles in a bit of drag and has promised to one day give us his rendition of "it's raining men". Furthermore he has invited us all to go to his favourite Santiago Gay Bar some time in the future, so I'll keep you posted as to how all that goes.

This coming weekend I am going to Pucon in the South of Chile with Lenz and Verina. We are going to climb the Volcano and there are various other activities available such as rafting, horse riding etc. So I'll post again when I return or whilst down there.

Footnote: whilst in Pucon we are going to watch the Saturday night Chile vs Uruguay game in a pub (it's being played here in Santiago), will let you know the result, the consequences could be important for Australia later this year who have to play the fifth placed South American team to qualify for the World Cup. Have a good Easter all.

21%

2005-03-16T02:31:00.000+10:30

Did you know that 21% of librarians are thought to be caring human beings? No thats complete bollocks actually.

Last week I sat a Spanish exam for foreign exchange students with the purpose of discerning who was in need of the intensive Español para extranjeros (Spanish for foreigners) program offered to exchange students. However there are only a certain number of places so those who want to take the course must take an exam to see whether they are actually in need of it. I scored a mighty 21%, not only is it a not-so-shit-hot grade, but it was also the lowest score!!!!! and whats even better is that it practically guarantees my place in the course. I can't believe it, not only do I hold the unenviable record of "Man with fairest complexion in Australia AND Chile", now I am also the worst foreign Spanish speaker in what is one of South America's largest universities and in a city that claims to be a "University city". Santiago has three main Uni's, so what? you may ask, so does lil' ol' Adelaide. But Santiago's claim to being a university city rests on the plethora of "private" universities that people seem to found in their garden sheds (which more often than not double as their home). I wouldn't be suprised to one day walk past the Zankov University of Burrito-ing.

Not much to report from the weekend, other than I got soaking wet in a downpour and discovered that Chile has not yet realised the wonderful invention that is "the gutter". The roads here are those flat, concrete American affairs and they don't camber into a gutter; so when it pours the roads become rivers and you have to walk about 10 feet from the kerb to avoid being sprayed by the passing maniac buses. Another interesting statistic is that 21% of bus drivers in Santiago have served time for a serious offence. The bus drivers here are paid on commission and so the more passengers they pick up, the more they earn. Consequently all the buses or "micros" as they call them here (despite the fact that they are about the size of a Ghan train carriage) drive like buggery to pick up all the passengers they can; there are no designated bus stops so they stop anywhere and everywhere inbetween hurtling along the streets. When you cross the road here, you really take your life in your hands.

Anyway must go, another lecture to misunderstand. Hello to all.

Footnote: Rob and other interested parties, Iam devising a way to smuggle as much $2 litre bottles of Escudo back to Oz as possible. Will keep you posted.

The "Chile on a thong strap" guide to talking yourself out of a fine.

2005-03-11T01:04:00.000+10:30

Thankyou to all readers who continue to send their messages of....well...not quite support, but generally taking the piss. No really I enjoy reading your comments- keep them coming. I guess before I go any further I should address a few points raised in your comments; firstly Phatty T it would take a helluva lot of $2 litres of Escudo beer, and to be honest I wish you would try to think of something else- you really are a concern (readers who are confused as to what I am referring should read comments of previous post). Krystle thankyou for your not so kind words, I will try to have some postcards in the post soon, those lucky enough to be sent one will probably receive it before Christmas.

Anyway to the issue of this post's title; I borrowed a book or to be more accurate a few pieces of paper stapled together from the library a few days ago. It took about 2 hours of walking between different libaries spread over the vast expanse that is San Joaquin campus, to find the damn book which I borrowed under the assumption that since it was a reserve collection item and the inside back cover had 13.30 printed on it, then I would have to return it within 13 and a half hours. I did this only to discover yesterday when I tried to borrow another book that it was over due since 13.30 refers to half past one in the afternoon and not a loan period of 13 and a half hours. The surly library clerk then refused to issue the other book I wanted and informed me that I would have to pay a fine. This seems to be some sort of curse of mine, during my first year at UniSA I was actually banned from the library for a period of 2 months (can you imagine, how absurd), and those of you who were unlucky enough to attend the Norwood Morialta High School with me will know that I never got on too well with librarians. Anyway readers, I have always enjoyed a good confrontation with authority; its a perverted past time I take pleasure in, and I couldn't let this opportunity to indulge in what is for me an almost orgasmic hobby and in a foreign language pass by.

The best way to express yourself in Spanish as well as most other latin languages is to use over-the-top gestures and facial expressions. Trying to explain that I'd misunderstood the strict loan policy (even UniSA let you have the damn books a bit longer), I threw my arms around and screwed up my chin like Maradonna (of Argentinian soccer and bloating up like a whale fame) whilst screaming and shouting like Madonna (of Evita and miming the words to her own songs fame) . Needless to say it worked and the librarian looked genuinely impressed with my grasp of the language (its all in the gestures), he nulified the fine and issued the other book I'd wanted. I would judge this to be my first great success in a foreign language.

To other affairs of the past few days; yesterday I became the newest student of the Jose Luis Tejo Academy of Dance; I am enrolled in a 4 week basic Salsa and Merengue course, or at least I think thats what I enrolled myself in. It doesn't start for another week but I'll be sure to write about it once it has started, the "Goddess" had better have her dancing shoes on stand-by in July!!!

This weekend I venture further into the Santiago Night scene, Friday night I am having a few drinks with an English girl named Alison that I met, she seems quite neurotic so it should be interesting. Then Saturday night I have been invited to Natalia's birthday, where undoubtedly she will try to extort more money out of me (she seems to see me as her rich foreign freind and enjoys getting me to pay for things; I've never met anyone so upfront about asking me to pay!)

Anyway will write about how it all went soon, take care all, have a good weekend and keep the comments coming.

Into the twilight zone

2005-03-09T01:07:00.000+10:30

Mel, your dead right I'm out of my comfort zone... I feel as though I am on another planet most of the time.

Today is my second day at Uni, and it isn't getting any easier. My first lecture yesterday, I didn't understand a word the guy was talking; everyone speaks so fast here and seem to swallow the ends of words. On top of the language issue, there also seems to be a lot more work than at good old UniSA; this one course I went to yesterday involves weekly mini-tests on that weeks reading, monthly bigger tests and a final exam at the end (assuming I live that long), and of course this is all in Spanish. On a brighter note I went to a lecture today and the lecturer said that if needs be I can do my work in English for that course, however I shall strive to keep all work in Spanish (what a hero!).

Anyway to a slightly more interesting subject, I went out for a few drinks last night with an Australian girl who resides in London and is now also studying here. We went to what is apparently the student district, Bellavista. Got stuck into some more of the $2 litre bottles of beer, I have been drinking them since I arrived and only learnt yesterday that the Chilean thing to do is to share them between two or three people; stuff that!!! its much more fun having one to yourself, and especially at $2!!!

We also had a bite to eat in what was really quite a seedy pub; my best description would be a cross breed between the Crown & Anchor and the Berkeley on Hindley street. However musn't complain too much, there was even live entertainment; a pack of stray dogs chased each other around our table! Speaking of live entertainment, Lenny Kravitz is playing here tomorrow night and Santiago is plastered in Lenny Kravitz posters which are written in both Spanish and English for ignorant foreigners such as me, the English part reads: 'Lenny Kravitz Alive-March 9', I couldn't stop laughing the first time I saw it, I wonder what he sounds like dead?

Must go now- another lecture to attend, probably pointless really since I'll spend much of the time wondering what on earth is going on.

Nightlife report 1

2005-03-06T03:42:00.000+10:30

Firstly let me say thankyou to all of you who have posted, it's good to hear from you all and is only when travelling alone like this that you appreciate the company of you friends.

A few days ago I met a Chilean waitress named Natalia, who offered to show me the best nightlife Santiago has to offer. Last night (fri night) I accompanied her and a few of her amigas on a sojourn into the depths of Santiago's night scene. We met at Natalia's work, the 'Vinilo' restaurant where I had met her earlier this week, had a few drinks and from there went into the Centro (city).

In the Centro we went to a club called the tunnel, which predictably was downstairs in a cellar, to be honest I wasn't that impressed but Natalia and co seemed to think it was great and joined in some bizarre dancing that involves throwing yourself thorugh the air screaming (emil you would have loved it). First impressions of the night scene in Santiago: not favourable.

Now to address a few points raised by readers in my last post; Luke there are no LBWs to report and until you mentioned it I hadn't really been looking, also I left that damn T-Shirt at home (ahhh the shame, I will never wear it). Furthermore, nothing on this trip has brought me closer to the Lord...sorry.

Eduardo has gone away for the weekend, I have instructions to look after his cannabis plant! Also he has given me a more comprehensive lesson on using the hot water, so hopefully next time I have a shower it will be at least warm.

Bye for now, thanks for the comments, will post soon.

The Chilean Apartment

2005-03-03T03:56:00.000+10:30

As I sit here in an internet cafe (doesn't serve food, is only a hall type thing full of Chilean weirdos) in central Santiago, only a few streets away the HQ of Chile's Investigative police (like the Australian Federal Police) is burning down. The HQ is not too far from where I stayed for the first two nights- the Sama Hostel; someone should burn that down.

Come to think of it, much of Santiago could do with being either burnt, bombed or simply knocked down; so much of it is so run down and dirty that it doesn't amount to much more than third world standards. They would be better off starting from scratch. However I have since moved into Eduardo's flat in Providencia, a more affluent area (fewer stray dogs), it is much more pleasant and comfortable than the hostel, and even has hot water although its a bit tricky to get it going.

Have spent most of today shuffling between Chilean International Police offices so as to get my 'Cedula' which is an identity card that is compulsory- what a hassle, beauraucracy here is worse than in Australia.

Eduardo is very nice (and very short), there is a miserable German with a buzz cut named Jenz also staying there, one of Eduardo's pipe puffing friends from Spain, Marcel. And also another Chilean called Jonathan (odd name for a chilean) who I think is Eduaro's 'partner' (still trying to work out if they are gay). Anyway last night we all watched 'The neverending story' in Spanish; can you imagine it?- 2 chilean poofs, a VERY stereotypical German, a stoned Spainard and me all watching what was a bad enough film in English, let alone Spanish.

Anyway must close now, would be good to hear from any of you that can be bothered. Will post again soon. Bye.

2005-02-28T09:37:00.000+10:30

Readers, you may or not be aware of the lonely planet 'shoestring' series of books, for instance 'South America on a shoestring'. This particular series of books caters for people on ultra tight budgets. Well, let me formally introduce 'Chile on a thong-strap', thats right the famed leather thongs have touched down in Santiago de Chile... and a what a touchdown- I've already been ripped off once!!

Having arrived in Santiago after relatively uninteresting flights I had been expecting to be met at the airport by the hostal operators with whom I am staying for the first two nights. However there was no sight of a placard with my name on it- you know the type you see at airports when tour guides meet people etc. Anyway I thought my best course of action would be to go to the information booth and see if they could contact the hostal, rather than doing this the 'nice' girl put me in the care of some dodgy latin whose job it is to rip off unsuspecting westerners- he walked me to a cab, told the cab driver where to take me and demanded a tip for his trouble; I handed over 1000 pesos which only amounts to $2, but still....bloody cheek of it!! To make matters worse the cab driver insisted on talking to me in Spanish about Australia (kangaroos, koalas etc) for the duration of the 30 minute cab ride (another unexpected expense, since I was supposed to be meet the airport), he also charged a tip!! Anyway must go the time on this computer is about to expire, will post again soon. Lastly there is a huge stray dog problem here, seen at least ten just wondering the streets since I arrived about 3 hours ago.

No longer fit for a prince

2005-02-21T13:19:00.000+10:30

The architectural wonder that is the Windsor Castle was rocked in more ways than one this week. Firstly Prince Charles was disappointed to have his impending wedding to Mr Ed moved to the nearby Windsor town hall after a legal wrangling regarding civil weddings and secondly the Iron Chefs suffered their first defeat for 4 weeks at the hands of the Superstars.

The Chefs went down 5-3 in a game that started promisingly but then turned sour. The familiar Chefs anthem "Our restaurant rules" permeated around the ground and chanting only grew louder when Thearle put the Chefs in front with a strike reminiscent of last weeks thunderbolt. The Chefs were buzzing, the kitchen was on fire and the fat bastard had eaten all the pies; all was looking well for the Chefs, especially when Ben added his name to the score sheet to put the Chefs into a 2-0 lead.

However then came the blonde butcher of Berlin. This was undoubtedly the turning point of the game. Having started the game on the bench, the Superstars secret weapon came on straight out of Hitler's third Reich. He was blonde, blue eyed, humourless and had a name like Johann, Adolf or Heinrich. However more importantly he obviously had a severe dislike for the multicultural make up of the Chefs line up and took great glee in single handedly administering a good spanking to the valiant boys in yellow. By half time the score was level at 2-2, and the Chefs were in disarray.

The second half was a grimmer tale, the Chefs soon found themselves 5-2 down and struggling to keep the score respectable. To their credit though all players persevered and managed to shut the Superstars attack down at crucial times. Bucky Reitano and Afro Asikas both muscled in on the action to make it a more physical encounter and later in the second half Captain Balestrin added his name to the score sheet to bring the chefs within two goals and snatch a crucial bonus point. However the day belonged to the Superstars and inparticular the Master Race Aryan wonder.

The Chefs now sit mid table still, which is still a remarkable feat given that not long ago the wooden spoon was well and truly a feature of the Chefs kitchen. The Chefs can and according to many observers will still make the finals. However Thearle moves to play with Chilean giants Universidad Catolica on loan for the remainder of the season, Andre comes into the side and it remains to be seen how this effects the teams style of play. It is hoped that Andre's inclusion will balance the team out in a Defense:Attack perspective, giving Phil a more solid defence.

Lastly, unfortunately this writer will no longer be able to write the Chefs weekly match reports as his contract with ICFC has not been renewed due to a difference of opinion over money and basic grammar, however future match reports will hopefully be provided by another Chefs enthusiast.

The end is nigh

2005-02-16T23:16:00.000+10:30

Those of you who know me well will know that I have been a slave...uh I mean in the employ of a certain fast food outlet for the past 4 or so years (yes I know it's sad- we all have humiliating secrets; Bucky sees UFOs)

Anyway with my impending departure to the land of all things latin and dodgy, I have hung up my spatula and told them where to shove their buns, below is the soon to be infamous letter of resignation:

Dear Ronald McDonald (since most McDonalds managers are synonymous with clowns),

I quit.

My tenure at the Evil Empire has spanned these past four years and then some. No longer can I go on as an instrument of an oppressive regime, enough is enough. I have made no secret of the austerity with which my hatred and loathing for McDonalds is burdened. All too often have I found opportunity to stand as the lone voice of dissent and yet these four years a terrible guilt has been etched in the back of my mind; as well as being saturated in the odour of fat and oil, I wreak of the stench of hypocrisy. How can a man be in the employ of a corporation of which he speaks only venom and poison?

I shall be a hypocrite no more. Shortly I endeavour to South America to cleanse my soul, however when I return and rise above the menial duties entrusted to me by the global hegemon I shall work doggedly to bring that evil hegemon to it’s knees and end their global domination that threatens to turn this worlds people into fat, obnoxious, bigoted Americans.

Most symbolic of my sentence at this store, are perhaps the shoes that have served me so well since I was first manacled here. Encrusted with oil and fat, slowly rotting and bending up at the front as if worn by an elf, I leave those shoes to medical science in the crusade to find a cure for obesity.

If any of my future employers should call you for a reference, please say he was a demure character of excellent moral disposition and conscientious nature. If you don’t I will make your fall from Burger Stardom a long and painful one. Be warned.

Yours unFaithfully

The Writer.

Hot, hot, hot in the kitchen.

2005-02-14T13:55:00.000+10:30

The Iron Chef's winning streak continued last night at the Windsor Castle with an emphatic win over Chesty Bondage. The Chefs have now won 3 on the trot and now sit mid-table, when only a matter of weeks ago it seemed inconceivable the Chefs would walk away with anything other than the wooden spoon.

Thearle having been absent due to injury (laziness) for the past two wins, opened the Chefs account with a blazing right foot shot that flew across the face of goal into the bottom left corner. From there the game was evenly matched; Chesty Bondage snatched a couple of goals back, one of which was dubiously awarded because in the words of Referee Zankov "it touched the net". Bucky Reitano contested the decision arguing "but the net is attached to the post", observers were left scratching their heads after such a profound statement.

Both Captain Balestrin and 'Afro' Assikas found the net to take the Chefs into the lead in the second half. Captain Balestrin on his way to a hatrick scored an absolute pearler and had a lucky goal when he nutmegged the keeper. From there on in it was all chefs; if the first half had seemed shaky then the second half was sheer class. Although Chesty Bondage scraped back a third, Captain Balestrin put the last egg in the pan; sealing his hatrick and the victory.

The performance was admirable, although the reinclusion of Thearle in the side at such a pivotal time in the season had drawn criticism on the terraces of Windsor Castle, the move payed off. Also the inclusion of Andre in place of Ben playing at the back proved justified; shutting down the Chesty Bondage attack at crucial moments. The game ended 5-3, and the Chefs now look onwards and upwards as the finals beckon.

As a footnote, Bucky Reitano is holding a meeting for the 'Bucky Reitano Fanclub' in the Windsor Castle carpark this Wednesday; his sighting of a mysterious light flashing across the sky last night has prompted him to call the meeting, all stargazers welcome, guest speaker(s): The 7 dwarves-'Stars seeing stars: Why being short and believing in UFOs doesn't preclude you from 1st class soccer'.

Sabbatical

2005-01-28T20:27:00.000+10:30

Dear devoted readers, ...... assuming there are any of you.

This site will undertake a short respite until something interesting happens and will most definitely resume normal publication once the hopefully-epic South American Saga begins, which should be around the end of February or beginning of March.

all for now,
thanks

T.

Chefs Strike Back

2005-01-20T20:11:00.000+10:30

Last Sunday's 4-1 defeat of The Boo Radleys marked a turning point in the Iron Chef's season. The long string of poor performances that has characterised the Chef's season came to an end in convincing style.

Detractors from the win have suggested that the Boo Radleys fielding a girl amongst their starting five was paramount to the Chef's success, and that if a male had taken the fifth spot on the pitch the Chefs wouldn't have stood an ice cube's chance in a frying pan. However the local sporting media are known for whisking the mix.

The Chefs fielded an unchanged side again, a tactic that has made Captain Ballestrin deeply unpopular amongst the fans at the Windsor Castle. Ballestrin, also known as "Breezy 'n Sleazy" for his cool temper (except in cases of confusion between Vista and Para Vista) and his penchant for stunningly leggy oriental types (sorry Rob, Sleazy was the only word I could think of that rhymed with breezy!) was quoted after the game as having said: "The choice to field the same side in recent months has been primarly because this is thought to be our strongest outfit... that and these are the only players we have."

Admittedly, since the formation of the team late last year the players have come a long way and Sunday's game was testament to this. The Chef's passing game was the best we have seen in a long while, and the players were obviously reading the game rather than just hoofing it like a donkey in a paddock.

The scoring was equally good, Chris 'Afro' Asikas (spelling??) bagged a threesome (of the football scoring variety, although I'm sure he'd be up for it if anyone else were interested), however also got handed a yellow card for his trouble. To top it all off Captain Ballestrin netted an absolute blinder, a second half Boo Radleys strike was of little consequence and Windsor Castle is set to rock again this week with the revitalised Chef's taking on 'Slow' at 6.05 pm.

The only change in the team was a restructured substitution rotation which saw Thearle start the game and come off last. Asked whether the same tactic would be employed this week Captain Ballestrin said the team were working through a few new things at training this week and wouldn't say anymore.

Phil in goal made some good saves as per usual and his defence held strong for most of the match: Ben, Bucky and Thearle were all consistent in their performances if lacking spark at times, however the stand out performances were from 'Afro' and Captain Ballestrin.

Why do some girls like to expose their belly-buttons?

2005-01-17T00:57:00.000+10:30

Why do some girls like to expose their belly-buttons?, originally uploaded by Thearley.

This should be proof enough that we need a style/fashion police. Especially since we are now coming into the hottest part of the Australian summer. Do you want to see this on your streets? Thanks to the friend who shall go un-named who forwarded this image to me. I welcome all comments on issues of suitable summer fashions for women and men and also the ever-burgeoning obesity issue in our society.

A purpose in life

2005-01-11T14:39:00.000+10:30

Having created this site by accident, it has become apparent to me through the suggestion of a friend that the site could indeed be put to good use. I am an International Studies student at UniSA and will be embarking on an exchange to Santiago, Chile for first semester 2005. This is perhaps a suitable medium to keep interested people posted of my travels and adventures through South America, however you will have to wait until at least March for this and as yet i don't even have a ticket to fly (or a ticket to ride). more later.

Hey whats happenin???

2005-01-08T13:05:00.000+10:30

all I wanted to do was post a comment to Emil's site, and all of a sudden I 've got my own...... I'm not sure where this comment is going to end up.