Right so, I'm back. I'm not going into the reasons for my absence because to be honest I'd just be making stuff up. I'm gonna do a post every 3 or 4 days until you're all up to speed and then one or two a week.
I wrote this in the lead up to my first fight since I got back.
So I've given the promoter the go ahead and it's nose to the grindstone to try and make myself invincible within the next 3 weeks. Actually, I'd just settle for ready but as a fighter once told me when I asked was he ready for his fight; you're never ready. There's always something else you could have done. At least there's a voice in your head that tells you something like that.
Anyway, I throw myself into the training and I start to get a good head of steam going in most sessions. I get to spar some very experienced guys who also have fights coming up so I get a lot of quality training in. There's also plenty of clinch time with the Thai equivalent of David Beckham. Guys who would still get asked for an autograph at a stadium. In typical Dave fashion I let my confidence get the better of me and sprain two toes sparring the head coach of the gym. This injury keeps me out of the gym for nearly a week and puts my training down the pan, more or less. I have to postpone the fight by a week, which also puts my plans for a drink fuelled orgy of destruction in Chiang Mai down the pan.
August 23rd rolls around and after a pleasant drive down, I get about the important task of ignoring what I have to do tomorrow. There's a gang from the gym in town to watch me and a Dutch girl Frieda fight, so there's a good bit of banter and it's easy to let on that tomorrow is another day. Then everyone else goes to bed and I drive the empty streets, trying to find some meaning to life, some greater understanding of the universe. Then I remember; fighting. The meaning of life or at least the meaning of life for the next 24 hours. Then maybe I'll rethink it.
So, I've just been to Starbucks to mould my gum shield in a cup of green tea because I had forgotten to bring one. How glamorous, now I am going to listen to a self hypnosis cd and go and kick the life out of a local boy. Hopefully. Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me.....
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Sleepless in Siam
It's been a long time since I got a decent nights sleep. With the rain getting steadily heavier the amphibian population has been getting steadily larger. And Louder. What was a gentle lullaby has become a cacophony, though it's been getting gradually better for two reasons, one I found my zinc and magnesium Tablets. The other is, I am now pushing myself so hard in the gym that my body shuts down every chance it gets, although for some reason, no matter how tired I am getting into bed, it takes the guts of 3 hours before I'm in the land of nod. At least I get to catch up in the afternoons. It's important for a fighter to sleep in the afternoon but the trick is not to overdo it or you'll be up all bastard night. And there's not much to do in the middle of the night except fantasize about frog torture.
Well, my plan kind of back fired. The mystery scratching in the attic turned out to be be two giant bleeding lizards. I think there gecko's but I don't really know much about reptiles. Except that two big specimens surprising you on you way out the door will proper scare the bejeezus out of you.
I'm lying on my mattress now and my neck is hanging. Grappled with two of the better guys at the gym today. One who has a ton of experience and the other makes up any lack of experience in brute strength. Great for the training but it's murder on poor old me. And boy do I feel old. I've also developed a sprain in my foot and I've no idea why. A lot of injuries tend to clear up overnight and I really hope this foot is one of them.
Two of the lads are fighting next Monday but if I'm being honest I doubt I can afford the time away from training. Going to the fights involves at least 24 if not 36 hours away from the camp. I might feel differently by next week but already the inner demons have got a hold on my confidence and are trying to crush it. I'd give anything to hear the words, 'Don't worry man, you smash him for sure', in a Brazilian accent.
That's it for today, I'm off to a barbecue. It's a hard life. :D
Well, my plan kind of back fired. The mystery scratching in the attic turned out to be be two giant bleeding lizards. I think there gecko's but I don't really know much about reptiles. Except that two big specimens surprising you on you way out the door will proper scare the bejeezus out of you.
I'm lying on my mattress now and my neck is hanging. Grappled with two of the better guys at the gym today. One who has a ton of experience and the other makes up any lack of experience in brute strength. Great for the training but it's murder on poor old me. And boy do I feel old. I've also developed a sprain in my foot and I've no idea why. A lot of injuries tend to clear up overnight and I really hope this foot is one of them.
Two of the lads are fighting next Monday but if I'm being honest I doubt I can afford the time away from training. Going to the fights involves at least 24 if not 36 hours away from the camp. I might feel differently by next week but already the inner demons have got a hold on my confidence and are trying to crush it. I'd give anything to hear the words, 'Don't worry man, you smash him for sure', in a Brazilian accent.
That's it for today, I'm off to a barbecue. It's a hard life. :D
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Once bitten
Went out for 'one' drink on Saturday. That's an Irish 'one' rather than any sort of empirical measurement. Got bitten by a dog in one of the bars. Suppose I shouldn't be surprised, everything else in the country's been having a taste. Anyway, I remember thinking I better go for a tetanus shot but on my way to hospital I thought I was way too drunk so I just went home instead. At 10kmh. It took forever. Fortunately I didn’t develop rabies but it would have been hard to tell the difference on Sunday morning.
So now I've moved back to Pai. Another few hundred kilometres through the jungle on the moped and one hell of a tan. Sunday was supposed to be my last day but a massive hangover put it back by a day. And an unreliable bus service put it back by another, but I made it in the end.
I made the mistake of going for the first place that had all my criteria without really checking it out properly. So now I live in a house in another poxy mangrove. It looked grand on the first day but by the second night I realized I was living in an exact replica f the insect exhibit at London zoo. There's a gravity defying frog in my bathroom who lives in the toilet but is kind enough to jump onto the wall when he sees you approaching, a spider the size of my hand. I've never really had a problem with spiders, but when the’re big enough to see their facial expressions, you start to wonder if nature isn’t out to get you. There's something living in the attic that gets very active after dark. Best case scenario it's a bird that’s got trapped but from the amount of scratching and burrowing it's more likely a large mouse or a small rat. Although with any luck it'll run afoul of the bee's nest which is also in the attic, not far from my head. The only solution I've thought of is to befriend two of the local cats and entice them into my place with bowls of milk in the hope they'll catch it or at least make the place smell a little less rodent friendly. I've been earnestly looking for a new place for the last few days. Don't get me wrong here, I like nature. Just not all of it at once. If I get a yearning for a ton of nature in my sitting room I can always stick David Attenborough on the box.
So I'm back into the training now, after nearly a week off although as I write this I am recovering from another night on the sauce courtesy of Jenny Campbell. If you've never seen her and are curious what she looks like, just look on my left shoulder any Saturday night. She'll be the one dressed in red. With horns, a tail and a trident, extolling the virtues of Vodka and chocolate into my ear on an almost subliminal level.
It's back down to Chiang Mai tomorrow after training to watch one of the guys fight and to get a few things I forgot to bring. Not least of which are a few ingredients for my chicken salads which I'll be eating for the next 9 months or so.
That's all for now. There'll be more when I'm back.
So now I've moved back to Pai. Another few hundred kilometres through the jungle on the moped and one hell of a tan. Sunday was supposed to be my last day but a massive hangover put it back by a day. And an unreliable bus service put it back by another, but I made it in the end.
I made the mistake of going for the first place that had all my criteria without really checking it out properly. So now I live in a house in another poxy mangrove. It looked grand on the first day but by the second night I realized I was living in an exact replica f the insect exhibit at London zoo. There's a gravity defying frog in my bathroom who lives in the toilet but is kind enough to jump onto the wall when he sees you approaching, a spider the size of my hand. I've never really had a problem with spiders, but when the’re big enough to see their facial expressions, you start to wonder if nature isn’t out to get you. There's something living in the attic that gets very active after dark. Best case scenario it's a bird that’s got trapped but from the amount of scratching and burrowing it's more likely a large mouse or a small rat. Although with any luck it'll run afoul of the bee's nest which is also in the attic, not far from my head. The only solution I've thought of is to befriend two of the local cats and entice them into my place with bowls of milk in the hope they'll catch it or at least make the place smell a little less rodent friendly. I've been earnestly looking for a new place for the last few days. Don't get me wrong here, I like nature. Just not all of it at once. If I get a yearning for a ton of nature in my sitting room I can always stick David Attenborough on the box.
So I'm back into the training now, after nearly a week off although as I write this I am recovering from another night on the sauce courtesy of Jenny Campbell. If you've never seen her and are curious what she looks like, just look on my left shoulder any Saturday night. She'll be the one dressed in red. With horns, a tail and a trident, extolling the virtues of Vodka and chocolate into my ear on an almost subliminal level.
It's back down to Chiang Mai tomorrow after training to watch one of the guys fight and to get a few things I forgot to bring. Not least of which are a few ingredients for my chicken salads which I'll be eating for the next 9 months or so.
That's all for now. There'll be more when I'm back.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
American Pai
With the first week of training over and a few of the fighters leaving, the big boss was kind enough to bring us all to the local Thai buffet. For those who have never been, a Thai buffet consists of a large pot where everyone at the table puts in various slices of meat, veg and so on, enjoying the food and making a delicious broth in the process and everyone keeps putting in and taking out until we are all quite stuffed. It's quite an intimate affair, with everyone filling each others glass and bowl.
Anyway, my plan to hide down the back and enjoy the doss with the aid of a few beers was scuppered when I bumped into Mr. B and I turned up a bit late. Long story short, I was sat beside the local Mafia boss and his impossibly good looking girlfriend. So I got to walk the tightrope that is being charming enough to a gangsters moll so no-one thinks I am disrespecting her, but not so charming that I am awarded a new pair of cement boots. The words ‘best’ and ‘behaviour’ raced around my head for the whole night. As did the expression, ‘gangland style execution’ and ‘headless corpse found in river’. Needless to say I was delighted when they decided to call it a night.
The same week saw the arrival of two pals to Chiang Mai. Gavin me old Pal from Dublin and Jenny, a girl I used to box with back in the dodgy old lock up in Mountjoy square. Largely because of Jenny’s enthusiasm I got right into the training and have been there ever since. We had decided before that we would check out Gav’s gym and so we went up to Pai to have a look.
The road to Pai is in two parts. One is a motorway. The other puts the ring of Kerry to shame. We went through 100 km of up-and-down and round-and-round, and in some places non-existent, road and we were down to the fumes in the tank of our 100cc automatic moped. The whole thing took about 5 hours and my ass felt like it had gone 15 rounds with Tyson. Or his cellmate.
Pai is a lovely little town, which would be heaven on earth if it had a beach. And a tower, from which snipers worked in shifts, to shoot all the hippies. God almighty I have never met a more pretentious bunch of emotionally needy feckers in my life. It’s almost like there’s a competition to see who can be the most laid back, painfully eclectic wierdo in the locale. Fortunately, the gym had a lovely bunch of people in it, so that kind of made it ok. Emphasis on the kind of. As for training, I have never had anything like it. World class doesn't cover it. I am almost reluctant to talk it up so that I can keep the trainers to myself. The training really is that good. It’s the most technique orientated gym I’ve ever been to. If I could fault it, it’s that there isn’t much emphasis on cardio and I definitely noticed the difference it made. This gym has quite a structured class, so conditioning really has to be done beforehand by you. But hey, no one said it was going to be easy.
Despite its small size I did find it hard to negotiate my way around Pai, but eventually I started to recognize the odd place. We were staying with a friend of ours in a house, that for reasons that are beyond the scope of modern science, was built in a mangrove. The insects are naming it an official holiday after the feast of Irish blood that was laid on for them.
All too soon it was Thursday and time to head back to Chiang Mai. This time I flew solo as Jenny took the bus and, to my eternal delight, all the luggage, so I got to drive the most challenging road, with the most beautiful scenery I’ve ever seen. I hummed Steppenwolf all the way. On my Honda Click. Oh, the shame.
Anyway, my plan to hide down the back and enjoy the doss with the aid of a few beers was scuppered when I bumped into Mr. B and I turned up a bit late. Long story short, I was sat beside the local Mafia boss and his impossibly good looking girlfriend. So I got to walk the tightrope that is being charming enough to a gangsters moll so no-one thinks I am disrespecting her, but not so charming that I am awarded a new pair of cement boots. The words ‘best’ and ‘behaviour’ raced around my head for the whole night. As did the expression, ‘gangland style execution’ and ‘headless corpse found in river’. Needless to say I was delighted when they decided to call it a night.
The same week saw the arrival of two pals to Chiang Mai. Gavin me old Pal from Dublin and Jenny, a girl I used to box with back in the dodgy old lock up in Mountjoy square. Largely because of Jenny’s enthusiasm I got right into the training and have been there ever since. We had decided before that we would check out Gav’s gym and so we went up to Pai to have a look.
The road to Pai is in two parts. One is a motorway. The other puts the ring of Kerry to shame. We went through 100 km of up-and-down and round-and-round, and in some places non-existent, road and we were down to the fumes in the tank of our 100cc automatic moped. The whole thing took about 5 hours and my ass felt like it had gone 15 rounds with Tyson. Or his cellmate.
Pai is a lovely little town, which would be heaven on earth if it had a beach. And a tower, from which snipers worked in shifts, to shoot all the hippies. God almighty I have never met a more pretentious bunch of emotionally needy feckers in my life. It’s almost like there’s a competition to see who can be the most laid back, painfully eclectic wierdo in the locale. Fortunately, the gym had a lovely bunch of people in it, so that kind of made it ok. Emphasis on the kind of. As for training, I have never had anything like it. World class doesn't cover it. I am almost reluctant to talk it up so that I can keep the trainers to myself. The training really is that good. It’s the most technique orientated gym I’ve ever been to. If I could fault it, it’s that there isn’t much emphasis on cardio and I definitely noticed the difference it made. This gym has quite a structured class, so conditioning really has to be done beforehand by you. But hey, no one said it was going to be easy.
Despite its small size I did find it hard to negotiate my way around Pai, but eventually I started to recognize the odd place. We were staying with a friend of ours in a house, that for reasons that are beyond the scope of modern science, was built in a mangrove. The insects are naming it an official holiday after the feast of Irish blood that was laid on for them.
All too soon it was Thursday and time to head back to Chiang Mai. This time I flew solo as Jenny took the bus and, to my eternal delight, all the luggage, so I got to drive the most challenging road, with the most beautiful scenery I’ve ever seen. I hummed Steppenwolf all the way. On my Honda Click. Oh, the shame.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Business as usual...
Well my first week back was a bit of a washout to start. Took me most of the week to get my head in the right place for training and I really only got a hold on it yesterday. I've had a woman on my mind so much, that it didn't really dawn on me till this afternoon, the enormity of what I am doing. I think part of why my head was so fried was I didn't realise how daunting the prospect of another year of fighting was. Now that I have I've put it to one side, reminding myself that this year can only be an improvement on the last.
I realised that although my head's not where it should be, there's no reason my body should have to keep it company, so I've got stuck into the training. Trained today til my lungs were blowing like a blast furnace and a tightness in my chest not unlike red hot needles. It's good to be back.
Saw a couple of good fights this week, first George, 'the cruel bull', from Spain or Ess-pain as he says. This was a total war and saw George claw back a decisive victory in the fifth on points. It was close until the last two minutes and then George let go with a series of hard shots that clinched him a unanimous decision. The other fight this week was a young English chap called Ben. Ben's a lovely fella with an equally lovely girlfriend, Emma. He looked as confident as any first-time-fighter I've ever seen, and she as nervous as any first-time-fighters-girlfriend I've ever seen. But she took it well and Ben gave a great account of himself. His nerves maybe kept him a bit tense at the start, and I shouted myself hoarse telling him to keep his guard up, but he kept an unrelenting attack on his Thai opponent who I believe has over 10 fights. A series of unanswered leg kicks, mixed with a liberal sprinkling of heavy hands, with a cracker (literally and figuratively) of a knee thrown in, led Ben to a second round TKO. A prouder smile I have never seen, nor a more relieved girlfriend for that matter.
Since I've got back I've noticed a marked increase in the number of cops out on patrol too. Mind you, they're still nowhere to be found late at night, or indeed, when raining. But the criminals who favour bright, clear afternoons to burgle must be crapping themselves. I even got pulled over the other night but fortunately, the cop didn't have enough English to question me so I sped on my way.
Unless this is your first visit to my blog, you will recall that the hospital e-mailed me after a hepatitis related blood test. The mail read 'You are Mr. David who have blood test with us today? there has been complication. We need to talk.' Anyone else terrified? Anyway, I went along as soon as I could to be told, that the complication we need to talk about was could I pay in installments, not in a lump sum at the end? Any suggestions for ironic revenge, greatly appreciated.
So tomorrows plan is to head up to Pai and scope out the gym up there. I have a feeling it's going to be a better place, based on a few conversations with some seasoned boxers who are in the vicinity. It's as much a recce for them now as for myself. The idea this year is to follow the training, so as soon as one gym starts to lose it's edge, I am gone to the next place. I'm getting too old to develop a loyalty to a second class gym.
The other reason I go to Pai, is to hook up with me very good pal from back home Gav. Gavin once beat up a dozen ostrich chicks for the laugh. So it's up to him for a few days then back to Chiang Mai to watch him fight on Monday night, then back to Pai I guess. I won't have got much time in at the gym so I don't know if I'll move up straight away. I'm now at a crossroads. The gym in Pai has better trainers but the gym in Chiang Mai is nearly empty again, which means a lot more time with the coaches. Decisions, decisions....
I realised that although my head's not where it should be, there's no reason my body should have to keep it company, so I've got stuck into the training. Trained today til my lungs were blowing like a blast furnace and a tightness in my chest not unlike red hot needles. It's good to be back.
Saw a couple of good fights this week, first George, 'the cruel bull', from Spain or Ess-pain as he says. This was a total war and saw George claw back a decisive victory in the fifth on points. It was close until the last two minutes and then George let go with a series of hard shots that clinched him a unanimous decision. The other fight this week was a young English chap called Ben. Ben's a lovely fella with an equally lovely girlfriend, Emma. He looked as confident as any first-time-fighter I've ever seen, and she as nervous as any first-time-fighters-girlfriend I've ever seen. But she took it well and Ben gave a great account of himself. His nerves maybe kept him a bit tense at the start, and I shouted myself hoarse telling him to keep his guard up, but he kept an unrelenting attack on his Thai opponent who I believe has over 10 fights. A series of unanswered leg kicks, mixed with a liberal sprinkling of heavy hands, with a cracker (literally and figuratively) of a knee thrown in, led Ben to a second round TKO. A prouder smile I have never seen, nor a more relieved girlfriend for that matter.
Since I've got back I've noticed a marked increase in the number of cops out on patrol too. Mind you, they're still nowhere to be found late at night, or indeed, when raining. But the criminals who favour bright, clear afternoons to burgle must be crapping themselves. I even got pulled over the other night but fortunately, the cop didn't have enough English to question me so I sped on my way.
Unless this is your first visit to my blog, you will recall that the hospital e-mailed me after a hepatitis related blood test. The mail read 'You are Mr. David who have blood test with us today? there has been complication. We need to talk.' Anyone else terrified? Anyway, I went along as soon as I could to be told, that the complication we need to talk about was could I pay in installments, not in a lump sum at the end? Any suggestions for ironic revenge, greatly appreciated.
So tomorrows plan is to head up to Pai and scope out the gym up there. I have a feeling it's going to be a better place, based on a few conversations with some seasoned boxers who are in the vicinity. It's as much a recce for them now as for myself. The idea this year is to follow the training, so as soon as one gym starts to lose it's edge, I am gone to the next place. I'm getting too old to develop a loyalty to a second class gym.
The other reason I go to Pai, is to hook up with me very good pal from back home Gav. Gavin once beat up a dozen ostrich chicks for the laugh. So it's up to him for a few days then back to Chiang Mai to watch him fight on Monday night, then back to Pai I guess. I won't have got much time in at the gym so I don't know if I'll move up straight away. I'm now at a crossroads. The gym in Pai has better trainers but the gym in Chiang Mai is nearly empty again, which means a lot more time with the coaches. Decisions, decisions....
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
The Triumphant Return!!
Well, I was back about 20 minutes before I was being hailed as a superstar! Admittedly, she was only trying to get me to stay at her hotel but it's nice to feel wanted. She went bonkers when she found out I was a boxer. Thank god, she said. All my friends reckoned you were Yakuza. Yes love, I'm Yakuza. I run the Dublin branch. And travel economy. And stay in rat infested Hotels like the one you're trying to bring me to.
So back in Bangkok an hour at this stage, and already it tries to sap at my happiness reservoir. The locals take it in turns to try and gouge me and I am forced to keep an ever vigilant guard against anyone who looks remotely happy, because smiling faces usually means I'm about to offered the deal of a lifetime on a Rolex, or a luggage set, or the hind quarters of two teen girls or whatever else they think you'll put your hand in your pocket for. 'There's daggers in men's smiles', as Shakespeare once said and I am now certain he was in Thailand when he coined that. But I refuse to have me head wrecked, so I stay out way past bedtime and get up to all sorts of shenanigans before retreating to my 'hotel'. I say hotel but it looks like a set from Angela's Ashes, to be honest.
The following day, I am back at the airport and am pleasantly surprised to get a great deal from Thai Air (usually the most expensive) of all people. They even throw in a slice of edible fruitcake.
Actually, before I continue I have to ask... who are all those people who get their luggage off the rack before me? What time do you put it on the plane? How early do I have to be to get my bags first? Have you ever met anyone who didn't have to wait for a bag? There's a joke in there somewhere, but right now all I want is my fecking stuff! So, straight on the plane and it's off to Chiang Mai with me. Within an hour and a half of leaving Bangkok, I am at Chay-Yai gym with the head trainer instantly recognising me and interrupting his afternoon smoke to help me out of the car with the bags. I am sure he must need a fighter soon. Or a lend of some money. Then the local fixer comes along and we go flat hunting. To be honest one apartment is pretty much the same as the next out here so I take the first one with internet access.
I head down to the gym for the afternoon session but more to shake of the cobwebs than launch a triumphant return, despite what you may have read in the title a moment ago. While there I am inundated with well wishers, including local cops, shopkeepers ( the mama-san I used to live beside in particular) and even the local Mafia Boss. Between them they manage to raise a smile on my otherwise dour face.
With that all in order, I take off to organise my other essentials, specifically; Inoculations and mobile phone. And I've been dying to catch up with Mr. B since I left London. I have to do all of this on a bike that has only the loosest affiliation with the term vehicle. Light enough to be carried under one arm, held together with spit and you'd have to talk it into going over 50kmh. I end up having to stretch it over 2 days as I'm just too late to catch most stuff on the Saturday. So now it is Sunday night* and I am back to work in the morning. Actually, it is more accurately Monday morning, but a combination of adrenalin and the introspection that follows a break up have me wide awake.
I get the distinct impression that it's going to be a hard day at the office...
*Note- I wrote this entry on Sunday night but couldn't get to an internet connection until today. The hospital have also e-mailed me regarding my blood test. We need to talk, it seems. Never a good thing when it comes to blood tests.
So back in Bangkok an hour at this stage, and already it tries to sap at my happiness reservoir. The locals take it in turns to try and gouge me and I am forced to keep an ever vigilant guard against anyone who looks remotely happy, because smiling faces usually means I'm about to offered the deal of a lifetime on a Rolex, or a luggage set, or the hind quarters of two teen girls or whatever else they think you'll put your hand in your pocket for. 'There's daggers in men's smiles', as Shakespeare once said and I am now certain he was in Thailand when he coined that. But I refuse to have me head wrecked, so I stay out way past bedtime and get up to all sorts of shenanigans before retreating to my 'hotel'. I say hotel but it looks like a set from Angela's Ashes, to be honest.
The following day, I am back at the airport and am pleasantly surprised to get a great deal from Thai Air (usually the most expensive) of all people. They even throw in a slice of edible fruitcake.
Actually, before I continue I have to ask... who are all those people who get their luggage off the rack before me? What time do you put it on the plane? How early do I have to be to get my bags first? Have you ever met anyone who didn't have to wait for a bag? There's a joke in there somewhere, but right now all I want is my fecking stuff! So, straight on the plane and it's off to Chiang Mai with me. Within an hour and a half of leaving Bangkok, I am at Chay-Yai gym with the head trainer instantly recognising me and interrupting his afternoon smoke to help me out of the car with the bags. I am sure he must need a fighter soon. Or a lend of some money. Then the local fixer comes along and we go flat hunting. To be honest one apartment is pretty much the same as the next out here so I take the first one with internet access.
I head down to the gym for the afternoon session but more to shake of the cobwebs than launch a triumphant return, despite what you may have read in the title a moment ago. While there I am inundated with well wishers, including local cops, shopkeepers ( the mama-san I used to live beside in particular) and even the local Mafia Boss. Between them they manage to raise a smile on my otherwise dour face.
With that all in order, I take off to organise my other essentials, specifically; Inoculations and mobile phone. And I've been dying to catch up with Mr. B since I left London. I have to do all of this on a bike that has only the loosest affiliation with the term vehicle. Light enough to be carried under one arm, held together with spit and you'd have to talk it into going over 50kmh. I end up having to stretch it over 2 days as I'm just too late to catch most stuff on the Saturday. So now it is Sunday night* and I am back to work in the morning. Actually, it is more accurately Monday morning, but a combination of adrenalin and the introspection that follows a break up have me wide awake.
I get the distinct impression that it's going to be a hard day at the office...
*Note- I wrote this entry on Sunday night but couldn't get to an internet connection until today. The hospital have also e-mailed me regarding my blood test. We need to talk, it seems. Never a good thing when it comes to blood tests.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Where there's sand...
I spent the next few days, hanging out with Pedro but unfortunately, for me anyway, Pedro was too busy driving all over the Emirates and I was too tired so we didn't get to hang out as much as we wanted but still enough to catch up.
Now the, anyone who thinks there not really pulling their weight, carbon footprint wise, need only compare themselves to the Emirates. It is not uncommon to walk through a Mall parking lot and notice that some of the cars are left ticking over so the car doesn't get too warm. And I'm not talking about popping in to get a few lottery tickets.
Now, unaccustomed as I am to having a go at anything, I feel obliged to raise the following questions; what is the deal with those hajib things? I get that Muslim women have that hair taboo and don't like to show it in public, but can I assume the women in full masks aren't bothered shaving? I would also like to point out the folly contained in having a fully clothed at all times taboo, while living in the hottest place on earth. It is so hot there, I was afraid to spit in case I needed the moisture in a hurry.
Got the chance of a lifetime to train at the Abu Dhabi combat club which I jumped at. We put some serious miles on the clock and eventually made it to the club. I was determined not to make a show of myself and gave a pretty good account against two local lads. Then I was dismantled by Marcio, the Brazilian. So good was he that he was able to hold a full conversation with me during the fight. Including telling me why the move I was trying wouldn't work, what he was going to use to counter it and why I wouldn't be able to stop him. All of this at25kgs my junior. Made it home, beaten, but not broken and had a Mickey D's to cheer myself up. That was it for the Emirates, it was time to pack and move the adventure forward.
Anyway, before that could happen I had to jump through hoops for the nice people at Dubai airport. Ironically, the girl whom I had to impress enough that she'd bend the rules was named Clara. An unnecessarily cruel jibe by the cosmos I thought, but there you are. Luckily I was much better at it this time round. And finally I was Thailand bound...
Now the, anyone who thinks there not really pulling their weight, carbon footprint wise, need only compare themselves to the Emirates. It is not uncommon to walk through a Mall parking lot and notice that some of the cars are left ticking over so the car doesn't get too warm. And I'm not talking about popping in to get a few lottery tickets.
Now, unaccustomed as I am to having a go at anything, I feel obliged to raise the following questions; what is the deal with those hajib things? I get that Muslim women have that hair taboo and don't like to show it in public, but can I assume the women in full masks aren't bothered shaving? I would also like to point out the folly contained in having a fully clothed at all times taboo, while living in the hottest place on earth. It is so hot there, I was afraid to spit in case I needed the moisture in a hurry.
Got the chance of a lifetime to train at the Abu Dhabi combat club which I jumped at. We put some serious miles on the clock and eventually made it to the club. I was determined not to make a show of myself and gave a pretty good account against two local lads. Then I was dismantled by Marcio, the Brazilian. So good was he that he was able to hold a full conversation with me during the fight. Including telling me why the move I was trying wouldn't work, what he was going to use to counter it and why I wouldn't be able to stop him. All of this at25kgs my junior. Made it home, beaten, but not broken and had a Mickey D's to cheer myself up. That was it for the Emirates, it was time to pack and move the adventure forward.
Anyway, before that could happen I had to jump through hoops for the nice people at Dubai airport. Ironically, the girl whom I had to impress enough that she'd bend the rules was named Clara. An unnecessarily cruel jibe by the cosmos I thought, but there you are. Luckily I was much better at it this time round. And finally I was Thailand bound...
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