It’s been a while since I’ve had the chance to blog. We’ve been rather flat out. I have a few days to catch up on. So I’ll go back in time a little bit.

We’d been making plans for a few days to do a big “Aussie” day of driving on Thursday, that is driving for about 10 hours, instead of breaking it up into two days, and then we’d get Friday free to just do whatever we wanted, just relaxing, reading, sleeping, Machiavellian plotting, that sort of thing.

So on Thursday morning my alarm went off at 5am, and it was painful. I dragged myself out of bed even before the alarm had time to berate me again with is chirpily smug beeping. I felt pretty good about that because we were planning to leave at 6 and I was up almost an hour early. If anyone was going to hold up our departure, it wasn’t going to be me!

When I was in the shower Jo let me know that it was 5:30 as if I wouldn’t have time to finish my shower and pack my bag in 30mins. I remember thinking “Girls! They always think you need ages!” I hopped out of the shower, and was standing in our room in just my boxers, when my parents knocked on the door and asked, with a smirk “Are you ready to go?”. I thought this was a joke because I was virtually naked. They weren’t joking. Somehow in all our discussions every time they’d said “5:30” I’d heard “6”. Either that or the three of them decided to play a practical joke on me which I’m not entirely sure isn’t the case. Little did I know, this was going to be just the first mishap of a mishap filled day.

Anyway, I threw on some clothes, and packed my bag in record time. If you ask me, I did an amazing job. 15 minutes later we were on the road.



Heading to the car way too early

Our plan for the day was to drive from Flores to San Marcos which is completely on the other side of the country. Jo had figured out a route where we could avoid going through Guatemala City and take some back roads down. We figured it would probably be a little quicker and the route would be a lot shorter.

We set out from Flores, got some directions then headed off. About half an hour down the road we got to a sign where the road forked, leading to two different places, neither of which we could find on the map. We stopped and asked which way to Coban, which was the first town on our route. The man laughed and told us Coban was in the other direction. Way back, at the town we left, we had taken a wrong turn and ended up driving in completely the wrong direction. We were heading north when we wanted to be going south. We had to turn around and go all the way back.

Now armed with this new knowledge we headed back the way we came, only an hour and a quarter behind schedule.

A little while later we arrived at a river with a dingy old ferry to take people across. In usual Guatemalan fashion there was no queue. The cars and trucks just lined up next to each other facing the river. When the ferry arrived, it was every vehicle for itself as everyone pushed forward onto the ferry, like a slow motion version of the opening of the Myer Boxing Day sales.

Thanks to Dad’s awesome driving skills we made it on to the boat second. While we were on the ferry the guy who beat us on to it was obviously feeling gracious, or vindictive, and pointed out our back left tire to us. It was unusually flat. Flat two for the trip.

Across the other side of the river we headed off to find a pinchazo, where tires are fixed. Luckily flat tires are a tradition here in Guatemala and there are pinchazos everywhere. We found one just across the river.

An hour and a half later the tire was fixed and we were full of breakfast, next stop Coban and we were only running two hours and three quarters late.



See our amazing video of the flat tire incident in high quality digital camera definition!

The rain started somewhere on the road. We picked up and dropped off a hitchhiking primary school teacher, and made it to Coban finally without getting lost again. Jo took us to a cafe the locals love. I had some chicken stew thing where they give you the liquid, the chicken, the potato and the rice and you have to pull it apart, cut it up and put it all in to make the stew. It was fun, but I felt a bit ripped off, like I’d turned up to McDonalds and they’d given me the bun, meat and vegetables and told me to put it together myself. I want things done for me, damn it!

When lunch was done Jo and Mum went to check out some craft. And as this bores my father and I, we just hung out the front of the cafe trying to decide what to do, till we’d hung around enough that that became what we were doing.

While we stood there a man came up to me and said “Hey there my friend, give me five!” and shook my hand and “gave me five”. He proceeded to talk to me for a while in very bad English about how he wanted to speak English, about some guys, and about US dollars. I spent a long time trying really hard to do my active listening thing, I kept repeating what I thought he was saying back to him, to which he’d always say “No” and try again.

Soon Jo turned up and I suggested that perhaps he talk to her in Spanish, but he didn’t want to, he wanted to speak English. I got the picture he wanted money, and as has been our policy we gave him 4 Quetzales, which he wasn’t happy with. We got the picture that he wanted 2 US dollars. But we we didn’t have 2 US dollars on us, but he kept insisting. I told him we were Australian, but the significance of that didn’t seem to sink in with him.

Eventually Jo said to him in Spanish, “Can you speak Spanish? Because we don’t understand what you’re saying.”

This didn’t seem to be the right thing to say as he wanted to speak English, so he got angry.

At this point he noticed Jo’s watch on her wrist. He spoke for a little bit longer saying he didn’t care about the “f-ing police”, then made a lunge for Jo’s watch. He grabbed it and tried to pull it off. I reacted with my lightening fast 2 lessons worth of Kung fu and grabbed his wrist using a Flying Angry Cobra Wrist Lock, Dad, also a kung fu master, grabbed the same wrist using the Striking Invisible Tiger Wrist Clench. Jo grabbed her watch with her Ju Jit Su, Fung Hu Fing Clasp. Mum was in the bathroom looking for the light.

Seeing the united power of the French Family and our formidable martial arts skills, the man let go and said something else in English. Jo said she was going inside and did. I put up my hands in the conciliatory, negotiation, defensive stance, and I said something to him which I don’t remember but while it probably sounded like “I don’t want any trouble” I’m sure it was actually something like “Never touch my family or me again or I’ll break your neck in a second!” The man swore at us, then stalked off across the road, across the square on the other side and disappeared.

Mum and Jo came out of the cafe, Mum having successfully found the light. And we all went back to the car to debrief and get out of that no good town with the street robbers and lazy cafe staff. We made it out successfully Dad only driving the wrong way down a one way street once.

Just out of Coban, we had to turn off to find a town where the back roads started. We found this little town, chock full of people and cars. The people were all friendly and happy to give us directions. By this stage we were only half way through our journey but it was almost 4pm.

Eventually we wound our way through the tiny streets onto the road to somewhere which would get us to somewhere else (obviously).

As we drove the road got steeper, narrower and more muddy. The rain was coming down and we were driving along skinny roads with no room for passing traffic, were we to meet anyone coming the other way. Soon the country side opened up and we were driving on the side of a mountain looking out over a spectacular valley, which looked great, but wouldn’t have been so great to drive off the side of the road into, which was looking like more and more of a possibility the more we drove. Plus the clouds were descending, the rain was coming, the hill side looked even less stable than the one we were driving through on Sunday when it started throwing rocks at us, and the road was so muddy we were in danger of getting bogged.

As we wondered if following this back road was the smartest option, we met a man on a bulldozer, much more suited to the terrain, who told us the road only got worse and we would be smarter to turn back. So turn back we did.



The Valley



Jo and Bulldozer Man

Back through the mud, back through the town and back onto the highway for Guatemala City, the very place we were aiming to avoid.

By now it was getting very late, and we were no where near our destination. We had to decide where to spend the night. After a little bit of bad diplomacy, we settled on Guatemala City and, much to my delight, we decided to stay in a posh hotel. And while this didn’t really excite anyone else, it did excite me.

We ended up arriving in Guatemala City 14 hours after we’d left Flores, still about 200kms away from where we wanted to go. Things perhaps didn’t quite go as planned.

Still we ended the night in the Holiday Inn which was swankier than I thought Holiday Inns were. I thought they were like just a step up from F1 but this was more like just a step down from Raddison. Plus Jo got to see her boyfriend and Mum, Dad and I got to order room service and watch cable, so it wasn’t all bad.

As I thought about the day I did realise the day was probably a pretty good illustration of James 4:13-14:

Now listen, you who say, "Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money." Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.

I think I agree.

Today we decided to leave Guatemala. Just down the road (about 2 hours) from Flores (where we’re staying) is Belize. So, being from a country where it’s not all that easy to visit other countries, we thought "Why not have a day trip to Belize?"

Of course Belize isn’t high on everyone’s agenda for international travel (though, neither is Guatemala). It’s a British Colony bordering Mexico and Guatemala, of around 250,000 people. It’s got quite a lot of land for quite a small country. How they manage to run a country with that many people is a rather baffling thought, but they do and they haven’t been invaded by Guatemala or Mexico yet, so good on them.

Getting to Belize was rather easy, all we had to do was drive out of Flores turn left, turn right, then drive till you hit the border. The drive was rather pleasant, not many cars on the road, mostly just mangy dogs and stray potholes. The road got worse the closer we got to Belize, giving you the impression that perhaps the Guatemalan Government feels that Belize is the neighbour who you don’t invite to the neighbourhood barbeque, and you never go over to borrow sugar, they’re just too, strange. After all they speak English, they’re the foreigners on the Central American block.

Once we made it to the border it was a mess of cars and trucks and people, all lining up to get across a bridge which could only fit two cars side-by-side at a squeeze, an international highway at it’s most spectacular.

But we made it across the bridge eventually, after first paying some tax to a random lady with a toll booth (a random toll booth operator perhaps) and were directed by more of Guatemala’s helpful, selfless entrepreneurs about where to park, where to got to immigration, and where to change money (with them). The border was full of people selling stuff, asking for stuff, guarding stuff, sitting on stuff, shouting at stuff, parking stuff, queuing stuff. It’s all happening at the border. Even while we were lining up in immigration to get our passports done, we had a woman begging us for just $1.

We got our passports stamped with only a little bit of fuss (Jo loosing about a month off her visa), we headed over to the car people who informed Jo that because the car wasn’t in her name she wouldn’t be allowed to drive it out of the country. Eventually, however the guy said she could take it if the people in Belize said she could take it. So we all trotted off to find Belize and ask them if they’d let us take Jo’s car across the border.

In the arrivals hall in Belize it was calm, quiet, clean, and beggar free. They stamped our passports and wrote everything in a book. They didn’t have computers, which I thought was very quaint and 1960s. Before they let us through though they asked us where we were going, but no one could remember. We hadn’t really thought too hard about the whole thing. Dad tried “Georgetown?” But the man said “Georgetown is a very long way away”. Dad tried “Georgeville?” “Yes, that is closer.” When Jo was asked by the customs man where she was going all she could think to say was “Belize?”

Unfortunately the man wouldn’t let Jo take the car into Beleze, so Mum and I left the Arrivals Hall to go to Belize while Dad and Jo went back into No-Man’s-Land to move the car.

Eventually they made it out having found one of Guatemala’s many helpful men there ready to watch the car for them.

On the other side of the border things were much more calm. For a start people speak English there. Not that English is an inherently calming language, but it calms me.

Also, there were no people crowding around you, there weren't a hundred people all trying to give you a service. We did get asked if we needed a taxi, we said “No”, that was all. It’s interesting what a difference a fence makes.

Eventually Jo and Dad arrived and Mum and I welcomed them to the country like seasoned Belizians. Jo was rather flustered after all the kurffufal, I think sorting out her car hadn’t been all that easy. But Dad and Jo had made it, it was time for us to take on Belize, a country we knew very little about, and I wouldn’t have been able to place on a map just over a week ago.

We got ourselves a friendly Taxi driver, who was happy to drive us to the nearest town for the going rate (which was written on an official sign at the border so we didn’t get ripped off). We arrived at the car and found another person in it. He had his wife in the car, and he was very “Sorry”. This didn’t really bother us, the four of us just squeezed into the back seat. The driver then proceeded to drive his wife home before taking us into town.

On our way what I noticed about Belize is that everyone seems more calm. People seem to drive safer. The landscape looks pretty much the same, but the people are darker and there were a lot less police and a lot less guns.

In town we went to a local cafe/bar/restaurant thing and Jo didn’t have to do a word of translation. It was wonderful. While we were waiting for our food the power cut, and didn’t come on again for the rest of our time in the country. However the food was good, if a little luke-warm.

The rest of the time we spent in town, the girls shopping and Dad and I wandering around looking at the local bridges.



Dad on a Belizian Bridge

At three o’clock our taxi driver came back to get us, and take us back to the border. We went back through customs and discovered, while it was free to get into Belize, it was US$15 to get out. Bah! This was turning into an expensive day. But they let us through. Dad only once managed to incur the wrath of the customs officers once by taking a photo in the departure hall. They said “Hey no photos!” which I thought was getting off lightly as in the US they probably would have just shot him. (I jest, they didn’t shoot us once while we were in the US)



The illegal photo

We entered back into Guatemala, back into the chaos. Immediately we were set upon by people wanting us to change money with them and to give us a taxi. We made our way back through the Guatemalan customs, found our car, then drove home.

As we arrived back in Flores, the island town, we managed to sustain a flat tire. I got to get out with Dad and do a bit of tire changing, which I’m sure was a good bonding moment.

Jo and Dad have now gone to find a pinchazo to fix the tire, while Mum and I get to loaf around reading and blogging.

All up, I’d say it’s been a pretty good day. It’s not often you get to go to another country for lunch, and I got another four stamps in my passport. Totally worth it! Maybe one day when I get old and I just want to write books, I’ll move to Belize and get a little hut on the ocean, write smart books and drink from coconuts all day. It’ll be wonderful!

Yesterday was ancient Mayan City day. After getting up terribly early, and eating breakfast beside our serene lake, we caught an early (running late) tourist bus to Tikal, which is a city of ancient Mayan ruins. Tikal used to be the capital city in about 700 AD, of a massive Myan nation that stretched across Mexico, Belize, Guatemala, El Salvador and Honduras. So naturally, it’s worth checking out.

We arrived at Tikal in our bus full of backpackers, all talking happily about their lives of endless travel, to be greeted by a strange man with a mustache welcoming us to Tikal and telling us what time the bus would be back. In Guatemala you get a lot of helpful people hanging around tourist spots, telling you information, who aren’t really as selfless as their helpfulness might seem. This man turned out to be a guide, hoping to be our guide, which he soon became, after a visit to the bathroom and some bargaining from Jo, who managed to get him down from US$10 per person to 75 Quetzales per person. A saving of approximately $0.

So we set out with Able, our tashed guide, who was rather insane. He was kinda like a hyper active, monkey possessed, drama kid. He was a little bit scary, like if you didn’t quite understand what he was telling you about Mayan aqueducts he might shout at you. And seeing as I didn’t always understand, but I often said “Mmmhmm” I was often worried he would see through my ruse of comprehension and get me in trouble. Often as we wandered through the jungle he would break into bird calls or the noise of a howler monkey, which sounded a little bit like he was having an episode rather than summoning monkeys, but you got used to these mid-sentence outbursts of jungle turetts and accepted it as “just part of the experience.”



Able Cenable

And it was a rather good experience. Even before we got to see any ancient ruins we got to see spider monkeys flying through the trees. There were monkeys all over the place, high up in the trees, throwing nuts and fruit at us. We should get monkeys in Australia.

The ruins themselves were very impressive. The archologists has restored temples, 40 and 70 meters high. And there are at least 5 of these temples scattered around the place. Some temples they have left as they found them, just tall, steep hills, covered in tress with just the stone zenith poking out the top. Others they have put back together so you can see them as they would have looked during their hey day.

Plus there were living quarters and offices and steam houses and more. The whole place used to be a city of at least 90,000 people. Now it’s mostly jungle. It’s a strange feeling walking around a place that used to so alive and so central and no is just a tourist attraction. It kinda appealed to that deserted city thing I have, but it wasn’t familiar enough to get me as excited as a deserted town would get me.

After a couple of hours of wandering about listening to Able’s informative but rather bazaar commentary we were freed from the jungle back to Tikal’s entrance where we got to eat lunch and sleep on the grass waiting for the bus home.

We pretty much collapsed when we got home. I slept, then watched The Devil Wears Prada (not brilliant but Meryl Streep was great) with Jo, had a late dinner, then went to bed.

For all those who want video footage of Latin American pre-football fun, this is stuff my Dad shot at the football:

Friday

I was sick on Friday. Jo was at work and Mum and Dad were in Antiqua so I just hung around at home. I wasn’t actually all that sick, I’d felt terrible the day before so I figured a day off would be nice.

I pretty much hid in our apartment all day. I did have dreams of going out to a coffee shop and seeing a movie. I ventured outside at one point and went down the street to coffee shop, I stood outside and looked at it, but was way too scared to go in, so I went back to the apartment. On my way back it occurred to me that this was no surprise as doing new things in English scares me, so doing something like that in Spanish is pretty much an impossibility.

Eventually the family came home and we headed off to visit Victor’s family. It was "parents meet the parents for the first time" night. Happily, every one got on. I said very little but Mum, true to form, asked many questions to keep everyone talking, while Jo had no time to do any talking of her own as she was spending the whole time translating.

I reckon we approve of the family, so Jo is allowed to keep the boyfriend.

Saturday

Saturday was the day to meet the other family, the ones Jo has been living with for the past 5 months. We found our way over to their place, and were welcomed in like old friends.

At one point I was asked “Can you speak Spanish?”

I replied “I can only say “Gracias”, “Buenas Dias” and “Buenas Nachas”.” At which point everyone started laughing.

I couldn’t work out what was so funny. But “Buenas Nachas” doesn’t mean “Good Night” as I thought I was saying but “Nice ass”.

For lunch we all went out to the world famous Guatemalan fast food joint “Fast Chicken” (I can’t remember what its Guatemalan name is), which was kinda like KFC but without the secret herbs and spices. Just crispy chicken. Plus we walked in and we had to wait to be seated, very classy.

We had much cross family discussion, though half of what was said I doubt anyone understood. I tried to teach the boys who Jo lives with a straw trick but failed miserably. They on the other hand, showed me two good straw tricks, rude kids.

In the evening Jo, Mum and I went to a farewell party for one of Jo’s work friends. It always feels a little strange going to things like that saying good bye to people you just met, while for everyone else it’s a very significant gathering. Still we were well welcomed. We played Charades in Spanish, which is hard, even though we were allowed to say the English words.

Walking home, we met an American beggar who was holding a box of pizza who asked for just $5. We didn’t give him any money, because we had none. But we figured, in the future, if he wanted to be more convincing he should probably get rid of the pizza.

I’m sitting in the car now, we’re winding our way from Rio Dulce to Flores. I realised this morning as I woke up in my mosquito net, that my malaria safety zone may not have been quite the zone of safety I imagined it was. I looked up to find I was sharing the space with a decent sized moth, which makes me wonder how many other visitors I had while I slept.

This morning, waking up in Jurassic Park was lovely. (I had to stop writing at this point, as writing in the car made me feel sick) It turned out we didn’t have thatched roof on our bungalow. Only over the verandah. Frauds! What we did have though was a smelly pond outside our door. So I guess that made up for it.

Breakfast was panqueques, then it was back across the eternal rope bridge (which doesn’t seem so eternal in daylight) and into the car for another drive, though this was rather less exciting than the day before.

We arrived here in Flores in good time. Flores is a small town in the middle of a lake. I think we’re on an island. The whole town looks like it hasn’t been changed since the 1800s (though I have no idea about this, seeing as I know nothing about Latin American architecture) with small flat fronted, flat roofed, brightly coloured buildings on paved streets. It’s pretty cool. I’d like to have a shoot out here wearing a sombrero or perhaps hold a parade for some obscure saint. It’s that kind of town.

The power has just gone out so I’m blogging in the dark. I think I have some days to catch up on.

I’m sitting on my bed in an “eco-lodge” in Rio Dulce in the North-east of Guatemala. I’m trying to keep all my limbs within my mosquito net because there’s malaria here, and I’m scared of getting malaria even if it does sound impressive to tell girls that you’ve had it. I’m convinced that’s why Ryan has had more girlfriends than me.

This “eco-lodge” is full of eco looking wooden buildings with hammocks and thatched roofs. We’ve got ourselves a bungalow which with an open-air kitchen and eating area and an upstairs sleeping area. It’s all quite swish, and very Jurassic Park. When we arrived here there was a big gate wooden gate with a thatched roof (because you can tell you're in the jungle when your gate has a roof, and a thatched one at that) at the end of a long, potholed drive way. There was a kid guarding it to make sure none of the dinosaurs got out and the bad people didn’t get in. We continued driving down the road some more, through darkness, past creepy hand made signs, lighting flashing across the sky, our senses prickling, our minds alert, aware that we were in prime horror movie territory.

In the end we found a large car park with two cars in it, who knows how long they had been there, and complete darkness. We parked the car. My family decided to set off in search of the hotel (which was no where to be seen) while I went off to do a wee, as I hadn’t gone to the toilet for about 6 hours, which was a whole 270kms, large Coke and bottle of water earlier. Boy it was a good wee. Just me, standing in the jungle, alone with my urine, the fireflies and the coming storm. It took me so long I had to move to higher ground as I was worried my feet might get soaked with the localised flash flooding.

But when I got back to the car the family had found a rope bridge through the jungle that headed off into the darkness, just as we were about to set out, we were set upon by a friendly hotel man who had come to find us and fight off the circling veloceraptors. He told us to get our bags because it was a long way to the hotel. And indeed it was. The hotel man did insist on carrying the bags of my parents and Jo for them, but didn’t manage to carry mine as well, lazy bugger. So while he strained under the weight of three people’s baggage we set off along the eternal rope bridge in search of our lodgings. The bridge weaved its way through the jungle, over streams, jungle floor and malaria breeding ponds, till 500 metres later it dropped us off into a lush resort of little bungalows and wooden garden furniture, beside a river with a jetty and some boats and more thatched roofs. At least that’s what I can tell in the dark. We could be in the middle of an industrial wasteland, with a few palm fronds stuck in the ground to hide the toxic chemical dumps.

I’ll enjoy exploring tomorrow.

Of course while the place here feels rather adventurous it’s only the fitting conclusion to today's journey to get here.

We left our swish apartment only 20 minutes later than we’d planned, but in true French family style we all arrived at church just in time for the sermon. We may not be kids anymore but we’re still the same family we were when Jo and I were 9 and 7.

After church we headed off for our drive to Rio Dulce. We’d been warned not to drive in the afternoon because it’s more dangerous with all the trucks on the road then. So we left at 1pm, just because we like to live life on the edge.

First stop was lunch. We found, in the north of Guatemala City there is a hill which is like the secret kingdom of fast food. It’s got every fast food joint you can think of, and about 30 more types you never knew existed, and it’s all situated at the top a a hill overlooking the city, and only accessible by seemingly hidden mountain paths.

We only found it after circumnavigating the hill a few times, but when we got up there, it was like reaching Mecca if Mecca were built by American multi-nationals. It was wonderful.

Jo and Mum decided to go get some boring girl food from a chain cafe, and Dad and I headed off through the monsoonal rain with undersized rain coats to find McDonald’s. We arrived to find a building full of warm, happy Guatemalan families, enjoying Sunday lunch with Ronald and the happy, helpful McDonald’s staff. If there is anything I have heard about McDonald’s here it’s is that it has excellent customer service, which seems incongruous with the image McDonald’s seems to have tried so hard to create in other parts of the world, that of a cheap meal, served to you by underpaid, unhappy, unhygienic adolescents. (All you people who I know who work in McDonald’s, I don’t mean you, you’re very clean.) And this McDonald’s was no exception. If anything it was overstaffed and everyone seemed to be as helpful as the staff of a swanky hotel. There were two people working every register, one to get the meal, one to take the order and smile at you. There was another person who opened the door for you and showed you which was the best line to be in (I assume you need a degree for that, picking good lines is always such a tough job). There was even a girl whose only job it was was to take your tiny little cups they put on your tray and fill them with tomato sauce. Amazing!

So, in the light of this wonderful customer service, Dad and I did our best to baffle them with our less than wonderful grasp of Spanish. Dad was in charge of ordering, as I have a terrible fear of speaking Spanish in high pressure situations such as any inter-human interaction. So Dad stepped forward and managed to confuse them so much that in the end there were 5 people all gathered around our counter staring at us with puzzled looks on their faces as Dad said “McTasty y enslada y jugo. Jugo? Jogo? Jugo.” While I stood behind him grinning and giving thumbs up, nodding and saying “Si, Coca-Cola! Si, Coca-Cola!”.

Eventually they figured us out and we got almost everything we wanted, we headed off to meet the girls at the car, for our quick getaway to miss the evil trucks, but realised our food was on a tray, and neither of us could figure out how to ask for a bag. When we tried the Tomato Sauce Girl showed us a nice clean table we could sit at. We were forced to eat in.

Eventually we made it out of Fast Food Nirvana, and headed off across the Guatemalan country side. The road wound it’s way down, through the mountains, the rain kept falling and everyone went to sleep or read, while Dad drove.

I was torn away from my book by a massive bang underneath the car. It turned out we had just driven over a rather large rock that had been in the middle of the highway.

As I tried to figure out how a rock could have gotten into the middle of the road, I noticed that there were a few rocks on the road. As we drove there seemed to be more and more. Dad would have to slow down aDulcend work harder at maneuvering the car around these rocks, some small some large, some as big as the tires on the car.

It turned out that the rain was causing the side of the mountain the road was cut out of, to slip and for rocks to fall on to the road. When you see those falling rocks signs on the side of the road, this is what they’re talking about. As we drove we could actually see rocks falling down the side off the hill and onto the road. In some places the whole road was covered in rocks and both directions of traffic were forced into the same space, maneuvering around all the fallen rocks of various sizes. As the rain kept falling the tension built, as you we wondered if the next rock was going to be a big one that smashed into the side of the car, or if the whole side of the hill would slip, and take us with it.

The desire was to pull over, and wait till the rain stopped but to stop would only put us in danger of getting stoned where we were, and the road was only going to get worse, so we pushed on, and we made it out alive with a car with it’s under carriage and wheels still in functioning order.

From there it was a rather normal drive to Rio Dulce. Big trucks to contend with, and people doing the usual crazy driving. Dad and Jo did wonderful jobs.

By the time we made it to Rio Dulce it was dark. We had no idea where to find our place of lodging, and it was only after three phone calls, many conversations with locals, two wrong turns into a car scrap yard and a seedy looking auto hotel called “Lover’s Nest” (which had automatic gates that tried to lock us in, probably so the zombies could feed on us) that we eventually found the large thatched roofed gate to this “eco-lodge” at the end of the rather long, rather bumpy and degraded road.

And now here I am, safe in my malaria net, about to fall asleep to the sound of jungle rain on thatched roofs. What more could I want?

I had a dream yesterday that I came home from work and found out that I was a father. I had a baby that I didn't know about. (I'm not exactly sure where the baby came from, I just knew I had one.) I was rather pleased with this, as I like babies, so I played with my child for a while. But then I realised I'd been working so much that I couldn't remember the name of my baby, but I was too embarrassed to ask anyone, because forgetting the name of your kid isn't really a good look. So I just told the baby I'd forgotten it's name and we both had a chuckle at how silly I am, at least as much as a baby can chuckle.

Yesterday was City day. Jo organised a taxi for us to take us into the city in the morning. Mum asked her why we couldn't just organise one ourselves, to which Jo replied that if you get the wrong one you get kidnapped. Personally I think that's pretty bad business practice.

Chances are most of the taxi drivers don't kidnap you. Or at least they don't kidnap most of their customers as I suspect it's rather hard to get them to pay the fare once you've stuck a video of them on YouTube then buried them in the desert.

After de-blinging for the city (so you don't get robbed) we met our taxi driver, Eric. He was very nice, didn't blindfold any of us, and dropped us off right where we wanted him too. He even spoke to us in Spanish for a bit while we smiled and said "Si, gracias."

We met Victor outside the palace that was built in the 1920s by escaped criminals who figured if they build a palace so they'd be mistaken for workmen rather than convicts.*

In the square out the front they were holding some kind of festival, I think. The Police had blocked off the streets and there were short men and people in business suits dropping explosives down a tube which would then make a mighty bang, kinda like fireworks with all smoke, bang and no fire. It was impressive for a little while then annoying as you'd keep jumping and feeling embarrassed that none of the locals even flinched.

There was much other stuff going on in the Square that wasn't part of any festival, just normal stuff, a man preaching about his miracle medicine, some native Australian birds that tell your fortune and a bloke selling goats. Which is kinda like meeting someone on Martin Place who's holding a cattle auction. But I say why not! We need more livestock in the cities of the world.

Victor took us to meet Jo and her work mate, Tracy, in Guatemala City's only Vegetarian Cafe. It just like Newtown except with more Spanish and less pierced septums. The food was good. I recommend the orange patty thing with the similar coloured sauce if you ever go.

Once lunch was done, we were left alone to explore the square. We didn't get to see the palace as it was closed for other tours (we think) so we checked out the Cathedral. It was full of praying people and statues of Jesus and his mates. I really like seeing Cathedrals getting used by the general populace. I wonder what has brought them here to pray. Are they there out of dedicated commitment or last ditch desperation? How many are praying for dead relatives and who has come for blessing in love? Who is just there because they love Jesus?

We went to some markets which were full of shops selling the same four tourist items. The highlight was the shop selling little statues of sexual positions next to little statues of the nativity.

We finished our time in the city centre sitting in the square eating bad ice cream while I deteriorated from the cold I brought with me from Sydney. Eric soon picked us up again and took us to visit Jo. He apologised to us because he had his wife in the car with him. We insisted we didn't mind. He said "I love you very much, my wife." which I thought was nice. Mum insisted to us that that she actually wasn't his wife, she could tell from the body language, and perhaps that they seemed like they may have been excited to be in each other's company.

Once we got to see Jo's work (and meet some friendly people) she took us to meet her monk friend at the monastery around the corner. We were greeted at the door by a man in full monk regalia, the cassock, sandals, rope belt and everything. He showed us in and went got Jo's friend, the head monk, who's name I have forgotten, who, much to my disappointment, was wearing an Adidas shirt and rather dull pants, but was otherwise very friendly and hospitable (we actually didn't see another monk looking monk while we were there, I think maybe the monk we met was on door opening ministry and he's only dressed like that so that people know they've come to the right place). Head Monk was the kind of monk you'd like to meet if you were lost in the mountains with no food and it was snowing and you'd stumbled across his monastery. He'd bring you in for some warm broth and a soft bed, and the disappointment at not finding him robed right would be even more minimal. In fact I think he has such a ministry to the homeless of Guatemala city, I was much impressed.

But as nice as he was, he had no regard for my sister's translating duties, and would dictate a short novel before pausing to let my sister tell us what he said. I think Jo may have edited him a little as she wouldn't take nearly as long to tell us what he said. For this I was thankful as I was slowly dying from my runny nose and overwhelming desire to sleep and was happy just to get the gist of what he was saying.

Head Monk took us on a tour of the monastery which was had lots of people hiding in different rooms, but was rather sparse and tatty. It made me wonder why it is that it's always the people who are doing the best work who have the least amount of money. You can fund a multi-million dollar soft drink advertising campaign but you can't properly fund some friendly, loving men who want to help homeless and elderly people.

For our final excitement of the day, Victor had decided to take Dad and I to see a soccer match. It was the final of the Red Team against the White Team (as you can see I was well informed). This was quite exciting, as Latin America is known for it's passionate soccer crowds. It's also known for it's soccer violence, which Victor warned us "could be a very big problem." However if you remember my excitement about the prospect of riots, it meant that I was definitely up for a soccer match.

When we arrived we were shown into a car park, which, once we were in it, turned out to be full. No worries, everyone just stopped their engines and left their cars in the middle of the road, as we also did.

We got out and joined the hordes of local fans heading into the stadium. We were frisked once just before entering the stadium, and once after entering the stadium. The stadium it self was large, well lit and roofless. There are very clear areas set aside for fans of the each team, I suspect so they don't kill each other. The stadium is divided into four parts, of which the Reds (our team) got three. The Whites were shoved down the end near one of the goals. The fence between the field and the crowd and between each section would have been about 5 metres high and was topped with razor wire. You kinda get the feeling they may have had problems before. It a little like that bar the Blues Brothers play where there is wire mesh over the front of the stage and everyone throws their beer bottles at them, except this was on a much larger scale.

The other wonderful thing I noticed is that, unlike in Australia they have very few rules for the fans. Mexican waves are most certainly allowed, and well participated in (except by the white fans who just shouted at the Reds while everyone booed). Plus pyrotechnics seem to be encouraged. There were drums full of fireworks right in the middle of the crowd, that just seemed to go off at random times or when a goal was scored. Compared to Australia where fireworks have to be right in the middle of the field, these were on the seat next to someone. Plus lots of people had flares with them to just pull when they felt like it, and when the game started we were almost gassed to death by masses of smoke flares attached to the fence in front of us. It was wonderful. How I wish OH&S were non-existent in Australia.

During the game there was a team of riot police standing next to the field at all times. Plus as soon as the ref would blow the whistle for half time or full time, he and the two linesmen would sprint to the middle of the pitch as four secuirty men in full riot gear also sprinted to the middle. The security men would surround the refs and escort them off the field. The would enter the field in the same way. It was rather nuts. You got the feeling that perhaps things get a little more crazy than at an Australian game.

The game itself was pretty fun. Our team one 3-1. It was tense for while as the Reds dominated the first half, but came out sloppy in the second, allowing the Whites to score a goal to even out the scores. In the end though the Reds came through, and everyone in the three quarters of the stadium was happy. The Whites were not so happy and attacked the players, though I'm not sure which team they attacked as we'd left the stadium by then.

After we met some of Victor's friends (one who was mortified that I came from Australia but had never learnt to scuba dive) he took us home, free from stab wounds and happy to have seen a Latin American football game. It was a good day. I'd give it 4 out of 5.



*I may have not got the facts quite right, it may have been built in the 1930s.

Yesterday was volcano day! Hooray for real live volcanoes!

We all got up early and had breakfast together (it wasn't a big feat seeing as the jet lag still seems to be doing its thing) which was full of fruit, as this land seems to be. We got a phone call in Spanish to which Mum replied "Si, gracias!", though she had no idea what the man said. We assumed it was our pick up from the tourist company. We headed down stairs and sure enough there was a friendly looking man called Marco ready to drive us to Pacaya the most dangerous volcano in Guatemala. When being introduced to him I managed contain the urge to call out "Polo!"

Marco drove us in his van south to where the volcano lives. My mum sat in the back and interrogated the man about everything, as she is known to do. This is good because my father and I say very little so it's helpful to have someone to be friendly.

Once we made it off the main roads, up some bouncy tracks, through some little villages and up a mountain, we disembarked in a little village filled with children, utes and men with horses. We met Felix our local guide who would also take us up the volcano. We ended up having 1 guide for every 1.5 walkers, it was a pretty good ratio, really. Better even than for an outing of kids with special needs, so I felt pretty safe.

Felix and Marco walked us up the volcano almost all the way to the top. They wouldn't take us all the way because we could have been poisoned to death by volcano gases, pansies. Still they did take us onto the lava field where we got to stand up close to a flow of molten lava. It was pretty hot, and it didn't remind me of Mordor, so I was a little disappointed about that. But still, red hot rock, creeping down the side of a mountain is pretty impressive. I even managed to stick a stick in and light it on fire. A highly original activity for any tourist to participate in.

Once we made to back to base camp, we drank some Coke, hopped in our van and headed fo for home. Or we would have had the van started. Marco had accidentally left the lights on and the battery died. No worries though, half the man population of the town pitched in to steal battery from another car, start our car with it, then put our battery back. This worked pretty well except they dropped a spanner into the engine, and so needed to spend the next ten minutes trying to find it. They didn't find it but we set of anyway. No sooner had we got 10 meters to the end of the drive when our van was descended upon by shouting men again. We were about to drive into a ditch. We got out, pushed the van back up the hill and saved it from certain death languishing in a ditch on the side of a volcano. The men used this interlude to look for the spanner again, which they found, and we were free to go on our way.

We made it home in good time and I was silly enough to have a sleep. Dinner last night was in the steak house across the road. Post dinner entertainment was more cultural delights as we watched Jindabyne on Jo's laptop. A thoroughly depressing, but well made Australian movie.

Today we're off into the city with in a taxi is most likely not to kidnap us. Should be fun.

- Meeting lots of people who don't speak English gives you as sense of how smart you must be to have mastered the language when you were just a child.

- They don't let you flush your toilet paper down the toilet. You have to put it in a bin next to the toilet. This promotes community and vulnerability. It also enables you to judge other people's wiping abilities and whether they scrunch or fold. If you do happen to flush your toilet paper down the toilet it clogs the system and a poor family has their house flooded. The authorities track the offending paper back to its source. If the flusher is poor they get shot, if they're rich they get asked not to do it again and everyone has a good laugh.*

- Had some unique cultural experiences today:

- I lay on the couch and read a book written by an Australian about America.
- Ma, Pa and I visited a Travel Agent
- Ate lunch at an Italian Restaurant

*This may not be entirely true, but if I were running the country that's how I would do it.

6am. Jet lag. Dumb. Though I hear roosters. That's new.

This could be the first time in my entire grown up life that I've gotten up at 6am without an alarm. Inconceivable.

So I have no idea what the title of that last post is about. I was falling asleep at the keyboard writing it. I also got the time terribly wrong, but I've fixed that now.

I'm still in Guatemala and I got to see it in daylight today. There's something a little scary about being in a country where you don't speak the language. I spend all my time looking at people hoping they're not going to talk to me. If they do I just grin like an idiot and nod. They could be calling me a stupid tourist, for all I know. But I guess I am one, so what can I do?

Today, after extensive sleep, Jo took us to Antigua, which is the old Capital city. It's old and full of buildings that look like they belong in an early Robert Rodriguez movie (funny that). We ate lunch then got lost in these maze like markets full or people selling cheap backpacks, t-shirts and toothpaste. There were a lot of women with babies too, not for sale.

Jo was telling us this morning that many houses and shops have well armed guards (as in guns, not limbs) to protect them. I've been checking them out and they all seem to have shot guns. I was hoping for something more automatic than that. But still, I like big guns when they're not shooting anyone.

At one point in the day we got lost and Jo pulled up outside a place with two guards standing on the foot path. They stared suspiciously at us while one pulled his gun half out of his holster and looked ready to fire should we make any sudden moves with our unfurled map. He didn't shoot any of us. I appreciated that, but it would have been something to blog about.

This evening's joys were a visit from some of Jo's work friends who are American and funny. Two of my favourite things. There were two boyfriends there too, who weren't American, but I let them stay anyway. They behaved ok.

We've made it to Guatemala. I feel a little odd. What am I doing in this country? I don't know anything about it.

It's 3pm on Monday in Sydney and I'm feeling rather tired after much travel and little sleep.

But since blogging last I have been on 3 planes, been in three different countries and slept very little.

We've (Mum, Dad and I) just got back from going out to dinner with Jo and Victor to a Mexican Restaurant. First meal in Guatemala and it's Mexican, mmm traditional! Still their neighbours.

I did also manage to fulfill a life long dream today and go to the United States of America. Flying into LA was much excitement. I'm sad I am not going to be actually spending time in the States except when negotiating Homeland Security. But still it was good fun. I made sure I ate some fast food, because I figure where better to eat fast food than in the home of fast food. So I had a Junior Whopper meal from Burger King. I wasn't even hungry but it needed to be done. It was sufficiently disgusting to satisfy my needs. The woman who served me even threw the bag at me and my fries went all over the counter. There was an over helpful Japanese man at the counter waiting for his meal and he started to pick the chips up to put them back in the bag, but I proceeded to stop him as I felt it was probably enough having counter germs on my chips than having random man germs as well.

I'd report other exciting happenings too you but I don't think I have much to say. Planes are pretty awesome.

It's really nice to be here with Jo and to meet Victor and to meet Jo's fill in family. We've been put in a nice apartment in a nice part of town where you don't get mugged. It shall be fun.

I wonder what language they speak here.

I'm currently in the Qantas Lounge because my Dad's a gold member. I'm using the free internet, going to get myself some free Coke. Then I'll go on a not so free flight to LA. Yay for LA! I'm going to the States (for about 2 hours) then we're off to Guatemala.

I'm rather excited. And sleepy.

I did just see the A380 too, which made me happy.

Yip! Next time I'll blog, I'll be somewhere else.

Finally finished here at work (rather late). Was a good youth night. Very army.

I'm going to Guatemala tomorrow. I'll try and blog.

See you then.

Love,

Tom

From my email from Qantas:

Where could your points take you?
Your points balance as at 12/05/2008 is 0

You may be closer than you think to your next flight!

I'm pretty sure I know how close I am.

I'm leaving the country in less than a week and I'm not really thinking about it much. Though today I did go and get jabbed. (Hep A booster for the interested) I'm spending most of my time watching movies, hanging out with friends, playing Scrabulous, organising a youth ministry, helping people with homework and reading about life. So I reckon I'll start thinking about going away on the plane.

What is exciting is that I will see my sister and her new man. I'm off to Guatemala with the Parents if you're wondering. The receptionist at the High School yesterday told me not to wear orange. I think that's because you get killed or something for wearing orange. The internet is refusing to tell me why this is, but I'll assume it has something to do with it clashing with the national colour scheme. They're very fussy about their decor in Guatemala.

Come to think of it she may have got Guatemala confused with Guantánamo. Which, while an appealing holiday destination, is not where my sister is. But if I do have to stroll by Guantánamo (Cuba is but a short hop from Guatemala) I'll be sure to wear my pink jumpsuit instead of my preferred orange. Fluoro is in!

We did Mother's Day today but I only saw my mother this morning. I did give her a present though, which is quite an achievement for me. I'm not really very good at giving presents.

It wasn't a highly remarkable day. We went to the retirement village with the youth group today with depleted numbers due to everyone hanging out with Mum. But it didn't make much of a difference because when we got there we found out they'd advertised that we were coming at 3pm, even though we always turn up at 4:30pm. Oh well. We hung out with the few residents that were around.

We didn't have any dinner planned so I took our much depleted youth group to McDonald's which was quite fun, mainly because I like hanging with the young guys in pressure free situations.

Church tonight was pretty strange. We had this long service that was an emotional roller coaster. I was preaching and by the time I got up to preach there had been three separate occasions for people to cry about three separate issues. Plus we were running quite late so I had to edit my sermon as I preached. It made it not as funny or informative, but I got the main points out and people probably listened more than if I had rabbited on till 8:30pm.

I finished the night with a Caesar Salad in Chatswood. Mmm, expensive.

Yesterday, being a day off, I decided to fill it with movies.

First up was Forgetting Sarah Marshall which, as I'm sure has been said before, was forgettable. While it seemed more interested in showing male genitals than women's breasts (a change for those sorts of comedies) that was about as innovative as it got. It wasn't amazingly funny, but I did laugh at bits. I didn't watch it and want to walk out, but I'd be happy enough never to watch it again.

Second film of the day was Street Kings, which I watched with Lesley. It was by far an improvement on the earlier film, but still nothing brilliant. Keanu's character was frustrating with his inability to ever resolve to be either good or bad. He was just kinda indecisive except in his resolution to shoot people. It was a confusing plot, but it kept my interest, and I liked Keanu's car, so it was ok.

I did also have confirmed for me that the new trailer for Indiana Jones is one of the worst cut trailers I've seen in a while. The film looks cool, but the trailer seems to completely lack punch. The pacing is all out and it feels like it's just been slapped together. The first trailer was great, but this one is unpleasant. The Dark Knight however has a snazzy new trailer out, not as good as the first one, but still special none the less.

It's going to be a good "summer" of movies.

So this video has been circulating a lot over the last year or so. It's kinda become "the" Christian video of YouTube.

When I first saw it I thought it was a joke and laughed for a while (I mean face it, Jesus looks like a dweeb in dress and a satin curtain), until I realised it was serious. I then noticed how popular it is and how inspirational has been for so many people.

It's interesting because I can understand why it's so popular. It pretty much beats you over the head with emotion. Even when I'm sitting there wondering why Christians make such silly art I get goosebumps as the as Jesus fights the evil dancers. What it sacrifices in subtly it makes up for in passion.

What has interested me is that I think it's really well done for what it is. I don't think it'd be particularly easy to evoke as strong and positive response from an audience in five and a half minutes as this video does. I admire the people who made this even if I don't really like it.

So while I find it's rather embarrassing to watch I just hope most of the people who watch it aren't like me. Popularity doesn't make art bad, it just helps you identify the snobs.

So it seems that since I've moved here to Hornsby, squatting with the parents, I've been a bad blogger. Of course it could be that I'm too depressed to type, but I think real reason is that I don't have internet in my bedroom and I'm too lazy to walk upstairs every night to blog. I could blog at work, but I'm too well behaved to waste my time in the employ of the church doing something like blogging, I like to save my time at work for things like YouTube and email forwards.

So alas, I am not a good blogger. But I am slowly working on my posts from my holiday. Of course it may not be that anyone really cares about my witty anecdotes from by-gone road-tripping, but I of course will pretend that you do, and keep plugging away.

I did, however, upload a new Tabitha about a month ago. So here it is, to please all those people who don't get the joke.

Oh boy did I have some awesome times today.

I went to Longreach and saw the Qantas Museum, and it was great.

Actually the whole trip was good and I'll do one of my extensive updates soon. For now I'm sleepy.

I’m currently in the Traveller’s Retreat in Mount Isa. I’m not able to get on the internet because there is some dude there MSNing it up. So I’m on Jem’s computer doing the dry blog. I just made that term up but I figure it’s a good one.

We’ve been driving since yesterday morning. We left Alice Springs only an hour and a half shy of our 10am departure. But it was pancakes that held us up, so there was no reason to be upset.

On this leg of the road trip there are only five of us. Jem, Tracy, Ryan, Daniel and I. Driving is all rather uneventful but quite lovely none the less. There is something therapeutic about driving through the outback. Seeing straight roads that stretch on over the horizon. Having hours and hundreds of kilometres between towns and knowing that, were you to stop the car and start walking away from the road in any one direction, you probably wouldn’t see another person before you died somewhere in the desert. You feel the need to respect the country, to take it seriously.

Plus the hours of just sitting gives you time to read, sleep, listen to music, think, pray, talk. You’re forced to stop, and it’s pretty nice.

Last night we stayed the night in Tennant Creek. It’s somewhere in the middle of the Northern Territory. The town isn’t actually at Tennant Creek, the story goes, there was a bit of a settlement at the creek, and there was a wagon carrying beer and the pub for the town up from Adelaide, but the axle broke about 15km south of the creek, so everyone packed up shop and moved to the pub, and that’s where the town is today. I’m not sure if I believe the story but it’s a rather Australian sounding story, at least Australian in how we like to view ourselves, so I’ll keep it.

Anyway, we stayed in Tennant Creek at the Traveller’s Rest Backpackers. It was classy in the extreme. It kinda looked more like someone’s garage, with junk and bird cages everywhere, lit by those ugly yellow fluro lights, than a beacon of rest to the weary traveller. They even had the radio playing all night in the concrete and steel outdoor setting with the classic hits only interrupted by the occasional chatter of air traffic control which sometimes hi-jacked the frequency.

After having an opening drink in the depressing but endearing Memorial Club we wandered up to the main street in search of some dinner. Walking down the main street was on of the strangest cultural experiences I’ve ever had in Australia. The place looked more like Africa than Australia. The whole time we were there we only saw three other white faces in the many indigenous people that wandered or sat on the side of the road at 7pm on a Saturday night. We weren’t even in an Aboriginal township, we were in a normal, Australian country town.

When we went into the pub, the only place open to give us food, it was chock full of whities. Like they were taking refuge in there from the black fella. It was rather sad. I’ve never seen segregation like that in Australia, or anywhere for that matter. It made me rather sad. I wish I could do something, but I can’t. I’m just a tourist passing through.

Dinner in the pub, despite feeling like we were hiding from the marauding black mob outside, was nice. It was good to hang with my road trip pals.

Walking home was a similar experience to the trip to the pub, only this time we saw more white faces, they were in the police cars that regularly drove down the street.

We went to bed early so we could get up at the literal crack of dawn. I stayed out later than the others to Bible, look at the stars and pray. Yep. It was pretty good.

Today was another speedy trip down the highway. I got to see the sunrise, and then we left. We left at 7:20am, 10 minutes early, which we managed to nullify by getting lost at the first turn, and heading resolutely into the unknown desert. We were saved from certain death and cannibalism (probably not in that order) by a shrewd mix of pessimism and GPS.

But once we were on the right track it was straight on till Mt Isa. We arrived here just after 2pm (I think, the time zone change stuffed me up a little) which is majorly early. We have heard reports that Mt Isa is by area, the largest city on Earth. This is a pretty big boast for a town of just over 20,000. But considering that they seem to consider towns 200kms west of here part of Mt Isa, I can see why that would make such an outrageous claim. I also found out that you’re not a real Aussie until you’ve been to Mt Isa. Which, again, seems to be rather audacious thing to say, but seeing as we only found out about that little part of the citizenship test on arriving in Mt Isa, I reckon most people in Australia are blissfully unaware that they are, at best, just permanent residents, and it’s probably better to leave it that way. Otherwise Mt Isa will either be inundated with people visiting to make sure they are “real Aussies” or destroyed by a rampaging throng of pretend Aussies upset to find that Mt Isa has dared deny them of their supposed identity.

But seeing as we were here now, and safe in the assurance that we are as Australian as Rupert Murdoch, Russell Crowe and Greg Norman, we figured we could see the town. So we bought some bad Asian from a place called “Happy Box” (awesome!) and went to the lookout. The rest of the afternoon was filled with sleeping and people feeling sick.

Tonight Jem, Tracy and I went to church at the only place we could find with an evening service. It was a unique church going experience. While I didn’t hear anything much about Jesus, I did hear that they’re getting a new 400 seat auditorium. The sermon was basically talking about how we needed to get on board with the church vision. We were told that Jesus had a “sole vision”, his was the Kingdom of God, ours needs to be the new auditorium. We can’t serve the vision of any other churches, we must get on board with the sole vision of the church, because you cannot serve two masters.

Perhaps the highlight of the service was an inane song I have never heard before. The chorus was:

Let the redeemed of the Lord say so
Let the redeemed of the Lord say so
Let the redeemed of the Lord say so
Say so
Say so*

I have no idea what that means, but as one of the redeemed I am now going to get in the habit of saying “so”.

Tonight we had curry for dinner which we cooked ourselves. We’re amazing and I’m off to bed.

So!


*In doing my research I have come to see that this is an adaption of Psalm 107:1-2 where it says "Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good; his love endures forever. Let the redeemed of the LORD say this". But I can't say I really got the impression from the song that I was singing about the goodness of God, but the limited vocabulary of the saints.

One would like to sat the highlights were the spiritual experiences at the big rocks but I'd have to say it was the $1.68 600mL Coke in Yulara and the 130km/hr speed limit on the Stuart Highway.

Oh yeah. That was definitely a trip worth doing.

(Photos and more words coming soon)

So I've made it to Alice Springs. I flew in yesterday from cold, wet Sydney at around 1pm.

I was kinda freaking out being is Alice. On Sunday morning I was in Canberra, on Sunday night I was in Sydney by Monday arvo I was in Central Australia in Alice Springs. Planes are strange things. I have no idea how far I flew yesterday, but how I managed to get from Sydney to the middle of the Australian in desert in four hours has kinda baffled me.

On arrival Mum, Andrew and Hannah took me to Glen Helen which is a place with tall cliffs and a rock pool. This part of the world, I have discovered, has the most spectacular scenery. Lots of huge red cliffs, red dirt and dull green scrubbary. It's amazing to travel around, and even more fun to drive around in a big, powerful Land Cruiser called Mayhem. The Uncle and Aunt have lent us their 4WD for the trip and it's big and fun, I got to drive it a little.

Last night I slept outside in a swag. Everyone had been telling me that I should do it because they had their most comfortable night's sleep ever in a swag. So feeling a little jolly and lot like a man, I carried my swag out to Keith and Stella's backyard to sleep under the stars. The great thing about this part of the world is there is no dew, it doesn't rain and the stars are brilliant. Plus, I've been told that Keith and Stella's property is at the foot of the oldest mountain range in the world* and that the mountains used to be higher than Everest. Which is kinda like the geological equivalent of living next door to Ringo Starr.

Anyway, the sleep wasn't the most comfortable I'd ever had. It wasn't bad, just not amazing. I was a bit cold, and I got woken up by some stray cows at one point. But still, now I can say I've slept out under the stars at the feet of Mt Ringo. And not many people in the world can say that.

Tomorrow we're off on a three day trip to see Uluru (Ayers Rock for those who don't know) which, I have heard, has been the most debated and contentious issue of this whole road trip. But we're planned now and there are three of us going and I'm excited. Many hours in Mayhem and a big rock that's world famous, what more could you want?


*Wikipedia tells me the the oldest mountain range in the world is the Urals in Russia. So either the Urals stretch all the way to Alice Springs or someone has their facts wrong.

I'm sitting in a rather large corridor here at EPIC (Exhibition Precinct in Canberra) and I've finally finished five shows of The Gilbert and Marty Show, the replacement to Donny Jaffa. There's singing happening in the main hall but I need a bit of time out. It's been a rather full-on 5 days.

It's been hard. Gilbert is a puppet played by Johnny and I play Marty, and over excited, try-hard youth pastor. I don't really like Marty very much. He's not as funny as Donny. But I've had to scale Donny back this year because he's pretty good at offending people.

Since arriving it's been all go. Not having any videos edited has meant that we've been editing two videos every day.

On the first night we only got one done, and even that didn't work. The show itself was under-prepared and not very funny. We were playing to an almost packed house and we were pretty bad. Lots of them didn't come back the next night. I didn't feel to happy about that. It's hard going out in front of an audience and absolutely bombing, especially when you know lots of them are expecting you to be funny.

But in the following days we improved. Johnny is great. I've really enjoyed working with him. He's calm and supportive and honest when he thinks I've had a bad idea. Plus he's optimistic which is always helpful.

Everyday after day one we made a video with Donny Jaffa going to visit people doing projects around Canberra. That's been pretty fun. It was nice to have Donny. I realised I missed him. He may be a rather unpleasant person but I do have a soft spot for him.

Making videos during the day has meant every afternoon has been packed full of editing. I usually give the video to Sam (who's been my right hand man this week) and just tell him to edit it and then check it later after Johnny and I have gone through the show. It's great. He's been a star.

Anyway, the end result is that we have a made a show that hasn't been as funny as Donny Jaffa. But it's improved, and it's made people laugh, and they've sat down and that's been the main point. So I'm happy now. Marty won't be back now.

I think the singing might have finished, so I should go. Tim Costello is speaking tonight and I'm looking forward to that, so I should be off.

I'm off to Soul today.

The Donny Jaffa Show has turned into the Gilbert and Marty Show. Technology has been so rude to us that I'm heading down there with nothing edited. So it's going to be an interesting week, full of editing and improvisation. Lucky I've got superpowers in both those areas.

Yep!

Be well blog readers. I might blog when I'm there.

Life seems really full at the moment. I guess because I'm trying to get a youth group to Soul Survivor, get a 2 and a half hours of live entertainment planned for next week, organise my self to get to Alice Springs in a week or so, and then be ready to start the new youth term when I get back.

It's going to be a biggy.

I can tell it's big because my procrastination has been at a bare minimum. I guess that's good. It might mean I only really procrastinate when I think I can afford it.

But I'm not feeling too stressed yet. So this is good.

I'm off to see U23D tomorrow. It'll be joyous.

This is why I still like Kevin.

Kevin goes to visit China, then tells the students at Peking University that there are human rights abuses going on in Tibet. It's like being invited to your neighbours house then telling them to stop abusing their kids.

Go Kevin!

Tomorrow we have an introductory staff meeting with our new Minister, and a few of us staffies thought it'd be the perfect time to pull a prank on him. We decided it'd be a rather funny idea to do the opening devotion from the Koran or some Buddhist text for the new guy. It'd be good to see his reaction when he starts to wonder what sort of a Church he's signed up for.

Alas though the Revs didn't think it would be very funny. Stephen said he didn't see the humour, but he didn't mind if we did it. Joe, the acting Senior Minister, laughed and said "That's not a good idea. Next time you have a thought Tom, keep it to yourself."

Alas, the dreams of the little people are crushed by the clergy yet again.

Next time I decide to pull a prank remind me not to ask for permission.

So it's that time of the year again. A little later than usual actually. But I'm off to Soul Survivor in a week and have 5 30 minute shows to put together in a week. Things are late due to some communication mishaps between me and the others. But I figure it should all be good now.

What that means is I'm on a mad scramble to create a show. I'm not sure if it'll be the Donny Jaffa show or some other monstrous absurdity. If you have any other ideas for crazy pre-worship meeting entertainment, let me know.

I went with Lauren to visit a girl from youth group who's stuck in hospital right now. We managed to stay over three hours and got kicked out at 9:30pm, an hour and a half after visiting hours were over. It felt pretty rebellious getting kicked out of a hospital. But I guess for Girlfriend magazine readings and games of "Guess Who", who can blame us. It was pretty fun.

In other news, we're getting a new minister and his kids are youth group age. This is a little scary. Who wants to be the youth minister for the bosses' kids? I'll pay them to love it.

We've got a man night on tomorrow night for youth group, and I've been planning on talking about porn, seeing as it's such a huge issue for young guys and no one ever talks about it.

Anyway, I've been doing research and XXX Church (I always feel naughty typing that address in, especially when I'm in my office) has an interesting blog from a Christian guy who used to be Porn Producer. I read a lot of it yesterday, it was rather fascinating. It puts a human face on a rather secretive industry. It was quite worth reading. He's not all Fred Nile about porn. He seems to take a rather smart, considered approach, while still acknowledging how much damage it does to people. I like people like that.

Twice in the past two days I've had to raid two bank accounts with only $7 left in them. Doing the $7 shop means I have to do maths when I walk the isles. Still 7 is the holy number so I'm thinking it was probably a blessed scrounge.

I should get paid tomorrow. It won't be $7 but I'm sure I'll feel blessed anyway.

Jem and I went to a driving range in Hoxton Park this arvo to whack golf balls. We were both pretty bad, but it was a bit of fun.

Yesterday night I went to see 10,000 BC with some folks after out Leaders' Meeting. It was rather silly. It had big, evil turkeys and the most absurd groups of ancient tribesmen I've ever seen put to film. But I had a good time watching it, and that's what matters most.

I've had a really bad term for organisational mishaps. First I planned a social for half the youth group for the wrong week. I read the calender wrong, I thought I was a week earlier than and organised the social for Easter Friday when it was meant to be the week before. It got moved to tonight, but I forgot about that too, so I only really managed to pull it together in the last few days, even now it's a little bit of a mess. Half the youth group are telling me they had no idea that it was on. But hopefully, they'll manage to find their way there.

I also organised our Term Celebration, but forgot to book the church, so someone else got in first. Then I reorganised it, tried to book it, but the office door was locked with an new key so I had to wait till I had the key, then I forgot. Someone else booked that date too. Finally I booked it, and it might happen in May.

I'm sure I've been a bit more forgetful on other things too, but I can't remember them. Is that irony? No, I think it's just expected.

I have been a real bad blogger lately.

This is mainly because I'm staying at my parents' place and they have a computer but the keyboard only works sometimes, so blogging isn't always possible. It's hard to blog with just a mouse.

But I shall be trying to blog when I can.

Easter so far has been hectic. The sad thing about working for the Church is that you work almost the whole long weekend. Everyone else goes on holidays for four days of happiness and you're stuck in Sydney attending Church services and well...just that really. Unless you're preaching, like I was, and then you're writing sermons too. Oh how I wish I had the skills to write a sermon early. For some reason that seems impossible.

Still preaching last night was fun. Having more time to work on it meant I had more time to not have any inspiration. I'd spent the weekend trying to get something, and then only when I was preaching it did it feel like I might have actually achieved a sermon I was happy with. I don't know why I do it to myself.

Still the weekend hasn't been all sermon pain.

On Friday I watched Death Proof with John. That, I must say, is one very cool movie. It has one of the most awesome car chase. It wasn't awesome like say The Bourne Identity's mini chase was awesome. But awesome like two American muscle cars on open roads duking it out, awesome. But only the last 15 minutes was car chase. The rest of the film was just establishing the characters in that overly indulgent Tarantino kinda way. It was pretty much the worst structured movie I have seen in a years. But what was cool was that they knew it was badly structured and that's what they were going for. So it worked.

On Saturday I had lunch with Ryan. We ate wedges, hash browns, veggie pasties, Doritos, prawn chips (not Ryan) and grapes. It was spectacular. I felt very satisfied and unhealthy by the end.

At night we went to Jem's new place for dinner. It was nice to meet her house mates and eat food. I only managed to offend everyone right at the end. So I was happy with that.

And Sunday was, well Easter Sunday. I like Easter Sunday. I like Jesus and Jesus being alive. So that made me happy.

Last night I came home and watched 3 episodes of 24. I needed the switch off. And I actually finding Jack Bower less annoying. It might be because he thinks his family is safe and he's stopped promising them "I'm gonna get you outta there." Plus there have been more helicopters and guns and I like them.

I feel I should tell you the real story of what happened, rather than the version written by our Children's Minister.

So it was the Easter Assembly today at the school I teach scripture at. I had been asked to write a drama about the Road to Emmaus. I decided to make it about the two guys coming back and telling everyone what had just happened to them. I decided to make the guys a little dopey and added a few lines in like this:

A:We were walking along the road from Jerusalem to Emmaus.

B: You know the road where Tony’s donkey exploded because it had extreme diarrhea? It’s that road.

Or this one:

A: So we were depressed.

B: So depressed we were talking about how depressed we were. I was even more depressed than when I swallowed my favourite watch and had to wait for it to come out the other end.

See I thought they were pretty funny jokes. And when it came to performing it, so did the kids. But alas, some of the teachers didn't think it was so amusing. After assembly one we were asked to tone it down.

At the same time in my talk I spoke about being afraid of vomiting. And I think that upset the teachers too.

By the second show we'd solved most of the offensive bits. Except this one:

A: Can you imagine how embarrassed I was! The whole time we’d been talking about Jesus to Jesus.

B: Yeah just like that time I was talking to your ex-girlfriend and I didn’t know it was your ex-girlfriend and so I told your ex-girlfriend you though she was a fat cow. And then she cried. That was embarrassing.

A: Yeah…just like that.

And in my talk I talked about death and how it was sad but Jesus being alive means that he's stronger than death. But all my talk of death made some poor little girl cry.

Still the kids loved us. I got mobbed for autographs in the playground, which is a first. I'm sure they'll get a lot on eBay for the pieces of paper that says "To Jimmy, Happy Easter, Mr French" but maybe that's big in the autograph market these days.

The poor Scripture Coordinator rang me to thank me for what we'd done and just let me know that she'd talked to the Principal, and a few of the teachers and apologised and emailed them apologising some more accepting full responsibility for everything that happen. This way works best for me. I do the offending someone else does the apoligising. Hopefully all the fires are put out now.

When I start my kids' ministry I might make our tag line "Offending the Kiddies for Christ". I think it'll go down well.

Today I offended several people in the Scripture Assembly at the public school I teach at. As a sign of my insecurity I feel the need to make kids laugh and therefore made several inappropriate jokes about vomit and diarrhea. I began to get the feeling that I was offending some teachers with this as the tension in the room built. I felt I had two options before me; I could either pull back and tone down the story or I could continue. I thought "Stuff them, they can't tell me what to do, the kids are laughing." I decided to really give them something to talk about and to go out in a blaze of glory, so I peed on the floor.

I don't think I'll be invited back to the school, but hopefully the kids will think of me whenever they look at the stain on the floor of their hall.

The End

This was my morning's adventures as told by Rachel, who wasn't actually there.

I was at the High School yesterday to teach scripture. On the weekend an recent ex-student of the school had been hit by a bus and killed. We arrived at the school and there was RIP graffiti all over the school. There was an odd feeling in the school.

While I was waiting outside one of the class rooms to go in there was a guy walking past with his friend. As he was walking he shouted at me, "I don't believe in God! How can there be a God when I saw my friend dragged along the road by a bus and killed? There is no God!" It made me so sad. I said nothing, because there is nothing you can shout back down a corridor to be of any comfort. But I wished I could have said something. Instead all I could do was watch and feel un-able to help at all.

I have prayed.

I am now well moved out of my house in Enmore.

I went back to Enmore today to help with the cleaning. I kinda skipped out on the cleaning and stuff on Sunday and Monday as I was working. I thought it'd all been done on Sunday, but alas it had not. I feel a bit guilty that the house slaved away for three days while I only had to spend Saturday moving my stuff.

I'm at my parents place now. Things are quiet.

We had David's funeral today. It was pretty nice. We sat in a room with a decorated coffin. It wasn't really like a funeral at all, just a bunch of people shareing stories. Lots of us were sitting on the floor, his paintings were all around the walls, we had a few laughs, it was sad, it was good. It was one of the most well done funerals (or celebrations, as this was called) that I've been too. This time people told stories that reminded me of David. I didn't think we were burying Jesus again. He was falible, he was talkative, he was loving, he was loved, he was David.

Now I'm feeling tired.

So this is my last night in Enmore. My room is a mess.

I've been slowly packing since Tuesday. I'm not feeling sad, but I should be because I love this place. So I'm going to make a list of the things I going to miss.

What I will miss about Enmore:

Thai food (Anna Thai at night, Red Corner for Lunch)
$2.50 buddies from the IGA
The Duke (I have a pub 200 meters from my front door, it's wonderful)
The Enmore Theatre
Living in the same street as the Red Wiggle
King Street
Late night food
The cred that comes from living in Enmore (which is so much cooler than Newtown)
Feeling really smug about being able to park in our driveway when there's a so on at The Enmore
The bus to the city
Being close to the Airport
Getting to drive over the Harbour Bridge everyday
The low-flying aeroplanes

Things I will miss about living in this house:

Living with Mil, Martin, Ryan and Matt (and Jo, Jem and Jon)- I love them all
Having people sleep over regularly (especially people I really like)
The Balcony
Being able to see the airport from the balcony
Drinking Baileys on the roof
The Pancakes
The laughs
The many, many DVD watchings
The Coke and beer
The tofu
Coming home from from work to find all my house friends are sitting around drinking a beer and having a barbie
The random dropping ins from randoms
The Projector
Being able to blame Matt for everything
The cutlery
Community (whatever that means, we never got around to figuring it out)


Things I won't miss:

The drive
The dust
The mould
Cockroaches and slugs
People vandalising my car

And I think that's it.

Good bye sweet Enmore. I have been well blessed.

Jumper on the other hand...not so much.

I went to see Jumper tonight with the "Little Brother". I had two free tickets so off we went.

I'm pretty pleased it was free because it was a rather lame film. I feel like its biggest weakness (though there were many) was that it wasn't long enough. I know people will think I'm a little insane for saying that but there were all these things that weren't explained. Like the bad guys were pretty much just bad. They had a little bit of motivation and back story. But really, it was lame. We could have had all this cool stuff about why the Jumpers and Paladins were fighting. And maybe some more moral ambiguity, and justification for the Paladin cause. And the climax of film occurred without any warning that the hero was about to come through with the goods. Had the film makers decided to slow down spend some time on the characters, the back story, the foreshadowing, it might have been a much better film.

That said, it wasn't terrible. I didn't have a bad time. It was probably just disappointing because everything about the film was mediocre. I was thinking, if I ever get famous, I'll do a remake. They really should remake more mediocre films with good concepts. That way no one will get upset for trying to "improve on perfection" and you can get kudos for making a film better than the original. Everyone wins, unless you suck worse than the first film, and then you look super bad.

So anyway, I say, don't bother with this film till DVD and your desperate. Go see Rambo instead. That was cool.

I have just signed up to be a movie review/blogger on a Christian youth site. Which means I'll now have to write Christian movie reviews. Had I been writing a Christian review I should have written this:

Jumper is a film about David Rice, a young man with the unique ability to teleport. Going around the world, looking for excitement, stealing money, David lives the ultimate life of the unregenerate man. When he is tracked by an evil group who don't like jumpers, he must fight for his life and the life of his girlfriend whom he selflessly saves.

While David's selfish attitude is rectified by his love for his girlfriend, the film makers fail to realise that true and lasting change can only come from a new heart not just a new attitude. This heart can only come from Jesus. Had David found a saving faith in Jesus' death and resurrection perhaps he truly would have been a superhero worth watching, one like our Lord.

1.5/5


To be fair the Sydney Anglican review doesn't do to badly at remembering that Jesus doesn't have be the hero of every film.

Queensland Premier Anna Bligh said the streaker had posed a danger to players.

"Last night, at the Gabba there were 27,000 cricket fans who had paid their money to see a game of cricket, not to see a streaker," Ms Bligh said in Brisbane.

"I think, frankly, that people understand that streakers can pose a danger to our players.

"It might seem funny at the time but it can be quite dangerous."

From here.

I wonder what the stats are. I wonder how many streakers have actually been injured or injured someone else while doing the nudie run. I reckon it'd somewhere in the hundreds, maybe thousands! It certainly is my first concern when someone streaks; "Did anyone get injured?"

If only I lived in Queensland and I could vote for Anna Bligh who keeps people safe.

I just started packing my my room. 2 years of dust in my nostrils. I sneeze much. Live DVDs are keeping my company. How much can I throw out and give away, that is a question. Sentimentalism be damned I say!

It was always going to be a significant day today. Tonight was to be our last house dinner together before we move on the weekend. However it was more significant than I expected.

Just before 4 this afternoon I got a call from Martin telling me that our friend, David, (not blog David) had died. Martin had been called by David to come around and feed his cat and when he arrived there were Police there. David had been about to be taken to hospital by his nurse and carer when he suffered a heart attack and died.

It wasn't a big surprise to hear because David has been living with AIDS for many years. Over the past few months we've watched him get much sicker. When we saw him on Saturday he seemed more tired than usual. He told us he was thinking he might just give up on doctors. Maybe he was tired of life. I would have been.

And this afternoon he died.

I went around to the house to see him this evening. My mum was there. I wasn't sure if I wanted to go. I've never seen a dead body before. But I wanted to see my Mum. I wanted to know if it would be helpful. When I talked to Mum on the phone she said they were just "hanging out with David". Which seemed like a rather odd thing to do. Why would you want to "hang out" with a dead body?

But on arriving I realised why. There was something peaceful about him. When people say that when you look at a dead body you can believe in a soul because the body looks different, it looks empty, I wasn't sure what to think. But it was true for David. It was peaceful because David wasn't there. His broken, diseased, abused body was there, but the David we knew was gone. I don't know if the fact that a person looks different is just because of the fact that the body isn't living, the heart has stopped pumping, the blood has stopped following, oxygen has stopped circulating, so the body should, and does, look physically different. Or if there's something else to it, if it really is about the absence of the soul. But it felt like David had gone out and left a strangely life-like, but not quite right, copy of himself behind. David had left the building.

So I think going to see David was helpful. I saw for myself that he was gone, he wasn't just away on a really long holiday (which death usually feels like for me). And I could feel peace about that, because now he's no longer suffering in his AIDS ridden body that wasn't doing him any favours anyway.

He was a lovely man, and I am happy to have been involved in his life. He taught me about films, and helped feed my love for America. He would tell me stories about his amazing life that sounded like they were out of movie. He liked us and we liked him. He also had a three-legged dog, which is amusing, a least watching him try and pee was against a tree was pretty funny, poor thing.

I am sad that David is gone. Death seems so odd, so unnatural, which I guess it is. But today was David's time. God has it under control.

Anyway, we (Martin and I) were asked to take some photos for friends who will find it helpful to see the body, so I became official dead body photographer. It's a rather odd thing to do. I doubt I'll stick that on my resume.

Then Martin and I went home to meet the others and have our last house dinner. It was a more sombre affair as David was a friend to all of us. He had come to visit a few times when it was well enough, he was part of our community.

But we did dinner anyway because dinner is good and moments like these have to be honoured. The loss of a friend and the end of our lovely Community House is a pretty big deal. I've had two excellent years living in this house, with seven other wonderful people. They've all made my life so much richer. I love them all.

We had a veggie stacks barbecue tonight and made play list of songs which remind us of our time here. It was nice. We drank tea. We made jokes. A few cried. We did community. It was good.

And soon this too will end.


"There is a time for everything.
and a season for every activity under heaven:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot."

Ecclesiastes 3:1-2

Saturday was a day of sermon writing and house stuff.

I woke up exceedingly early (9am!) because Matt was having an open house at our house. The sly bugger has managed to score himself the job of managing the property. So while on the one hand he's being kicked out by the landlord, on the other he's finding her new tenants to replace us. Still, as he said, better he makes a bit of money out of it than not.

Anyway there was an open house so I figured I should be out of bed when the yuppies come through. While I was in the shower I had the brilliant idea that we (Ryan, Mil and I) should go out then come back to the house and pretend to be prospective renters and wander through our own open house.

So we did a little bit of cleaning. I moved my pile of clothes to the side and closed my drawers, and my room was looking almost as good as new. Then we left and got some take away coffee because people at open houses on a Saturday morning always have take-away coffee. When we left the house 20 minutes early there were already six people waiting.

We walked around the block and came back. Matt ignored us and we wandered through and made rude comments about the current tenants. It was odd wandering through our house with a bunch of strangers, pretending to be a stranger. But it was a pretty fun exercise.

In the afternoon we headed off to Marrickville to sign the lease for the new place. It's a little odd that I'm signing the lease to a house I'm not going to live in, but hey, at least now, if Josh kicks me out I can just go to Marrickville and kick one of the randoms out because "This is my house, I'm on the damn lease!" I'm sure that'd go down well.

I spent the evening pounding out a sermon.

"In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity." - Albert Einstein

That would be a lie, in the middle of difficulty lies fficul.