I've been thinking a little bit lately about doubt and families with super-spiritual parents.

Over my time in youth ministry I've come across a number of young people who have been struggling with doubt. Some of them have super-spiritual parents who love Jesus. These young people often feel too scared to tell their parents how they're feeling. Sometimes it's because they're worried how much they'll hurt their parents when they tell them. Sometimes it's because they don't want their parents trying to convert them. Sometimes it's just because they don't think their parents will understand.

Sometimes doubt can be such a lonely place.

I think it's great that there are parents out there who are so into their faith that their kids can't see any doubt in them at all. On the other hand I wish parents could find a way to allow their kids to be real about where they're at. How can parents make sure their kids know they're going to be accepted and loved, wherever their at? And how can parents be people who are able to help, and encourage, and comfort in times of doubt?

I've not really figured this out, I'm not a parent.

As a youth minister I know that when young people of faith share their doubt with you, it's both special and painful. Special because they have trusted you with something that is very personal. Special because my job is faith, so to tell the youth minister you're not sure if he's got it right means that they feel probably safe from getting judged. It's painful because you don't want people there. You want people to be able to believe and trust in the love and promises God. It's painful because you know that apart from prayer, talking and listening there's little you can do. You can't grow faith in others, it's God who gives faith and God who takes it away.

I assume that for a believing parent, to hear about doubt from their kids, is probably bitter/sweet on a much greater scale. But it's gotta be better to be involved than to be kept out all together.

I've been watching a bit of Grand Designs lately. I'm pretty sure it's not what the youth of today a watching, a show about building homes, but I love it.

I've pretty much figured out how the show goes. Kevin McCloud introduces us to an impressive house, he meets the couple who are going build it, he tells us they're mad for even considering such a plan, then they build the house, things go wrong, then Kevin visits the house when it's built and talks it up. That's the show. And I love it.

Better than Pimp My Ride any day.

Just to conclude the community preaching saga.

If you wanna hear how it ended up with your input, you can listen here: 8am14-09-08.mp3 or you can just check the podcast if you're a subscriber.

Thanks for your help people. Apart from the good discussion, I think probably the most significant impact that came out of the whole process was the added discussion of not worshipping in a way that puts other people off.

I did consider going into the whole "body is a temple" deal. Or even into the "we are the temple" deal. But the passage talks about Jesus being the temple. And when you have 4 different temples flying around a passage, and three of those temples co-existing, it can get a little confusing.

Anyway thanks people. It was good fun. I should do it again sometime. Maybe next time I'll get you in on the planning level pre-draft, then it really would be a community sermon.

I'm up to draft two of the community sermon. I'm doing a test preach tonight with a test congregation (my preaching class). We'll see how it goes.

If you want to see the second draft and add your comments before Sunday rolls on around, go click the link below.

I'm enjoying this. Thanks for your help peoples. I'm listening.

Here's an idea I just had. it might be a stupid one, but I'm willing to give it a try. Yesterday I finished my first draft of my sermon for Sunday. "Why so early?" you ask, well because I'm doing a preaching course and the guy who's running it wanted to see a draft. So I did it.

Anyway here's my thought, what if I opened it up to everyone in the entire world to edit, comment on and add to. It could yield some interesting results. Of course, I wouldn't necessarily use your additions, but it could be fun. Plus I'm sure if I just let anyone put words in my mouth I could speak more rubbish than I already do. Some people might even see this as desecration of the art of preaching. I hope not.

But if you're interested, I have posted a copy on Google Docs that anyone can edit. So if you want to have a bash at influencing 40 people on a Sunday morning, go have a look, add a little, correct a little, do what you want and we'll see what happens. I'll be adding my additions as I make them so you can see how things progress.

I think this may only be an interesting exercise for preaching nerds, but hey, it could be fun.

Check it out here: http://docs.google.com/Doc?id=ddj4p7p3_54ctn8mrhs

I had an exam today for Theology. Lucky I like theology because I really dislike exams, especially on my day off. As usual I didn't study at all. But if you ask me I wrote a killer essay on God and his timelessness. I even had four scripture references. Don't ever say I'm not an evangelical.

I was thinking about it. It's probably a good thing I'm always too busy to study for exams because if I had time I wouldn't actually know what to do. I never really learnt to study. All I knew that it's a good idea to read stuff. Maybe write some notes or something. So being perennially busy means I never have to confront my inability to actually work out how to retain facts.

I was thinking that if killer robots invaded Earth I'd sign up for the Army straight away, because I don't think my pacifist tendencies extend as far as killer robots.

I'm pretty sure someone thought up that witty pun before me.

It seems a bit dumb that the biggest issue people can think to talk about Sarah Palin is that her daughter got pregnant. Though I can totally understand why it's embarrassing. McCain should have done better vetting. On the other who really cares, her daughter isn't running for Vice President and I doubt her mum encouraged the conception.

I also think it's funny the President Bush got relegated to an 8 minute satellite address at the Republican convention. Wasn't he a hit?

Though none of it is upsetting me that much because I'm going for Obama.

I'm currently sitting in an internet cafe in the city that used to kinda cool, kinda dingy. Now it's been spruced up with big screens, chairs that are classic gamer chairs. I'm not really sure what that is, but these certainly look like them.

I played a bit of Rainbow Six:Las Vagas 2 and I wasn't very good. But I had fun. I feel a little dumb playing games when I suck at them and I'm pretty sure that everyone around me is probably awesome. But what can you do.

This afternoon I went to the new house and sat on the back verandah and had my quiet time. It was nice. The sun is nice there and it was rather peaceful. I saw some birds.

I just spent about an hour trying to make a 2 minute video blog. But it didn't work. Shame.

Though it's late at night so probably my jokes wouldn't have worked in the morning anyway.

The car did get fixed and it only cost me $637! I was so happy to be back on the road and broke.

I've also started moving boxes into the new home, which is good fun. It feels like I'm actually moving. I've managed to move almost all my boxes. Only stuff left to move is my furniture and the mess on my floor! Amazing.

I discovered Entourage last night. And I finished Season 1 tonight. It wasn't a real big deal seeing as there are only 8 half hour episodes. But still it was good fun.

So I'm feeling a little more permanent. At little less and a little more. But I'm happy to be able to drive places and I'm happy to be able to have somewhere to live. These are good things.

I'm at work. The car dude was meant to be here at 12 to fix my car, he never turned up. I got stood up by a mechanic. I should ring him and ask him what's going on, but I'm not very good at confrontation. I should ring him and tell him that this is taking too long. 5 weeks to fix my car is a little bit long. But I'm not good at getting angry. I'm not even feeling angry. I just feel like I should call.

Update: I just called and left an almost apologetic message on his voice mail. But I did ask that he fix my car tomorrow if possible. It was very demanding of me.

I was about to go to bed but I got distracted by reading stuff about Mike Guglielmucci.

For those of you who haven't been following the story, Mike Guglielmucci was a Youth Pastor for Planetshakers. He has recently admitted to faking having cancer. He had been pretending to have cancer since September 2006.

He wrote a song called "Healer" which is about how Jesus heals (obviously). He performed it on the latest Hillsong DVD with an oxygen tube in his nose.

He recently admitted to faking his cancer as an excuse to cover up the symptoms of an unexplained illness which may have been caused by his guilt for having an addiction to pornography. He had been addicted to pornography for about 16 years.

I watched this Today Tonight story which is typically Today Tonight but I can't help but feel really sad for the guy.



I didn't know about this whole thing until it broke. Before that I didn't really know who Mike Guglielmucci was. I had seen him speak maybe, and I'd sung the song but I didn't know anything about cancer.

So I guess watching him on Today Tonight made me feel sad because he must be feeling terrible. I am sure he loves Jesus, otherwise he had no reason to admit his sin. And now he's getting a battering in the press, thousands of people are upset with him, he's let his wife, family, parents and church down. I can't imagine that the relief for admitting this makes up for what he's copping now as a result. It would have been easier for him to not tell anyone what was going on.

His Dad said in a statement to his church: "I can't begin to tell you how much this is hurting us on the inside. A few weeks ago Mike had a dream of Jesus on the cross looking down on him saying, 'the truth will set you free' and so he decided to confess and bring everything out into the open."

I do hope the truth sets him free. I don't think he's a con-man as Today Tonight and lots of others have made out. I think he's a sad man who was caught up in his own sin, pride and fear. I believe him when he says that he really did mean the song when he sang it, it just wasn't cancer he wanted healed. James says "Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed." Maybe now he will find the healing he so desperately wants. I hope so.

Satan must be having a field day right now. I wish we ministry workers could keep it together.



If you want to read more I got most of my information from here, here and here.

I'm back from the Ent Cent seeing Mark Driscoll tell us all about Jesus. There was 2 hours of preaching. That's pretty impressive. I've never sat through a 2 hour sermon before. It's kinda like sitting through 5 normal length sermons in a row.

That said, it was good. He kept us engaged, he told us about Jesus, he made us laugh. So I'm happy. I think seeing him live at a special event is better than everyday podcast Mark. Maybe just because he made fun of Austrailans, and Sydney people in particular. The crowd interaction was good.

I do appreciate Anglican worship music now more too. It's so theologically correct. It's kinda like singing a basic theology text book. But good thing is I think the music has improved. I didn't see one saxophone the whole night.

The sound was bad. And Mark made fun of 25-year-old males still living with their Mum. Lucky that's not me.

I'm off to see Mark Driscoll tonight. It's a little strange. We're off to see him at the Entertainment Centre. It's kinda like seeing a rock band but so much less cool. The event is called "Burn Your Plastic Jesus". I'm gonna take my plastic Jesus, but I'm not going to burn it because I like my plastic Jesus.

But I'm looking forward to it. I've listened to a lot of Driscoll's preaching, now seeing him live is kinda like going and seeing a band.

I read an article where someone was saying that some people are in danger of idolising Mark. I think I would be but I disagree with him too much. Lucky that.

Still it should be fun. Plus I'm taking some of the youth and I'm gonna take them to Eating World. I love Eating World.

I've been meaning to blog this for a while.

When we were entering the United States they made us fill out this form.



It was these three questions which were my favourite:



One does wonder how many people the Department of Homeland Security have caught using this method. I also felt that perhaps asking me if I was planning on engaging in "immoral activities" was a little subjective. I mean some people think it's immoral for a Christian to drink and I planned to drink. In fact I did drink. I had a Budweiser. I wouldn't say I sought entry specifically to drink a Budweiser but I did feel that drinking a Budweiser while on US soil was important to my experience of the US.

For the record the beer wasn't very nice. And I ticked "No" even though I felt that some might find my morality rather questionable. I'd hate to think the conundrums an unmarried couple planning to sleep together while in the US would go through. I would think that George W would think that it was immoral for them to do so, plus a large number of US citizens.

Still I was happy to be able to tell the Department of Homeland Security that I have never been, and am not currently, involved in genocide, as I really dislike genocide.

Finally they had this piece at the bottom:



Surly one of the first steps to reducing paperwork would be getting rid of the Paperwork Reduction Project and all the letters people send them complaining about the paperwork. But what would I know? I'm just a pleb.

I had a dream I was friends with Barack Obama last night and he promised to hang out with me when he was President. It's good when you know your friends won't forget you even when they hit the big time.

I went and saw Taken today. Liam Neison pretty much just efficiently kills people the whole film. It was pretty cool. I enjoyed watching it.

As three of the four of us in this house are currently sick, my father persuaded the doctor to make a home visit. So the doctor came and, without warning, undressed me in front of Hannah's babysitter*. I always knew moving back in with the parents could be a whole new adventure.


*In defence of the babysitter, she didn't hang around to watch. As soon as the doctor got into it, she scuttled away to do her uni readings. A wise move if you ask me.

I'm still home sick. Today I'm missing a special training day run by the diocese. I can't say I'm totally depressed about that. I'll still have to go at some stage but it won't be today.

I hear from a professional doctor that this flu takes about 10 days to get over. There is little joy in that news.

Still at least I'll get to watch some DVDs.

When I was at the retirement home visiting the residents for youth group on Sunday I met a man there who was a spy in Paupa New Guinea during World War Two. I was pretty impressed. I wanted to ask him lots of questions but I feel like it's rude to ask people questions about what is probably a rather traumatic experience. He seemed happy to talk about stuff though. He spent the most time telling me how he met his wife. That was nice.

Next time though maybe he'll want to tell me about hiding out in the jungle spying on Japanese. That'd make my day.

I'm sick today.

The dilemma with being sick is, you don't want to be sick and have to skip work. But being sick on your day off kinda bums you out. I wanted to go to the movies tonight, perhaps today too, but I had to stay home and watch the Olympics, and sleep. Bah.

I'll probably feel fine tomorrow and head off to work happy and healthy.

I almost died today. Seriously. I was almost involved in a horrendous car accident.

As I mentioned before my mechanic told me when he serviced my car that everything was fine, except the brakes could fail at anytime. And I half believed him. I believed him enough to not drive most of the time and only drive when it was really important.

So I decided to drive from church to Scripture today because it's about a 20 minute walk and my class was starting in 10 minutes. I hopped in the car, drove down the road, got to a Give Way sign, put my foot on the brake and nothing happened. The car just kept going merrily along. This was a serious problem, I was flying along at 20km/h if I didn't slow down soon I would commit a traffic offense.

Luckily, since I had been told my car could lose its brakes at any moment I had been mentally rehearsing what I would do in case of a break failure - gear down, neutral, handbrake, park. And my self training kicked in like clockwork. I said "Bloody hell!" then swerved all over the road hoping that any on coming cars, trees, telegraph poles or people would be less likely to crash into me if I was covering as much ground as possible.

As it happens, I turned left and managed to park my car on the side of the road. I actually don't know how I did this, but the swerving must have done the trick. Then I walked back to church and borrowed Anika's car.

After Scripture I went back to get my car. Anika drove behind me with her hazards on as I drove myself back to church in first and second gear while only turning left. I must say I could become a stunt driver. I also confirmed during the drive that my handbrake has about as much stopping ability as a fat man going downhill in a shopping trolley. Still like the fat man in the trolley at least it has novelty value.

But I am thanking God that I didn't die. Today has proved to me that I'm probably going to be famous. God has preserved my life for a reason. Watch this space.

I just went an saw Wanted tonight with my youth leaders. It was their idea, so I can't discourage it when they want to create a bit of fellowship. Had it been my idea we would have watched something wholesome like Mamma Mia.

Firstly may I say, that reflecting on my leaders' meetings this year, I think they have been the most silly and unproductive meetings that I have ever run. I have a wonderful time, but we generally get 20 minutes worth of stuff done in an hour and a half. But we get about 70 minutes worth of dumb jokes, eating and general mirth in. So I reckon that's pretty good.

Plus I made meat ballettes tonight and they weren't terrible. So this was good too.

**Spoilers Ahead**

Anyway, Wanted. Long story short, it was dumb. I haven't seen a more amoral movie for a long time. It was rather fun, and had cool shooting. Lots of cool shooting.

But in the end it was pretty silly. The premise is, there's a Fraternity of Assassins who are guided by the Loom of Fate. The Loom of Fate constantly weaves a fabric with a secret binary code in it. When the Head Assassin decodes the fabric it tells him the name of the next person who needs to be killed. The assassins obey the loom and kill the target.

In case perhaps you think trusting a loom to delegate your assassination targets is a tad risky, Angelina tells James McAvoy a story about a homicidal maniac whose name once came up but the assassin didn't kill him so he killed a judge. "Kill one, maybe save 1,000", it's the Assassin's Creed, we're told. This of course clears everything up, if the loom once spat out the name of a homicidal manic it must be right. And if there is a possibility you might save 1,000 people, well, why not play the odds?

They neglect to deal with the fact that during one assassination they derail a train and kill everyone on board by plummeting them into a ravine. Kill one, kill a couple of hundred.

The film ends with a message for the viewer-our hero turns to the camera and says "What the f*** have you done today?" right after he's shot another man in the head. The moral is: if you have a dead end job, and everyone walks all over you, get buff and kill some people. No worries.

But did I mention the film looked cool?

Garth Franklin said "If a young John Woo had made love to an ILM graphics server - this would be the offspring."

They was an awesome scene when they filled a factory with exploding rats, shortly followed by an assassin who kills around 30 people, in about 5 seconds (all in slow motion) using mostly guns that he's taken off the people he's killing. It really is something to behold.

So my verdict? It's definitely worth seeing, it's just not worth paying any attention too. I love a bit of good action but I think it's even better when they at least try just a little bit to plausibly justify the violence.

However I reckon it was probably a lot better than Mamma Mia. Guns and amorality or Abba songs and no guns. It's a no brainer.

I went to College on Thursday and turned up to class for the first time (I think this is a pretty decent effort seeing as it's only week 2) and had probably the best class I've had at my current college ever. The subject looked rather boring. But the Lecturer was interesting, told stories, made jokes (with good comic timing) and he made the subject interesting. I didn't fall asleep once the whole class which I think might be a first for this college. So I was happy.

And with me having enjoyed the theology intensive in the holidays, this could just turn out to be the best semester of college I've ever had.

Plus I went to a Theology of Youth Ministry conference on Friday. I only made it to the second day, as I had to be at college on the first day. But that was rather interesting too. Partly it was nice being at a conference for me and my type. I've been to other conferences before, and none of them have been about Youth Ministry. So it was good to have something where I felt like it was all relevant.

I kinda ended the day wondering how many youth ministers regularly think about the theology of what they're doing. I doubt many do. I don't. I think in someways your theology gets ingrained in you and you act out of your theology. Other times your habits work counter to your theology and you never think to question it.

I did sit down and figure out all the theology of why we do what we do a few years ago, and in essence we haven't changed much, so I think we're safe. But generally you spend your days figuring out how organise camps, write bible studies, help depressed young people. That sort of thing. And most of the time you don't think deeply about the theology behind what you do. It's generally like "Jesus loved people, told me to love people, so I might try and love people." That's about the extent of it.

And that's why it's good to go to conferences which force you to think it through. But I'm back to logistics and teen stress now. I'll just have a few more big words to describe it.

I've just stuck up the sermon from two Sundays ago.

For those who are on the podcast, you may need to fire it up again, I've been absent from podland so long.

Anyway, listen if you're keen. Don't if you're not. Gosh, if I ran a country I'd be the best dictator ever.

I'm sick of people bashing Hillsong.

I spent the day with David. And I'll tell you, he's sounding more and more like a good Evangelical every day. Next thing we know he'll tell me there were dinosaurs on the ark and women should cover their heads.

Still I had a good time. So that's ideal really.

I like his iPhone too.

I've made a week of blogging.

And you were all wanting a Gaytime.

It shouldn't really be a big deal, a week of blogging. But in this uncertain climate of high interest rates, global warming and missing NRL players, it seems that regular blogging has become much harder to find in this community.

Speaking of Sonny Bill. I think forcing the man to honour his contract and keep playing for the Bulldogs seems a bit dumb. But then again, I don't think anyone is seriously considering it. It seems like people just want to stop him from playing in France, or making pay a lot of money for the privilege to do so.

This seems perfectly reasonable to me. I don't have a problem with busting people for breaking contract. Contracts are rather important, people should stick to their commitments. Even if they do get offered $3 million to break them. Though I can see how that'd be rather tempting.

Anyway, I know people don't read the blog for my insightful comments on the state of Rugby League. So I'll return you now to our regular programing.

Actually I think I might go reply to Ty's comment below. I think he's called me out and suggested that not everyone is as insecure as me. Of course they are, their self-esteem is just too high to notice.

Mum reminded me yesterday of this quote I have a problem with. People often stick this one up from Nelson Mandela and say it's their favourite:

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We are born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us, it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

It's actually not by Nelson but by a woman named Marianne Williamson, which is good.

I think it's rather lovely but not particularly true. I don't know about you, but my greatest fear is not that I am powerful beyond measure. Even if it were my greatest fear, I'm not. My greatest fear could very well be that I am inadequate. That I miss whatever small measure of greatness has been alotted to me because I'm to busy being dumb.

My greatest fear might be that even I have underestimated how horrible I really am.

And I'll tell you, I don't shrink because other people will feel insecure around me. I shrink because other people make me feel insecure.

Not to mention the fact that as a reformed evangelical it's crying out for me to remind everyone about the "total depravity of man" (lucky women escaped that doctrine).

I could go on. But my point is, it's nice but a load of bunk in my opinion.

Nelson could have quoted me and said "You could do better, get on with it." And I would be much more inspired.

I was out in the city tonight. A guy vomited in the mop bucket in Maccas. I thought "They probably shouldn't clean the floors with that now." But they did.

56 of my Facebook friends changed their profile pictures. Was there a profile picture party that no one told me about? Doesn't matter, most of them probably aren't my friends anyway.

I was listening to myself preach in the car yesterday. I do that so I can laugh at my own jokes and respond to my own alter calls. I forgot that I was getting my car serviced and left the cd playing. I stopped it last time I got the car looked at because I thought the mechanic might judge me for listening to Eric Bibb. Who knows what he thought of me for listening to myself rattle on about Jesus.

Still, he listened for a good 4 minutes. I know because when I hopped in the car, it was stopped four minutes after where I had left it. So if all goes according to plan he'll now remember that "the church isn't about us, it's only and always about Jesus."

When I went to pay exorbitant amounts for the car, the mechanic told me "There's nothing wrong with your car, except your brakes could fail at anytime." Apparently that's a bad thing. I guess it means now I can risk my life and drive recklessly without even breaking the speed limit. That's an achievement any young man oughta be proud of.

The ABC has told me that there's a rental squeeze going on in Sydney. I'd noticed.

At staff meeting today we were encouraged to get our coffee early and start the meeting on time. This is a shame, because I usually use that coffee time to turn up 5 minutes late and still be sitting on the couch when everyone else is ready. It makes me look punctual.

I just watched Bra Boys which is kinda like a propaganda documentary for a gang. Though they seemed nice enough. I'm not sure why they keep punching people in the head, it seems like they just want to surf and help struggling teenagers. Perhaps the people they punch are the sorts that don't like you helping teenagers. That's the sort of people I punch too.

This is rather awesome. ABC have launched iView. And I can watch ABC whenever I want.

Yes!

I was on the way home the other day when I met a man who was rather drunk. He asked me if the next stop was Redfern. I told him it wasn't. He asked me what I did and he told me what he does "for a crust".

After he repeatedly told me his name, he told me we should catch up sometime. I said "That could be fun" or something non-committal like that. He gave me his number, then insisted that I call him to check it works. I couldn't think of a way out so I did. It worked.

He's called me about 10 times since then and I ignore it every time. I don't know what I'd say when he rang, especially if he asked to hang out. I feel bad though. I don't ignore anyone else for this long.

Next time he calls I might pick up. Jesus probably would.

Of course it has been awhile since I've blogged. This hasn't really been because I've been doing amazingly interesting things. I've kinda just been plodding along. Watching lots of West Wing. And I saw The Dark Knight on Friday night which was particularly awesome. Oh how I love superheros. And Batman. And this film was great. Heath Ledger was pretty amazing. As was Gary Oldman, and Christian Bale. Yep. It was a special experience.

I preached on Sunday in all three services. I was getting pretty good at it by the end of the day. The fun thing was that every service got a slightly different sermon as I swapped illustrations around for each service. I did another illustration in the evening about me and girls. I wonder if I keep doing it if people will start to think I'm desperate and dropping hints. Which would be a good plan, because there is nothing more attractive than a desperate preacher, using his sermons to pick up.

I'm still living in Chatswood and still really enjoying it.

So there's a catch up for you. I'm going to try and blog every day for a week. If I don't I'll buy you all an ice cream, except most of you. But ask and you might be the lucky winner.

So the most important question I've thought of during my theology intensive has been this:

If Jesus' embryo in Mary had split making twins, would both of them be the Messiah? And would both of them be God? If not which one would be which? How could you tell? If so, if only one of them was crucified, would only half our sins be forgiven or would only half the people who want their sins forgiven get forgiven?

And when there were twins would the Trinity become a Quadinity?

And what would happen if the embryo didn't fully split and Mary had Siamese twins? Would both of them be the Messiah? How would you deal with the shared bits? If the non-Messiah bit sinned would that infect the Messiah bit?

I'm hoping this isn't disrespectful. I'm just trying to work out the metaphysics of it all.

I watched half of Gone with the Wind today. I had realised how annoying Scarlett O'Hara was till I watched. I certainly didn't get a past crush on her. Maybe she'll improve in the second half.

I'm friends with all these people on Facebook who I don't even know. I'd ignore their requests but I'm scared I do know them but I've just forgotten who they are.

I've also lost my desire to play Scrabulous. I stopped winning, now it's no fun.

I want a digital camera so I can post photos of myself at arms-length.

Usually my Tuesdays are relaxing but a little depressing, because I have my day off, but there is no one around to enjoy it with. Today however was a different story.

I work up early, pumped to buy a suit for the upcoming wedding in the Gong on Saturday. I walked into the first shop I saw, flirted with an older lady, and walked out 20 minutes later with a new suit, tie, shirt and a saving of $100! I'd like to say it was because of my flirting skills but I think it might have been the tag attached to the suit that said "$100 Off!".

Next it was off to Glebe to pick up Mil, so we could use my Van of Power to pick up a pink desk from my Marrickville place (the one I'm on the lease for but don't live in and don't know most of the people who actually do live in it). There we picked up a desk and Jemma, and headed back to Glebe.

In Glebe it was over priced lunch for the three of us from somewhere trendy with red couches, which Jemma liked, but they were probably made out of dead animal.

Jemma left us after some fair trade coffee, and Mil accompanied me to Broadway to buy some swanky shoes to go with my swanky suit. We did well, it's helpful having support, especially from a girl because girls know about things like looking good.

My final act in Broadway was to get my haircut, to remove the hair that doesn't go with the swanky suit and swanky shoes. It occurred to my that almost all the money I spent today was on improving my appearance. This is a little disconcerting. I'd better look hot on Saturday.

I headed back to the house of Mil and Martin, where I found Mil and Martin and Martin promptly invited me to dinner with them (and Ryan and Van). The movie, Happy-Go-Lucky, was lovely. Full of happiness and very little conflict. It had one of the most pleasant characters I have ever seen on film. And I did laugh much too.

Dinner was good too, full of discussion about inappropriate jokes. My favourite.

So my day as been full of people I like and fun things to do. Only down point was having to come home to do some reading for the theology intensive I start tomorrow (Was Jesus' post-resurrection body physical most of the time or just some of the time?) and finding out that I have be at college at 8:30am. Grr. 7:15 on the train. Grr.

Oh well, I'll do it for theology because I love theology. And I'll do it for Jesus. Though I feel I could glorify Jesus by sleeping too.

The Vatican tells us, after speculation that the Pope wears Prada shoes, that the Pope is a "simple and sober man (who is) not dressed by Prada but by Christ".

I'm hoping Jesus can get me a new outfit too.

From here.

If all the hairs on my head are numbered, what is the numbering system? Is hair number one the first hair in a systematic counting? Does God count from the centre of the head and move outwards in a circular fashion? Does he count from the bottom left hand side and move from left to right, working his way up and forward?

Or are hairs numbered chronologically? Is hair 1 the first hair to grow? Will it be the last to fall out? Or are hairs numbered in order of importance according to some divine system for determining the value of each particular hair? Does hair one change depending on its ranking?

These are the important questions of Jesus' teaching.

Can you tell I'm reading a lot of theology at the moment?

I have been doing theology readings for college lately and the theologian was saying that the orthodox position on Jesus' omnipresence is that when he became incarnate he didn't cease to be omnipresent. This was an odd thought which I had never thought about before, I had always assumed that he ceased to be omnipresent because part of being human is about only being in one particular space. If figured the Father and Spirit could fill any necessary gaps in the Universe left by Jesus' incarnation. A little bit of omnipresence rostering could sort out that issue in the Godhead.

But alas, Raymond, Calvin and many other people, disagree. Jesus was both in one place and everywhere at the same time. I'm not sure how they support this biblically, but I'm sure someone could tell me. I feel like this thought is a little bit of a let down, it feels like it diminishes the significance of the incarnation, like taking away Superman's cape without realising that he can still fly.

Anyway, if there is anyone inclined to think theologically out there, tell me what you think.

So I decided that the first 6 months was a bit of a failure. I've been thinking about this for a little while. I had plans this year to do good at college, learn Kung Fu, keep running and be the best youth minister in the world.

In actual fact I managed to stop running, fail the only subject I was doing at college, not do Kung Fu, become homeless and accidentally move back in with my parents, and not do half the things I wanted to do as a youth minister (though I think ministry was where I failed least).

So I've decided that as depressing as it is to realise you're a failure (please no comments to the contrary, unless you're hot and a girl), it does give me an opportunity to improve. And now that I pretty much suck, all I have to do is finish this year not sucking so much.

So here is what I want to achieve by the end of the year, I want to be unhomeless, I want to not fail college, and I want to maintain my current level of mediocre youth ministry. So really I'll still be less amazing than I was at the beginning of the year, but at least I'll do better than I did these last six months.

It did just occur to me that I have no memory of what I did for the last New Year's. I wonder if I had a good time. I might go check the blog. I was probably watching a DVD or something.

Update: For the record I was at Avalon with people from Church and I really enjoyed myself. In fact I'm feeling fond memories right there in that fond memory bit of your torso. Actually, my torso, I've never felt anything fond in your torso in my life.

Taking my last post into account you all know I really do love the United States. And I want to be President. Or at least work for the President. Well Jed Bartlett at least.

I bought Commander in Chief the other day because I was missing The West Wing. I thought a bit of Presidential TV might make me feel a little better, but it just made it worse. Commander in Chief is kinda like West Wing but written by people only as smart as me. The President is infuriatingly dumb. The dialogue is horribly blatant and single layered. And all the 'inspiring' solutions Genna comes up with to save the world are just entirely arrogant and naive. I liked the idea of a show about a woman President, but not when she's stupid. Bring back Jed. Maybe bring back Jed as a woman. Yeah, that'd be interesting, West Wing with a transsexual President. If I'm not a television visionary then I don't know what I am.

Anyway, Borders was having a sale, so I bought the first six seasons of The West Wing on DVD. Now I'm happy again and I'll just watch Commander every now and again to remind me how much I love West Wing.

I hope when I make it to America, I get to meet President Obama and he has a Chief-of-Staff named Leo and young, white kid as his aide called Charlie. That would be wonderful.

How can you not love the United States? When The West Wing, Superman and Billy Graham come from there it has to be a pretty special nation.

When we were in the US my mother regularly reminded me of her embarrassment that I had made multiple comments about America being full of fat people on my blog. Often when we were in a room together she'd lean over to me and say "How many of these people would you say are fat?" Which, I would have to admit was not nearly as many as I had hoped. I think she was doing it to shame me into repenting for being rude on my blog. Though I think when she saw the Hummer-width wheelchairs American Airlines use to transport invalids around in she was converted to my way of thinking.

But alas, my American cousins (Are we cousins? Second cousins perhaps seeing as the British are cousins to both of us but we're not directly related) please do not feel my joking about your collective girth is in anyway out of ridicule of you. I have nothing against being large. In fact, I have often encouraged my fellow Australians to eat up. We beat you guys at the swimming, sometimes at the tennis, and I thought we should beat you in being the world's fattest nation too!

And I heard on the radio the other day that now we have! Yess! Australians all let us rejoice! The Baker IDI Heart and Diabetes Institute tell us in their new report (with the catchy and academic, Tom Jones-esque title "Fat Bomb") that there are now 4 million overweight adults in Australia. Proportionally that's more than any other country on earth. Of course I can't actually find this fact in the report but the papers tell me it's there.

So I say cop that you United States, cop that Mexico. We we swim better than you, we play AFL better than you, and now we eat and sit on our bums better than you. Is there anything we can't achieve when we put our minds to it?

SMH has an article about a retiring 707 today which got a farewell escort over Sydney's CBD by a Hawk 127 training jet. Some people in CBD thought Sydney was about to have it's very own 9/11. One man was so concerned he immediately rang 2UE to find out what was going. It's good to see the people of Sydney know where to turn in the event of a national crisis.

I'm really hungry. I haven't had breakfast. I'm not letting myself eat breakfast till I make a phone call I'm feeling too scared to make. I'm wondering how long I can hold out.

Emotional pain versus actual "I want Cornflakes" pain. It's a hard life I've got.

When was the last time you heard a sermon at church or did a Bible Study on saying "Sorry". Not like repentance, but finding the people you have hurt and apologising?

I can't remember one. I've heard plenty on forgiveness but none on saying sorry. Funny that.

That may change on Friday.

I'm remembering the joys of living by myself. I went shopping tonight after work and bought lots of food and all of it for me. Coke, ice cream, Tim Tams, chips, wedges, steak. Yeah! I was in such a celebratory mood tonight that I even cooked myself dinner. I cooked Butter Chicken from scratch. No microwave meal for me. I cooked it from the beginning with a jar. I'm amazing!

I've moved out of the parents. For at least 6 weeks. Maybe forever (again). I'm hoping, not that I don't like the parents. I love em. But I don't really like feeling like I've failed the independent life.

Anyway, I'm house sitting the grandfather's flat for a bit while he gallivants around the world. It should be a fun. I've stayed here before and It's fun to be back.

I have to water the plants on Sundays. Or Mondays. Or any day I choose I think.

Ahh yes, all those days of Guatemalan fun that are slowly slipping in the irretrievable land of un-memories.

So here's what I can remember.

Monday we were back in Guatemala City, back at our hotel, but the family was divided by a floor. Mum and Dad were downstairs on level 1. Jo and I were on level 3. We had the bigger apartment. Plus we had a double bed which we had to share, which is awkward because you spend your whole night trying not to kick the other person, steal sheets or sleep facing them because waking up and finding someone else in your bed is a rather scary occurrence. Well it is for me. I don't know how couples do it. Although I guess when you first get together waking up to find the person you're in love with right there is pretty exciting. And then when you get bored of each other you're used to them so it doesn't scare you even if it does bring up a little bit of annoyance that they're still there.

But I digress.

Monday was planned to be a quiet day. So we spent it reading and sitting around in the morning. Then Mum and I went out to get some lunch, get the laundry done, and do the shopping. We wandered around Zone 10 and got a little lost trying to find the laundry. We eventually found one who didn't do laundry, so they sent us, with broken English, somewhere else. By the time we ended up at the Laundry we were rather disorientated and had no idea where the Supermarket was in relation to where we were. In addition to this we found out later that the place were we got the laundry done charged us 900% more than where Dad got it done in the first week we were in the city, and we didn't have 900% more washing.

Still we found our way back to food, and I managed to order some wedges from McDonald's with only a limited number of staff and customers laughing at me.

We finally went back to our apartment to get our bearings so we could go find the supermarket, meanwhile the outer edge of the hurricane in Honduras had kicked in for the day and we got rather wet. Still the Supermarket was fun if only because products from other countries are cool, and this was a whole large room full of them.

Monday night was spent with Jo's Guatemalan family again. That was nice. I spent most of the night with the boys watching Tokyo Drift on TV. It was good because it removed the pressure of having to converse and we could just bond over English language with Spanish Subtitles. Sweet. The film was pretty bad though, but that's to be expected.

I've not been blogging because I've been busy saving the world and failing college.

Though in the mean time I have managed to watch a few movies, and think on some interesting theological ditties.

Since I got back I've seen:

21 - Fine. Nothing exceptional, but it kept me interested. Most interesting bit was at the beginning when projectionist forgot to put the anamorphic lens on the projector so everyone looked skinny for the first 5 minutes of the film

The Counterfeiters - Was German, about the Holocaust, involved lots of money and interesting ethical questions. Good acting, and good characters. I did like.

The Incredible Hulk - Pretty awesome. Not Iron Man but it was most fun to see the Hulk bashing the Abomination in the head with two halves of a car. Plus there were heaps of military things, from elite soldiers to Humvees driving over university lawns with sonic blasters. And it was set in the Marvel universe with Stark Industries and S.H.I.E.L.D., so it was most cool. Partly for the film, partly for the promise of more Marvel Cinematic Universe to come.

The Happening - Rather dull (which is saying a lot for a film about thousands of people killing themselves). M Night seems to be slipping. Unbreakable is one of my favourite movies ever, but his stuff seems to be getting worse. Oh well. There was one good line, but mostly it was just Mark Wahlberg running around looking hurt and perplexed.

And the theology?

Well I've been thinking that probably our sin did not cause Jesus to be crucified. Certainly we can be accountable with our forefathers for his execution. But in a spiritual sense it was not our sin the sent Jesus to the cross but God's mercy. Every time I sin I am not nailing Jesus to the cross. Saying that my sin caused Jesus to die is arrogance assuming that I forced God's hand to perform his greatest act glory, rather than God's choice to glorify himself to save us who were unaware we even needed to be saved.

I've also been thinking about the resurrection and our lack of emphasis on it integral part in our salvation. That our salvation is always just about being saved from sin, rather than being saved into wholeness though resurrection.

Finally today I've been thinking about hell and how eternal it is. I'm leaning towards not, but I only started thinking about it a few hours ago so I'm not sure.

My final thought has not been so theological, but I did wonder if the films that Universal Studios distribute would actually be appealing to other sentient lifeforms in the universe, were we to find some. I kinda doubt it.

So there you go. I haven't be wholly unproductive even if I have been rather slack at contributing kilobytes to the world wide web.

We made it home. I realised I didn't blog that, so according to this blog I'm somewhere between LA and Sydney. But I'm here now. Jet lag is no worries. I stayed up till 1am last night. That seemed to do the trick.

Well we made it to LA. I'm in the Qantas (Admirals) Club with the Ps. My Pa is a good man to travel with.

We did make it out of the airport here. We went to Venice Beach, met some amature gansta rappers, ate dinner then came back. It was pretty awesome. Now I can say I really have been to the states. Venice Beach is kinda like Newtown except more grungy, and a lot more touristy, but it has many a strange character. I did enjoy.

Now it's time for the long flight across the Pacific. Lots of movies to be watched! Joys!

We've arrived in Dallas. Our plane was meant to leave 25 minutes ago, but our flight got cancelled and we've been put on a later one at 4ish. I should find out more precisely what the time is.

Fox News is telling us that at the moment there is a lost mother here in Dallas Airport. I'm keeping my eye out for her.

It's also dawned on me that we won't be able to leave the airport in LA because we went through Customs here and we won't do it in LA. That's a shame. Now my complete experience of the US is going to be in airports. It is kinda fun, but airport culture is kinda like this distorted filter which through which some of the actual culture from the country makes it through.

I'll have to come back.

So I've given you all plenty to read now, and I don't have nearly as much catching up to do. Only 4 days now I think.

Now I should sleep. We're leaving tomorrow. Flying out at 8am. Happily we'll have 6 hours in LA so I'm hoping we can spend some time in the city doing LA.

I'll be home at 6am-ish on Sunday. Saturday is going to disappear at some imaginary line in the Pacific Ocean. I'm not looking forward to trying to stay away all of Sunday. Oh well, V will get me through.

Sunday was an even less full day than Saturday.

We had another wholesome breakfast at the Hippy Cafe. I had French Toast that was so full of hearty, wholemeal goodness it was hard to swallow. But I made it through like the brave food warrior that I am.

Then we drove home to our apartment in Guatemala City. Victor drove for us through the rain, fog and crazy driving. He did very well.

It being Sunday we decided to do church as a family. We burnt a cd to play in the car with worship music, a sermon off one of Jo's podcasts, and more worship music. We played the cd in the car and stopped it at bits for prayer, Bible reading (actually reciting because no one had a Bible in the car), sermon discussion and announcements. It was just like real church but in a car. It was pretty fun, and spiritually significant. I have never a attended a church before that was so clearly going places. Car Church is awesome.

When we got back to Guatemala City we were all pretty stuffed, so we went out to see a movie. We wanted to see Narnia but we arrived we found out it wasn't subtitled but dubbed in Spanish. But Indiana Jones was on at the same time and it had subtitles. I was the only one who wanted to see it, but Mum said she'd go with me. She's a champ.

We bought our $3 tickets and headed into the cinema. It was pretty dodgy. The sound was crackly, the projector wasn't bright enough so the screen darkened at the edges, the print was terribly scratched and dirty. It was pretty awesome. It was kinda like the effect the were going for in Grindhouse but it was real. And watching Indy in that setting was great. I kept thinking about how the whole thing is about recreating the dodgy serials of the 50s, and this screening seemed to fit right in. For $3 I got one of the best movie experiences I've had in years. Plus I loved the film. It was rather silly in places. But still Indy always is silly. It made me very happy. It was a beautiful way to finish the day.

Lake Atitlan, where we were staying

Saturday wasn't all that exciting. We woke up late and had a wholesome breakfast at a hippy cafe called the Stoned Fish or something. Everything was made out of wholemeal, organic bran and stuff. It wasn't entirely exciting, but I found some ok eggs.

We caught the boat back across the lake to Panajachel, on the public ferry this time. It was fun to be squashed on a boat with the locals. They smile a lot.



Some guys who sold Mum and Jo stuff by the lake as we waited for the ferry. They were pretty cool, I'd invite them to my party to make me look cooler.

In Pana we got accosted by huge amounts of people wanting to sell us stuff. Everyone from old ladies, to middle aged men, to cute kids. My Mum who is a sucker for local stuff and people was seemed to be buying from every 2nd person who offered their wares to us, till she got tough and refused them all point blank. One middle-aged, long haired, white guy tried to sell me "ganja" which I politely refused but I was pleased he thought I looked like the kind of guy who would want some.

At one stage we were sitting in a cafe and a really young boy came up to Mum to sell her stuff. He was very cute. He could speak some English too. Mum said she'd love to talk to him but she wasn't going to buy anything. He saw what she'd bought and then told her she'd been ripped off. She chatted to him for a bit more, she got him to draw some pictures for her. He kept trying to sell stuff and she kept saying "No". He then tried to get her to buy him a coffee and a Coke, but she still refused.

Eventually he got bored and said to her. "You are crazy!"

"Why? Because I'm not buying your stuff?" Mum asked

"Yes, you are s**t" he said then walked out.

Funny kid.

At some point in the afternoon Victor and his family turned up from Guatemala City, only a few hours late having got caught in the road work like we did the day before.

After a bit more street shopping we took them across the lake on a private ferry with seats that had been stolen from a car, it was pretty cool. I got to sit at the front with a Guatemalan family from Texas. I like Americans.



Dinner at the non-Mexican Mexican Restaurant

We took Victor's family to the Stoner Cafe, and fed them hippy bran biscuits, then put them back on the boat home. Victor stayed the night with us so we took him out to the non-Mexican Mexican restaurant to celebrate Jo's graduation for her Masters. We all told our testimonies at dinner which was rather daggy but very special. God has done good things for my family.

The mozzy didn't return as I slept that night. I think it had learnt from my stern words the night before.

So waking up late at the Holiday Inn was a rather nice way to start the day. We had a 1pm check-out, so none of this scrambling for 10am business. We had a leisurely breakfast at the buffet, eating as much as we could before we began the journey out of the city again.

Finally at around 11am we made it out of the hotel. Pretty good for us. First stop was a drive through bank where we needed to make a deposit for our hotel that night. While it was just a regular bank visit, I’ve never seen a drive through bank before. They’re pretty awesome. It’s kinda like a cross between a drive through and a supermarket. You drive your car up to a little console at the end of one of those suction pipes, talk to some one, put your money in the pipe and away it goes. I assume that somewhere in there the you swipe your card or something do. We didn’t actually use th drive through bank, we went to the conventional bank as we had to do a transfer. But, most unlike Australia, the bank was empty and full of staff. They even served us straight away.

Back on the road for San Marcos (via Panajachel) we trundled out of Guatemala City only to get stuck in traffic as just after we’d left town. As we waited many Ambulances with their sirens going were screaming past us in the other direction.

Eventually we rounded a bend and saw that the cause of the hold was a bus that had rolled onto it’s roof. The drivers seat had been completely smashed in by the guard rail that was now sticking vertically in the rain. There were people speaking in through the windows and school girls, soaked through with rain, standing beside the bus looking shocked. It was a rather amazing scene. We drove on felling rather shell shocked. It’s not often you things like that, but in Guatemala it seems to be the norm. Everyday on the road we’ve seen accidents.

As we drove on things were much more calm. We got stuck in the longest stretch of road works I’ve ever seen. And we were thanking God for the lack of OH&S here, cause we got to drive right next to rock crushers and bulldozers in action. It was pretty special.



Girl who sold us stuff on the side of the road during the road work traffic jam.

Eventually we made it to the Lake Atitlan (which has San Marcos and Panajachel on the shore) but we couldn’t see it because we were at the top of the volcanic mountains which surround the lake, and the mountains were stuck in cloud. Again we were stuck on Guatemalan roads with falling rain, falling rocks and falling cloud. But we made it down the mountain ok.

Panajachel was a town chock full of tourists and people trying to sell you stuff. We met a man on a bike as we were driving into down. He asked us if we needed a place to park, we said we did as we needed to leave the car there over night. So the man led us on his bike to his special little parking area which was just someone’s back yard. Call me un-trusting but I wasn’t all that keen to leave the car in some random backyard for a few days.

Eventually we found our way to the wharf where we hired a boat to take us across the lake to San Marcos. We left the car with the volunteer firefighters. I thought this was a much better arrangement. If you can’t trust volunteer firefighters who can you trust?

After our boat trip across the lake, we arrived at San Marcos, pulling right up on the beach just in front of our hotel. If our place in Rio Dulce was an “eco-lodge” then San Marcos is an eco-terrorist training camp. There are no road for through most of the town, just walkways surrounded by bamboo fences. There are meditation and hippy hostels littered all over the town. I get the impression that Americans and Germans with dreads and hemp clothing come here to meditate, pray with crystals and get stoned.



Some bit of the Hotel. It was rather creative.

We were staying at a hotel where every room was unique. Everything was built out of glass, rock, and logs of relatively uncut timber. There were paintings on the walls of Hindu gods and other such new age celebrities. It was pretty cool.

After checking out that room we ate at a Mexican restaurant that didn’t sell any Mexican food. The food was nice, the owner happy and the dog friendly, so it was good to be there.

I went to sleep pretty early that night. I guess that what you do in eco land. I was only bothered by on mosquito which is pretty good for a hotel in the trees with windows that don’t go all the way to the edges. In the spirit of being one with nature I didn’t kill it I just waved my hand at it at various intervals during the night, and thought mean thoughts about it. I’m sure it felt bad.

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.