Southern Cross

If you grew up south of the equator, you’d recognise this. And you’d know where to look to find it. It’s the first thing my Dad taught me about the stars – and it made an impression on me all those years ago.

All those years of living in the bush, sitting around the campfire in the middle of nowhere, I always knew – if I followed the Southern Cross, I’d get home. I may have to walk for months, but I’d get home.

I’m on the wrong side of the equator now, and the sky is foreign to me. But every evening before I go to bed, I go outside. And I look to the south..

Global vagrants

I am but one among a vast army of bold adventurers who have chosen between a life of certainty on firm soil, and a life of surprise on shifting sands. We are the troubadours, seafarers, merchants and explorers of our age. We are vagrants and vagabonds. We have no houses: the world is our home. And wherever we go, we envision. We instruct. We construct. We forge alliances across continents and oceans. We beat the drum to the great march of progress - Kuberkat

Life in the Garden of Eden

The Shamal is blowing, turning the whole world into sepia and covering your life in layers of fine dust.

The elections have resulted in a toal security lockdown. Movements in and around Iraq are virtually impossible. And of course the main contractor forgot to renew their contract with the security company so technically we don't have security to protect us.

And one of the "thick as two planks" excavator operators drowned his piece of equipment in the Euphrates. Took two days of $150,000 a day time to get it out. Needless to say thick-as-two-planks is on his way back home already.

This is the border between Iraq and Kuwait.

Dusty days

We had a dust storm yesterday, the wind was whipping up what seemed like pebbles and sandblasting everything. The wind died down overnight, but all the fine dust hasn't settled.Woke up this morning with a fine layer of dust all over my face. What's left is a murky brown fog of dust that gets in everywhere. Took this pic this morning from one of the barges

I wonder what happened to the corner office with the pretty secretary and the thick carpets and the golf on Wednesday afternoons and the mansion on top of the hill overlooking the ocean??

Iraq, pizza, and elections

I finally received my MNFI card from the American Army yesterday after numerous bouts of form filling, retina eye scans and security interviews. The card enables me to move freely in and out of Iraq, and also within the country. So if you thought Iraq was an independent country - nope it's not. It's controlled by the US Army.

The card has other uses too. Important ones. It lets me buy pizza at Camp Bucca. At one stage the camp housed 28,000 prisoners. They have no more prisoners and the camp is being broken down, but at least the Pizza Hut is open. The food in our compound is good, but once in a while junk food is necessary.

Election fever is building up in Iraq. Camp Bucca and North Port in Umm Qasr was mortared, and a bit more worrying, an arms cache was found in the Iraqi Navy area where we work. Not sure if democracy is ready for the Middle East yet.

The pic isn't mine

Pebbles

The compound is just over a kilometre from the workplace, and although I have an old LandRover I can use, I usually walk to get some exercise during the day. It adds up to 6 or 8km by suppertime.

The dirt road turns to snot when it rains, so they've dumped a load of river gravel on it to manage the issue. To keep myself occupied I choose a pebble in the road and then kick it ahead of me as I walk. Sometimes it goes in an unexpected direction, and then I get another pebble and off I go again.

The last pebble I had lasted almost a week. I'd kick it to work, them kick it back to the compound at lunchtime. The same in the afternoon. But the fucking thing bounced strangely this morning and I lost it. I was getting quite attached to it.

This is my new pebble. I'm calling it Fred and we'll see just how long Fred will last...

Garden of Eden

One of the few advantages of starting work at six in the morning is that you get to see the sunrise.

You want the definition of bleak and desolate? Come see this place. Yes I know the garden of Eden is just up the river, but either they set their benchmark very low, or things get very different upstream of Basra. But at sunrise it all changes. For a brief moment every day, I actually like the place.

Taken on the way to work from the little Iraqi tugboat.

Prague

Prague has become a city where British lager louts go for their stag parties and find a pub with bangers and mash and why the fuck do you want to travel to a beautiful exotic place and then go and eat somewhere so you feel like you're at home?

Prague has a brothel. Yes, I know, it has a lot of brothels - to cater for all the stag parties. This one is different. It's very upmarket. And it's free. It's called Big Sister. You go there, pick a girl (or three) and have the night of your life. And they're happy if you brought your partner/wife/girlfriend along...

The catch? They have cameras in every room. And your activities get streamed live over the internet.....

Would I do it? Well, if I ignore the fact that spousoid would bobbitt me.....
The internet part of it wouldn't bother me at all...

Would you?

Portrait Photography

I'm an introvert, so I tend to shy away from people - which is probably why I never really tried portrait photography. One of my favourite portrait photographers is Andrzej Dragan. My portraits don't look anything like his.

Iraq

I would under normal circumstances never pose for pics of myself holding a gun - it's a bit like telling everyone at the Embassy dinner your favourite musician is Kevin Bloody Wilson. But you can't work in Iraq and not do it - after all, when you go to Prague you will take a pic of yourself on Charles bridge...

There is another sadder side to the pic - this is a war zone. And you never know when you need to use one. So for the first time in 25 years, some practice was in order.

Me on the left.

Abandoned

 

Taken in a little village called Carsington in the Peak district. The countryside is beautiful. But I am sure living there is as depressing as hell. Tiny houses, small bedrooms, smaller windows, kak weather. Nah - I'll give it a miss I think

The man is right...

Prague

I’ve lived in the bush for most of my life, lived comfortably in a tent under a tree with no one within 500km of me. Yet I have an affinity for cities. Maybe because it is a place I can observe people (don’t give me that look, we’re all voyeurs). Cape Town I love because it’s home, I love New York for the hustle and the rudeness, and Vancouver is stunning nestled as it is at the foot of the Rockies..

Prague I find difficult to describe. It’s not perfect, it’s old and worn and poor, but it has something that I’ve not experienced elsewhere. Prague has style. It’s a bit like comparing an Italian pasta or French cuisine with the British, who just boil everything they eat.

Prague is a mistress, all high heels and sexy skirts and timeless elegance. Not the girl you take home to meet your mother, but the one everyone else envies.

I dwelt in a city enchanted,
And lonely indeed was my lot
. . . .
Though the latitude's rather uncertain,
And the longitude also is vague,
The persons I pity who know not the City
The beautiful City of Prague.
- William Jeffery Prowse, The City of Prague

Hajar mountains

Apologies to all my friends - I haven't been on here for ages. But sometimes I don't have much to write about. I've been writing,sporadically, trying to remember things that happened during my days in the army. It's posted elsewhere - at some stage I might import it here. But nuff said. I went to the shops to buy bread the other evening - ended up driving around the foothills of these mountains just behind us for almost two hours, taking photographs.

Leonard Cohen syndrome

I don’t suffer from depression, but sometimes I look at things from the dark side. And everything makes more sense. Feeling sorry for yourself is counterproductive, but fuckit, I deserved it. Tired of working too long and too hard, tired of looking after everyone else, tired of solving everyone else’s problems. So last night I felt fucking miserable. Feel much better today.

Desert trip

 

I may have mentioned in one of my previous blogs, I collect deserts. I love the space and the harshness and the beauty of it all. Spent an afternoon working our way over dunes - this is where we ended up.

We just don't listen

So what have we learned in two millennia?

"The budget should be balanced, the Treasury should be refilled, public debt should be reduced, the arrogance of officialdom should be tempered and controlled, and the assistance to foreign lands should be curtailed lest Rome become bankrupt. People must again learn to work, instead of living on public assistance."

---- Cicero - 55 BC


...Evidently nothing, then.

11 November - Remembrance Day

This day is a special one. It is starting to lose its significance, which is sad. I still use it as my day of remembering my friends and brothers in arms from long ago and far away. They're still young. And I'm getting old...

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Nepal

I've just come back from Nepal. It's typical of 3rd world countries - poor and grubby and overcrowded and corrupt. Yet if you look carefully, the culture and the scenery and the people shine through. A very colourful, beautiful place. Worth a visit. Took this pic at the temple where they cremate the bodies before they toss the remains into the river.

Kathmandu

When it's above 50 degrees every day, and you work outside, it saps your energy. I get home, lie on the bed, and fall asleep. Its just too hot to be outside - even the pool water is 36 degrees, so it doesn't cool you down at all. Thursday was a public holiday here, so a group of us decided to be pro-active, and we went and played some golf. Not a very good idea. It was 47 degrees on the course. I think I drank about 5 litres of water. The only thing that saved us was this little golf cart that came around every 15 minutes, dishing out frozen face towels.

I originally planned to brave out the summer (the official government says its only 4 degrees warmer than the historical average), but I'm taking a week off and going to Kathmandu. Its colder, its green, its the middle of the monsoon and pissing with rain - everything the desert isn't. Oh, and they have strange people I can look at. Gurus, and clever people, and others that hang rocks on their dicks. It might just be an interesting experience....