I'm a patient, all I see are the other bodies in their distant beds and the clinical clerks, expressionless, cold, robotic. Its a dark and musty ward, the beds are damp with sweat and as unpleasant as the food. The smell is odourless now, it doesn't change. I don't remember being admitted to this hospital, all I know is that I'm here now and I can't get off this bed. Every second night, I get cleaned by a nurse. Her features make her unsexy, I can't actually tell if she has features. My brain is numb, my vision milky. I can't feel my feet. Theres no TV thank goodness, seeing what the outside is like would br a cruel torture in such a lifeless place, no other patients to talk to, just a restless sleep. Its interrupted by hints of dreams and the cleaning staff. Why do they bother keeping this place clean? It's a thankless task. There is no music here. There are no sounds other than the clanging of bed pans, no birds happy outside. Just the odd cry for help or the choking on phlegm. Where is the sun? Where is the warmth? Where are the pretty nurses, bosoms the size of their hearts and smiles to wash away any misery? Maybe they take the nursing jobs worth it... Everyday I lie here and pity my life. Never did I think of actually doing anything about it. I'm knee deep in my own apathy and haven't bothered to stand. All I need is that providing and prehistoric spark.

Her name is Michelle. She radiates care, a great listener, even if no-one in the ward can speak. She makes me want to be better so I can see what she's like outside of this farm for self-pitying fools. She's always prompt. Even the food she presents just tastes so much better. In the morning she brings a fresh cup of coffee, that type of coffee that you can smell when you sip it. Its always the same routine that one can never get bored of, 8AM, shes got a tray of breakfast with that special coffee. She leaves it at the foot of my bed, just long enough for that aroma to drift towards me, outside of hands-reach. She motions towards the window and with great finesse opens the blinds and the pane. A fresh breeze, thats her. Every morning I try lift myself up in the bed and pull a smile, a smile through the struggle. She is my drug, and I'm here till she runs out or I escape myself.

Isolation is...

Gareth left for Switzerland on Wednesday for a week - This place subsequently got a lot lonelier. I've come to know a few of the edocs people but when you're alone, things get a lot colder. I can't ever imagine going travelling on my own, unless there was a purpose such as cycling from point to point or making a wad-load of money. Why is that? I dream of spending such experiences with someone close. *sigh*

On Thursday I just decided to go for a walk after returning from work, I took my camera along and just walked. It was 7 in the evening, but the sun still had another 2 or so hours to go. What an enriching experience to see aliens go about their afternoon lives, raiding the ice-cream stall, sitting on their patios watching the sun go down. The squirrels went nuts in their trees, birds frolicked on the immaculate lawns of the average Joe and Jane Smith Residences.

After another turn off one of the busier roads I was greeted with a sight to make any pleb jealous. Houses, No, Estates reeking of wealth, sick with wealth, and just behind our hotel. I was hoping to find a road or path to connect me back to my hotel, but this road wasn't going anywhere except into lucious suburbs. So I gathered the nerve to ask some of the well-off-locals and boy, did I get an answer. The one middle-aged cap-wearing sedan-driving doctor-type made it his personal mission to find out if there was a trail leading through the woods to connect me to the hotel road. Here he was, in the driveway of his own home, and didn't know if the local surrounding forest had any trails in it. I bet he had never walked up the road of his own blissville. How sad is that? I guess thats the difference between a have and a have-not. Americans take a lot for granted. I guess South Africans do too, but they're different things we forget and neglect.

So after contemplating the worth of it all and avoiding his waffling about how he'd only been there for 6 months I carried on walking. This was a walk through increasing budgets, house after house the yards got bigger, the cars parked outside got more expensive. Finally I bumped into some more people and received some decent directions. I had to walk accross a field fragrant with summer flowers, 50 meters or so in width, the last border between the wilderness and suburbia. I felt like Maximus, skimming my palms through the wheat, feeling more alive than ever. The trees formed a tunnel, revealing the trail through. I felt like I was stepping into a new realm. My dreams of becoming a bandit in this Sherwood forest were shattered when the trees opened up to become a frikkin parking lot. An empty concrete wasteland of parking lot.

I do appreciate the appreciation for nature here, but I can't help but think that man comes selfishly first here. Nature comes a sad second. Spatterings of reservations, asphalt cleavers splitting the last true residents. Here on Route 9, 4 lanes of busy New England road, theres a concrete island barrier running most of the length. On the drive back from work one day, I was horrified to see a mother goose and her goslings stranded between the barrier and certain motorised death.

There are no flies, ants, mosquitos, grasshoppers here. I have no idea what the 3 species of birds feed on. Americans spend about 5 Billion Dollars on pest eradication each year. (I'm sure you could feed the whole of Africa for that same amount - but that's pointless) I don't know if its climate related or what, but man has taken over here. A pest in his own right.

C'est la vie?

Well, this weekend marks a record week for me. I billed 63 hours in a week. Last Saturday, Gareth and I made a point of going out and doing some walking through one of the reservations south of Boston: Blue Hills, outside Milton. We walked about 3-4 miles of some of the most amazing pine forests in New England. The half-way mark of the walk was an ancient 3-storey observation tower with a panoramic view of Boston and surroundings. Awe-inspiring. The oldest weather station in America was to be found just a stones throw away too. We saw plenty of squirrels including some curious ground based buggers. The place is a mountain-bikers heaven.

It was then time to see what the coastal life of southern Boston was like, so we climbed into the hot car and drove towards the atlantic. After a few wrong turns we came accross Marina Bay. A private and snobby yacht club, masses of Bayliners, this was a miniature Monaco in its own right. So we had a few drinks. (I'm seeing a trend here :D) Thats when the HMB's emerged, prowling for dollars. Sure, we had a bit to drink already but we both new, these were real chicks! After oogling for hours, drinking and watching the sun set we decided to brave the car trip back. Mixing with snobs is hard work.

When I got back, I crashed. Work was due for Sunday :/

Backwards to go forwards?

All this time, the push for digital, the push away from legacy. How about digitising your writing? I always hear that nothing can replace pen and paper, its just a matter of time before people are using stylus's and tablets. For meetings, I'm already seeing delegates walking in with their laptops, all wireless enabled. Star Trek anyone? :D

Anyway, I thought it was quite wicked, and a great touch. Go Microsoft!

Track your capitalist power

After cashing in our cheques (checks here) I found this $20 bill with a URL scribbled on the side. Check the site out. Someone in their infinite bordeom created a site to help cure boredom in others (like me) and track where your money goes. Nifty! The last person to register this bill was 166 Miles away from where I got it. How money driven are we?

I'm gonna spend it on food.

A trip into Eccentrica, err, *cough*, Boston

Last weekend was a total bum weekend. (sic). It was the first weekend in a month that we could spend some time in Boston or just lounging around.

So on Saturday Gareth and I organised to go do the Freedom Trail and see a few sites round Boston.

We drove through to the closest train stop, about 20 miles from our hotel. The parking lot was PACKED, and after spending 30 minutes and 3.5 dollars queuing we were on the Green-Line 'T' headed for Boston. The little subway coach was jam-packed with Red Sox supporters on their way to Fenway Park. Imagine that hey? Getting on a train to go see a sporting event? The mind boggles. After dropping the baseball fanatics off at about the 8^th stop and descending into the subways, we got off 3 stops or so later in Park St. Station. When we emerged into the sunlight we were greeted with some interesting and downright disgusting sights.

The first thing I saw ascending from the subway was a church steeple (Park St. Church) in the throes of restoration. Imagine heritage, imagine intended rejuvenation, scaffolding and all. Now imagine there are monkeys doing the restoration. That pretty much sums Boston up, except a high percentage of church go-ers are 'eccentric' and anything but straight.

This weekend is the Gay and Lesbian Pride Parade in Boston, so that explained all the 'eccentrics' in the streets. 'Men' holding hands, in G-strings. How Cute. In an attempt to get my head clear of the awful images I focused on my juicy hotdog. (err, no wait.) Yeah, we decided to start the freedom trail.

2 and half miles of walking along some of the oldest and most significant buildings in Boston's history. This will give you an idea of what we saw along the way.

Oddly enough, half the exhibits closed at 4PM, so we didn't arrive in time to board the USS Constitution or one of the docked destroyers. It was at about 6PM when we arrived at the Boston Aquarium to see it closed too. So we had a few beers.

We found out that there were some great clubs just down the road from Fenway Park (Home of the Red Sox remember?) and that the Red Sox had just had their asses handed to them on a plate by LA. So we got back on the subway. After a few more beers in Tiki Room and viewing the non-existent hotties we decided it was time for something to eat. Just off Massachusetts Avenue was a road of utter class (now if only I could remember the name). Restaurant after Ristorante, reeking of dollars. So like drunken bums we crashed the T.G.I. Friday's and enjoyed a hearty meal. (TGI Fridays is a restaurant / pub chain in America, similar to Keg's.)

Sunday we slept in late.

The people of Boston were always inclined to control their own affairs. It was here, after all, that Puritans first came to establish religious independence [...] It was a good plan, in theory - but Boston colonists were having none of it. They didn't take kindly to the idea that they had no voice, no vote in matters that concerned their essential liberties.

-- Boston is certainly undergoing another "revolution". It's not race related, nor is it religious.

For those not-in-the-know, I've uploaded a whole bunch of photos to PhotoBucket.com. Photobucket automatically compresses each image to 250k or less. Not great, but not bad either. I'll upload the pics from Boston soon.

Long time no update

10 days is plenty enough time. In 10 days nations were conquered, seeds ripened, people change.

Just come back from the local pub, feeling like drunken laddies after a few pints with the mates.

Work has been an all-consuming all-powerful entity in my life, like a drug addiction. Its like my whole life-force is centered around it. What do you have to show after working so hard? Beside personal vindication and maybe some extra cash in your back pocket you've literally wasted yourslef away doing something seemingly worthless.

Whats the difference between and porsche and a porcupine?

With a porcupine, the pricks are on the outside.

So, I started gymming. Something I've abhored for many years thinking gym is for jocks and self-centered pricks. Granted there are many pricks that do gym, but it made me realise just how unfit I really am. I remember at school PE periods being able to easily do 10 pull-ups and outgunning the rugby tossers who packed on so much weight they could barely do one pull-up. Now I can barely do one - that will change.

Having Gareth around is great motivation. We spend about 3 days a week at the local Gold's Gym with our complimentary tickets doing some aerobic and weight training. I feel like such a weed at times, barely being able to bench-press 20 kilograms in 15 sets. But then I think about how I was such a n00b at Tribes 2, and that with persistence even the greenest of n00bs can become flybois. :D This one is for you Jian :)

So, its been focusing on the week, eating well, gymming often and having a positive outlook on life.

Work has been total crap actually. I successfully managed to step on the head-UI-developer's toes by suggesting an update to his IDK with my new markup example. Well, I thought I'd never seen pride in the office but this guy was just not interested in any improvements to his little project. So be it ignoramus - - your loss. Now I'm slaying bugs, a great warrior with shiny silver armour and a maiden to rescue. Granted, she's a tired old wench but she puts out better than those skanky londonium whores. Together, Patriot and I have seen the four corners of the earth, stared death in its hollow face and cut his nose off with a giant cleaver. Fear me.

Otherwise, I'm looking forward to a weekend spent in Boston for the first time since arriving here. We've sorta planned to go visit Six Flags New England and maybe go catch a Red Sox game. The countryside around here is amazing, just pine, spruce and maple forests for as long as the eye can see. Definately worth a sojourn or two.

The trip to New York City

So we decided to go see one of Gareth's friends in Queens, New York, New York. After 3-4 hours driving we arrived and were toally lost. New York is HUGE. Gareth's friend Gareth Gareth was drunk when we approached NYC, the very man to give us directions. I just laughed.

After 1 aand half hours of driving in circles we managed to reach our intended destination, Gareth was getting tense. I just smiled.

So we had a few beers, and Gareth had a few more. I was merry enough to still have my wits about me when it was time to leave for a good-nights-sleep. There we were, 5 of us, limping and laughing back home, feeling tired after a day of work and driving. On our way home we learnt of the quality of street-shopping, as many new yorkers throw stuff out onto the street that is worth quite a bit of tom. Low and behold, a king-size mattress was on our route, to any half-drunk person yearning for a few zees it was manna from heaven. But there had to be a reason it was out on the street.

The next morning we woke to tea, cereal and an itenerary any newcomer to new york would plan. We took the subway to Grand Central station and amazed ourselves under the huge dome. Truly grand. I spent about 10 minutes in a sports-store (10 minutes is a lot for a man in any store) looking for a hockey jersey for Neill (oops, did I mention Neill? My bad! :D) From there we walked through to Times Square and some jaw-dropping times. Times Square is amazing, the hub of New York, its almagamtion of culture and melting pot of races. After a few photos and seeing the steaming cup of noodles we walked up to the Empire State Building.

An hour spent in queues is quite good for the Empire State Building. It was an overcast day, but our fears of poor visibility were put aside when we reached the top to see a panaroma of concrete and steel. Visibility was 15 miles, enough to see all the rivers on all sides and the many bridges that spanned them. No cent is spared in America when it comes to hurdling an obstacle such as a 200m wide river. After many happy snaps and feeling like a total tourist we left for an epic pub-crawling-adventure the likes of which I'd never imagined. In the end we were stopping off at pubs just to take a leak and therefore have another beer. I felt like one of the manne. After a stop-off at one of the more dodgy strip-clubs and walking for miles to get something to eat our journey truly ended when we met up with the girls and a few other mates to go have an evening in the Gotham Comedy Club. A select set of comedians were presnting a stand-up dig in front of a select group of people, and we were invited. For some reason, these guys and gals were actually funny! (This week, I noticed 2 of the comedians on TV - these are not small time comics). We lef the show with sore stomach muscles and grins imprinted on our faces.

After sleeping in a bit the next morning, overcoming the tenderness perpetrated by a drinking hang-over, we set off for Paragon Sports, the biggest sports store I've ever seen. (A recurring theme here folks, everything here in the States is just bigger and better than anywhere else). Gareth bought some fancy new climbing boots for his trip to the Andes at the end of the year.

On our return joruney we stopped off at a Denny's and finally had a semi-decent restaurant meal. Avoid McDonalds and Burger King - nasty stuff.

10 days later?

Gareth is still scratching at his bed-bug-bites from that infested mattress. Theres a lesson here: If someone throws a mattress onto the street in New York, and in your drunken state you want to use it, forget it. Gareth looks like he's got hives its so bad. I still laugh.

Till the next update. I'm so tired I'm squinting.

A traveller.

Feet blistered from many a mile, face scorched from sunshine. To know the road is to know yourself. Out here in the blistering heat you only have your own mind to talk to, its like a drunken brawl trying to persuade your psyche to wake up and see the tar for what it is, black, lifeless, something beneath your feet. Yet you plod on, left right, links regs. The travelling is not about the pacing towards the end of the road, its about seeing everything on the way and learning about it. Learning more about yourself.

The weather can be harsh, or pleasant. The road can be steep, or flat. (Steep represents downhill too.) Each step is a step forward, a journey each one of us should take, often neglected.

An oracle.

Gareth: Washington DC is out-of-control and fucking rocks man - put that in! :)

Uncle George's place

Gareth and I took a drive down to Wsahington DC early on saturday morning. It took us 8 hours to drive 666 kilometers.

We passed through such amazing cities as New York, Newark, Baltimore, Philedelphia. New York is a lot bigger than you think. From the Bronx, we took the I-95S around the northern parts of New York and saw the manhattan skyline on the horizon, on a beautiful spring day.

Mind blowing size, bulging budgets and a great appreciation for rock. America is the home of rock, you flip thru radio channels and are greeted with the sweet tones of Led Zeppelin, Blue Oyster Cult, Lost Prophets, Metallica. If there was another reason for me to move to the US, it would be for the music.

The american road driving experience is an interesting one, especially when you get pulled over by a sweaty-state-police-pig after doing 83 in a 65 zone. $180 is way too much apparently. Phew. But that set a tone for the driving, chilled 75 miles an hour with everyone else on the road. At most of the overhanging bridges american flags flapped againt the railings, multitudes of flags of all sizes. Trucks keep up to the speed limit and everyone just cruises along, as if all attached by cables. I have never seen so many different types of cars before, all burning clean fuel with little or no visible emissions. Trucks the sizes of football fields, shining chrome in immaculate condition.

In the prideland

Our timing couldn't have been better.

It was memorial day weekend. A time to remmeber fallen soldiers fighting for america's right to have war when they wanted.

It was also HOG weekend, close to 10 000 Harley Davidsons were in Washington, as many veterans pursue the passion of comradery on their steel horses. "Rolling Thunder" is really the only phrase to descibe a thousand harleys dragging up the main streets in Washington.

Every year, around this time of the year the indigenous cicadas emerge from 17 years of slumber and pupation. In an eerie forest born chorus they entice mates and intrigue the locals. While it does remind you a lot of the bush in SA, it seems as foregin as this country is.

Bliss, this is.

Our hosts, Chris and Heidi are an amazing couple. Heidi is a part-swiss-part-barbadian-all-american-economist and Chris is a cardiologist with a great appreciation for life. They recently moved into a beautiful apartment in a "transition-neighbourhood" in north western washington.

We arrived at about 4PM, so Chris decided we should walk through the Rock Creek Park which literally divides Washington DC in half. It was mind-blowing walking through an all-nautral forest in the middle of a huge city. We finished off our walk with a beers in Georgetown, then stumbled down to the Potomac river to see Virginia, some of the local wild-life (SA girls still rock) then caught a cab back to Heidi's and Chris' place. When we arrived, Heidi had been preparing a wonderful meal. Tilapia, served with a white-wine, brown-sugar and garlic topping with a side of nutty-greco salad. Such an awesome meal topped off with hot apple pie and melting ice-cream. I was literally dozing off, but the old farts had enough steam to go out partying till 3AM, visiting a jazz club and knocking back a few bourbons and G&T's for $6 each. I fell asleep to honking hispanics and birds chirping in the faux-day provided by the street lights.

The next morning we cycled everywhere! Chris took us for sojourns through the Mall area of Washington, we saw all the memorials we could, visited the Franklin D. Roosevelt memorial which left us totally gob-smacked. We spent about 3 hours totally oogling at the Natural History Museum and grabbing a bite to eat. Then we went to an olde american restaurant called the Chophouse and Brewery and had some home-brewed dark ales. When we got back home, Heidi had been industrios in the kitchen again. I felt guilty for some reason, Heidi went through a lot of trouble to accommodate us and our stomachs. Kudos!

Chris has an awesome taste in music, so while chillin' to some kewl tunes and flipping thru photos it was soon time for bed again.

The next morning, we were back on our bikes again and headed down to the Botanic Gardens. There was another veterans parade, consisting of few authentic jeeps, bikes, APC's and even amphibious vehicles. The botanical gardens were mind-blowing. All the plants were flowering with health, so much so, we spent about half-an-hour in the Orchid area. It doesn't get better than that.

Back to Boston

We're now on our way back to Boston stuck in traffic after the long weekend yet revelling in the awesome times we had over the last 72 hours.

A few thoughts:

• Chris and Heidi are so in love it was beautiful. Adoration in the eyes, respect in the mind.
• Americans are truly patriotic, almost bordering on fundamentalism.
• Frankling D. Roosevelt was and is an amazing man.
• Washington was a lot less clinical than I thought it would be.
• Gareth has some amazing friends.