More Funnies from the Field

So after fleeing from extortionists (yeah that's another post for another day), two dog bites within a week, and 45C/110F heat in the desert I was g-chat extolling to our comrade-in-arms, Ms. Zoe James, the virtues of field research in character building.

She replied, among other more introspective and insightful thoughts: 'Wanna hear something funny?'

To which I replied, 'FUUUUUCK yeah I do!'

This g-chat story followed, in the words of our beloved Ms. James:

so the monsoon came yesterday

lots

9:55 PM i got caught in it a couple of times but one particularly funnily

it was the evening, i'd popped out to get some water

it starts pissing it down,like buckets from the sky

i take cover in a sari shop where i sit for a half hour

i need to get home for dinner, so i brave it when it stops a little

only the road is a river

i lose a flip flop

9:56 PM i get soaked to the bone

and the red stripe in my white scarf runs

so i am walking down a dirt road

in one flip flop

with red dye all over me

9:57 PM with all the locals taking cover in stores and saying 'what is madam doing'?

'is madam ok?'

and all i can do is laugh hysterically

so they think i'm a lunatic

i found my flip flop at the end of the road

picked it out of a drain

put it on

and walked home

laughing the whole wayeveryone here now thinks i'm actually crazy
me: oh and why did you feel compelled to walk through the monsoon, why didn't you wait?

Zoe: well

9:59 PM it didn't look like it was going to stop (it didn't)

me: well, you are not giving them a lot to work with for a contrary view

Zoe: and i didn't want to get in a rickshaw coz the buses were all going too quickly

and there was obvi going to be an accident

by the end of my walk i couldn't even see there was w\so much water running down my face

10:00 PM me: insane
Ahhh, if we could all just look fools, ford the monsoon road rivers, and find that lost flip flop at the end of the road. put it back on and walk home for supper.
Keep truckin' my friends. Just keep on truckin'

Southern discomfort

As an Australian, I've always been suspicious of Canadians. I suppose it's because they live in a kind of "bizarro Australia" where everything seems familar but, on closer inspection, is always in fact a little bit better (Charlie Sheen to Australia's Emilio Estevez if you will). These feelings of filial inadequacy surface when you least expect them. Reading the newspaper. Listening to O Canada. Watching Degrassi Junior High. Most recently, I was reminded of them in the top bunk of a dorm bed in Canberra. It was there that I came to the sobering realisation that not only do Canadians treat their Indigenous people better and speak two languages (neither particularly well says the sulky voice inside my head), but they can also hold their booze. A lot of booze. The story goes something like this. In Room 205 of the Canberra City YHA I met a young Canadian down on his luck. His fiance had recently called off their engagement and so he took the money that he had been saving for their wedding and travelled to Australia to get away from it all for a bit. Having realised earlier that day that interviewing politicians and policy-makers was unlikely to give me the warm and fuzzy feeling that some of my development studies class mates were likely to experience, I decided to make the Canadian my new project. I took him to the bar and I bought him beer. In exchange, he bought me beer. Not wanting to let a Canadian win, I bought him another beer. He bought me more beer. Someone else bought us beer. We bought that person beer. And so it went. Eight pints and not enough potato wedges later I stumbled up to my dorm room and went to bed where I managed to sleep through the act of vomitting on myself (and possibly, as collateral damage, the guy in the bunk below). Not wanting conscious Dan to miss out on the fun, my enfeebled damn Estevez-of-a-body repeated the act no less than five times the following morning, including once in the shower (a particular low point), with each time my gagging throat making a taunting Canadian "eh?"-like sound. I've been on the wagon for two weeks now and suspect that the recovery will take a little longer. Dara, Chris and Kerrie, hope you are all well. x