Sometimes I think if I just sit here and hammer the keys enough ill be a writer. It isn’t quite so easy, but really in essence its not that much harder either.

Lots of people can sit at a computer and write trash all day long, without hassle. Others can occasionally write a good passage but are crippled by negative thoughts that prevent them from stringing those passages together day after day.

I’m the later. For a writer there are weeks where I do not do any productive writing at all. Those days that I do manage to write I either write on auto-pilot and its crap or I’m so constantly talking to myself, telling my subconscious to shut the fuck up, that I cant get anything good out either.

On the rare day that things just click I will chain myself to the computer and write all day – finding the balance is hard. Really really hard. Impossible.

Just hammering out this is hard…

I just sat and looked at that last unfinished sentence for 10 minutes, contemplating not resuming or deleting this whole ensemble of words for good. Right now I’m thinking I should interrupt this writing by grabbing something to eat. Then I need to change the sheets on my bed and I need to watch some stuff on my TiVO. I don’t really need to do any of those things right now, but my brain is trying to distract me. I swear its jealous of my writing or something.

Sometimes i trick it by staring out the window noticing the trees wave, birds come and go and the leaves fall while out of view my fingers work in a flurry writing away. Right now I can see the Japanese maple waving at me and I can hear a bird somewhere calling out… A part of my brain wants to go and look for it, but another part is not telling my body to get up, it wants to keep writing.

It feels like a split personality… A part of me wants to write, but the other more powerful side doesn’t. It keeps talking shit and finding distractions… Look something shiny. Forget the writing, lets google something.

Occasionally it pretends to play nice. Good job you’ve written 200 words today, lets celebrate – how about we watch a movie, you don’t even need to watch it all now, just watch the first 20 minutes, go back and write another 200 and catch another 20 minutes… Good deal right? Wrong . Brain knows that 20 minutes will most likely drag on. Even when I do return to the writing I’ll sit at the screen once again thinking I should delete it all. Then I feel bad at that thought so I just sit and think some more. I might get an idea of something better to write so ill open a new document and hammer out a quick overview of this new brain wave. I’ll return to it in a few days time, maybe.

—

Looking back on this I feel like I am making progress, that I’m improving not just my writing but just as importantly my writing habits. But there is still a lot of improvement needed. I’m working on another draft of my first novel. It’s simultaneously incredibly frustrating, but also very reqarding to see the book take shape and improve in readability and story flow. In the mean time I’ve written a few new short stories, I hope to share them soon.

Dark Charity

A short story by Bill Riddell

—

Fat end over the thin from right to left and take it around the back. Fat over thin again, around, to the centre, over the top and through the middle then pull tight and straighten it out. I despise tying that half-Windsor knot in my tie, it’s like wearing an ornate noose. But we all have to play the part occasionally.

This evening I am to play the lead role with a gala dinner to be held in my honour – even though I only wanted a supporting credit. If only they knew that honour had no place amongst the reasons I performed my work.

I don’t know why I make the theatre allusions, I hate it. I’d rather watch the latest Jim Carey movie or Discovery Chanel. Unfortunately intermission is a great opportunity to shake down rich people for donations to help those not so well off.

***

“Ladies and gentlemen, won’t you please be standing and give a resounding round of applause to this evenings honouree, Mr James Watson.”

‘Shut up, all of you. Please.’ I muttered under my breath.

“There are very few men in the world that poses even half of the dedication and selflessness that this man has shown.  Over the past few decades he has dedicated his life to the homeless and at risk people,” preached the minster from the lectern. Though he lacked his churches usual pulpit, I smugly thought that my right hand man seemed quite at home praising me rather than the almighty.

“Now I know you are all eager for your four-course dinners, however I’d like to take the time to tell those of you unfamiliar with James work just what an impact he has had on people who would otherwise go without a single meal.”

“I meet a lot of people eager to help out with money or time, mostly money. So many of you have a healthy wallet but your watch has withered from over use. You feel bad about that. So you kindly share some of your hard earned money and spend your limited time at pleasant events like this, giving more money. You do this to help dissolve the guilt you feel about the incomprehensible gulf of prosperity between you and them.”

“It takes a rare man to bridge that gap. In fact in this room of over 400, I’d argue there is only 1. Pretty lousy odds. Fortunately for those less fortunate James has been paying out consistently, with his own time, money and whatever he can take from you, for the last 25 years.”

“James, please join me before I truly say something stupid. No more of the holy sacrament for yours truly,” he said in a mockingly slurred speech.

“James…” he politely pleaded.

Reluctantly I pushed my body out of the chair, giving a nervous grin to those at my table – some of my biggest financial supporters and my wife, the greatest supporter of all.

“Ahhh, there he is folks. Come on up James.”

Though my banquet table was in the middle of the room, rather than pushing my way through the middle to the stage straight ahead, I walked through the waiters’ laneway from the kitchen, along the side wall and past the men’s room. As I passed the double doors leading back into the lobby, a single door swung open. I turned my body to look through the doorway as two hands seized the lapels of my dinner jacket and pulled me in as the door closed behind me.

“He never has been one for the limelight folks…” said the minister, his amplified voice permeating the walls. “Perhaps the band can play a tune or two until we can wrangle Mr Watson to the stage.”

While off balance my attacker swung my body into the wall and pushed me along it, throwing me into a club chair.

“Mr Watson, the hero,” he laughed. “So good to see you again.”

“How do I know you?” I asked.

“I know the truth James. I know why you dedicate your life to helping the homeless.”

“It’s only fair I suppose to give the rest of your life to help them, after killing one.”

Those words brought me back from the shock. He was standing over me, dressed as the waiters with black slacks and white shirts. That’s it, he brought me a glass of scotch. Everyone else was drinking their champagne and I had to have some single malt.

My mind snapped back – forget the scotch, how did he know.

“I was there that night. You ran down my older brother, got out to make sure he was dead; after failing to see me or any other witnesses you left your nearly empty bottle of scotch on the road next Jason’s body and drove on in the Mercedes that your daddy no doubt paid for.”

“I wasn’t sure it was you until you ordered that scotch before. Now I know.”

With that he leaned back for a moment, then lunged forward grasping the arms of the chair and pushing me backwards. My head landed with a cushioned thud against the plush carpet. I laid in the chair, paralysed with fear as I scanned around ready for a blow. Was he going to kill me? Was he going to expose me in front of everyone tonight?

I waited.

“Has anyone seen Mr Watson?” called the minister.

My eyes darted around the empty sitting room. I awkwardly got back up, rolling onto my side before pushing myself back up with one hand on the floor and the other on the wall to steady myself. The room was littered with different chairs, small tables, and a grand piano. He could still be in here.

As my heart rate eased slightly I stood and made my way back to the grand banquet room, back through the double doors.

“There he is. James, you weren’t hiding were you?”

As I walked towards the podium I felt what the homeless man must have experienced that night. The spotlights highlighting my walk to the podium reminded me of the headlights of my Mercedes lighting up the road in the early hours of that fateful day – piercing through the darkness and early morning fog.

I quickly wondered who in the room was following those beams of light to my body, as if staring down a gun sight.

Looking around the room full of faces I was bewildered. Why are they all here? Tax write-off, some networking, hobnobbing. Most, like me, deep down are trying to ease the guilt.

When they aren’t guzzling wine or giggling with others at their table I could see the guilt, it was the same face I saw every morning in the mirror as I shaved.

I was a spoilt brat. Even worse, I was a spoilt brat who thought he could get away with murder. Until now I had succeeded.

Approaching the stage I shot my minister a bewildered smile.

“Hi folks, first of all let me say sorry for the delay. I always have been crowd shy and I’d much rather be back serving in the soup kitchen than up here with that spotlight shining in my eyes.”

“Enough of my excuses and complaints, I’d like to begin by thanking each one of you kind folks for being here to honour me tonight.”

My carefully written speech failed to unfold a my hands fumbled at the edges, my body swaying nervously ever so slightly from side to side. Giving in I pushed the hand written talking points back inside my jacket.

“Each and every man is capable of equal measures of generosity and evil. When I first began helping others I had no idea what I was capable of.”

Oh no, what am I saying…

“Before doing my part for the generous side of the ledger; I, like many others, had contributed far too much to the other.”

“And so, today I stand before you and ponder if the positive can outweigh the negative. If lives saved can outweigh a life taken. The greater good.”

I scanned the room, but rather than observing the no doubt shocked and dumbfounded looks of those I typically concerned myself with, instead my mind focused on spotting the man challenging the merit of my achievements.

The minister put a hand on my shoulder and pushed a glass of water into my hand, I gulped nervously, almost choking, as he then reached inside my jacket – retrieving and unfolding the notes for me on the lectern.

I completed the speech as planned – full of pleasantries, humble sentiments, hope for the future and guilt button pushing to garner more donations.

The remainder of the evening was fairly uneventful. The drinks flowed, checks were written, wallets emptied and my slip-up was soon forgotten. A few drunken idiots mentioned it between slurs and pats on the back – but they wouldn’t recall it tomorrow.

My secret was still safe for now. Except for my wife…

***

The drive home was quite, Lauren finally breaking the silence once inside our home.

“What happened James? You disappeared before your speech and have been on edge ever since. And what on earth was with the start of your speech, all that good and bad ledger business. I thought you were about to admit you’d been having an affair or something.”

I chuckled slightly at the suggestion of infidelity.

“You haven’t have you?”

“No! Don’t be ridicules. You should know I lack the energy to keep up with you, let alone another woman.”

“Did one of the kids you have been trying to help lately overdose?” she queried.

“No there hasn’t been one in a while.”

“Well what is it then Jim, what is wrong?” She pleaded. “And don’t tell me ‘nothing’ – I won’t buy that, I can tell something is different.”

“Your right…” I finally relented, with a sigh. “When you met me I’d been doing the charity work for a year or two after dropping out of university. As a result my parents wrote me out of their inheritance and tried to take the trust they had created for me when I was born.”

“Yes… is it your parents? Are they in trouble?”

“No, as far as I know they are rich and miserable as always. However you never really questioned why I dropped out and why my parents disowned me. Not that I would have answered.”

“Ok?” she enquired.

“I had barely turned 18, after partying with mates from Uni I drove home after far too many drinks. About two in the morning, just blocks from the flat I was living in I took a detour around the police station up a quite road next to a park. A homeless man, probably no older than I was at the time walked out into the middle of the road and before I could blink he bounced off the front of the Mercedes mum and dad had given me just a few weeks earlier.”

“Oh James, you didn’t did you.”

“Yeah, I got out of the car clutching the bottle of scotch. I checked he was dead – felt no pulse or breathing. Then I looked to make sure no one was around, left the bottle in the gutter before getting back in the car. I backed up then drove over the gutter and onto the footpath to avoid running over his body lying lengthways across both lanes of traffic, his hands pointing the way to a dilapidated rotunda and rose garden.”

“Obviously I did not look to well to make sure no one was about. That mans younger brother saw everything and has finally tracked me down. When I disappeared before my speech, it was him.”

“He grabbed me as I was walking up and pulled me into the lobby. He threw me around, threatened me and then vanished. I was expecting him to shoot me while I was giving my speech or charge onto the stage.”

“I almost let the cat of the bag in the speech but the minister promoted me back on track. He’s the only person who knows other than my parents, and my mother has already taken it to the grave.”

“The minister knew my parents and I well, I was the first baptism he performed and naturally I confessed to him a few days after the hit and run. Confessed that I was so drunk that for a split second I thought I was playing a computer game, lining up the target and mowing it down; but the skull cracking on the windshield brought me back. Even Hollywood could never replicate that sound, let alone 80’s computer game makers.”

“It was a horrible, unforgivable thing. Yet I believe I have repaid my debt to society. I’ve served over 20 years in the services of the community. I’d have served a similar term in prison if convicted only to achieve nothing; instead I have changed the lives of so many for the better, after changing the life of one for the worst.”

***

Before even making it to the doorway I knew he was there. Something in the frigid morning air didn’t seem right. The door was ajar ever so slightly – the deadbolt to our little office was unlocked. It always held the door closed correctly while the door lock merely kept some semblance of closure. Turning the old brass knob and swinging the heavy door I closed it behind me and made my way through the narrow hallway, dodging the boxes of donations ready to be taken out.

There he was sitting on my desk.

“I hope you don’t mind, I’ve taken a look around,” he said, standing abruptly and gesturing next to one of the huge pin-boards on walls. He plucked and prodded at the smiling photographs, postcards full of joy and cards that struggled to express the gratitude of the people who sent them.

“I couldn’t really fathom your achievement last night amongst the pompous brigade, with their fat checks, flowing champagne and pats on the back. But, I can tell now this is where you’d have rather been. “

I nodded solemnly.

His words had begun to calm my nerves, but the sight of a fuel can almost hidden behind my desk brought me back to a panic.

“I didn’t expect you to be here so early. You’re obviously very dedicated.”

He traced my line of sight to the can and gave it a few taps with his leg in acknowledgment.

“The plan was to burn this place to the ground, with you in it. I suppose I could still make it happen – but it seems my brother’s death accomplished more than he could ever have hoped. That accident sparked something in you that has burned brighter each year – lighting the way for others out of the darkness. Snuffing that out would be like backing up and running over my brother’s body again.”

Fortunately I scraped by and saved my money. The draft is complete, I have effectively written a book of some 70,000 words.

However it’s not done, far from it in fact. I took some time off initially to have a break from it and return to it with fresh eyes.

I’m now working my way through on the second draft. Filling in placeholders, where I knew more needed to be written; but, at the time did not have the words to fill in the details about a characters appearance or a page of dialogue that just was not working.

I’ve already slashed a few scenes, added others and enlarged some more.

The book is a fictionalised version of a relationship with someone close to me over a few years, his and my characters and other are changed, so are settings and events – many of these elements seemed too close to their real inspirations so they have been changed.

There is a lot of general polishing going on – there, their, they’re etc. I get the words down as quick as possible and worry about spelling, grammar and every other thing later. Then sometimes I forget about it as readers of this blog will no doubt be familiar with.

After this second round of polishing, which after a break I hope to have finished before the end of the year, I’ll hand the novel over to a few trusted friends for some feedback and head back for some more revisions.

Keep an eye out for some fresh posts coming soon, including a new short story. My apologies for the absence.

I’ve discussed the thousand dollar penalty for not getting a draft finished this month, but I haven’t talked about the other side of the coin – the reward. It’s only fair to give a reward, escaping the penalty is great and getting a draft finished will no doubt be a rewarding experience but to complete the trinity of motivation there needs to be a tangible reward.

In this case its the prospect of further travel – booking a flight out of Australia to start the next trip I’ve been contemplating since before I returned in February.

***

As I lay sideways across my queen bed, my feet hanging over the edge, my chin propped on a pillow and my arms extended to my laptop resting on a chair, I think about that feeling of being in a new country, a new city, in a new bed – contemplating the fresh horizon to explore.

New sights, sounds and smells. New culture, customs and quirks of daily life.

I think about breaking out of the daily habits I have got myself back into, replacing the 20 minutes chasing my mums dog and throwing the ball around with climbing the ancient ruins of Ayutthaya or Siem Reap.

That brings me to thoughts of breaking back out of my TV viewing habit. I’m not glued to the thing, but I do have a fair collection of shows I don’t like to miss each week. Instead I could be watching the scenes of Sisowath Quay from our apartment balcony while sipping scotch smoking a very bad cigar – pretending to be Deny Crane and Alan Shaw from one of my all time favourite TV shows Boston Legal. Or the view of Bangkok from the Vertigo rooftop cocktail bar over 60 floors above the city.

I think about leaving behind my daily diet for the delicious pad see-ew topped with kaffir lime juice from the street vendor in Chiang Mai or the amazing pastries found in the back streets of Hanoi (compliments of French colonialism). Even the novelty of discovering my favourite drink as a kid, cold Milo, is to be had seemingly everywhere in Kuala Lumpor, even in a can or McDonalds.

***

I have no idea what I will experience on my next journey. I haven’t even decided on destinations.

I’ve thought of a Trans-Siberian journey, exploring my families roots in the UK, indulging my passion for motorsport with a pilgrimage to the great races of Europe, perhaps jetting to American to buy an old Mustang and drive coast to coast. I could explore more of Asia – Indonesia, Singapore, Burma, Laos, Philippines, China, Japan… maybe something I haven’t even thought of yet, or all of the above.

Beyond this horizon, is another horizon to marvel at, explore and leave behind.

***

I came in well over budget for my thousand words today, which is fortunate as yesterday was a disaster. Since its 5am, the today I refer to is technically yesterday, yesterday is the day before and tomorrow is already here. The joys of being productive when the sun goes down.

Somewhere in the world it’s bed time. Until then, I’m going to rest my head and think of the horizon and those thousand words to pour out next time I’m conscious.

Quite simply it had been an idea on the back-burner for far to long. Something based in truth that is personal and with the potential to hurt those around me. But really that should only be an excuse not to try and publish it – even if it’s left in a drawer after its finished I want to write this as my first novel.

The fact is have been far to lazy. Leaving the book in the digital bottom draw of my computer, pulling it out occasionally to add a few hundred words when inspiration struck and promptly forgetting it. As of a few months ago that approach had netted a few thousand meager words, from about two years effort.

It was clearly time to try something else. When writing my ebook I had procrastinated and neglected in a similar manner until making a friendly wager with fellow blogger Arun. The prospect of waxing lyrical about his many virtues would not have been that painful or difficult but somehow it spurred me on to finish the bulk of the book in a month.

Setting my goals at the start of the year I decided to take a similar approach but to up the ante. I vowed if the book wasn’t complete by August I would donate one thousand dollars to charity – a not so insignificant sum to go missing from my bank account.

With 30 days left I find I have around 30,000 words approximately left to complete a reasonable sized first draft – 1000 words a day or else I give $1000 to a worthy cause.

I’ll get back to you at the end of the month to gloat or ask for your suggestions as to where the money shall go.

See you on the other side,

Bill

I made a few early attempts, writing in the cramped cocoon of my sleeper cabin from KL, Malaysia to Hat Yai, Thailand. On arrival at our first destination, Koh Samui for New Years, I managed to write a bit on my laptop and on the ferry back to the mainland I scribbled away furiously on the rear deck in my moleskin.

However it did not last…

The only place that I consistently detailed the journey was Facebook.

Via patchy WiFi connections in hotels, backpackers, airports and coffee shops I updated friends and family every few days. Spurred on by encouraging replies and many thumbs-up for my micro-blogging style I present here my lightly edited updates and replies along with a few photos.

—

All packed (I think), ready to head to the airport and fly out for SE Asia at 1am, ouch. Will spend a day in KL before travelling by rail, bus and ferry to Koh Samui for New Years. What was I thinking!

—

Survived the flight to KL, Malaysia and spent the day exploring the city. Now preparing for much more transport to get to Koh Samui for New Years. First up is a 16 hour overnight train across the border to Thailand. Doh!

Highlight of the trip so far, my travelling mate Josh somehow paying 20 cents to NOT use a toilet at KL Sentral train station when confronted by a squat toilet. Lowlights, I have been up for about 34 hours… got maybe 5 minutes sleep on the 8 hour overnight flight. I’m going to collapse in that sleeper carriage.

—

Swing Bar Lamai

Done with the planes, trains, songthaewes (old utes/pickups with bench seating for 14 in the back), buses, ferries and taxis. After missing two nights sleep, finally crashed in a real bed last night.

Chilling on Koh Samui, back from a debut cocktail and some reading on the beach at Swing Bar, very cool little beachside pub/club in Lamai that has swings instead of seats around the bar and lounges on the beach.

—

Getting ready to head out for New Years on the beach at Koh Samui – wish all back home a great night and wonderful 2010.

—

Spectacular New Years on Koh Samui done – fireworks, paper lanterns and good times. Next stop Bangkok.

—

Safe and well in Bangkok, can’t knock Nok Air. Leave 10 minutes before schedule and arrive 25 minutes early. Pretty sure the pilots were afraid of missing happy hour.

—

Private Tour of Chao Prya River

Sleep time after incredible day in Bangkok – kicked things off with our own longtail boat tour, then a 20km private bike tour at night covering the big temples, amazing villages along the rivers, carving up the crazy traffic (ask for Nok at Velo Thailand)  and then recovered with Big Gulp rum and cokes on the roof top bar. Simply awesome!

—

Culinary day in Bangkok – late breakfast room service even though our cheap hotel doesn’t offer it (thanks ChefsXP), 25 cent street food for lunch followed by 5 star dining over 60 floors up on the rooftop of a skyscraper (Vertigo at the Banyon Tree).

—

Most locals here in SE Asia seem to see me as either a fully functioning ATM, Godzilla or the reincarnation of Buddha. What are your thoughts?

—

Just got to Kanchanaburi for the Bridge over River Kwai, nice little 3hr train trip, slumming it in 3^rd class with wooden bench seats.

After the War Memorial and Museum for the Thai-Burma railway today we will go see Hell Fire Pass and Bridge over the River Kwai tomorrow. Kanchanaburi is a beautiful town.

Walking Hell Fire Pass was very moving, followed by spectacular Erwan Falls. Off to the ancient capital Ayutthaya (Thai’s moved to Bangkok after the big bad Burmese ransacked it a few times) then onto Chiang Mai in the north.

—

Elephant Trekking in Chiang Mai

In Chiang Mai after another marathon train journey. Yesterday was a 4 hour temple spotting spree in Ayutthaya. Tomorrow arvo I go zip-lining amongst the jungle canopy.

Almost trod on by an elephant walking back to our rooms after scoping out the night markets. It was just wandering the streets poking its nose in at various restaurants and pubs with its owner/mahout leading the way for some reason. They weren’t completely ignorant of public safety though, he had a blinking red bike light tied to his tail so traffic could see him ahead.

—

A manic second last day in Thailand, fired a few rounds at the local military shooting range (seems appropriate amongst all the Buddhist temples), then went flying through the rain forests zip-lining and abseiling followed by a crazy 11 course dinner with a show.

Up first thing Saturday for elephant trek, some hiking and water rafting before flying back to Bangkok late at night and then to Hanoi (Vietnam) first thing Sunday morning.

—

Pagoda on Hoan Kiem Lake, Hanoi

No love from Vietnam, hours to be allowed through immigration, then scammed by driver and taken to wrong backpackers. Ha Long Bay cruise was amazing though – now to escape insane Hanoi via another sleeper train to Hue.

About 24hrs all up on Ha Long Bay, was incredible. Too freezing to jump off the boat for a swim but did kayak for over an hour – saw this amazing cove with about 30 or so different monkeys milling about.

—

Inspecting the Royal Tomb of Tu Doc in Hue

Another overnighter in the top bunk of a train – now in much more chilled Hue. Enjoyed a nice evening wandering the old-quarter of Hanoi scoffing pastries (bless French colonialism), dodging scooters and a local lady who seemed to go into shock after seeing me, almost throwing a pot of boiling water at me then fell down a few steps when I walked by again.

—

Thanks all for the Birthday wishes. Had a great day so far (only 5pm here in Vietnam) – chauffeur driven from Hue to Hoi An over the spectacularly scenic Hai Van pass, where the ocean meets the mountains.

Resuming the Ho Chi Minh trail – at Danang airport about to fly to Saigon (HCMC) then Cambodia awaits.

—

Landed safe yesterday in Saigon. About to go and organise a bus to take us across the border to Phnom Penh, Cambodia.

Interesting dining last night, the menu had everything except dog, from snails to a platter of pigs snouts and feet as well as many other things I’ve tried to block out of my mind.

Probably the oddest thing I have eaten so far is deep fried lawn clippings (was supposed to be lemon grass) with some shredded chicken mixed amongst it – at least I think it was chicken.

—

Haunting Images of Tuol Sleng Victims

Safe and well after another border crossing. Now installed at the FCC Phnom Penh in Cambodia. Ahhh…

FCC is the Foreign Correspondents’ Club – superb view from our apartment of the Mekong and Tonle Sap rivers while kicking back in our robes and slippers. Had an incredible dinner last night.

Just got back from Tuol Sleng/S21 a former high school which was used as a prison and torture chamber by the Khmer Rouge right in the heart of the capital Phenom Penh. Very horrific stuff.

Amongst the Ruins and 216 Stone Faces of Bayon

National Museum was a bit more pleasant however there are only so many statues of Buddha and the various Hindu gods a man can see before he considers that torture as well.

Enjoying Cambodia much more than Vietnam – people a lot more friendlily. Even the touts and sales people not as pushy (e.g. instead of “You buy suit” its “Hello, you like suit/look at suit”). Although the 12 year old kids riding scooters alongside your motodop taxi saying “Hello you want marijuana?” are a little off putting.

—

The Amazing Sight of Angkor Wat

Now in Siem Reap and ready for Angkor Wat tomorrow. First up though sleep time, sitting on half of a seat for the 6 hour bus trip is exhausting.

Amazing experience, two days touring the Angkor regions Wats with our amazing tuk tuk driver and guide Sambo (if your heading to Siem Reap please contact me and I’ll happily pass on Sambo’s contact details – I highly recommend him).

—

Farewell Cambodia! I may be a crazy & BAD tourist but it’s been a pleasure to witness a bit of this beautiful country. Bussing it back to Bangkok first thing in the morn, that’s where crazy & BAD tourists belong. Travelling solo now – Joshless.

The 6 year old salesman/tout who called me a bad tourist also knew more about Australian politics than most Australian’s so perhaps he knows what he is talking about.

“You crazy man, you have bad luck now. You a BAADDDD tourist. Crazy!”

Basically he wanted me to buy some of the usual collection of hats, pillow cases, silk scarves. etc, while I wasn’t so keen.

—

Worst bus ride ever – 6 hour trip taking 13. But at $6 to get from Siem Reap, Cambodia to Bangkok it wasn’t really a surprise, my ticket even had $18 marked on it – some fool in the group paid $35, now he was really angry.

Far too many stops to admire roadside cafes which pay kickbacks to the bus company. Then spent 2 hours waiting just inside the Thai border for the new bus, which had somehow transformed into an old flatbed truck roughly converted into a military style people carrier with a bench on either side. 20 minutes later another roadside cafe where we wasted another 1 & 1/2hrs before 58 people were jammed into a bus designed for 10 less. Safe in Bangkok and glad to have regained use of my legs and feeling in my….

—

After a few days tripping around in taxi’s I’m convinced Bangkok cabbies speak no English beyond “Yes”, “No Worries” & “Sir”. As in, “Siam Center, MBK, yes. No worries Sir”.

Fortunately bad female drivers in Mercedes Benz’s are universally funny, so we broke the ice and I got to the dentists. Fortunately she spoke a lot better English. Unfortunately she could have perhaps spent more time studying dentistry than English. Fingers crossed my busted tooth is all healed up.

—

Hanging Out With a 6 Month Old Tiger

Another crazy day in Bangkok, first scored free ride in tuk tuk, then free tickets to see Avatar at IMAX (awesome movie) followed by hilarious souvenir shopping with my new sumo wrestler friend Yamamotogao (was nice not to feel quite so King Kong like amongst all the midgets here for once).

After catching the overnight train again to lovely Chiang Mai I have been mauled by a tiger and had a run in with a local bikie gang. How was your day?

Disclaimer: ‘mauled’ means playfully bitten by a 6 month old. Didn’t break the skin, but I got an awkward hicky on my forearm to cover up.

Disclaimer: ‘local bikie gang’ means a group of about 30 teenagers who ride around on old Vespa’s and Lambretta’s wearing military surplus jackets and rasta hats. A bizarre Che Guevara/Bob Marley tribute bikie gang. Nice guys though.

—

Going to miss Thailand – beautiful country, great food, friendly people & being able to say ‘crap’ all day and have people think I’m polite.

Basically in Thai if you say crap (pronounced more like krahp) after a few sentences it basically means ‘with respect’. So ‘Sawadee crap’ is ‘hello/goodbye respectfully’. Or something to that effect.

This concludes today’s lesson in Thai. I don’t know much more except how to get Bangkok cabbies to turn their meters on (respectfully of course by saying ‘meter na crap’, you’ll thank me when your quoted $10 taxi ride ends up costing $1.50).

—

Waiting to fly Chiang Mai, Thailand to KL, Malaysia – then 12 hours to kill in KL airport before I trade sweating non-stop because of the humidity here for sweating non-stop because of the heat at home.

Back in the land of Oz… back in my comfy bed. Sadly it also means back to work. Got to pay for my next overseas jaunt – this time it won’t be 3 years between trips.

In my mind I have travelled the world, done great deeds, associated with the wonderful/talented/beautiful and amassed great wealth via many ingenious ideas.

Furthermore I have spent countless hours planning my dream life. Researching what car to buy, where to live, what to do with my endlessly idle time and which supermodel to date – once I’ve made it.

I could go on but I think you get the point.

Don’t let your imagination get in the way of making your dreams come true – get out there take action and live your dreams.

However…

“If you have built castles in the air, you work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them.” – Henry David Thoreau

Now to return to building those foundations.

In that time we covered 4 countries (Malaysia, Thailand, Vietnam & Cambodia), explored 14 cities and encountered countless new people (tourists & locals) while coming to terms with the new cultures and centuries of history.

This time has opened my eyes to the power of travel to transform our lives, in part by leaving elements of our identity behind and absorbing new ones on the road.

A large part of our identity is where we live, who we surround ourselves with and what we do day-to-day. When travelling, particularly over a longer term, we abandon these external influences on who we are and instead can focus on who we truly are as a person.

We often leave behind some of our habits, be they good or bad.

You may change your sleep patterns – becoming an early riser to ensure a productive day of sight seeing. Or instead you may transform into a laze-about. Sleeping all day, or at least till you shake off that hangover from a night of mingling with new friends.

It may be spending habits. Although travel can be expensive, chances are you will leave behind your poor daily spending habits. Without your regular coffee shop nearby you skip the $4 morning pick me up, do not succumb to the fast food temptations.

Your daily exercise habits, or as is more often the case lack of exercise, is often thrown out the window. The daily commute and hours behind a desk can be replaced with exploring a new city by foot, mountain hikes and bike tours. Be aware the temptation however to lounge by the beach or pool and work on your tan the whole time.

Let’s not forgot diet either. When traveling it can at times be easier to eat healthy, your regularly on the move so you tend to grab quick easy and unhealthy snacks. Or you can slow down a little and eat as the locals do – the healthy ones at least. I’m shamed to admit its a rare day when I indulge in fresh fruit but it was so abundant and cheap in most cities that I simply couldn’t ignore. Though I had a few cheat days I was for the most part eating local healthy food from small family restaurants and the awesome street vendors (particularly in Thailand).

As you travel take time to realise the bad habits you have successfully left behind and ensure you do not fall back into them once you return. From the small things like not checking your watch every 5 minutes

Also be aware of bad habits you may be picking up whilst exploring the world. For many travel brings out the inner cheapskate

Travel can be a powerful catalyst for life change because the act of travel effectively throws out the script of our daily lives.

Re-asses values, different perspectives and belifes as you are confronted by new ways of life – cultures and experiences. Most importantly enjoy yourself. Travel is an amazing thing.

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While on my trip I managed to tick off a few more of my lifetime goals – you can see my updated list here and subscribe by RSS or email updates to see the upcoming posts about my travel experiences.

Lets examine some examples of doing and doing well…

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I was a competitive swimmer in what seems another life time, complete with a former Olympic gold medallist as one of my coaches (I had as many as 4 at a time).

It was compulsory for kids to learn to swim when I was at school and as a result slmost all Australians can swim. After following a swan into a pond at the age of three and nearly drowning my parents made learning a priority before I even started school.

After the early rocky relationship with water it was soon a major passion. In summer I could be found swimming in any body of water I could find – pools, ocean, creeks, rivers and even irrigation channels.

Eventually my natural passion turned to competition and training 5-6 days a week and regularly covering 30km’s during the same period.

I was far better than most – able to swim all strokes, dive and tumble turn. Fastest my age at school and the local swimming club were I typically trained. But still I wasn’t the best. Sure I picked up medals, ribbons and trophies in regional competitions, but at state level I was a small fish in a big pond stocked full of bigger and more talented fish.

I trained harder, however my dedication eventually waned in response to my inability to rise to greater succsess.

A team of elite sports medical staff eventually revealed I had bad knees, unsuitable for elite competition and other undesirable flaws. Training was eventually put on hiatus and major illness shortly after killed my thoughts of a comeback.

Though I still feel at home in the water I really only returned to training for rehabilitation purposes a few years later.

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The majority of the population can drive a car on the road, many are unable to drive a manual (stick) and only a fraction of those can drive well.

Of that group a small number race cars and a fraction of those again are good at what they do. Only a handful in the world are truly skilled drivers given the opportunity to drive the worlds best machines in elite competition.

I have been driving cars since I could see over the dashboard, first rode a motorbike aged 5 and I’ve been legally driving on the road for 9 years now. I’m a safer driver than many – 18 years experience with motorised vehicles and 10 years racing cars gives me an advantage over most drivers my age with far more limited experience, particularly when it comes to emergency situations.

However I’m limited by natural talent and instincts as well as the finances to pursue most forms of motorsport. Driving safely on the roads, embarrassing my friends at commercial go karting tracks and the occasional club race is about the limit for me.

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Likewise a lot of people can write – banging out a quick email, firing off a text message. But far less can write well. A fraction of those write for passion, and the elite few of that groups are talented/best selling authors.

I always knew with a fair degree of certainty where I stood in the previous categories, a stop-watch can quickly measure how fast you are on track or in the pool.

There is no simple test for writers. I can’t see at a glance that I am 12 seconds slower than Chuck Palahniuk or less efficient than Haruki Murakami. It’s simply a gut feeling of mine and the varying opinions and biases of those who read my work.

The only way to get a better understanding is to stop questioning my abilities (or lack of) and instead focus on writing as well and as prolifically as possible – let my success be a measure and enjoy what I do regardless.

Some may call it the tipping point or the dip, but it feels more like I’m staring at up at Everest or preparing to drop from a plane unsure if I packed the parachute.

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For those wannabe artists, writers or otherwise creative types looking for a kick in the pants then I highly recommend reading The War of Art by author and screen writer Steven Pressfield.

My belief is that religion served a vital purpose many years ago and that purpose has been eroded over the last few century’s.

That purpose is primarily to make people conform to and live by a set of standards. Today we have laws to abide by (otherwise we will be punished) and socially reinforced norms of behaviour (which will leave us as social outcasts if we do not follow) that for the most part take away the usefulness of religion.

“Major religions are examples of ‘noble lies’ aimed at uplifting human stature.” – Jack Miller

What remains is the spiritual aspect, that there is a higher power and a greater purpose to what we do. To me the notion of an after-life or re-incarnation is greedy/lazy. I only have one life and I intend to do my best with it.

In times gone by religion was used to make people adhere to societal norms of behaviour (do not commit ‘sin’) otherwise you will go to hell when you die and suffer guilt in the short term. From this also comes the concept of forgiveness. That we can be absolved of our sins, even of murder, is to me an abhorrent concept.

I think all religions have many wonderful life lessons – however some other lessons are not compatible with modern life, are plain wrong or have been misinterpreted and corrupted.

“I do not feel obliged to believe that the same God who has endowed us with sense, reason and intellect has intended us to forgo their use.” – Galileo Galiliei

I’m certain Jesus did walk the earth, however as a man like you and me. If he was to come back to life I think he would be seriously unhappy at how his message and beliefs have been twisted in his absence.

He was a wise and generous man who after his death had his message corrupted. In amongst his wise teachings they mixed in rubbish about walking on water and then turning it into wine.

Do you believe if you were capable of such miracles that you would allow someone to nail you to a cross?

“To you, I’m an atheist. To God, I’m the loyal opposition.” – Woody Allen