The life of Chillidude

The things you pick up along the way...

2009-04-01T19:54:00.003+02:00

A couple of years ago, Pedro Perez and I were on a quest in Seattle. Now having seen snow for the first time in my life when I was 27, snowboarding sounded like a swell idea. Really, it did. Anth008 (don’t ask), who was more or less a local (he was actually from the US), knew exactly where to go.

All excited Pedro and myself was full of hope for the day, picturing images of smooth runs and even the odd jump or two. We set off early that Saturday, all geared out and looking AMAZING on the camcorders, Mr. Action and Mr. Serious Action! Being the pro’s we are, we spend the first part of the morning in the kiddies’ pen. No one told us that once you’re on the snowboard, you’re ON THE SNOWBOARD! Not like a skateboard where you can take you feet off at will.

After running around like plastic soldiers, occasionally running on our hands and keeping your butt in the air (looking stupid), we were ready for the memorable shots we planned. Since we are not stupid, we took to the kiddies’ slope. Three grown men, Pedro Perez, Anth008 and myself, sitting tightly together on the snow lift… along with only kiddies, ascending the MOUNTAIN!!!!

No one told us that the lift does not stop at the top. It just keeps going. Really, it does not stop. And then you have this HUGE board stuck to one leg. At first it seemed really difficult to run. Then common sense kicked in. Our legs just decided not to bother any further and just stopped. And don’t think the ski lifts stop if you have a heap of grown men lying where you should get off. NO, LETS PILE ON SOME KIDS!

Eventually we got up. Then instinct kicked in. I locked my loose leg into the snowboard and did what came so naturally. I pointed the snowboard to those little houses at the bottom of the mountain. At first it was cool. I thought: “This ain’t so hard!”.

I picked up speed. I was really starting to fly now. The wind was sweeping by. My face could feel the icy cold wind. Then I could feel my eyes sliding to the side of my head. I imagined myself looking like a frog: with a pinkish stretched out face. I could feel my cheeks flapping below my ears. Out of the cornet of my eye I saw Anth008 sitting on his knees, chuckling, enjoying my land-speed record attempt. I thought that no man had ever travelled this fast … on anything!

My legs decided to get off, but they forgot that they were tightly secured to this board of death. They went for it anyway. Luckily my torso took most of the impact. In an act of rebellion my legs shoved my face into the snow with the snowboard, using the back of my head as a pedal. For a moment I looked like a donut. Fortunately my open mouth helped in stopping me.

I lay there for a little as the feeling slowly returned in my body. I then realized that the sturdy, metal bodied camcorder in my chest pocket wasn’t so uber cool anymore. I should have gotten one that breaks easily if you fall on it.

Road rage third world style

2008-02-07T13:48:00.000+02:00

This week I am back in Angola for more action. As the company's face to Angola I have been doing my best in trying to look busy without the usual base support from home. This is a boring job, but somebody has to do it.

So I have learned this week that motor companies are trying to trick the general public. It seems that to really go off-road you need what is called a "4x4". Now this type of vehicle tend to be more expensive, but they make you think that this is what you need to get around. Especially in Africa.

But in fact, from first-hand experience, I have learned that this is a really big sock that they are trying to pull over your head. What you do need is a minibus, something capable of carrying 15 people (in Africa that number is seen as minimum requirements).

In the back the vehicle it feels as if your lungs are being shoved into you butt while your stomach is moving into you head through your nasal passage. After a two hour trip you do have a slightly soar kidney section, but it is all worth it to experience the amazing off-road capabilities of this "Taxi". It does prevent you to stick out you tongue in traffic, because you might have to look for it later.

I also learned that roads are only an indication of direction. You don't need to be on it. In fact, 6 cars can simultaneously use the same road that will normally been seen as a double road. The advantage of this is that you really don't need any paint. Lines will be silly.

Now you might say I'm lying, so I have decided to show you this little gem of a pothole, 2 blocks from my fine we-don't-have-hot-water lodging. Enjoy.

When you play with your food…

2007-10-02T18:14:00.000+02:00

Traveling the world makes you appreciate home and the things you know. I am not afraid. I have superpowers and I know how to use it. This makes me invulnerable, but I do have a one weakness: food makes me fat. Bet you didn’t see that one coming. And being a superhero is great as long as your costume doesn’t make you look like Barney the dinosaur.

I noticed this weakness the first time I went to the US. Dallas, Texas, to be more precise. Dinner was great. Did you know you can substitute your vegetables for fries? And in Texas it is all good as long as you wash it down with Diet Coke, the magic drink. I came back looking pregnant, but I was still hardcore.

I also had hot Mexican food in Cancun. It is like going to the gym, you feel the burn! Going down and going out! And I loved it. In Egypt I refused to eat for a week. I didn’t think that drinking water scooped out of the Nile is such a good idea. The dead fish floating nearby confirmed my suspicion. Besides, can you imagine the size of a Nile crocodile’s … never mind.

Last week I had chicken feet and something sticky in Angola. I thought this was a true measure of my willpower. But it is difficult to eat something if your teeth are clinched together. I managed to stuff half a plate of food between my lips, cheeks and teeth before my brain finally allowed my lower jaw to relax.

Which brings me to playing with your food. I told Pero de Neiro about my episode in Angola. Apparently this was nothing. Pero moved to Spain. His neighbor brought him a rabbit. Pero was happy, he had a new friend, Fluffy, and he could play all day. What he didn’t know is that you are not supposed to play with your food. Imagine the confusion if someone hands you food and you play with it. Needless to say – Fluffy turned out to be dinner.

Talk about flushing your friendship down the drain…

When Rambo cries…

2007-07-31T12:45:00.000+02:00

I’m currently in Angola. For the people who suck at geography, it is on the West coast of Africa. It is a jungle out there and this somehow reminded me of Rambo (part 2 to be exact).

You see, most companies firmly believe that Rambo is employee number … (fill in your employee number). When the war is raging, battles are brutal and throwing money at the problem is not solving it, then they turn to the ultimate weapon in any company’s arsenal. They turn to Rambo. We all know that: “No man, no law, no war can stop him”. And even passport control at a foreign company can’t say no to him.

So why would you want to send Rambo? We’ll apart from being fearless, violent and built like a condom full of walnuts, he is also stupid. Sure there is a challenge, sure you are the best man for the job, sure there is a lot of money you can make from the trip - but they don’t mention everything. You are also the world’s biggest dodo! Why waste money on having a full team of people doing a job, when they can send one fool to take the beating on behalf of the company for not having the before mentioned team.

Now being stuck here in a country with only radio communication to base station and getting beaten to a pulp by clients isn’t the only frustration I have. To sweeten the deal my nemesis is also part of the equation. Yes, you got it – the Snake Oil Salesman is also in the mix!

Now since the Snake Oil Salesman’s posse is responsible for most of the pain I suffer, I need to share this little gem. I managed to convey the pain and suffering I’m currently experiencing to the enemy. The reply I got almost brought a tear to my eye. To quote: “That’s what I thought, and I’m relieved. The problem has been resolved. Now the discussion needs to happen around any financial issues that may surround it.”

So to summarise it all, Rambo has been sent to a foreign country to fight a war that was induced by the Snake Oil Salesman and his posse and to win the war, Rambo’s company must throw more money at the problem, negating the whole effect of sending Rambo in the first place. No wonder they poor guy fights with knives! Rattatatat! Rattatatat! Ka-Boom

The happy massage

2007-07-26T18:28:00.000+02:00

I’ve heard the statement “a massage with a happy ending”. Granted it was mentioned by a scary Mexican in a taxi. My beast has taken me to the battle fields of Angola. I need to fight side by side with the Brazilians and two days into the battle I’m starting to feel stressed. Which brings me to the massage.

I had my first massage at, of all places, an airport in Brazil. I was waiting for my flight, had a couple of Reals in my pocket and was already stuffed up on snacks and coffee. So I noticed the “massage chairs”. Good idea to try this out. But it was awkward. You sit there in the middle of the airport with your face trying to peel through a little hole while some woman tries to shove your right arm into your left ear. And most of the people there, like me, have never seen this before. So I managed to gather a little crowd of massage spectators. When I got up I had a red donut ring face.

The second time around was at the same airport. Same scenario, but this time around I knew what to expect. Unfortunately I also had a runny nose which seemed to enjoy the squeeze-your-face-through-the-hole part. I will not go into more detail, but I did make the massage therapist slip. Twice, What-UUP!

The third one was by a hairy Egyptian. It was weird. It was in the gym of a hotel. I remembered to keep my pants on. As you come down the stairs into the gym there is a big dark window through which you cannot see. That is until you switch the light on at the other side. I saw a crack in the window. And I wanted to be sure the next guy on the stairs doesn’t see mine.

The next one was part of a gift from my honeybun. She took me to a health spa for a weekend. There were some forms of torture involved: starvation and sugar deprivation being examples. Luckily I adapted quickly and stole the honey from the dining room to sweeten my tea. For the massage part I got “The strong one”. This lady told my how she bench press my weight. And I could feel the power as she tried to drive her elbows through my back. I got up and it looked like I was running naked in a hail storm.

By now I have become accustomed to the massage. The last one I had was at a day spa. It was a lovely place that does not believe in starvation. I loved it so much that I even fell asleep. My honeybun was with me and she was seriously concerned that I would fall of the table. I almost drowned in my own drool. It was one of the best naps I have ever had. I even snored, through the normal channel as well as the bottom one (which caused the ladies to leave for a while: to giggle I suppose).

But the most fun massages are the ones you get at the unisex hair salon. Women have been holding out on this little gem for far too long. When you walk in you can’t help but notice how relaxed ladies at the washing basins are. Some of them are drooling while their lipstick draws red lines along their cheeks. The older ones’ cheeks are sagging to the point you can see their teeth, cheeks almost touching their shoulders. I must admit – I like these head massages. It is not spectacular to watch, but boy is great to have one!

Steam less in Seattle

2007-06-22T10:21:00.000+02:00

In another fruitless attempt to conquer the world, “The Company” sent us to Seattle to work on a project. Being the intellectual giants we are, Pedro Perez and I jumped at the opportunity to see the home of all things driven by a mouse. We were also bamboozled by the brilliance of having our own apartment – a home away from home. So every two weeks we were in Seattle, and then back home for two more.

We were also fortunate enough to have our fearless leader, Chucky Speed, with us. From time to time we were also accompanied by the Master of the Universe. I also realized on these trips that even the Master of the Universe is scared of his wife and, even more shocking, wears bear print pajamas!

As things happen, we had to perform a night operation. This meant that we left the project base early in order to be at back at 23:00 to take our positions. We had to be fresh, we had to be quick and we were ready for the mission. Too bad that we had to rely on ground support from “The Company”, which at that stages were manned by monkeys in tracksuits and was half-way around the world (where you can’t smack them).

While we were awaiting count-down for the mission, I decided to have a little dinner. Not something big, as it might slow you down running around. And at my age cramps are certainly a reality. So I was standing in front of the stove – when suddenly I shorted something. I had flames dancing around me – a spectacular display of pyrotechnics – followed by total darkness. Pitch black, everyone stunned by the show. I was fine, just got a fright, but the big problem now was that we had no power.

So we enjoyed our half-cooked meal by candlelight. Since we had nothing to do, we decided to get a little shut-eye before the mission. Just before we left for base camp, our fearless leader decided to have a little shower. Now since there was no power, he decided that this will be a quick cold in and out shower.

The plan was simple: strip down, turn on the water, jump in, wash and get out. All of this happening in cold water of course. Steps 1 through 3 went as planned, but halfway through step 4 we were heard screams echoing though the apartment. And then came the revelation, we remembered the reason why some clever dude invented the geyser. IT KEEPS THE WATER HOT!

A couple of minutes later, after Pedro and I exchanged a couple of giggles, Chucky emerged from his room (charred chest and all) – ready for battle. Now I believe that there is a lesson to be learned here, and the lesson is simple: It is not called the 21^st Century for nothing!

Pursuing a career, how to choose your beasts

2007-05-24T14:02:00.000+02:00

One of the most common things to ponder about is whether or not you have chosen the correct career. As mentioned in "Battling the Beast", there are some things that do not go according to plan. I've had a fair share of dangling carrots - and I have made a fair share of suggestions on where the carrot should actually go. So lately I have been pondering my choice of beast battling. I am highly skilled in battling the beast, and sometimes I even follow Mr. Miyagi's advice in that the best way to win is to not fight!

So to determine if I made the correct choice, I decided to take an approach usually followed by those clever scientists. As I explained to my honeybun, sometimes the best way to proof something is to proof the contrary.

Let me explain the reason why I am not a sport star. As a young lad our schooling system placed a lot of emphasis on sport. Especially a little game called Rugby. Now the school I attended thought that this is the most important thing in the world, and we HAD to do this sport. So I had a choice: participate or be victimized. I made the wrong decision.

So being this super fit being with the ultimate physique, I was selected for the last team. The team made up of all the people they can gather on a Friday afternoon to play a match the weekend. And being so well build for speed, I was in the perfect shape to play what they call a prop. If you ever watch a game of rugby, notice the guy with the 1 on his back. The biggest guy on the field doing the dirty work. My natural position, one I played with great success for years.

Our coach had the day-time job of history teacher. It became clear why he did not teach mathematics, as for this one match we ended up with 3 props. If you know rugby, you might make the link that there can only be 2 in a team. And then he showed is brilliance. I was struck with awe as he said to me: "Since the team is not that strong, you must play on the wing - the ball will never reach you". Amazement. Now imagine this, the biggest, slowest and strongest (supposedly) guy on the field, playing the position created for the fasted, leanest, most swift-footed person you can find.

So there I was drifting at the edges of the action. I had a lovely day and enjoyed watching the game I was actually playing. And then I was my time! My time to shine! We attacked the goal line and the ball was coming down the back line. I knew that it was glory time! There was an open line, and about 10 meters to go. I was open, no more defenders; I had to trot over the goal line for victory! Then the ball was passed to me. This was it! "WHOOP!". My studs and my boot laces got entangled. Somehow your legs do not work that well if they are tied together at the feet. It was a nice cloud of dust. I rolled, people laughed and I ended up 2 meters from the foal line, flat on my face. Tied up by the feet, like when a cowboy rope cattle. And after all this humiliation, the referee blew a penalty against me for diving onto the ball.

I realized there and then, my contribution to the world would be mentally and hence the desk job!

Courage to collaborate

2007-05-14T15:16:00.000+02:00

My honeybun is doing a company project on values. I am the guinea pig, and the Power Point consultant. So while battling to balance eggs on salt, Googling for quotes to add to the presentations and whatever is required of a guinea pig, I couldn’t help to ponder my own frustrations with my multi-cultural multi-national back-stabbing team.

Needless to say I suffer from endless pain on a daily basis, trying to manage those party crazy Brazilians, my slow paced laid back African amigos and then the too close for comfort Snake Oil Salesman and his posse. Everyone is delaying, complaining and waiting for the other one to slip up so that we can have a sacrifice! Knives all out waiting! It made me realize just how true the quote I found on the internet is: “Teamwork is essential. It allows you to blame someone else.”

So I tried to think of a time in my life where I experienced efficient teamwork. It brought me to a wild weekend of river rafting!

My friend SeaBass told us about his buddies that have this company that takes you on a river rafting trip. What a great idea! River rafting! Nice slow river flow with a couple of beers floating behind you. I could hear the laughter in my head. So the usual gang decided to take him up on this truly amazing experience!

So we headed out with as much beer as we could carry in 3 cars. The captain and his wife went in his truck. Survivor, Pedro Perez, Dangerous Dave and I drove in my car and SeaBass and Action Man E in the Bass Mobile.

We arrived at the venue the Friday night, some more jolly than the others. We were expecting the party to really start. Instead, the fear started.

Our hosts whipped out cloves and Latex, and although it might sound like fun to some of you, it really isn’t what you think. Basically you have to wear the gloves to protect your hands from thorns the size of nine inch nails. Now I really didn’t think about it at the time, but later I asked myself how the hell do get thorns on a river? Then we were given wetsuits. Problem: being a bit larger that life, The Captain and I couldn’t find wetsuits that fit; at least not without looking like a sausage. So we had to go commando on the river and we were still waiting for spring to arrive, do you see where I’m going with this?

The next morning started with a “safety meeting”. Now remember I still had this little booze-cruise-floating-down-the-river picture in my head. Then it hit the fan.

“Rule number 1: No beer on the river” (this while a couple of us were already sipping a cold one). I could feel my joy draining from inside. Then I had to listen to this little fairy tail about if I get suck under a tree log I can hold my head in a certain position and the current will form this bubble that will have enough oxygen for 30 minutes. And I really do not need to panic, as they will safe me. I also discovered later that the medic we had, well, I think the closest he got to medicine was mouthwash!

From thereon the day was full of little surprises. There were no rafts. That would have been too easy; instead we had to face those bad babies on truck tubes! And apparently we were in luck, as they had rain and the river was really strong! In fact, when we got there it was one continuous white water rapid, mountain to ocean!

We also discovered that they did not have the means to transport all those already inflated tubes. So they got stacked on The Captain’s truck. And another little jewel: they didn’t have ropes so someone had to stand in the centre of this tube stack! Brilliant! When we reached cruising speed our little brave team member was starting to lift off in his tube tunnel! It looked like we were going to fly a blimp!

After quite an ordeal we managed to make our way down to the river. We had to navigate some really tricky territory through the bushes and trees, but we ended up close enough to hear the river – al we had to do was to carry our tubes to the river. I can assure you, it is quite a sight to see guys in wetsuits doing walking through the jungle with a truck tube on one shoulder and a white helmet on the head. Like police divers!

So we got to the first rapid, we made turns jumping on our tubes, bouncing off and going solo down the rapid trying to catch the tire. Not really a successful first attempt. After the first rapid The Captain and I started to compare our pink legs. Luckily we had some chocolates to fire up the metabolism! Another little known fact from our guides.

We managed to get to this little rapid that had a waterfall at the end. I guess it was about a 10 meter drop, but the problem wasn’t so much the height as the stack of rocks and broken trees reaching up towards the sky like spears. But we were in safe hands, as the fearless leader decided that they will put a rope over the river, just before the waterfall. This will be our safety catch. As you come rushing down the rapid, you grab onto this rope and to safe yourself from broken bones and impalement. And this is where I turned chicken, besides – I now had the chance to sit on the warm rocks to defrost my legs.

Fortunately the crew had too much difficulty in getting the rope across the river and they decided it might be too dangerous. So we moved on. Don’t get me wrong, it was great fun getting bruised by rocks. And it is fun coming down a rapid and not knowing how high the next drop would be.

It all came to an end when we went over a little waterfall, about 4 meters high that pulled me under. I decided that it was the end form me, 7 hours of freezing and a busted knee agreed. Survivor also managed to knock a gap in his leg, which was later repaired with an old stitching kit, whiskey and a dining table. And 2 days later by a doctor after the wound started to ooze yellow stuff.

And this is where the team pulled together. We hiked up a mountain, got to the top and discovered there was no pick-up. One of the guides hiked back to town to fetch the cars. After about 2 hours the trucks arrived, and that is where the team showed great commitment towards each other – we all jumped onto The Captain’s truck and drove off, leaving the tubes, the guides and the pain we endured behind.

What I’m really glad about though, is that we haven’t met the 9-inch thorns!

UFOs, crop circles and that eerie feeling

2007-04-11T17:02:00.000+02:00

There are some of us that really believe in the paranormal. As a young boy I was forced to visit libraries by our education system. We didn’t know about the internet, computers were not common, certainly not in my home. What I did know is that in the corner, on the bottom shelf of the library there was a section with a couple of books about the paranormal, unexplained and my favourite: UFOs!

Now I have never really been abducted or never really saw one of these babies, but I can guarantee you that if I was, I would not be the only one on the receiving end of a probing stick. Hell no! I believe in sharing the pain!

So when “The Company” turned 10, we knew what to expect. We knew a party was planned and we knew they would booze us up to soften the hatred towards mind-numbing jobs at minimum pay. We didn’t expect to witness UFOs!

We also learned about physics. In our state of “Uber-Intelligence”, we decided to take a little cruise on the back of Survivor’s truck. As these things are uncomfortable, we decided to pimp out the truck with some plastic lawn furniture and a cooler box to keep the party cold. It was a beautiful sight for sore eyes, the truck standing against dawn with some smooth party-animals marveling their creation.

Physics Lesson: Not all objects accelerate at the same pace. When the truck pulled away in a cloud of dust, the furniture decided to accelerate at a partially slower rate. This cause panic, screaming and even tears. So we decided to leave the furniture and stand, swallowing the occasional bug.

Eventually the booze filled us to the point of explosion. We decided to have a Scottish size break. You know; a “Wee” break. And this is where Pedro Perez showed us how to create a UFO. And while we were creating the little circles one after the other, we started to get this eerie feeling that someone is looking at us.

At first we didn’t notice, but later – as we turned around, we saw that our fearless leader from “The Company” and his whole family had managed to drive up to us to see what the spectacle was about. Not really something we wished to share though. And that’s when our faces started glowing like ET’s little finger.

Afterwards we sheepishly got back onto the party truck and drove off into the night, leaving faint dusty memories of little UFO circles in the dirt. Apart from my Physics lesson, I also learned that not all ideas are good.

[and fade out with Belinda Carlisle’s Circles in the sand…..]

Battling the beast

2007-04-05T15:16:00.000+02:00

I’ve been battling the beast with great effort lately and I think it is taking its toll. Most of us have to battle the beast in order to survive. And one must enjoy the battles; otherwise it is not worth it. Yesterday I saw the Snake Oil Salesman and his posse. It seems that they are breeding clones there and the mold stinks. So I was frustrated afterwards as they are idiots plotting to rule the world.

Now don’t get me wrong, the last couple of months I made huge strides in defeating my beast, but somehow it seems to get a second life as soon as I relax a bit. Not that it is my fault; I’m getting sidetracked by the Brazilians who have joined me in my battle. Unfortunately they are adding more to my frustration than to my joy. Furthermore I have to contend with an ever growing beast. You see, yesterday the Snake Oil Salesmen told me in no uncertain terms that some battles have to be fought again due to some miscommunication. I actually inherited the beast and last week my fearless leader also decided to jump ship. So I have to lead myself. And it sucks, because I don’t listen.

The long weekend is also making it more difficult to focus on the beast. I’m not really in the mood for whooping ass, so I tend to stray and wander through the garden of knowledge. I tell myself I need to learn to defeat – and it seems to hold some water, although I’m not sure how Googling holiday spots will prepare me.

While battling the beast in Cancun, I had a wonderful adventure with Pedro Perez and Nacho Gringo. From this I learned 2 things: firstly that although fighting the beast can suck, it’s the adventure you remember and secondly you get the coolest barf bags on ferries. But this adventure will have to wait, as I need to do it justice. So returning to battling the beast, I’m going to turn Yoda on you.

There are certain rules to remember when battling the beast. I will call it “A guide to Battling the BEAST”. If I’m lucky someone will write a song about this. So here goes:

Rule #1:

While fighting the beast don’t try to show off before your leaders. They want you to battle because they don’t. When there is a new beast to battle, don’t go all: “I’ll do it!” while waving your hand in the air and sounding all cheerful. If it is really important, chances are you’ll screw up.

Rule #2:

Don’t be fool in thinking battling for long hours will pay off. It doesn’t and no one notices. In fact showing up first and leaving lasts just adds the burden of de-activating and activating the alarm system. Forget the little bugger and it is you who will be shot at.

Rule #3:

Carrots are blinding, don’t follow the dangling carrot. It is used to get you to do something you normally wouldn’t do. Ask yourself why you don’t want to do it in the first place. Besides, someone not paying attention to Rule #1 will get the beast.

Rule #4:

Always be prepared to run. If the beast is getting out of hand, run. Go find another beast, because if you get killed, you are dead. Be scared, not dead.

Rule #5:

Don’t be ashamed of blaming. If you screw up in the battle, blame someone else. If it ever gets to that point, find comfort in knowing that someone else blamed you! It’s a vicious circle – don’t be the one making it a line. It’s called a circle for a reason.

So go on, do your battles and remember the rules. You sure as hell won't end up with a brown nose, but you'll sleep better.

When bleached teeth just isn’t enough

2007-03-20T18:17:00.001+02:00

While channel hopping the other day I couldn’t help to notice how many makeover shows there are. And some of them are even extreme. The most prominent feature is the “pimp my teeth” part. Yep, if you’re teeth ain’t blingin’, you ain’t swingin’.

As not everyone has the financial means to bleach those beauties, I have decided to help out with another method of getting the street cred. This will make you stand out in the crowd. Best of all this is not something I’m making up, this look was successfully achieved through actual participation by yours truly, and the now famous Pedro Perez.

A couple of years ago Pedro Perez and I decided to have a little fun trip to the coast. Just a little weekend getaway to forget about the stresses imposed by “The Company”. Everything was set; we had bookings at a guest house, airline tickets and even rented the cute little smart car, just big enough to fit four fully grown (one slightly overweight) gentlemen.

So we flew down on the Friday, just in time to enjoy the marvelous specials they had a little overcrowded pub. It all went smoothly; although the trip home had some bumps and cost us a buddy for the weekend.

The next day we went on a little wine tasting expedition. Now for us wine tasting and spitting does not go together. And we had a fantastic time. We were going from one wine farm to the next, sampling, swirling and tasting. The Sunday saw us going to a cheese festival. Cheese can be boring though. So we sat on the grass and sampled some red wine at discount prices. We sampled the whole range, even spilling some over some older lady. Luckily she was also sampling wine, because red wine on white pants is not in everyone’s taste.

When it became time to leave the cheese festival, Pedro Perez stunned us all with his magnificent smile. A show stopper indeed. You see, all the red wine turned his teeth black, and it was a crowd pleaser. People just couldn’t stop staring. Being the responsible person I am entitled me to be the designated driver. Pedro Perez was a bit woozy and we decided to dump in the back. So having ample of space in the back of a Smart car, I couldn’t use my rearview mirror without having a little peek at those black beauties.

Since this is something to marvel at, we made another pit stop in town at a waterhole where we had dinner and a couple of rounds. Pedro Perez was famous! Everyone enjoyed. His smile brought joy and laughter to so many.

You see, sometimes it pays to be different. I learnt that black can be just as beautiful as those white pearls. It makes you even more likeable and you definitely make a lasting impression. Well done, Pedro!

Learning a new language

2007-03-16T16:24:00.000+02:00

Life is all about learning. That’s what I’ve learned. And with age comes wisdom. Now I’m not saying that I’m Yoda, but I do have a few tricks up my sleeve and my feet have seen its fair share of mileage. Oh, and on that a word of advice to all the newly weds out there: if you are on honeymoon in a foreign country and that mountain with the castle on top looks near, its NOT! Rent a car! (Free lesson)

In my quest to conquer the world I learned that communication is of paramount importance when conquering. To illustrate I will use an example. I was in Brazil for “The Company”. It was business as usual, except that the amount of English spoken in central Brazil can be overwhelming. In fact it brought tears to my eyes on numerous occasions. So armed with a little phrase book, I decided to order a hamburger with lettuce, tomato, onions and then some French fries. And according to my dictionary and the amount of confidence in my ability to pronounce, I was certain that I could do it. Well, I ended up with a piece of bread, with a piece of meat on it (nothing else, not even butter) and a delicious looking side plate of baked potato and fries with no tomato sauce or anything. It was the dullest thing I have ever seen.

So I have devised a universal method of communication. It happened in Brazil. And it was beautiful.

Our project was running along smoothly. We had state of the art pre-fabricated offices on the edge of the airport with no air conditioning or drinking water. We shared this office space with a couple of guys who were responsible for runway maintenance. And they spoke fluent Portuguese. On the Friday afternoon I took one of our amigos from the US back to the hotel. I had a beer with him and returned to the office a bit late. I left two of my men there, and figured they will be upset for staying late on a Friday afternoon.

When I got there it was a different story. The whole office managed to get cases and cases of booze. And everyone was jolly. So I decided that I need some of the action and I joined. And I swear, after a couple of cases of beer, we were communicating! We were laughing and dancing and signing. We made new friends; we spoke in three different languages and understood each other. We laughed at jokes that were told in Portuguese.

They even left my two co-workers of “The Company” and I to lock up their offices and to clean up their place. Not only did they understand us, they trusted us.

So in unlocking the secrets of the universe, never underestimate the power of BEER! It can teach you a new language in minutes. In fact, I’m convinced that ancient astronomers relied heavily on it to find the constellations. Try it, booze up and go find Orion! That’s your homework.

Why Santa Claus hates me

2007-03-08T17:32:00.000+02:00

Pedro Perez reminded me today why the big red guy hates me. And not only me, but the whole gang. You see, even the simplest event becomes part of the greater scheme of things. And the universe can be a cruel place. So Santa hates me because of a simple innocent event.

As with all companies around the world, worker satisfaction is guaranteed by the dangling carrot. And sometimes it isn’t even a real carrot, but we all get caught up and just follow it blindly. One of the greatest mind-tricks ever devised by “My Company” was the so called “Birthday Party”. So being young, foolish and easily lured with the mention of free beer, I attended all of them.

The gathering took place at the usual spot. We had beers, meat on the roast and sports. Basically a day of fun and sunburn with some co-workers working on their raccoon tans. The gang was also there. We had the Captain, Survivor, Dangerous Dave, Sea-Bass and of course Pedro Perez.

Midway through our volleyball match nature interrupted with a couple of raindrops. As we had booze, we didn’t care. We just moved the festivities indoors. At some point we even had Batman and Superman playing air guitar and doing some karaoke. Lot’s of fun.

Eventually the rain stopped. Now having a party at a nature reserve might sound like a cool idea, but there is one little thing normally overlooked … animals. And this is when I saw the strangest/funniest thing I ever saw. Someone yelled: “WHOA! Look at the reindeer!”

At that point Rudolf came prancing past with what looked like a fashion statement. And there was extreme excitement amongst the crowd. Little Rudolf managed to hook our volleyball net in his horns. And by judging how it was tangled in his horns, it didn’t just happen. He had to make at least a couple of laps with his new horn accessories.

This is where he could have been more appreciative in our rescue effort, but no, he had to make us run. Luckily we were in top physical condition proving that you can indeed run with a beer in one hand without spilling it. The first couple of steps were easy, but the fuel can in one hand was not enough for our energy sapping tanks. So eventually we had a group of grown men walking after a reindeer.

After a while we somehow managed to free poor old Rudolf. No harm done, although we where exhausted.

But thinking back today, I have to say that I’m sure that this little event wasn’t overseen by his redness. So please Santa, NO MORE SOCKS!

The art of a perfectly timed mind-slap

2007-03-06T17:11:00.000+02:00

My weekend was pretty much spoiled by my endeavors with the Snake Oil Salesman. So I had Pizza, plenty of feel-good pizza. I reckoned that all that Carbo-Loading will provide me with the energy I needed to devise my strategy. Instead it made me feel sleepy. So I got up, stretched a bit and hit the sack.

The rest of the weekend I struggled with the Snake Oil Salesman. I considered that this probably isn't as bad as I think. I started thinking along the lines of diplomacy. Maybe showing my own weaknesses in an attempt too soften him up. You know, the little-kitten-big-eyes strategy.

What an IDIOT! Luckily Bruce Willis brought me to my senses during the Sunday night re-run of Die Hard 2. Diplomacy is for sissies! And although they teach you that violence isn't the answer, it does provide you with two things: first it makes you feel better, and secondly it can leave a scar! And I decided that this is the way to go. I'll use a perfectly timed mind-slap! Thanks Bruce!

Now mind-slapping is an art form not known to many. It does take discipline and skill to master. And you have to be patient, as the initial rewards do not warrant the effort. So as with everything in life, if you want to be good, you have to practice. So after graduating through extreme mind-slapping sessions through childhood I consider myself as (in real life terms) a black-belt! If I have lost you at this stage, think of a mind-slap as a Jedi mind trick. If executed correctly, it is beautiful. It can leave a whole room stunned. It is powerful ... so be careful.

In preparation for my meeting with the Snake Oil Salesman, I decided to visit with my team. The soldiers on the floor fighting the good fight everyday at minimum wage. I gathered ammo, took notes and basically got as much info as I could carry. And then it was time to make my stance.

Now being the Snake Oil Salesman, the confrontation turned out to be an away game for me. I walked into a room filled with people. Some there for their brains, others for their looks. They tried to distract me by offering me something to drink. But I was strong. I saw their plan and politely declined. The scene was set. It was time for action.

My nemesis started of with a "I'll start to...". I acted quickly to disarm him, blocking the first punch by getting up, rushing to the whiteboard, taking the marker from him and saying: "Let me start of with what we know". I had him. I knew it and he knew it. And I'm sure I could hear a faint sigh from his team.

From there on it progressed quite smoothly. I build up to my attack. Starting of slowly and then adding more as we continued. And then it was time. I used the big words! I just threw them at him. One after the other. At some point I even made up words. But I stuck to my training. Whenever he tried to argue something, I just gave him the eye. And I kept on slapping! It was a masterpiece. He was stunned. I ruled!

Now you might think that I was a bit unfair, but the truth is I hate to loose. I had to stand up for all of man kind. I did and I’m proud. The golden rule is: if you can't convince them, confuse them.

The return of the Snake Oil Salesman

2007-03-02T16:59:00.000+02:00

Being involved in the craziness of modern technological wonders, I used to travel a lot. And I mean a lot. All over the world. In fact, I'm building a house and the designs I come up with are - well looking like hotel rooms. So eventually, as travelling goes, I ended up Down Under.

This is where I got introduced to "The Aussie Burger", drive through liquor stores and "The Snake Oil Salesman". Skippy and the adventures of Australia , however, will find have to wait. I want to introduce the "The Snake Oil Salesman".

After fierce battles with stubborn customers claiming that this is not what they wanted, I decided to reconsider my pecking order in the greater scheme of things. So I whipped out the old chart of what was then known as "My Company". And that's where I first encountered him. Cliff actually crept up, looked over my shoulder and slammed his finger against my chart"That's him! That's your Snake Oild Salesman." And boy did he create pain and tears. A true villain!

That was my last outing for "My Company". Destiny called. I listened. And got more than I bargained for.

So today was exactly 2 years 1 month and 3 days after I left Kangaroo Island, home of Skippy! And today was tough. Real tough. Like sitting on the toilet staring at an empty roll tough. Today, I saw an old enemy. I had a conference call with the more scaly, improved version of "The Snake Oil Salesmen"!

This time he has outdone himself. He has gained technical skills. Venturing into my domain, insulting my intelligence and giving me brain-freeze! You see, as my destiny followed a strange path, I ended up at "My Company 3". Number 1 was OK - as the most amazing thing happened there. Number 2 sucked so much that I considered leaving the country to get as far away as possible.

"My Company 3" has brought back a familiar taste: travelling. Although not as much. And having the tremendous luck I have (like buying 63 lottery tickets and not even having 3 numbers in a row), I got involved with a project that forces me to join "The Snake Oil Salesmen".
This guy can talk. Can make you feel like the biggest idiot on earth. In fact, after leaving the conference call I was thinking that my parents have spelled my name incorrectly since birth. So I now have to come up with a strategy. I need to be as skillful as a ninja, without the blood an black pajamas though.

And on Monday, I have to go eye to eye with the enemy. So, no more fun . . . it's preparation time.

So why am I writing all this down. See it as a warning. See as my way of guiding my fellow man through the pitfalls and dangers of modern society. Watch and learn! Evil is back, and it's got a name.

"The Snake Oil Salesman"!