roadworthy

The unoccupied instructor rambles. The usual blog style will return next.

2010-01-20T01:27:00.000-08:00

I sit in an office. The furniture, the desk, the chairs, the computer surround me but they sit distant. I’m as motionless as they are. A void between us. Empty in an empty office. In this emptiness nothing speaks. I listen still. Outside the street cuts close to the window. Passing cars fill the void. They are full. Full of life. Full with passengers talking. Full with music playing. So full they invaded me. A slow procession of engines and stereo sound. Now a sound I’ve heard before, away from these walls. Dylan. Yes…Dylan playing in the a car. Yes, I can recall it, A Simple Twist of Fate. I can hear his voice clear now "We walk together in the park, until the evening sky grows dark". Why have I not listened to Dylan for almost a year? I love this song. As his voice cracks he leads me closer to the past. Perhaps this is why, because he leads me back to her. Away from the emptiness, to the place I heard this song before.

"He looked at her and felt a spark tingle to his bone" as he sings I hear her laughter clearly once again. Always laughing. Just as she was those years ago when he played in front of us. As quickly as the laughter raises up inside me, it sinks quietly again behind my eyes, again the emptiness of the room hits them. My mind grows quiet again, it was just an echo. The memory.

I need to recount these memories to myself. I grow fearful that these memories are fading. The print on my minds page so clear its slowly being consumed by a flame. It licks slowly up through the lines. Already some print is lost to me and blackness. I can remember but not recall moments in that summer. I can see her standing next to the braking sea still but a new fog surrounds us. I view all through a glass window misted with dew. I see our shapes but no-longer feel I was one. I’m stilling standing next to her, but her breath, the colour of her shoes that day are lost to me. I must write now while the print still burns orange. Rescue those dark brown eyes, the pink of her gums, and the smile line upon her cheek from oblivion. For what will happen to me when I forget them? What will happen when I lose her face? Will I burn with her? For when I lost her, I lost her figures dwelling upon my face. Her touch was not tender but her finger wrapped my hair tight as if I would slip from her grasp. Sill absent now is the feeling of her thighs pressed against mine as she leant close in that cold wind. I have lost these feelings and more but hold her untenable gifts tight. The trust she poured with her eyes, the invincibility, the inconsequence of the world to both of us. With her I was the master of my own destiny. I could be happy. Validation written across her face and pressed into me. After her I still held this feeling tight. I will not let it burn, even as she does. It cannot. I will not let it. Or it is I that is lost with her.

First impressions...

2010-01-12T03:28:00.000-08:00

I’ve been teaching now for 6 weeks. It’s been an intense period. Graduating from my course I was all but bankrupt I needed to get teaching as soon as possible in order to satisfy a significant mango addiction. I sit and write to all of you on my first day off since I became an instructor. The last few weeks I’ve taught a great deal of people how to dive and I feel they have taught me a great deal about people. One of first things I’ve noticed is personality types. Confronted by something completely new and scary diving represent something of a personality test. Peoples characters emerge under water, during the learning process and how they embrace the experience. I’d be very tempted to try and understand what it is that makes a tight lipped logic based son of German parents to become more jubilant underwater then a liberal drug taking, big drinking Frenchman. Both have been equally pleasing to teach but the contrast makes me wonder what makes us who we are. My favorite student and a great example of contrasting reactions has to be a gregarious American called Seje. Seje was brought up for the first six years of his life in Trinidad, migrating to the US not to return. When I first met him I could tell that really wanted to go diving, he pressed me to tell him what he could see and I could read in his eyes the desire was there. He was held back by a fear of the ocean imprinted in him from his upbringing in the Caribbean. He explained that the Ocean is held in a fearful respect in the Caribbean and diving is a confrontation of this. We talked out a lot of the reasons that diving is a safe sport and he decided to sign up. On our first dive he remains my most nervous student but once underwater that fear was replaced in equal measure but joy. Toward this end of the dive we came across a turtle and Seje’s arms spring up in a small victory dance. Watching this 6ft black man jingle with delight was a very human moment. I’m going to try and hold on them as they pass by.

s

The Recipe

2009-12-06T20:58:00.000-08:00

Recipe for becoming an instructor.

One half cup of diving ambition.

5 eggs of Dive Master Learning.

2000 green herbs (American Federal Reserve Verity)

One spoon of PADI rescue simulation

Distilled Juice’s of 5 confined and 4 open water training sessions.

75kilo gram instructor manual

One bottle of Russian Vodka

Part One-IDC
Take the half cup of diving ambition and 5 eggs of learning and beat them together with the 75kilo gram instructor manual for 14 days. When the mixture starts to tire and thicken slowly add the juice of practical training. This should be sieved through an IDC course director- the Alina Conroy and Minnie Vansgard verities and proven and popular. Put the mixture into a steel baking tray. Mixture should take on a PADI consistency. Leave to set for one night. Mixture may sweat so cover with a towel to keep from drying out.

Part Two-IE
Set temperature to intense. Place steel tray in a pressure cooker for 3 days. Mixture should rise. Take the rescue simulation and dust over the top of the mixture. Add the 2000 green herbs (take care to use them all) and cover the top completely- then take a blow torch and caramelize the American herbs. Finally remove from tray and soak Vodka over night.

Serve the PADI instructor in a warm climate with water. Asia and Caribbean compliment the flavors well.
S

Moments in time

2009-12-01T06:05:00.000-08:00

My apologies for once again wondering from our conversation. Picture me going to get another round of drinks and the people at the bar holding me up while I leave you smoking in the corner, but fear not we find ourselves once again alone by the fruit machine to resume...
I’ll begin characteristically far away from the point and we’ll try and battle our way back to it. A long time ago when I was 14, on a Saturday, my mother went out on the disco tiles. She met on under the Technicolor lights a nice chap called Martin. Both single they struck up a partnership which is goes strong today-recently even investing in a puppy! On that summer night Martin was only visiting our area (Sunny Sussex) because of a Tennis tournament, he lived in the eastern land of Kent. After two years of commuting these love birds decided that it would in fact by best if they moved closer together. The ramification for me being a change of school, town and universe at the tender age of sixteen. What trauma! but fortunately I hated my current town and I hated my school even more. I quickly learned to love their replacements. My new school with its resources not directed to controlling psychopaths even managed to get me to University. Hormones raging I even feel in love within the first month. I owe so much to this chance meeting of people. I have no doubt of how different my life would have been without the opportunities that moving town gave me.
It was one of these chance encounters which occurred just after I last wrote to you all. At the last minute, on a Saturday, I was invited to attend a PADI diving meet and greet. My dive shop had promised to send 5 people but a visa run prevented two instructors from attending and so the chance of free alcohol was passed on to me. Feeling quiet lost amongst the great and good of “PADI Asia” I was introduced to the local Course Director, Aleana. I confided that I’d like to become an Instructor but with my guiding responsibilities ending that week there was no way I could afford to stay around for her next course in November. With an excessive flourish of the arms, which I would later recognize as a bit of a trade mark move, she told me that need not be a problem. Music to my ears I reassured her, that moment the conversation ended as quickly as it had begun- the head PADI Indonesia stealing her attention with several drinks in hand. Slightly dazed from the free Bintang beer (this was a return to alcohol after 5 months after all) I made my way home.
Two days later I was handed the phone in the dive shop and after a quick hello Aleana’s voice asked if I wanted to work as a guide on a live-a-board boat leaving for Komodo the next day. After several second of silent panic and the odd expletives in my head I said -“of course!”. Moments that change your life happen of course every day but few slap me in the face as this one did. I put down the phone slightly numb, I was going to work in one the best but one of most dangerous dive spots in Asia. I was going to have to guide sites I’d never been to before and if I pulled it off I could become an Instructor-crumbs. Let me save the story of Komodo and the months in between for another post and cut this story short. That is just what I did, and the perhaps the reason for my absence-the last two months has at times been a blur. After two months of guiding. I find myself in Bali doing my Instructor course. The final exam takes place in three days and could perhaps be one of those moments that hit me once again, I’ll let you know which way it flows.
S

The word of the week is Yoga

2009-09-21T23:50:00.000-07:00

My absence from the blogshire can be explained by a number of legitimate if boring reasons which I won’t bore you with.

The word of the week on Gili Air is Yoga. The source of this excitement is David; a holidaying Hatha Yoga Instructor. Not only is he a good teacher is he perhaps walking proof of the benefits of Yoga practice. As a 19 year old a car knocked him from his bike left him in intensive care. Doctors told him that he was lucky to be alive. The car hit David’s left side, dislocating the leg and forcing it up the side of his hip joint. Both arms also shattered. The doctors held little hope of him walking again without assistance again. A full recovery took 10 years only for the same accident to replay itself. A car missed a Stop sign and again crushed his left side. Rapid Surgery saved his leg with 15 pieces of separate metal. The doctors told him that he would never walk without crouches again. It is testament and proof of an extraordinary mental strength that he again refused to believe their advice. He traveled from expert to expert- psycho, massage, acupuncture. With each he gained a little ground, when someone told him that he had progressed as much as he could, he thanked them and searched for someone who disagreed. A work colleague introduced him to hot yoga formulated by a retired Olympic weight lifter who almost lost his own leg after crushing his knee. It was through this practice David recovered more strength and movement then with any other therapy. Doctors witnessing his progress took him back under the knife to remove some of the metal. The Doctors entered over the same incision line as the previous operation. There was a noticeable absence of scar tissue from the first operation. They were amazed at the advanced ligament and muscle development throughout his upper leg. So noticeable was the strength of his recovery that after the operation interns quizzed him for hours about what Yoga he had used, how long and with whom. Yoga had given him his legs back but it also helped to heal the psychological scars beneath. Yoga was hard, so hard that it was impossible to think of anything else during the practice. Like many others he felt centered, shielded from distraction. While the body worked the mind relaxed, for 90 minutes he found a silence within himself.

He has been kind enough to teach me Hatha and I remain grateful for him passing the practice on. One of the purist gifts surely. The idea of deepening my understanding of Yoga by learning to teach it, as he did also appeals to me but that is a path that can wait. I have decided to continue on my Scuba travels a little longer. I aim to become a diving instructor sooner or later. The first step is to fill the gap between the beginning of the next course which is in November and now. It’ll be possible to cover my costs until then but I’d much rather get a job which allows me to see another part of SE Asia. To become an instructor was a remote possibility 2 months ago but completing my dive master has shown me that I can do it, all I have to do is make it happen.

My final days of guiding are upon me as Ramadan ends. My eyes have indeed got better, those octopus seem to find me these days. Liza my eagle eyed fellow guide can still find amazingly small creatures which I swim past but she admits I edge her on the Shark front..

from the blue, Shaun

New Eyes

2009-08-26T21:50:00.000-07:00

I’m now approaching the end of my dive master and looms a new period of responsibility. Ramadan through a happy calendar hiccup starts just as I finish my qualification. During this stamina test of faith the local guides are unable to work because to do so would enable water to pass there lips thus breaking fast. The dive shop have asked me to take on there duties together with 2 other products of this fine institution. Guiding is something which I had always thought of as half way to a dream job, throw in a decent rate of return and you’d have the whole package. How hard can it be? Diving around spotting fish and get paid to do it! There is a catch however that escaped my attention… your responsible for people’s lives. Several of the local dive sites have established themselves on the bubble trail amongst divers as being world class, but with little known darker sides. Shark Point the dive site that convinced me to stay is a classic example. Deep valleys of coral play home white tip reef Sharks but can be subject to a downward current that flows down into the blue. It is the guide that directs divers away from these dangers, and now that responsibility falls to me. With each dive however my confidence grows and I feel ready for the challenge. The typography of the sites becomes second nature with the more I dive them.

As for the spotting the fish along the way I am improving. Those reading whom are not divers may find this an odd statement. How can you get better at seeing something sitting in front of you? There is a long and a short answer, one simply is stating that it’s hard to see what you don’t know is there. The longer one involves discussing why. Our eyes are trained to recognize rather then to see. We pick out objects and focus upon them from a huge canvas of perception. As you look at this text your perception picks out the words but ignores the area around the screen. This is all well and good. What happens if your eyes are looking at an object that they have never recognized before in there entire lives? When Columbus arrived the Indians he encountered were unable to perceive the boat anchored off the shore because they had never recognized such an object. As a diver you encounter the same phenomenon. Yesterday swimming along I swam over and completely missed a huge Octopus. It took my friend wildly gestating and pointing for my eyes to perceive this amazing new creature. I would be concerned that my eyes could remain this blind throughout my life time; that I could swim over hundreds of Octopus if not for our friend Columbus. After telling the Indians of the boats existence and the epiphany of its perception the Indians were able to recognize the boat again and again. Once you see your first Octopus, you will see his friends.

2009-08-03T04:28:00.000-07:00

I’ve spent the last few weeks diving and progressing further along the road toward the heady heights of Dive Master. This qualification for those viewing the blog from outside the communal scuba diving bubble is a step below Instructor. It allows me to guide divers and instruct refresher courses. It would be fair to say that the primary use of a Dive Masters is that of labor, filling in the gaps between the instructor, their pupils and their paycheck. The benefit of all this work is the pleasure of diving, cherry picking up to four dives a day. I’ve succeeded in doing 23 dives in two weeks, which is not a bad return on such sensational soul food.

Outside of all this diving activity I continue to stumble upon inspirational moments which cause me to reflect upon my perception of life. These moments have in the past appeared in such diverse form s of bearded surfers, mediation courses or vast schools of fish. Each of these encounters although varied gives rise to a central thought, the importance of living in the moment. Each of us has felt our heart moved by the beauty of a sunset over the ocean or perhaps raised our arms in jubilation as the ball hits the back of the net. The revelation is that we can feel that joy in every moment of our lives if we only allow ourselves to do so. What do these moments have in common? What makes so happy witnessing such differing events? A common thread can be found not in the events themselves but the way we perceive them.
Inside these “life stopping” moments we think not of past recollections or of possible futures but perceive only the present before us; this is the source of our joy. The past is gone, vanished beyond our control. It is something we cannot change beyond our own view of it. So why do we all squander such energy upon regret and denial? Similarly living in the future only causes us to fantasize about the numerous possibilities which could unfold. For example, “If I cycle Java whom will I meet? …Maybe a diver who knew where I could get work… and if I get work maybe I could become an instructor… and so on and on. A hypothetical wonderland is created, taking us further away from the reality of the present. Not only this but sometimes, we become so convinced in this speculation that we crave it’s realization and are miserable when it fails to arrive. Why our minds take us away with such abandon is hard to pinpoint and perhaps irrelevant. Blame TV, cite materialism but know that you can change it only by remembering to bring yourself back to the now. It is that simple.
When you bring yourself into the present you also become aware its impermanence. As a consequence you savoir the beauty of that sunset and enjoy the taste of the fish that night because you know that these moments are temporary. In parallel you allow a lost wallet or a pain in your leg to wash over you. What is the point in extending this momentary suffering into the night and next day by recounting and recollecting and reaffirming it? The moment, it’s all in the moment.
And in case you wondered what brought all this on, I’ll enclose the words below. Yours in all things blue and bubbling, Shaun
“You know I think I spent the first 30 years of my life trying to become good at things. I wanted to become good at Tennis, I wanted to become good at grades, everything I tried to do came from this perspective…I’m not ok the way I am but if I just got good at things…but I realize now I had the game wrong, the game was to find out what I already was.”
Zeitgeist.
2004 (Film)

Into the Blue

2009-07-19T05:12:00.000-07:00

It been a while since the last post and perhaps I should accept some responsibility, but allow me to make my excuses first however. Foremost I can state for the first time in two years to be distracted by studying. “Why, where and what…I thought you where on your bike” I hear you say. It all began one week ago when I arrived in the Gili Islands situated off the coast of Lombok, Bali’s smaller neighbour. The went on two dives and I could describe them as simply as amazing. Up to that point I had scene two Sharks and no Turtles. On my first dive that day alone I saw 3 sharks and 7 turtles. I surfaced with a huge buzz about the diving around Gili’s. This was only reinforced by conversations with dive instructors upon on the boat who told me that this was their corner of the ocean dive in. The cogs began to turn, maybe I could hang around and do my Dive Master? A large part of my motivation to cycle was after all to achieve something for myself. I think that travel is one of the most enriching things a person can undertake in a life time, however after 15 months away I needed to add purpose. By stopping in the Gili’s to undertake more qualification I’d be doing something I loved everyday, getting better at it and eventually get paid to do it. It was an opportunity that I decided to grasp, aware that the life triangle of ready finance, available time and shark filled water was unlikely to occur again.

The rest as they say is history, a part from tomorrow and day after. I’ve been thrown at the deep blue end and already find myself enjoying being a focal point advice. In time if all goes well I’ll work as a guide through the local sites when Ramadan takes all the local guides temporarily onto land. Each day brings a new fish and a new memory. I continue to be blown away by the diversity of both small and large life here. The key to happiness is to remember that both good and bad in life are not permanent, I’m going to make sure I make the most of this time.

The Beat of the Drum-Ubid and Padangbai

2009-07-07T06:40:00.000-07:00

I promised some insight into the Ubid culture vulture scene in my last Blog. Ubid has established itself as the tourist center of everything alternative and arts in Bali. Dance performance, music and the odd illegal cockfight all buzz away at various venues in it's condensed center. Picture postcard of Brighton really.

The first performance i saw was a recreation of an old Hindu fable. Dancers enacted the narrative of the story surrounded by a cast of perhaps 100 men sitting in tight circle. It was the variety of the sound that was produced by these chaps that was amazing. Picture the musical stomp recreated with only the human throat. Back and forth across the circle cries bounced, harmonized and echoed creating a wall of sound of which Phil Spector would happily take credit. It was an evening with a wow factor before the men made way for a bonfire and all the fire walking fun that accompanied it. I thought I'd scene fire walking already but the kicking of flaming logs to within inches of the audience was not expected. I walked smelling of petrol with a large grin on my face.

After catching a further drama performance the next evening, i began to feel an itch to get into the water. Scuba diving being the reason i flew to Bali. I jumped onto La Marling at day break and set out for the diving enclave of Padangbai. The cycle was a breeze down hill taking me through some lush green landscape. Paddie fields blended with deep cut water falls, all cast against the mountainous backdrop of central Bali. It's scenery like that that reaffirms the decision to cycle.

I'v spent the last 3 days here in the good company of fellow divers and travelers. In one of those classic small world moments I even bumped into my old diving instructor. Now purely a guide for groups of french divers; he accompanies them over the island diving everyday. I'm not sure if it gets much better. I myself dived for the first time since January today. I sit wondering how best to describe the response i get from diving. I could employ cliches- "it's like being in another world" etc as nothing could be more true but that just doesn't cut it for me. Firstly I find diving a deeply humbling experience, I feel privileged to witness the immensity of life before me. It reminds me of how lucky i am. For a brief moment an insight comes upon you of how overwhelmingly beautiful life is. To bare witness to such beauty defines your soul. It gives me something which has changed everything-perspective.

To borrow Proust - “The real act of discovery lies not in finding new lands,
but in seeing with new eyes.”

A volcano tomorrow
Shaun

Saner, Bali Coast

2009-07-03T03:40:00.000-07:00

When I first awoke yesterday morning I struggled to come to term with where I was. In Australia you share rooms in a bunk bed unity-a unity which can a times be dam indecent. The resourceful backpackers, perhaps the one with a history in the Scouts, hang towels across there beds to form a barrier against the unsightly sights that can often appear-a Welshmen arse crack, an Italians chest heir etc. On this particular morning I awoke not to my costomery toweled cave but a double bed and in simply massive room. This was not an intentional indulgence nor one my bank balance would allow me to repeat often but my first “homestay”. These homestays are amoungst families living on site rather then the Four Seasons model and are meant to be the cheaper end of the accommodation spectrum in Bali. I’d somehow wondered on a manorhouse stay. My legs and back didn’t complain.

I cycled at almost daybreak to Ubid without to much difficulty, google maps and local knowledge allowed me to find what is the second most popular tourist area in Bali. It comprises of a number of intersecting green lanes with a centre two streets almost entirely lined with artisan boutiques. To their credit a huge variety is on offer, glassware, woodwork, painting of ever kind and stonework line up in happy comparison. These are no stalls ether but real flash shops not out of place in likes of Bristol. German, French and English couples delight in searching for that unique glassware or erotic statue that will have the neighbors or work colleges talking at that summers BBQ. Few are immune as even this tight fisted traveler purchased an excellent Rio Helmi print, one day I hope to take photos like him. http://www.riohelmi.com/

I’m running short on time but will blog some adventure’s in Ubids real attraction- it’s evening performances next.
Shaun

One side of Bali

2009-07-01T00:30:00.000-07:00

I shared my flight from Perth to Bali with a young couple on there first holiday together, Angela and Sam. Sam sat almost motionless, tattooed arm resting on his chin reading a thriller about two biker gangs fighting in the NSW or somewhere. That left Angela and me to make small talk about Bali and other the big topics you can safely approach when you know you've got to share oxygen for the next 4 hours. Angela and Sam i noticed had set a trend. On the plane around us sat paired up every Australian demographic two by two. From Old to young, red neck truckies and black pinstriped Italians sat row by row. Even the surfers paired up unless they were under the age of 19 (in which case they formed a pack around the tallest). The drive from the airport confirmed that the plane said a lot of what Bali has become, it's Australia's favorite gateway bar none. A regular mini Australia within Indonesia. Kota (the biggest and nearest tourist area) has bore the brunt or welcomed it, once a great bit of sand now the sweating arm pit of Austrilia. A Las Vagus of signage for a million different multinationals confirmed to me that this side of the Island was best left to the half naked people walking the streets. I found a hotel and crashed.

The first morning cycling and the first cycle of the tripwent well, no massive drama such a loss of limp or wheel. That was always a risk-I'm still very much in the busy manic traffic part of the island. Having said that although it's all scooters and cars jossling at the lights, once in motion everyone seems to respect each others elbow room. I've made a few bold cross lane moves, the likes of which i would consider suicide in India. I'm yet to brake into open country because i took a slight detour or rather mini loop away from my final destination. A compass I realise will be invaluable when i can get hold of one. The bike (suggested names on the facebook wall please) held up well, the gear system bangs together over bumps worryingly but i think a quick tighten will sort it out. There's a fair chance my legs will stop working before they do however, i think they'd forgotten the word cycling until this morning.

To end on the positive note which i'm very much filled with- Asia just effuses energy. Their is a vibrancy to life here that you cant help but pick up on-i felt more alive today with 2 lungs full traffic smoke and horns in my ears than i have in months,

Yours Shaun

And so we set out

2009-06-30T00:37:00.000-07:00

I leave in 2 hours for Bali with a second hand but sound mountain bike in toe.

How, why i here you say? Well this has all come on rather quickly. So much so that you and I will have to forgive the lack of a training diary or perhaps an in depth logistical plan. The happy fact is that both of these things do not exist. After scouting prices for bikes and all the gear sometime ago I was concluded that i could not afford to buy one brand new, and like a hyperactive child deciding on a flavor of ice cream i changed my travel plans once again. Then a friend offered to sell me his bike for a knock down price, such a knock down price that i decided to grasp the nettle. A black 18 speed machine a little under two years old which had spent to much of it's life up this point in a shed needed a few new editions; tires, peddles, cables and side bags transformed the aging beast into the KITT to my Hoff. I will post a picture on here or flickr/blinkingblinking as soon as one is taken.

My adventure begins in Bali, the soft underbelly of Indonesia. If i manage to make it around the island with a smile on my face than i'll carry on cycling. We'll just have to see how it all works out.

Yours Shaun