Jab Hunting

I needed a yellow fever jab, so on arrival from the plarform on Friday I made enquiries at the local hospital (Bumrungad - unfortunate name, award-winning establishment. I almost wish I was Ill so I could spend some time there).

I was told "So sorry mister, cannot" and that only two places do it, numbers attached. I called the first number and a nice lady said "Yes mister, can. This afternoon". Great!

I asked for dircetions and was told to visit their website. Disaster! It was all in Thai. I Googled the name of the place - Bamrasnaraduran Institute or summat - and found an address - only ten minutes from my apartment. Great!

I brushed my hair, left with twenty minutes to go before my appointment, grabbed a motorcycle taxi.

On arrival I was met with blank stares. Disaster - I was in the wrong place! I handed in the bit of papaer with the phone number on and they called it for me. "This place is not in Bangkok mister" she said apologetically, asif it was her fault I was in the wrong city.

She spoke nicely and the lady promised to wait for me. The place is actually in Nonthaburi, about ten miles Noth-East of Bangkok. Apparently the journy can be done in an hour in a taxi. Great! I flagged a taxi, showed him the new address - he drove on, shaking his head. Disaster! Friday afternoon Bangkok traffic is notorious, especially if you are trying to leave the city.

The third taxi I stopped, the guy said he would take me there but had no idea of how long it would take. I took a chance and got in. Disaster! He stunk of alcohol and had no idea where he was going. He went the wrong way twice, despite me handing him the phone so the nice lady (who we meet later in the story) could give him directions.

I repeatedly rang ahead to explain that yes I was still in Bangkok but on my way. She was very understanding, but at pains to point out that my driver was incompetent. Eventually I threw some money at him and got out. Found a motorcycle taxi, handed him the phone - he knew the place and got me there in ten minutes. Great!

I finally met the lady on the phone, who turned out to be the person who actually gives the injections. She was really nice to me and explained that despite the fact that the clinic had closed an hour ago, she was waiting for her daughter anyway so I had not inconvenienced her. I unleashed a charm offensive anyway, probably because I was so relieved that I was going to get my jab and avoid twenty lashes from wifey. Anyway, I felt like I knew her since we'd been through so much together. Her name was (is) Pornladda.

I got my jab and my ten-year certificate which I'll doubtless lose in the next few weeks like I did the last one, and she called me a taxi, reassuring me that this one would be sober AND know where he was going. While waiting for my taxi, she asked me to stop for dinner. Disaster! My charm offensive had obviously been too effective. I settled for promising to send a postcard from Zanzibar and got into the cab.

Next day was Malaria day. My herculean efforts to get th YF jab would come to nothing, and I'd back in line for twenty of the best, if I turned up in Nairobi empty-handed vis-a-vis Malarial prophylaxis. I wandered over to good old Bumrungrad, which I repeat is a wonderful hospital, and swanned around reading magazines, drinking coffee and receiving clear instructions wher to go next for an hour or so.

I came away with some Lariam, which was disappointing because I know from my Angola adventure that Malarone is the drug of choice. Unfortunately it's not available in Thailand. I got home and read Wikipaedia on Lariam and swiftly changed my mind. I recommend anyone considering a trip to Africa to read that virtual assassination af a drug. I promise, it pulls no punches. Apparently the world is full of people who took a chance and had a very bad experience on Lariam. Nightmares, hallucinations, mild psychoses, depression, the list goes on and I want no part of it, in fact I'd rather take the chance of malaria. Ah well, at least I tried.

Enough drivel for now. Be good while I'm gone eh?

Chopper Time

Leaving the platform today - hurrah!

Doubtless I'll be back though - booo!

Off to Zanzibar in 5 days - hurrah!

But I have to go for yellow fever injection or they won't let me in - booo!

Meeting Lyn in Nairobi airport on Thursday - hurrah!

I've read that it's the world's scruffiest airport - booo!

When I come back I'm off to Bangladesh - hurrah!

But it's monsoon season - booo!

Be good.

Citrus, Piss and Muster

In other news, I see that wifey's exhibition (were some other people involved too?) went well, and she got quite drunk. Well done wifey, wish I'd been there. There will be others.

Here on the platform life continues at its breathless and metronomic pace but I now see a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel, and it is very welcome. The job's not finished, and I will be back here at some time, but I do have an opportunity for a break from it. Bangladesh will be a breath of damp, cumin-laden fresh air.

I went on about my wave-ceptor watch a few posts ago, and mentioned that during this trip I will be too far from a mast to pick up a signal, so expected it to drift. I checked it after two weeks - spot on. Who needs radio masts? Very strange. Maybe it's picking up a rogue signal bounced off a cloud or summat. Maybe it's just a good watch.

No gym this trip, there isn't one on the Millennium (apart from some bits of rusty iron lying around in the rain - or is that pipework?) and I didn't fancy the ten-minute trudge through the three platforms in my gear to get to the other one. You have to put a lifejacket on to even walk up the gangway to the main platform. People do play footy on the helideck here, but it's all Thais and they probably would not take too kindly to a dirty great farang kicking lumps off them (my style of football is somewhat brutal - in fact I don't really like football, I just like violence), and anyway they play with a "ball" made of scrunched up paper wrapped in sellotape. Must have lost too many over the side. There must be hundreds of plastic footballs in this sea. I wonder if they all drift together Sargasso-style, and float along like duck-apples... Anyway I digress. No gym so I'm unfit, but since I'm going on holiday and will be doing nothing more strenuous (ahem) than lifting the odd glass, it doesn't really matter. After my cholesterol levels were meausured as high, I cut down on dairy, red meat and fat for this trip so I won't be too much of a beached whale. Not at the start of the holiday anyway. By the end of it I'll probably have stretch marks on my belly and love-hadles like, well, handles.

Some photos:

Well I resisted eating these green fruit at first, because green oranges are just plain WRONG. Delicious though - I'm hooked on them now.

There was a fire drill and we all had to stand around on deck for twenty minutes, so I resorted to taking photographs. Note bored expression. Might as well write "I'd rather be in Zanzibar" across the front of my hat.

This is what the Ocean is good for. I had to crop this picture somewhat...


More fire-drill photography.

I'll be waving goodbye to the old tub soon..

More soon - or maybe after Zanzibar. Meeting Lynny in Nairobi on thursday 4th, then we are both on the same flight to Z (how romantic is THAT?). I said we could meet in the bar, but then realised it will be 7am. Mind you, we will be on holiday so why not?

Be good - you know I will.

Zanzibar

It's on. We're off to the spice island for some ... spice.

Eleven nights without the following:

Computers

Phones

Worries

Cares

Deadlines

Interruptions

Rain

Traffic

Alarm Clocks

Fire drills

Hard hats

Boots

Earplugs

..but with the following:

Sun

Sea

Sand

..Spice (ahem)

Sandals

Snorkels

Second floor suites

Sultan-sized beds

We'll be out of touch with anyone (that includes you) from June 4th to June 15th, when I'll put a review here.

It goes without saying that I'm looking forward to it immensely. We might even learn to scuba dive if we're sober for long enough.

Now I just have to get through these last ten days here. Don't get me started on what that's going to be like. See you on the other side. If I get a chance to blog in the meantime I will, but it will probably be a protracted whinge about commissioning, deadlines etc so if I were you I wouldn't look forward to it. Oh, I have some video of (would you believe) the sea to post. Watch this space.

Be good

For those who lose track..

I've added a "Blimey, where is he?" current location panel - top right. Stop asking now.

Trip's Off

Just found out that I'm not coming home next week after all. I have to stay here till the end of May. Curses.

Ah well, at least I get a proper holiday before Bangladesh. Has anyone been there by the way? Good curries I suppose, and lots of water. Stop press - I just looked on Wiki - Bangladesh has more people than Russia, which is 120 times the size. Now THAT is crowded.

White Whale

Some film of me drumming in my shorts, yum.

I suppose this will go down like a le d balloon, but can you people give me a progress report on my drumming? The sound quality is not good on this clip, there seems to be some interference but...



Let me know what you think.

A Walk in the Gulf

Here's my walk to work, set to Elbow's "Mirrorball", which I'm loving at the moment. Nice mellow love song, which I'll dedicate to you, Lyn, because you make the moon my mirrorball.

Oh, I found the caption tool on moviemaker too...



Be good

... and I'm proud

Now, where was I? Ah, the airport. What a surprise.

I wasn't actually going to post anything interesting so in some respects it's good that the plane began boarding just as I logged on. Probably saved you all from having to read even more twaddle. It was two weeks ago anyway so I was probably going to babble on excitedly about my then-news about Bangladesh. I'm now less excited about it so will just say that it's likely I'll be off there late May.

The journey home:

Well I had reserved aisle seats on both flights so naturally I was given blank stares and "Sorry sir no aisle seats available" at the checkin desk. Did I say I liked Emirates? That's now in doubt. I spent the first flight sandwiched between an overweight Aussie who couldn't give up his armrest without major surgery and an injection of manners, and a young Nigerian guy who apparently dreamed he was in a marathon break-dancing competition, and also had no concept of personal space, boundaries, molestation etcetera. Six hours of this had me in a light and airy mood for my arrival at Dubai airport, which as I've mentioned before was designed exclusively for those who never go to the toilet. I hate the place because, like most people, I go to the toilet quite often. In my opinion the airport is flawed. I can almost hear how the conversation went at the design meeting -

"Hmm now then, toilets or no toilets?"

"Well, how many people are we talking?"

"Oh about two million a day."

"Ok that's a lot. Build two traps, that should cover it."

"Good plan, Sheikh"

"Oh, and hide them"

"Righto"

I made damned sure I hogged the armrests on the second flight, which was otherwise uneventful.

The (busman's) holiday:

It was lovely to be in Derbyshire in springtime. I spent most of the time working but did manage one bike ride over to Chapel and back via Hayfield. Beautiful.

I had a birthday while I was home. A quiet affair with a few friends around for dinner. It was nice, and I was given two chocolate cakes. I'll say it again - there is no finer thing than chocolate.

Speaking of presents, my new Casio "Wave Ceptor" watch is ace. Never wrong, imagine that. Except when I'm outside Europe of course, then it's as wrong as any quartz watch - which is very wrong. Watches tell us the time with such conviction that sometimes it's just too easy to take them at face value, so to speak. I've lost count of the number of people who've told me how their watches are deadly accurate, a conviction which crumbles quickly under the simplest of tests, ie dialling 123. I love it, pedant that I am, and it's an effort not to keep ringing the speaking clock just to check it hasn't drifted by half a second. This gets wifey very angry, which is a bonus.

In other news, we took a drive over to St Helens to see the enormous "Dream" sculpture which has appeared on a hill adjacent to the M62. I took some pics:

It's a stunning piece of sculpture, very thought-provoking and quite beautiful, even if from a distance it looks like a giant knob. Oops, did I say that? I only meant to think it. I do hope the locals don't spray gafitti all over the thing. Here's some info on the work: http://www.culture24.org.uk/art/live+art/public+art/art66988

In yet more news, we took a spade and a plastic bag to the riverside (they loved it, guffaw), with the intention of photographing a bit of field, then digging up a clod and bringing it back to photograph again in the studio. If you're wondering why, ask the artist. I'm just the spade-carrier. Anyway, we got our clod and were sloping off back to the car...


... when we met the Burtons, who assured us that the Police had been there the night before... looking for people with spades and bags. It seems the riverside is an ideal place for burying and retreiving illegal drugs. Good job we didn't wait till nightfall - imagine trying to explain.

What else happened? Let me think...ah, I had a lovely drum lesson (thanks Michael if you're reading) and found out how little progress I've made since coming here. This time I've brought a full-on electronic practice pad to the platform, but dunno if I'll get time to play. Need to borrow a PP3 if I want it to work anyway. That's a battery, for our younger readers.

On No.1 daughter's advice I've started reading Steven Erikson's "Malazan" epic fantasy series. However since I've been jet lagged every day since buying the first volume, I'm only about ten pages in. Review to follow. I've now read all of Iain M Banks' sci fi stuff and I'll continue with his "normal" novels soon. Then there's Bill Bryson to read. Gosh where will I find the time?

The Journey Back:

..was uneventful. I landed in Bangkok at 6.30 pm, got to my apartment (hello drums) at 7.30 pm, went to bed at 9 pm and got up again at 4 am for a chopper flight. This was two days ago and I'm still having "senior moments". Today I woke up with such a start from a vivid daydream (lyn fell out of a plane) that everybody in the office laughed at me. I was mortified and terrified simultaneously.

Sundry other items:

Had an email today from sirsir, saying the Bangladesh trip is 90% going ahead and he recommends I take a week off between platform(here) and gasplant(there). That's me booking a flight home then. Hurrah! Barring any objections from the other team members, that means I'll get to see wifey's end-of-year exhibition. Fingers crossed.

My motorcylce was exactly where I left it.

Ditto my drums (sob)

I'm staying on the Millenium this trip, which means there's actually a chance of seasickness if the weather deteriorates. So far so good, in fact last night I couldn't feel any movement at all. Mind you, I was comatose ten seconds after closing my book. Staying on "The barge" means I get to meander around the lower decks of the structure. I'll do a journey-to-work video tomorrow.

Speaking of video, I did a pastiche of bits including the chopper taking off from the main platform helipad, but it was boring to watch so I didn't bother uploading it. It's not like you haven't seen a chopper before is it?

Be good...

I'm back

..but i'm too tired to think of anything to blog. I see from the hit counter that some people have been checking from time to time, and thank you all for that. I'll post a lengthy description of what has happened since my last post (23 April) in a day or so, when I recover from jet lag. It (the post) will include a 20-metre-tall head, a 20-metre-long chopper and some skulduggery by a river with a spade. Interested? Gah, you're easily pleased.

Be good.