Monday, August 07, 2000

Welcome to the Crunchy Peanut-Blog

Greetings and salutations people of Earth.

I've always wanted to say that and now with this blog it's been done. Mission accomplished now stop reading and get on with your life. Or not.

The concept of this blog came to me in a flash of inspiration after no breakfast or lunch and two coffees in quick succession. No doubt this is the secret to creative thought and all the great writers acted similarly (or perhaps they substituted alcohol and cigarettes for food but either way the theory holds - I really need to read more Bukowski).

Like most committed backbackers who returned home with thoughts of being the next Bill Bryson or Paul Theroux (indeed I had even thought of a title for my first book - Psychotic Astral Travel Babble and Other Aphrodisiacs) my writing venture ended as soon as I got a real job. I comfortably switched to more upmarket independent travelling - four-star hotels, second class trains, dive resorts and no more instant noodles. Despite a travel article published on-line and a Sydney Morning Herald Heckler (both republished here) I had barely tapped into my 15 minutes of fame. By reading this you add a few more seconds to those 15 minutes.

I intend, with this blog, to tackle some of life's great questions - like why do we keep birthday cards from ex-lovers? How can a guinea pig possibly make a great pet? How did we ever find Darryl Somers funny? And does shampoo have to look like sperm?

Alas the reality is that the blog will answer none of these questions. It may answer no questions at all, although it may give a few travel tips and movie recommendations. I can only hope that one reader, some time, some where selects a movie based upon my recommendation or goes diving somewhere that I did. And liked it.

The other reality is that only my friends will ever read this, and even then they most likely have read it all before and while amused will not rush back for a re-read. Well that's their (your) loss. Much of this stuff has been rewritten for a broader readership with all new anecdotes (some of them real) and better, more powerful punchlines.

The Crunchy-Peanut Blog is open for consumption.

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Sunday, February 20, 2000

South American Tales Part 2 - Testing the best joke ever

Dateline Arequipa, southern Peru.

Intrepid foreign correspondent ventures into the Santa Catolina Monastery, really a convent where for hundreds of years rich local families would give up a daughter to the church, never to be seen again unless permitted by the bishop. Rumours of lesbian goings-on and four in a bath adventures are totally made up by tourists tormented by school boy joke about nuns in a bath (Where's the soap Yes it does doesn't it - Note to reader - punctuation is left out deliberately - it's all in the telling)

Only recently, and for tax reasons (the government decided they should pay some), was the monastery opened to the public. Here are my conclusions, based on in-depth research (thank yous to the Lonely Planet) and an intense hour wandering around the place...

Peruvian nuns are short and squat with good posture. This is based upon the observation of a wood-fired pizza oven in each of the numerous kitchens, the short yet spacious doorways and the short beds with no mattress;

The nuns' bath does indeed exist, and indeed it is large enough for at least six at a time (although given their squtness, maybe four at a time). There was no sign of the soap. Perhaps it does;

The nuns have either way too much time on their hands or a great eye for tourist opportunities, how else could one explain the perfectly manicured gardens and incredibly colourful floral arangements?;

Why isn't the miracle that the sainted nun from the monastery performed explained in better detail than 'cured a cancer'? A better miracle would have been to explain the best joke ever;

If there really is a god then why are numerous churches, cathedrals and even the monastery destroyed on a regular basis by earthquakes? I blame plate tectonics.

The Santa Catolina Monastery is worth the admission fee. Just.

The best joke ever is still the best joke ever.

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Tuesday, February 01, 2000

South American Tales Part 1 - The Galapagos Islands

I bring tales from the Galapagos islands. I intend to correct your misconceptions and exaggerate beyond your wildest dreams. I come complete with tales of drunkenness and debauchery, of animals at their wildest and most delicious, of plants at their most endemic.

Misconception Number 1: They aren't the Galapagos Islands at all but the Colon Islands in the province of Galapagos.

Easily understandable I suppose. Galapagos sounds exotic, Colon is where you go for a bowel cancer inspection. I blame that Charles Darwin fellow for no better reason than I can and because he was the one who made them famous by developing the theory of evolution by studying finches on the Galapagos Islands. Prior to Darwin, humanity believed that finches just appeared on the islands where they remained in relative peace, undisturbed by tourists or botanists until Charles Darwin delivered them fame and fortune.

Misconception Number 2: Charles Darwin wasn't exactly a long term resident studying a pristine wilderness or tropical paradise. He spent all of only 5 weeks in the islands and saw them at their worst, a time when Norwegian whalers had large factories on the islands and turtles were being slayed in their thousands. The finches largely avoided domestication because they taste awful.

Not a very imaginative chap either that Mr Darwin. There´s the mangrove finch, the highlands finch, the cactus finch, the slightly less red than that other one finch, the wasn't doing anything particularly intersting at the time finch and the woops accidentally trod on it hope no one notices finch to name but a few. Alas I only saw about 800 species of finch, and only went to 8 of the 20 sites selected especially for tourists due to their exciting range of souvenirs, photo opportunities and lack of volcanoes. This really sux as all I ever remember from all those Galapagos documentaries is iguanas dodging lava flows and Killer Whales walking up the beach to eat fur seals.

Misconception Number 3: Killer Whales do not actually walk up the beach to eat fur seals on the Galapagos Islands. That happens in Canada.

Still, the sites I saw were rather special. Still haven't worked out if all the animals are very stupid or very tame. A total lack of fear of humans may simply mean that isolation leads to in-breeding leads to stupidity, just look at Darwin (the city not the person but you never know) for example, a perfect study of the dangers of evolution if I ever saw one. Anyway, the novelty of sea lion pups nibbling at your toes or the adults checking out your snorkelling gear while in the water doesn't fade, neither does the memory of duelling albatros, Dolphins playing in the wake of your boat, turtles and reef sharks drifting in front of your mask, marine iguanas sneezing salt on your ankles or frigate birds inflating their bright red breasts in a feeble attempt to attract a mate (I wasn't interested). Even the names of some of the animals are great, Booby is of course the all time sniggering favourite. Boobies come in four varieties, red-footed, blue-footed, masked and the one you see on all the t-shirts.

Not all the animals are so friendly, the school of Hammerhead sharks I saw during my dive kept at a respectful distance and the sting rays and mornay eels lurked menacingly but ultimately on the terror scale paled in comparison with the Hammerheads. My favourite were the white spotted Eagle Rays, another example of imaginative naming. They sailed through the water with tiny flicks of their giant wings, gliding over the ocean floor like a stealth bomber. Also, just like a stealth bomber, they are undetectable on radar.

There were also lots of endemic plants. They had branches and leaves and weren´t afraid of humans either.

The animals didn't provide the only highlights, there was the small matter of the Small Yacht Yolita, a 12 berth chunk of wood and noise held together by the beer stains in the carpet and the chemicals in the toilets. The Yolita is hardly the pride of the fleet, it putters around behind the big luxury catamarans and tall ships, tormenting its passengers with a shower that is little more than a dribble and bunks so narrow that rolling over could result in a quick plunge to the damp and sticky salt encrusted carpet. Still, the crew did their best, and, when not drunk, were friendly and helpful even if they do cheat at cards and try sleazing onto all the women passengers. Even the food was generally good, fish twice a day in any of 3 exciting combinations with rice, beans or rice. Christmas Eve we drank the boat dry, quite an effort considering all the leaks, and danced the salsa into the wee small hours while a huge full moon provided a pathway to the stars (or some marine mammals).

Ah yes, these Ecuadorians know how to party, if only the tourists could learn from them. On New Years Eve (indeed millenium eve depending on how you count it), once the spattering of fireworks had been extinguished from the hair of the onlookers and the efigies of the politicians has been burnt to the ground, the locals danced for free in the main square till 8 am while the tourists fled to the expensive discos where non-stop repeats of ´Mambo Number 5´ followed by an eclectic Galapagos mix of bad dance music, hard rock, bad techno, retro funk groove, bluesy soul with a techno beat and other South American inventions burst the ear drums. Fortunately I was drunk enough to enjoy both forms of entertainment, partying much of the night with a bizarre mix of locals and tourists both long and short term, stranded sailors and adventurers.

Misconception Number 4: The Galapagos Islands are hardly deserted. Puerto Ayora, the main town, has a population of 10,000. Well someone has the feed the tourists.

I generally hovered around the edges of the long term tourists, finding them sort of cool in an uninteresting way. On January 1, hope sprung from the dead ATM (the only one) that perhaps the rest of the world had ceased to be, Y2K bugs consuming society and leaving only specks of paradise like ours at the end of time (only Easter Island, French Polynesia and maybe Hawaii celebrated the new millenium after we did). Unfortunately, on January 2 I was able to withdraw another 2 million sucres (a wad 10cm thick and worth about $3.17) from the damn machine. I can now also report that the Galapagos´first cyber cafe is about to open. Paradise no more?

Happily I can conclude, that in the best spirit of Eco-Tourism I left no impact on the Galapagos Islands, not on the land, the water, or the inhabitants (of both the human and animal varieties).

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