“Everyone should go at least once”

“Everyone should go at least once”

A friend of mine who’s a regular in India says; “everyone should go at least once” and I agree with that wholeheartedly. He doesn’t even like cricket really, but God, if you do, there isn’t a better place in the world to be. This was my second trip to India, but the first to experience cricket, I have to say it was definitely in my top few holiday experiences; cricket loaded adventure. So much is owed to the Aussie Cricket Team as without their efforts early on in the series, I wouldn’t have gone. I booked one way flights months earlier but had intentions to ditch it if we were getting walloped. At 1-1 and right in the contest, the deep buried love for my boys arose to the surface. My excitement fired up “Dave” on Reddit, an Aussie expat living in Saigon. Didn’t think he would actually turn up. That was emphasised by me writing him off when he first mentioned it on the thread:

Reddit thread with Dave Barbeler

No accommodation, no travel insurance, no medical shots, no worries. Bec’s a big planner when going on holidays so I took this opportunity to plan as little as possible. All I had was flights when I left, I booked an AirBnB for Kolkata during my stopover in Kuala Lumpur. The accommodation was basic in furnishings, but a fully self contained top level apartment at only $22 a night, you’d have to be high maintenance to complain. Joydeep the host was a fucking “ledge” too, only 3 levels down in the same building he was extremely accommodating, checking me in at the absurd time of 2.00am. I was up early the next morning checking out what Kolkata had to offer. A 10 INR ($0.20), 6 stop metro ride to “Esplanade” had me in the heartbeat of the city. Being a cricket trip, the first thing I noticed was the big lights of the famous Eden Gardens. As an Aussie Eden Gardens is probably more infamous than famous, regardless, it got the cricket juices flowing. Got some help from a local guy who took me to a little restaurant for breakfast. Told him “I don’t care what it is, I’ll try it, I just want to eat where locals eat”. He didn’t let me down, I had two plates of “Chana” including a couple of “Paratha“, bottle of water and it was all under $2.50.

 

Being mostly “planless” I wandered over towards Eden Gardens. Wasn’t very far down the road when I saw the mighty “Sukchar U. F. C.” cricket club warming up for their match and ducked over to inspect the facilities. As usual it was fucking dry as a Nun’s cunt and looked like it would rag at right angles from ball one. I bowled a few and whacked a few down the ground before moving on to Eden Gardens to see if I could have a peek inside. The security were nice enough to let me get in there and have a sticky beak. Quite weird being the only patron in the stands of a big ground like that, got to check out the facilities just roaming around until I got the boot. Shame that I couldn’t get to ground level as probably would have pushed the limits and gone out on the hallowed turf.

 

In the shadows of Eden Gardens there were tonnes of cricket clubs. From memory it was a Wednesday and there were hundreds of young (some school aged) men playing cricket. It wasn’t school holidays, they were allowed to have the day off to play, lucky cunts. I pulled up a chair to watch some 2nd grade “Cricket Club of Bhawanipor” action. The boys were interested to know what I was doing. We chatted for a while as their match was delayed due to a wet outfield. Umpires called an early lunch, the captain and coach offered for me to have lunch with them which I couldn’t turn it down. @Relaxer_ said it looked like shit, that’s because he eats caviar everyday #ballerlife. Personally I thought it was quite good, free feeds always taste that bit better too. I had to head off before the end of the days play but the boys had their opposition reeling after sending them in on dust bowl 5/45, hope they got the job done.

 

Had a round of golf at Tollygunge Club in Kolkata. Like a lot of things in India it was fuck around just to get on the course. I had to hire cart, pay green fees, hire clubs, buy balls, buy tees and load a food and drink card in 5 different places rather than at one counter. After almost giving up, I got out there with my caddy that I was forced to hire. I found out he was worth the $7 though when on the 4th tee I “shanked” one hard left in the water and he ran off after it, meeting me 10 mins later on the green with my lost ball. I was lucky enough to join with a member of Tollygunge just before my second shot on the 5th. He was an investment banker who spent 3 years in Melbourne. It was excellent to play with him as he knew and had access to members benefits; fresh coconut water on holes 6 and 15, lunch and lemon drink at the halfway club house.

 

On to the Ranchi and what I came for, cricket! I met up with Dave from Reddit who was already in town and had met another Aussie couple Jay & Ruby. We ate at what would turn out to be our favourite restaurant in Ranchi “Kathi Kabab“. We had a couple of beers down the road to get acquainted with one another but hit the hay early to get up for day 1 in Ranchi. Upon arrival at the ground, it was a fuck around to get tickets (standard) as there was only one box office. If your gate entry wasn’t near the box office you had a bit of a hike each morning. Knowing there was no grog inside, we snuck copious amounts in to mix with our Sprite and Pepsi’s. I thought it was all over when one of the Ushers from the ground said “this is not good” as he watched me pouring Vodka into a Sprite cup from 2 meters away. In the end though, I don’t think he wanted to make it his problem to kick out the white guy.

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Being only 4 years old, JSCA International Stadium has very nice facilities, spacious and clean. Winning the toss and getting on top early I was pretty vocal and it wasn’t long before my chanting and arm waving for boundaries had the locals firing back with some very poor banter of their own. Mostly though, they just wanted to sit near us and take not so subtle photos of us to show to their family and friends later. They could have just asked, we would have said “yes” to a photo majority of the time anyway. It sounds fucked, but we found out pretty quick that white skin will get you a long way in Ranchi. Lunch day 1 and a few of us were able to walk through multiple security access points without passes to have a buffet lunch in a corporate box. This became a daily thing on days 2-5 and we barely got a sideways look at any stage.

 

“I want a photo with Sudhir” was one of my brainwaves. A thrive of activity compared to where we were, the “cheap seats” where Sudhir was frequenting, didn’t stop cheering all day even though we were winning the battle on the field. We were told by guards “its not safe for you in there” upon trying to enter but forced our way into the action anyway. It was so much fun in with the locals, it’s the closest Ruby, Jay, John and I will be to feeling famous. We were mobbed, I reckon I took over 150 selfies in about 15 minutes, it was peaking. Pushing through to get to Sudhir, I got the shot I needed with him and after shouting “AUSTRALIAAAAAAA” a few times to whip the crowd into a frenzy I was out of there.

 

Next part in Ranchi is best summarised by the still frames I got.

 

So is this the last part of Ranchi too…

 

Draw, 1-1 still, on to Dharamsala we go with all series results in play. I don’t think you could pick two more different Indian cities than Ranchi and Dharamsala. One had barely seen any tourism in its time, the other was thriving with jet setters. With the cricket in town it was “Aussie cricket Bogans” meets “Buddhists on a spiritual journey”. I had drinks with Daniel who is a scorer for the BBC after we shared a cab from the airport earlier that day. Mel Farrell, Jarrod Kimber, Arya Yuyutsu and Adam Collins joined us and we cricket “nuffied” it up, chatting all sorts about the game played in heaven. Finding out we both had plans to climb Triund Hill, Adam and I teed up a trip together the next morning. It was every bit as good as TripAdvisor suggests.

 

Peter Lalor was really the catalyst for this trip after he assured me that “Dharamsala and Cape Town” were two grounds a cricket lover must get to. I’m yet to go to Cape Town but he was fucking bang on with Dharasmala, what an incredible venue to watch cricket. The security was a lot tighter there, no sneaking into corporate boxes, Christ I had to leave my hotel key and coins outside the ground. They tried to make me leave my phone and charger too, but I got shitty and the white skin played its part again as the locals didn’t get the reprieve I did with this issue.

 

Traveling with Dave was great. He’s one of those people that just talks to randoms and befriends them. It made for having a good crew and in Dharamsala our crew grew by 5 when John, Jess, Mac, Jem & Brian joined the ranks. For the whole trip we had a good crew rolling which definitely made the experience all the more enjoyable. All in all this rates in my top few trips away overseas, I love India, I love cricket and that probably helps, but even if you don’t love cricket; “everyone should go at least once”.

 

Cheers Mac

National Lampoon: New Zealand South Island

National Lampoon: New Zealand South Island

Errrrmm I thought you weren’t writing anymore? I said I wouldn’t be writing about “I won or lost x amount”. I had a great time road tripping around the South Island of New Zealand and decided to put electronic pen to paper. Half for me to remember but also to encourage people to get over to New Zealand. As I have said, the blog will continue, just a different format. I’m trying to think of something cool to do, but as I’m mostly a lazy cunt, I’ll probably just review NRL games.

Twitbuddy of mine coined the phrase “the rorts continue” and don’t they just. Doesn’t matter where you go theres rort after rort going on. We got in a cab out front of Airport at 1.30am, hungry, the only place open was McDonald’s about 500m up the road. After sitting in the drive through for 20 minutes I asked if the cabbie would mind pausing the now $45 meter. He refused and my blood started to boil. After eating half of my ridiculously cold cheeseburger and chips, going another 1.5km up the road to our motel, I forked out $80 for shit food and 2km of travel in a cab, fuck I was seething and THE RORTS CONTINUED.

We got the RV early in the morning and got moving. Stocked up with food and booze and started the 3 hour drive to Lake Tekapo. We had an all kiwi playlist to accompany us around the South Island. No surprises, it mostly consisted of anything involving the ‘Finn Brothers’, but notable mentions also go to Broods, Dave Dobbyn, Evermore and Flight of the Conchords. It’s hard to pinpoint what was more enjoyable, driving to these places or the places themselves. New Zealand is seriously scenic. Had tons of kiwi mates tell me that it’s “God’s country” over there. I mostly thought they were taking the piss as Aussies do with Kiwis and vise versa, but they weren’t.

I was hanging out to hit a hot spring, unfortunately the pools at Lake Tekapo were all man made, chlorinated, hot pools. We went anyway and decided to get a massage and facial at the spa. I can count the amount of massages I’ve had on one hand (excluding the ones in Thailand), facial count is a zero. I had a sore back before we left though and wanted to see if a massage would help it. Fuck it was good, so good in fact that when I was getting the facial, unbeknown to me I was snoring. Bec and the two masseuses were laughing, I don’t remember any of it at all. Ducked back into the hot pool after the massage and while chatting to Bec, we both happened to look down to see mini Mac floating in the hot water through an unknown tear in the front of my board shorts. The whole time, I’d been getting around this complex with no undies on and presumably my todger hanging out at various times. People get put in jail for less, horrific. I got out without cuffs on and our day at Tekapo was finished with wine, cheese and smoked salmon. Eaten overlooking the lake, quality day.

As much as I enjoyed Tekapo, Lake Pukaki was more impressive again. This thing was huge and the water was so still. The reflections from the mountains and clouds in the background were so perfectly symmetrical, if it wasn’t upside down, you would never have known it was a reflection. After camping the night there we packed up the RV and headed up to Glentanner and Mount Cook. Hooker Valley Rd was a 1.5 hour track walk up the valley. 3 suspension bridges and 3 lakes with the 3rd an absolute crown in the jewel. It was incredible,  so quiet and something I’d never seen before. A huge fuck off piece of ice from the glacier sitting in the middle of the lake. Bec and sat, took time to look and listen from the top of the valley we had just scaled. At the water level of the lake the scale of the ice block became much more apparent. I think it was just the fact you don’t see that shit back home, very cool. Out for dinner that night in Twizel to a restaurant called “Poppies”. It must have been the local hang as we met the retiring Mayor of the the local area Claire Barlow. She was out with her council members at her retirement function, full of piss and bad manners (she was actually really lovely, but definitely had a few wines). The meals were fine, nothing to rave or complain about, but the extensive list of NZ craft beers certainly peaked my interest. That night I came to realise that I like dark beers.

Next stop, Queenstown, slightly different experience this time. I’d been here before about 5 years ago snowboarding with some mates, this time around I was with the girl and there wasn’t any snow. The town had such a different vibe without snow, it wasn’t buzzing nearly as much. The iconic “World Bar” wasn’t in it’s prime location on the main road, that place was thriving last time I was here, the town seemed in mourning over it if you ask me. We didn’t waste anytime getting into the fun stuff anyway with Bec booking the Nevis Bungee jump the afternoon we arrived (watch video). She’d been full of bravado for days about it “I’m not scared, I’m going to run and jump off” blah, blah, fucking blah. I did it when I was here last time and although I was a lot more frightened than most (watch video), it still rocks even the most daring of devils. To be fair to her, she was fine the whole way up until she was strapped up and he called her name, at that point she lost all control, her legs started shaking uncontrollably and the tears were flowing. At the crunch time, she jumped with her arms out which is a lot more than you can say for me, I looked like I was shot by a sniper sitting somewhere in the range. The rest of Queenstown was made up of the usual, drinking, Fergburger (you must eat one if you go, is sensational), Queenstown Hill and Gibbston Valley Cheesery/ Winery. Oh, there was one little hidden gem we got put on to by a local. Was about 15 mins outside of town in a place called Arrowtown. The Chop Shop was the name of the place, owned by ‘Chris’ who is the head chef there. Let me tell you, the food was amazing and the service was better than that. We ate the breakfast menu but I reckon they would all be delicious.

Milford Sound was supposed to be the crème de la crème. Everywhere we went, everyone we met “have you been to Milford Sound”, “are you going to Milford Sound”, “Milford sound is amazing”. With all the buzz, expectations were high. Probably the most glowing reference we got was from some scouser at Fergburger. He was by himself and weaselled his way into our convo, God knows how. As he started down the path of being the umpteenth person to tell me about Milford Sound, I expected the standard comment about it’s ‘beauty’. But this football hooligan, beer swilling type character had a different perspective on it. “You get on the boat and and theres a big buffet on board. Now you can load up, I did, I had two full plates and I mean plates”, he said as he finished chewing the last of his Big Al from Fergburger, gesturing with his hands in a dome type shape to show how much food he mounded on his plate. He then proceeded to give me the inside word on the buffet; “I made a big mistake, I paid for it, if I was to go on again, I wouldn’t pay for the buffet, after everyone has eaten, I’d get up and grab some food, save you ten quid it would. That’s what you and the missus should do when you go”. I’m not sure if I looked hard up for cash, but rorting the buffet opportunity wasn’t high on my radar. The next day at Milford Sound, it turned out that we should have listened to the scouser and got on the buffet boat, at least it would have give us something to do. Instead, we sat on our cruise for nearly 2 hours, struggling to see 5 meters in front of ourselves as the rain poured and poured and poured. Who would have known that our friend from Liverpool had the best advice. Moral of the story, is not that you should rort the buffet, just DON’T go to Milford Sound if its pissing rain.

Southern Scenic Route of the South Island. It took us down through Invercargill where we tried to get our hands on some big ‘Bluff Oysters’ but sadly the season was finished. We checked out the ‘Catlins National Park’ and ‘Cathedral Caves’ which were great. The scenery was so alluring that you could have stopped every couple of mins for a photo. We moved up through Dunedin (didn’t stop here sadly, was running out of time) and back up the east coast to our final destination of Christchurch. There was one notable town we stopped in on the last night before coming up to Christchurch, Moeraki. It’s a sleepy, coastal town with a great caravan park on the water (excellent facilities). Fluer’s Place a well renowned dining spot among south island residents and out of ‘towners’ judging by the writing on the walls was suggested to us. Being closed Monday and Tuesday we couldn’t eat the dinner menu as we arrived on a Tuesday for a one night stop over. Instead, we ducked in for breakky. The fit out, cutlery, glassware, writing on the walls from guests and location of this place were very trendy. The food was outstanding which made the experience enjoyable and well worth a look for anyone else travelling through.

There was one non Kiwi song that got a good run. Most wouldn’t know Lindsay Buckingham, but everyone knows The National Lampoons Holiday song. Not a road trip without something fucking up with the vehicle right? Theres never a good time to get a flat tyre, but it could have been worse if we had to fly out later that night. 2 hours after calling road side assistance we were on our way again. We were still 4 hours from where the RV needed to be dropped off which had me a little worried about how I was going to get back in time. In the end, someone stayed back and waited for me to get to Christchurch.

Our final night was spent in Christchurch. We ended up staying in a weird Air BnB type setup owned by this little old Asian lady who looked like she owned a rub and tug. I was pretty tired after driving 1800kms on the trip and when she was telling me the prices of transfers to and from the airport with the line of “I’ll have to suck you dry while you’re here” I couldn’t help but take that the complete wrong way. I knew she didn’t mean it like that, but my brain was so fried I just couldn’t process it any other way. I had picked up a cough on the trip and she was also telling me how to rid myself of it. While explaining her remedy she said “damn I haven’t got anything for you to suck on”, at this point I really didn’t know what was happening so I laughed awkwardly. She acknowledged the interesting choice of words by saying “I shouldn’t talk like that it gets us into trouble”, weird. We went into town for dinner later that night with a friend of mine who now lives in Christchurch. Haven’t seen him for a few years, was good to share some stories, eat and drink. He did put Bec and I onto Hendricks Gin with cucumber, fuck, what a game changer.

Cheers Mac

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Hello, Vietnam, one more”

“Hello, Vietnam, one more”

 

I’m back and I’m hungrier than ever. That trip has had just the affect that I had hoped and that Bec promised it would. I’m feeling relaxed, my mind has been away (not totally I must admit) from trading and sports for nearly three weeks. Stepping back gave me not only time to think but clear my mind, make some plans and get ready to rip into a big portion of 2016. I have some goals, I read some books on the trip and I’m feeling more equipped than ever to move forward with my trading. I feel a big mental shift in the way that I’m going to be approaching things, it excites me.

 

How to tell your driver you need to pee when he doesn't speak English

From the holiday, I’ve decided to list some stories and the rest for those that are interested will be in captions in the photos. There is too much to cover really and I like to keep the posts as short as possible. So let’s get right into the first little story. This adventure kicked off in the south and after landing in Ho Chi Minh we took a car 4 hours to Cần Thơ. The driver barely spoke a bar of English, so when Bec needed to stop for the bathroom, it was time for a game of charades. The driver wasn’t picking up what we were putting down, I told Bec; “you’re in trouble, you might have to hold it”, with two hours left, that wasn’t reasonable. The driver had a pen and paper so I did my best, “perfectly scaled” drawing of what needed to happen.

 

Snake rice wine in Can Tho, Vietnam

We stayed in a home stay and it was perfection. I will give them a little plug (Green Village Home Stay) as this place was seriously brilliant. One of the staff there had taught herself  five words; “hello”, “Vietnam”, “one more”and “no”. Although it doesn’t sound like much you always knew what she was trying to get across. One night she ripped out this “snake rice wine“, I put my hand up to try it, after 10 seconds of not foaming at the mouth 6 of the other 8 guests at dinner had a crack at. It tasted pretty “snakey”, one of those things where you can say you tried it. Unless of course you were the 65+ y.o David Attenborough type who was adamant that it was delicious and with our friend yelling “hello, Vietnam, one more”, holding another shot of it up he swooped in, dropped to one knee and chopped the fuck out of that shot glass, what a man (he didn’t actually drop to one knee but he did have another shot).

 

Never one to shirk the chance to step outside the comfort zone with the food; rat, frog and snake was some distance outside the zone. Bec is petrified and I mean petrified of rats, so it was an absolute credit to her for trying it. Truth was though, it was delicious, texture and presentation reminded me of a small bird like a quail and the flavour was similar. Frog was by far and away the best of the three, it was seriously like my three favourite meats rolled into one. Taste like chicken, flesh texture like fish and skin texture and taste like pork crackling. It was so good I ordered a plate for myself after the first lot was done. Snake was shit, the inside was scooped out, mixed with spices, rerolled in the skin, then fried. The outside skin was crunchy but the taste and texture on the inside was pretty rank. It was served with raw fermented fish sauce, which smelt and tasted like the name suggests, feral.

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While out with Becs cousin Chris who lives in Hanoi we tried “Funky Balloon”. In fact the whole bar was doing it and I really had no idea what was about to happen. I was told to take the balloon, inhale it, exhale it back into the balloon and repeat. I got to about the 4th time of doing it and stood up thinking “this isn’t doing anything”, then boom it hit me. The music echoed through my head and time stood still, something wasn’t right and then I blacked out. When I came to everyone was pissing themselves laughing and my hand was wet. I asked “what the fuck was that and what just happened?”. “You drooled on yourself” said Bec, my jumper had a massive drool patch on the front of it and my hand was fairly covered too. Seems the “funky balloon” which is loaded with “happy gas” made me a vegetable for a little bit, got to be good for the brain, right?

 

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The H’Mong people (local minority) work hard for a dollar, they follow you in the most awful hiking gear for kilometres at a time just to try and sell you something. Everything started with; “hello, what your name”? “Where you from”? Minh explained that they didn’t understand my responses, they just ask it over and over. I tested out his theory after being asked for the 10th time; “where you from” to which I replied;  “my mum’s vagina”, Bec laughed, then I laughed, then the lady laughed.

Gambling for each others marbles in Vietnam

Kids punting for marbles in the village. Most of Asia has some sort of ban on gambling. There is exceptions to that rule, but mostly the gambling is done ‘underground’. We managed to see a variation of ‘heads or tails’ being played by some of the boys in Ta Van. They had three little squares of plastic on a plate, the solid bowl goes over the top, shake, shake, shake, put down your cash and take turns in calling “white” or “blue” (majority wins). The boys were all under 10 so they were playing each other for their marble collection instead of money. I did slip the boys a cheeky 10,000 VND each so they could get themselves a treat. All three slammed it in the pocket just in time before their mum came outside. Sugar Cane all round at the local corner store for those boys.

 

Outside Bruce and Cowboys in Kuala Lumpur Malaysia
Outside Bruce and Cowboys. No one believed me that I had the “Golden Arches” on my ass.

Last stop; Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. This is always a fun way to start or end any trip. My friend from Australia has been teaching English there for the last 8 years and lives there with his wife. Things always get pretty loose and this time around was no exception. We started at a non gay bar (despite the name) called “Bruce & Cowboys. The name is an affectionate one created by the locals as the owners are two Indians; one named Bruce and the other who wears a cowboy hat. There is one barrel out the front, no chairs and we basically bought this cheap Korean beer called “Hite” (very tasty drop mind you) for $1 AUD a beer and got plastered.

The crew of 4 decided that a new watering hole would be shrewd. The pool table at the new bar was a nice touch, however when I thought we had been beaten by 7 balls, I did “the right thing” and went pants down around the table. Muslims don’t really like that and Pip was quick to call for “the cheque please”. The rest of the night was filled with drinking, randoms, food and drunk chat.

The next day one of the lads from the night before, went back to Bruce and Cowboys and Bruce had this to say about me:

“I respect your people, but Bret’s friend, last night, he’s not very well in the head”.

It’s like Brucey has known me for a whole lifetime.

On the trading front, I did do a very small bit here and there on the cricket. I’ll update everything in the way of money won and lost etc in a separate post soon. As always, thanks for reading and if you enjoy this blog please share it with anyone that you think might enjoy it too.

Cheers Luke