Segway Segue

I hope the National Guard never actually flew any of those planes.

Soundtrack - Koyaanisqatsi - Philip Glass

Again! I know!

Well where do I want to go today? Am I even allowed to say that? How about Rarotonga? I don't often post links to other blogs but this one sounds like a pipe-dream I have. There is no chance of ever going to these islands; too many ties here and anyway aren't they about due for the massive collapse of Hawaii some time soon which will create a tidal wave big enough to wash over these islands? Ever the pessimist and now we even have our own entry in the Catholic Encyclopedia. Soundsw like they are trying to lump pessimism together with Secular Humanism. Anyway, I would prefer Bali to Rarotonga. A more pronounced culture. It is almost exactly 10 years since I was there so a few accounts of the time might be appropriate even if they are flawed by my irrational fear of flying since I went there. My excuses are that there was a lot of turbulence on the way back, that there was an alarm going off for about an hour after take-off from Jakarta and that the very plane I flew back on, crashed later in Sumatra. And here is a revelation for you. All the way back I invoked the name of Dewi Sri, the Hindu Goddess of rice, as a sort of verbal Talisman to keep the plane in the air. Sometimes, I still say the name in my head at difficult times but this is more of a Pavlovian reaction. It is very easy to believe in the Gods, Goddesses and local animist spirits in Bali. Even the European guides and Hotel owners seem to take part in the rituals and offerings. This can be anything from a bottle of soda to a huge pyramid of every type of food. It is quite acceptable to take the food from these piles while they are still being blessed, acttive you might say. One of the Balinese drivers took me to his family's six-monthly celebration and here the whole of the family temple was heaving with a multicoloured pile of every possible type of food. Snake fruit or Salak is particularly nice, like a cross between a large nut and an Apple, a sort of tangy Brazil. The of course there is the notorious Durian which smells horrible and tastes like sweet snot, something I had to look up because I am sorry to say I could not bring myself to eat one. It was bad enough being in a car with one. The link page about the Durian actually has some poems about this schizoid fruit which means that some passions are certainly aroused here. I can't get Salak in this country and I am certain that local councils would ban Durian in built up areas so no chance of redeeming myself on that score. If anyone in the UK has seen Salak for sale then please let me know at rdeweyden@hotmail.com.