More cycling

OK - so a month since the last post but I've been busy.

Since then I've been back to the UK for a week (cold, soggy but managed to meet up with loads of friends and family); gotten really busy at work; went to a one day cricket match (less boring than I thought it would be); done plenty of cycling training and a few mad nights out.

Finally did the 94.7 cycle challenge on Sunday (94.7 km race round Joburg - about 26,000 cyclists sweating up the hills). I'm still feeling a bit achy but generally OK - even starting to think about the next daft challenge - maybe a triathlon. Max respect to the guy who did the race on a BMX - standing up all the way up the big hills and also to the three blokes doing it in furry animal costumes.

Now that's over I'm going to knuckle down to the serious business of the summer - going out and having fun. I've sacrificed too many nights out because I needed to be up and cycling first thing the next morning.

Cycling - an evil beyond measure

No posts for a while because I've been either suffering from the flu or doing cycling training.

Anyway did a massive cycle race last weekend. In the week running up to I'd been down with the flu (lots of shivering under a couple of duvets etc - not pleasant). I wasn't sure I was going to make the race so took the Friday off work to see if things would improve. Was still feeling cack on the Friday afternoon but picked the newly serviced bike up and headed down to Parys anyway.

It was a pretty easy drive but think I probably got pinged by speed cops about half way down. I registered for the race and then went along the the accomodation. Flicking through the piles of leaflets and fliers I was given at the registration I also found out that the race was now 95km. Given that I was a bit dubious about completing it when it was 80km I wasn't best pleased.

The place I was staying was called Stonehenge (not obvious resemblance apart from a couple of rocks standing up at the entrance that had obviously been put there pretty damn recently). It was this massive thatched hall containing tables for breakfast, dinner, a small bar etc. The rooms were in an annexe - mine pretty much at the top of the first set of stairs from the hall (which was great later when I was trying to sleep and the stereo downstairs was blasting out the collected hits of Bryan Adams). The rooms were basic but pleasant enough - massively warm though.

Was still feeling flu-ey so ate from the buffet. The buffet was absolutely no use for a cycle race the next day - no carbs (pasta, bread or potatoes etc) at all. I still wasn't sure whether I'd make the race so I went to bed early doors.

I didn't manage to sleep much as the room was really hot and humid - well that and the flu. Woke up early and had a bowl of allbran and a glass of guava juice - bad idea as it turned out. Got dressed and drove down to the finish point, parked up and rode along to the start (about 4km away).

I started about 15 mins back from the leaders, the first few k were on normal roads. I just took it fairly easy - as soon as we hit the dirt road it all went pete - the opening section was just washboard track (a recurring theme for most of the race) - knock your breath and fillings out of you stuff. I just kept on plugging. Was feeling reasonably strong at the first water stop so carried on. By the half way point I was feeling pretty knackered and had also acquired heat blisters all over my arms (despite having put loads of factor thirty on). Made it to half way in about 2h30 but didn't hang around as the 42km race was about to kick off.

I started hurting from this point on - the next water point was about 25km away and I was well out of fluid and feeling like death - lots of pedal one, cruise one riding. Filled up with more water and headed on. From here on it was a case of keeping at it - a few stops; lots of shouting "fuck off !" at anything which irked me - washboard tracks, sandy tyre sucking sections and flys buzzing around; a few sprints to get past slower cyclists.

At this stage I was having vivid fantasies of smacking the organisers in the face for making such a tricky, long bloody race. Finally got to the finish in just over six hours, dropped the bike off and went to find someone to sort my arms out. At this stage I should have by rights been hungry - I'd been drinking loads - must have refilled the two litre camelbak four times and had four water bottles full of Energade. Eating just didn't appeal.

Went back to the accomodation and tried to sleep. Felt like I was coming down - no appetite, headache, couldn't sleep even though I wanted to. Ended up going out for food - which was rubbish and I ate about half of it. Got back to the room at about nine and crashed.

The next day wasn't much better - still feeling lethargic, massive headache etc so I headed back to Joburg for a day of monging out.

A postscript is that I went along to the gym yesterday and tried to go on the running machine. I was annoyed as hell to find out that although I can cycle for six hours (albeit with plenty of stops and wishing to die) that I now can't run for shit - I gave up on the treadmill after about five minutes. Resolved to ditch cycling as soon as possible after the 94.7 and get back into running.

I've managed to get loads of sponsorship for the 94.7 cycle challenge in Nov though so I can't give it up just yet ...

Drink Driving

So you think the public transport system in the UK is bad ? Well - it is utter shite, but if you're white and in South Africa there isn't really any public transport - trains, buses and to a large extent taxis are all the preserves of blacks. Whites are simply scared of getting in anything but their own car.

Combine this with the two more facts:
* bars, restaurants and clubs are generally based a fair drive away
* people generally like to drink when they go out (no shit Sherlock)
... and what do you get ? - lots of people pissed up driving round after dark. It's not big, hard or clever but it happens. I'm not blameless in this - there's no way I'm going out for an evening without drinking. There are a couple of times when I've woken up, found out I've been done over by the lager bear (lovely fella - he steals all your money, wipes your memory, puts unexplainable bruises all over your body and then shits in your mouth for an encore), wandered downstairs to get some breakfast and found the car parked diagonally across three spaces.

"Safety"

There was a section in one of Michael Moore's books about how if the government of any given nation (America in his example) can keep their people in fear that they can get away with an awful lot. South Africans aren't that fussed about terrorism (although there was talk a week or so ago that terrorists were hiding out in Cape Town - real ones with beards and everything - not just Mark Thatcher) but "safety" and "security" are big buzz words, especially in Joburg.

Joburg is a strange place - the whites live in gated compounds, topped with barbed wire, patrolled by dogs or guards. In 2000 the private security firms seemed to outnumber real police by several factors. Since then the WTO summit has taken place and there is a lot more visible policing.

In the UK you might hear a story of a friend of a friend who has been mugged. In Joburg I know a fair few people who have been personally car jacked or robbed in their homes. There are a couple less degrees of separation and people live on edge; either that or they just get blase to the whole thing.

Hence safety - in your Sunday supplement where you might reasonably expect to see adverts for limited edition (only 20,000 made) fine china plates commemorating the Queens latest birthday in their place you get adverts for "secure" door shutters and suchlike. The first questions you'll ask on hearing that someone has suggested going to a restaurant or bar in a slightly sketchy area will be to do with secure parking and the like (unless you're already half cut by that point in which case who cares ?).

This has had the effect of demonising the blacks to a certain extent in peoples eyes - every black guy walking round in a predominantly white area could be a robber or a rapist. Scary stuff.

Racism

A lot of what I say in this blog may sound racist. I'd like to think it won't but it probably will. When I contrast whites and blacks here it's down to the fact that statistically that in South Africa whites are generally well off and blacks aren't. I don't agree with it and I wish it wasn't so, things are improving but it's going to take a long time. I reserve the right to making sweeping generalisations, whilst acknowledging that there are marked exceptions.

Disclaimer over - that said if you disagree (or even crazily) agree with what I'm saying I'd be interested to hear from you.

Pie Lords

A lot has been made of this recently but the UK is becoming a country of fat fuckers. One of the funniest TV programmes I've ever seen was about a women who used to spend an obscene amount (80 quid springs to mind but that sounds incredible) on groceries for herself a day (!). The woman was having a whole chicken for breakfast washed down with a couple of cans of "larger" (she couldn't spell as well - comedy genius). She was claiming that it wasn't her fault and the doctors weren't helping her.

I appreciate that it's a bit tricky sometimes to resist the odd bar of choc but for fucks sake - "put down the lard, get your hands on your head and walk away from the fridge". Surely when you get to a certain point - say twice the average weight for you age and height - you might want to think about making some changes to your lifestyle ?

That's to say I don't have a lot of sympathy for the obese - or as I prefer - Pie Lords. Which is why it's quite interesting to come out to SA and see that the problem appears to be in no way as bad here. A few thoughts on why that is:
* Perception. In the UK the obese generally come from the poorer parts of society (sweeping generalisation but hey). In the UK you get exposed to the poor a lot more than here - you walk down the same streets and get on the same bus or tube as them. In SA you drive everywhere - from your gated, security guard patrolled complex, to the secure garage of your air conditioned office, to the gym or the mall. You just don't see the same spectrum of the population - you tend to see people of around your social strata - which is to say middle class, white and well off. Having said that I have seen a couple of classic examples of township butt - apparently a sign of virility or some shit.
* General health culture. In my experience at least a lot more South Africans do exercise than your average Brit. Some of this may be down to people getting deals on their medical cover if they lead a healthy life style. I think a fair bit of it is down to the weather though ...
* Weather. In the UK you'll get a few weeks of good weather a year if you're lucky. In SA you get several months more than that. You're going to feel a bit more incentive to get fit if you're showing a bin of skin than if you're walking round in a few layers of warm, waterproof gear. That and because the weather is better people like to get out and do stuff outside rather than sitting inside with fish and chips, a copy of the Sun and the latest Playstation blockbuster.

So next time you're walking down the street and you see Jabba the Hutt's younger brother waddling towards you - do your bit to stem the tide of the clinically obese. Maybe ask them to demo the truffle shuffle; enquire who has consumed all the pastry based food stuffs or just let rip with the opening verse of Sheriff Fatman by Carter USM.

"I've never met a nice South African"

South Africa and South Africans get a bad rap in the UK - check out the lyrics of this track written at some point in the 80s (I can remember running round the school yard in primary school singing the flip side "Stick a chicken in the air and a deckchair up your nose").

When I first came out here I agreed with a lot of the sentiment - South Africans in general did seem rude, arrogant and racist. Before you damn the whole nation though I think you have to take into account the influence of Afrikaans as a language on the national character.

As I mentioned before Afrikaans is one of the eleven official languages of South Africa. It's derived from Dutch and broadly speaking was the language of the powerful whites in apartheid times. I'm not sure it's still the case now but as I understand it Afrikaans was mandatory at school for everyone of my generation in SA until the age of 15/16. That said amongst the whites there are broadly speaking two camps - those for whom Afrikaans is a first language and those for whom English is a first language.

Afrikaans is pretty much a directive language - say for example that you were planning a weekend trip down to Cape Town - someone from the UK who had visited the city might recommend a few sights to see by saying "If you get time try to get down to the Waterfront", an Afrikaaner would probably say "You must go down to the Waterfront". To someone whose not particularly well disposed to being told what to do that grates a bit. You realise after a while though it's just the way of the language - people aren't setting out to be rude - it just sounds like that.

Take another example - I was sat down in the cinema the other day to watch Collateral. My friend and I had left a space between us and the next group along and a few spaces to the other side. As we were tucking into the popcorn and slagging off the trailers (There is no way I'm going to see that Garfield flick) a group of Afrikaaners pitched up and told us "you must move up". To someone brought up on "I'm terribly sorry to disturb you, would you mind moving up a seat ?" that did get the heckles up. I think the language is generally harsher and the South African character in general less likely to piss about with British pleasantries.

Having said that I have met some Afrikaaners who I wouldn't piss on if they were on fire. The same applies to any of the shell suited scutters (a juxtaposition of scum and gutter) stalking round UK housing estates and city centres looking to kick off. There are scumbags everywhere.

"It's the little differences. A lotta the same shit we got here, they got there, but there they're a little different."

As good a place as any to start - a few initial compare and contrast points - there will be more ...

There's no real concept of a regular vehicle inspection in SA - you'll see trucks belching out smoke in pretty much every colour of the rainbow. A garage is often a geezer on the side of the road with half a dozen exhausts in various states of disrepair and a oxyacetylene torch.

People don't seem too fussed about seatbelts either ... it's not unusual to see nearly a dozen people crammed into the back of a pickup (backie). All of them looking pretty chilled about the whole thing as well, unless it's cold when they're all wearing beanies and shivering.

The car is king - There are a couple of places in Joburg where you can park your car up and wander round the streets but in the great majority of places you drive everywhere. I live maybe half a k from the local garage and the gym but I wouldn't think about walking to either of those places. Most of the time you'll drive to the mall, park up and walk around in air conditioned comfort.

It's a country of massive contrasts - Sandton is one of the poshest suburbs - lots of hotels made out white marble, designer boutiques and fantastic restaurants. Yet maybe 5kms away is Alexandra - one of the biggest townships. There are more BMW's on the streets than you'll see in most British cities but the unemployment is beyond massive.

"It's pleasant all year round" - Maybe not the best way of putting it but it's true. Even in the depth of winter here it's equivalent to a crappy Spring day in the UK. At the minute the temperatures are ranging from the mid twenties to mid thirties - for someone coming from the UK where at this time of year you don't go out without a jacket it's fantastic.

South Africa has got eleven official languages (count 'em - Afrikaans, English, IsiNdebele, IsiXhosa, IsiZulu, Northern Sotho, Sesotho, Setswana, SiSwati, Tshivenda, Xitsonga) and a bunch of other non-official ones. Yet the other week I was filling out a medical aid application form (there's no concept of nationally supplied healthcare here - you pay big bucks for it) and the choice of language was down to two - I'll let you guess which two.

Joburg is a really new place - I mean the city was only established 118 years ago. The place is generally built on a grid system (hence a hell of a lot of "1st Avenues" and the like). Everything is pretty new, albeit covered with a fine layer of brown Highveld dust. I used to live in Oxford in the UK - a pretty sizeable university town established a good eight hundred years before Joburg; in town there were two one screen cinemas, the nearest multiplex was a good half hour drive away. Within a ten minute drive of my place in Joburg there are four multiplexes.

Driving around Oxford was a complete nightmare - it was designed for horses not cars. Joburg is a lot more setup to handle traffic (although the morning commute is like putting your head in a fume cupboard for twenty minutes and relaxing to the soft rock classics on the radio - aaarghh).

Why ?

I've always loved reading and fancied myself as a writer. I've enjoyed a few blogs over the last few months - see here, here and here and fancied putting a few disjointed postings up myself. I'm hoping that there will be a few gems amongst the dross. It may also act as a bit of an introspective kind of a thang - you never know.

There isn't really that much of a plan to what I'll put on here - I'm from Bristol in the UK (where the zyder zay) and I'm currently living in Joburg in South Africa (don't believe what you read in the papers - it rocks). I got from one to the other via a few other countries. Some of what I post might be contrasts between different places; some of it is likely to be utter crap and there are likely to be a few accounts of my latest beer injuries.

This is going to be slightly self censored as I'm not that keen on my boss reading about how I'd like to play hockey with his head or my mum reading about my latest drunken injury (pause as she hangs her head and asks if I've met any nice girls recently).

Any feedback drop me a mail.