Only a couple of weeks ago I passed a young man sitting in a shop doorway. He had a sign in front of him, written on a piece of cardboard, asking for spare change. He was sitting cross-legged on a small blanket. Being in a hurry, I passed by, noticing that he had his gaze firmly fixed in his feet, or perhaps the ground in front of him.
As I walked further down the street, not more than twenty or thirty metres, it was like that last image had caught me like a bungee rope. I had very little money on me, but as I got closer to the street corner, the bungee rope reached its longest point and I stopped. A battle raged inside me, one side looking a the 85 cents in my hand and saying that giving a paltry amount as this would be a bit cheap and insulting, and the other saying that it would be better than giving nothing.
What really drew me back was the image of someone who could not look at the world, along with the fact that my 85 cents was better in his pocket than mine. It might be the difference between eating something or going hungry. I placed my money at his feet, but that was not enough. Just to throw money at someone does not acknowledge their existence as a person, it merely acknowledges a ‘problem’.
So, in addition to giving my fairly inadequate contribution, I said hello and got him to look me in the eye to make sure that he knew I was seeing him as a person, and not just a faceless member of the homeless. The more I thought about this, the more I believe this was far more important than the money I gave. He had been sitting on the ground unable to look people in the eye, probably somewhat ashamed of his predicament, while the world walked by. Mostly ignoring him or wishing he didn’t exist to jog their conscience.
As my wife says (she’s quite wise you know), some people are damaged, and it is the responsibility of society to look after such people. They may have mental problems, be traumatised, or in some way be unable to fit into the society the majority of us have created. And because we have created this society we have a responsibility to care for those we have left behind.
Such people are not, as some would like to day, a drain on society. They should not be ignored or hidden away as some would like, often municipal councils who see than as a blight on their vision of what their locality should look like. This is simply ignoring reality and hoping it will go away. It is a harsh view that does no justice to us as human beings. The idea that we apply a ‘survival of the fittest’ ethos in this case is a flawed and ultimately flexible idea that civilized societies should see for what it is – the arrogance of those privileged and well-off who have defined what the ‘fittest’ should be.
Now, I’m not talking about those who are commonly referred to as ‘dole-bludgers’. I’m talking about those who find themselves out on the street unable to find a home. I would be happy to pay an extra cent or two in the dollar tax to help homeless people. What is that to me? A few beers each week? It could kick in above a certain income threshold. This obsession with reducing tax ignores what it can be used for to benefit our society as a whole, and relies on the ‘market’ to decide where money goes. Well the ‘market’ would like the problem of homelessness to disappear and appears to view it as an inconvenience. It appears unable or unwilling to help solve the problem, suggesting it is a problem for government. Hence the need to use tax revenues.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Philosophy: Uncertainty and Change
Change. It’s a word that causes a lot of angst. Why? Because it brings uncertainty. Uncertainty is feared by many, and sometimes with good reason. There are some fundamentals in our lives that require a level of certainty so that we can function both as individuals and as a society. The need to know that we can feed ourselves, keep a roof over our heads, and stay reasonably safe are all important to being able to enjoy our lives.
But uncertainty and change also play a vital role in making our lives interesting. It brings stimulation to each day and forces us into instances where we need to make decisions. Imagine knowing what the outcome of every decision you make would be, or the outcome of every sporting contest before it happened, or even everyone you might meet during the day. While on the surface this may sound appealing, the interest in each day would rapidly decrease and be replaced by monotony; one long and tedious experience.
Uncertainty can provide more benefits than making life interesting. It helps us to grow as individuals. A moment of uncertainty can propel us into making a decision and potentially changing the course of our lives. This, at its core, is what uncertainty is all about. By forcing an individual to make a decision, uncertainty can assist a person in gaining some control of their life through taking responsibility for their future direction.
Unfortunately there are many who find decision-making, in one form or another, to be quite intimidating. The fear that the wrong decision might be made can lead to a paralysis and no decision being made. When this happens life can become stagnant in an area, and if it is a repeated outcome, life becomes stagnant in many areas. Without a decision opportunities are missed, and when this becomes a common occurrence, individuals can stop seeing those opportunities even when they are still there.
I understand that there are some people out there who find uncertainty so painful that, for instance, they find the idea of watching their favourite sporting team in real time action a form of torture. They would prefer to watch a recording only after the result is known, and they can thus shield themselves from watching a poor performance. Personally, I find watching a game where I already know the result to be quite boring. There is very little mystery left and no journey to take. There are only subdued emotions associated with such an activity. There is no angst when your team is behind, and no consequent relief and joy if it pulls off an unexpected win. There is very little drama to make it interesting. What is the point?
There have been studies that show that when people get put into a position of uncertainty, particularly in a decision is required quickly, they can panic and often make an unwise decision. This give ammunition to those who see such instances as stressful and problematic, and long for certainty. However, learning to deal with such uncertainty is surely beneficial to us all. Avoiding it merely ensures that the same stress occurs the next time.
If you find uncertainty unsettling, think about this. When you do not know an answer there can be purpose and enjoyment in finding it out. Once the answer is attained there might be a fleeting moment of joy or elation, but then what? Certainty has returned to add some more dullness to your life.
Uncertainty also provides a platform by which we can evolve both technically and spiritually. What is and is not possible has changed throughout history as people have questioned the ‘certainty’ that was prevalent at the time. There is no doubt that both socially and scientifically, some changes have been incredibly painful and have caused much anxiety and soul searching, however this how we learn as a society, make new rules and improve lives.
The unexpected occurrence is one of the other benefits of uncertainty. While planned fun can be enjoyable, it is rarely as enjoyable as an unexpected benefit or social occasion. Conversely, the bolt from the blue that brings bad news is another part of uncertainty. Such bad news brings into context the joy that comes from the positive experiences. Without the balancing negative, similar positives are not possible. In between lies certainty, where little changes and little evolution of thought or character takes place.
Individuals need to be comfortable with the fact that they will make bad decisions every now and then. This is just part of life. Such decisions should not be dwelled on, or allowed to become a large barrier to future decision making. And also, seemingly bad decisions or outcomes can have unseen benefits that only become clear later on. Getting turned down when asking a girl out may lead you to the love of your life, who you might never have met if you hadn’t suffered some setbacks earlier on. When uncertainty is met head on where small decisions are concerned, people are less likely to be intimidated by the bigger decisions that might come later in life.
Encouraging the younger members of society to take the consequences of their decisions and learn from them, without discouraging future decision-making is one of the challenges that society must overcome. The alternative is to wait for others to tell us what to do, and this is surely an inferior way to deal with uncertainty, as well as a lazy one that takes away the responsibility of the individual for their own life.
We should therefore embrace uncertainty, from early on, and acknowledge the developmental benefits it provides. After all, without a level of uncertainty there would be little point in getting out of bed in the morning. Embrace uncertainty and life becomes the richer for it.
But uncertainty and change also play a vital role in making our lives interesting. It brings stimulation to each day and forces us into instances where we need to make decisions. Imagine knowing what the outcome of every decision you make would be, or the outcome of every sporting contest before it happened, or even everyone you might meet during the day. While on the surface this may sound appealing, the interest in each day would rapidly decrease and be replaced by monotony; one long and tedious experience.
Uncertainty can provide more benefits than making life interesting. It helps us to grow as individuals. A moment of uncertainty can propel us into making a decision and potentially changing the course of our lives. This, at its core, is what uncertainty is all about. By forcing an individual to make a decision, uncertainty can assist a person in gaining some control of their life through taking responsibility for their future direction.
Unfortunately there are many who find decision-making, in one form or another, to be quite intimidating. The fear that the wrong decision might be made can lead to a paralysis and no decision being made. When this happens life can become stagnant in an area, and if it is a repeated outcome, life becomes stagnant in many areas. Without a decision opportunities are missed, and when this becomes a common occurrence, individuals can stop seeing those opportunities even when they are still there.
I understand that there are some people out there who find uncertainty so painful that, for instance, they find the idea of watching their favourite sporting team in real time action a form of torture. They would prefer to watch a recording only after the result is known, and they can thus shield themselves from watching a poor performance. Personally, I find watching a game where I already know the result to be quite boring. There is very little mystery left and no journey to take. There are only subdued emotions associated with such an activity. There is no angst when your team is behind, and no consequent relief and joy if it pulls off an unexpected win. There is very little drama to make it interesting. What is the point?
There have been studies that show that when people get put into a position of uncertainty, particularly in a decision is required quickly, they can panic and often make an unwise decision. This give ammunition to those who see such instances as stressful and problematic, and long for certainty. However, learning to deal with such uncertainty is surely beneficial to us all. Avoiding it merely ensures that the same stress occurs the next time.
If you find uncertainty unsettling, think about this. When you do not know an answer there can be purpose and enjoyment in finding it out. Once the answer is attained there might be a fleeting moment of joy or elation, but then what? Certainty has returned to add some more dullness to your life.
Uncertainty also provides a platform by which we can evolve both technically and spiritually. What is and is not possible has changed throughout history as people have questioned the ‘certainty’ that was prevalent at the time. There is no doubt that both socially and scientifically, some changes have been incredibly painful and have caused much anxiety and soul searching, however this how we learn as a society, make new rules and improve lives.
The unexpected occurrence is one of the other benefits of uncertainty. While planned fun can be enjoyable, it is rarely as enjoyable as an unexpected benefit or social occasion. Conversely, the bolt from the blue that brings bad news is another part of uncertainty. Such bad news brings into context the joy that comes from the positive experiences. Without the balancing negative, similar positives are not possible. In between lies certainty, where little changes and little evolution of thought or character takes place.
Individuals need to be comfortable with the fact that they will make bad decisions every now and then. This is just part of life. Such decisions should not be dwelled on, or allowed to become a large barrier to future decision making. And also, seemingly bad decisions or outcomes can have unseen benefits that only become clear later on. Getting turned down when asking a girl out may lead you to the love of your life, who you might never have met if you hadn’t suffered some setbacks earlier on. When uncertainty is met head on where small decisions are concerned, people are less likely to be intimidated by the bigger decisions that might come later in life.
Encouraging the younger members of society to take the consequences of their decisions and learn from them, without discouraging future decision-making is one of the challenges that society must overcome. The alternative is to wait for others to tell us what to do, and this is surely an inferior way to deal with uncertainty, as well as a lazy one that takes away the responsibility of the individual for their own life.
We should therefore embrace uncertainty, from early on, and acknowledge the developmental benefits it provides. After all, without a level of uncertainty there would be little point in getting out of bed in the morning. Embrace uncertainty and life becomes the richer for it.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Philosophy: Why sport is important
The are intellectuals out there, at least those who remain unenlightened, that appear to regard sport as some sort of second-class activity that threatens their more cerebral pursuits in some way through its popularity. The idea that governments spend money on sporting events, people or codes is considered a waste, and is apparently somewhat offensive. After all, this is money that could go on more intellectual pursuits and the arts.
While nobody can deny that a healthy and enquiring mind is one of the most important parts of being an effective functioning human being, that on its own will only deliver a portion of your potential. The physical body within which the mind is carried is also a vital part of a person. So what is the physical body all about?
The human has not evolved to its current state to be sedentary. Sitting at a desk all day is not what the body is intended for. We need to move. We have bones which need to carry the weight otherwise they will become brittle through inactivity. We have muscles which will weaken and not support our body properly if we let them atrophy. Getting the blood pumping around oxygenates the brain and can help us to think more clearly. It also improves, in the long term, our blood pressure. Exercise also has beneficial impacts on cholesterol levels. This is by no means a comprehensive list but it demonstrates that there are physical benefits from playing sports, however it is true that you do not have to play sports to get these benefits, which you might also get from a daily walk or other form of exercise. Athletes are merely using the human body in a way that it was designed for. But, the physical benefits to muscles, bones, and the circulatory system are only part of the benefits of sporting activity.
In addition to physical benefits, there are intellectual benefits that come from sporting activity as well as experiences that can benefit the human spirit. When running or swimming, I certainly find myself entering a calm, and almost meditative, state which helps in dealing with the day-to-day stresses of modern life. It is a haven of peace where the space is mine, and mine alone. Participants in team sports find camaraderie and the sense of belonging, which might not be something easy to achieve, and learn a great deal of interpersonal skills and the opportunity to apply strategic thinking to a problem. It also allows a creative outlet and puts into action that side of the brain related to coordination and lateral thinking, thereby assisting our ability to solve complex problems.
Spectators of sports find much joy, and sometimes angst, in watching their favourite teams or individuals in their preferred sporting event. As with the arts, there are also aesthetic rewards to sport. The aesthetic pleasure of watching an effortless cover-drive at a cricket match is as pleasing to the cricket-lover as an exquisite painting is to an art connoisseur, or a classic poem to a lover of literature. Sport, as with the arts, can provide a huge emotional uplift where a day is otherwise proving to be mundane or disappointing.
But there is still more. Sport provides an outlet for competitive spirit, and most of us are competitive in some form or another, albeit sometimes reluctant to admit it. The more physically inclined look to sport to provide an outlet for this urge to compete, while intellectuals and academics may compete in the area of publications, and artists may compete for prestigious prizes or awards. No matter who we are, we all get a bit competitive, only some choose not to see the parallels with activities outside their own pursuits (and this applies to sporting people too), or are in denial that they are competitive at all. Competition also teaches the young about dealing with failure and overcoming adverse situations, something that they will need to do in their adult life. Some out there will have a philosophical outlook that this sort of competition is not healthy for one reason or another, but they are being competitive themselves by trying to convince others of their arguments.
There is no excuse for looking down in sport because it’s not your pursuit of choice. It provides many of the same benefits to its devotees as intellectual pursuits do, and is no less worthy. To those who might not have been fortunate enough to have been brought up in an environment conducive to educational excellence or intellectual development, it provides an essential outlet for competitive spirit and a good way to let off steam in what might be a depressing and frustrating environment. Those that think that paying someone to represent the country at sport is a waste of taxpayer’s money obviously have trouble thinking outside their own world view of what is important for our society as a whole.
Just as movie stars get paid millions of dollars to play a role in a film because they will attract huge numbers of people to the cinemas, sporting stars also get paid commensurate with their ability to draw people through the turnstiles. They give pleasure to many and get rewarded accordingly. This is simply a reflection of the number of people willing to see them perform, and the consequent financial spin-offs for those paying performers in the first place. For the same reasons, the money flowing into the arts and intellectual pursuits is not as great.
This does not deny their crucial role in society. The evolution of our philosophical approach to life, government, economics, and social development in general is of paramount importance, but it is the preserve of relatively few; those with the reputation and ability to argue their cases.
Intellectual pursuits do not provide the same package cognitive, spiritual and physical development as sports do. Sports have developed to fulfill this need and, hopefully, keep us from physical conflict. They are unashamed in their appeal to the masses and this is how it should be. For those unwilling to acknowledge the role sports play, it is perhaps, more of a reflection of their competitiveness relating to their own pursuit’s lack of attention and funding, and pure green-eyed jealous at it’s worst, brought on by the equivalent of throwing a tantrum and then going away to sulk..
While nobody can deny that a healthy and enquiring mind is one of the most important parts of being an effective functioning human being, that on its own will only deliver a portion of your potential. The physical body within which the mind is carried is also a vital part of a person. So what is the physical body all about?
The human has not evolved to its current state to be sedentary. Sitting at a desk all day is not what the body is intended for. We need to move. We have bones which need to carry the weight otherwise they will become brittle through inactivity. We have muscles which will weaken and not support our body properly if we let them atrophy. Getting the blood pumping around oxygenates the brain and can help us to think more clearly. It also improves, in the long term, our blood pressure. Exercise also has beneficial impacts on cholesterol levels. This is by no means a comprehensive list but it demonstrates that there are physical benefits from playing sports, however it is true that you do not have to play sports to get these benefits, which you might also get from a daily walk or other form of exercise. Athletes are merely using the human body in a way that it was designed for. But, the physical benefits to muscles, bones, and the circulatory system are only part of the benefits of sporting activity.
In addition to physical benefits, there are intellectual benefits that come from sporting activity as well as experiences that can benefit the human spirit. When running or swimming, I certainly find myself entering a calm, and almost meditative, state which helps in dealing with the day-to-day stresses of modern life. It is a haven of peace where the space is mine, and mine alone. Participants in team sports find camaraderie and the sense of belonging, which might not be something easy to achieve, and learn a great deal of interpersonal skills and the opportunity to apply strategic thinking to a problem. It also allows a creative outlet and puts into action that side of the brain related to coordination and lateral thinking, thereby assisting our ability to solve complex problems.
Spectators of sports find much joy, and sometimes angst, in watching their favourite teams or individuals in their preferred sporting event. As with the arts, there are also aesthetic rewards to sport. The aesthetic pleasure of watching an effortless cover-drive at a cricket match is as pleasing to the cricket-lover as an exquisite painting is to an art connoisseur, or a classic poem to a lover of literature. Sport, as with the arts, can provide a huge emotional uplift where a day is otherwise proving to be mundane or disappointing.
But there is still more. Sport provides an outlet for competitive spirit, and most of us are competitive in some form or another, albeit sometimes reluctant to admit it. The more physically inclined look to sport to provide an outlet for this urge to compete, while intellectuals and academics may compete in the area of publications, and artists may compete for prestigious prizes or awards. No matter who we are, we all get a bit competitive, only some choose not to see the parallels with activities outside their own pursuits (and this applies to sporting people too), or are in denial that they are competitive at all. Competition also teaches the young about dealing with failure and overcoming adverse situations, something that they will need to do in their adult life. Some out there will have a philosophical outlook that this sort of competition is not healthy for one reason or another, but they are being competitive themselves by trying to convince others of their arguments.
There is no excuse for looking down in sport because it’s not your pursuit of choice. It provides many of the same benefits to its devotees as intellectual pursuits do, and is no less worthy. To those who might not have been fortunate enough to have been brought up in an environment conducive to educational excellence or intellectual development, it provides an essential outlet for competitive spirit and a good way to let off steam in what might be a depressing and frustrating environment. Those that think that paying someone to represent the country at sport is a waste of taxpayer’s money obviously have trouble thinking outside their own world view of what is important for our society as a whole.
Just as movie stars get paid millions of dollars to play a role in a film because they will attract huge numbers of people to the cinemas, sporting stars also get paid commensurate with their ability to draw people through the turnstiles. They give pleasure to many and get rewarded accordingly. This is simply a reflection of the number of people willing to see them perform, and the consequent financial spin-offs for those paying performers in the first place. For the same reasons, the money flowing into the arts and intellectual pursuits is not as great.
This does not deny their crucial role in society. The evolution of our philosophical approach to life, government, economics, and social development in general is of paramount importance, but it is the preserve of relatively few; those with the reputation and ability to argue their cases.
Intellectual pursuits do not provide the same package cognitive, spiritual and physical development as sports do. Sports have developed to fulfill this need and, hopefully, keep us from physical conflict. They are unashamed in their appeal to the masses and this is how it should be. For those unwilling to acknowledge the role sports play, it is perhaps, more of a reflection of their competitiveness relating to their own pursuit’s lack of attention and funding, and pure green-eyed jealous at it’s worst, brought on by the equivalent of throwing a tantrum and then going away to sulk..
Friday, October 10, 2008
How much expertise do we need?
When a person becomes an adult, they start having to take responsibility of their lives, at least one hopes that they do. In years gone past, the pace of change was not such that taking responsibility related to an ever-changing landscape where innovation and advancement happened on a weekly basis. However, in our modern world, the increasingly globalised markets, along with the advent of the world wide web, has exponentially increased the rate of change and speed of communication. Change and expanding choice have become an ever-present part of society. This brings its own problems.
The large number of options now available, for many things, requires the consumer to do a lot of research and become relatively proficient in evaluating what is on offer. For instance, if a person wants to buy a new washing machine they now have numerous manufacturers to choose from and numerous stores selling washing machines at different prices. They might also feel obliged to consider other factors such as environmental impacts, the type of labour conditions in the factories that make the machines, and whether it is made within the country of purchase. This all takes time.
Other larger purchases may take more time. Deciding which company you are going to have provide various types of insurance is of concern to many, as is the provider of the mortgage on a house, or the type of superannuation fund that is best for them. With the breadth of choice now available this is a complex and time-consuming activity. As all those who have read mortgage contracts and insurance policies know, trying to evaluate what is actually being provided and the potential pitfalls is a challenge in itself when reading one, let alone trying to compare a variety of such documents. If you have the money, then you can get a professional to look at this for you, but then again, which professional to choose?
With a greater emphasis on people providing their own retirement fund, we are now being asked to become proficient in the assessing investments in the Stock Market. Becoming an expert on the financial markets is not something that happens quickly and yet more and more of us are being asked to make decisions on investments and superannuation. The current Stock Market turmoil is taking its toll on many institutional investors and funds, and one can only speculate about what it is doing to self-funded retirees and those who are nearing the time when they are set to retire.
Of course, the experts also tell us that we should review all of our major financial commitments on a yearly basis. Is our house and car insurance still the best? Should we be considering changing our bank or mortgage provider? Is our health insurer as competitive as it should be? Perhaps our car and/or computer is out-of-date and in need of upgrading. Are we getting the best deal on our telecommunications? All these things are changing at a rapid rate and we are all being asked to keep up.
But, in addition to spending all our time delving into these big financial commitments and purchases, there is a need to do even more research. The nutritional value of some of the food we buy at the supermarket is doubtful, so should we take any notice of the non-stop advertising that assaults us on a daily basis? And do we need to know what those numbers relating to additives mean? A trip to the shops becomes a matter of looking closely at the labels to see if there are any dubious additives included, or whether the weight or quantity has been reduced while charging the same price. This lengthens the time needed to get the job done.
I haven’t yet mentioned the environment. We now need to consider our carbon emissions, our water use, whether we should recycle what we consider waste, and the carbon footprint of everything we buy. This is not a bad thing, in fact it is very good to consider these things and act accordingly, but after considering much of the above, it becomes yet one more call upon our time to research what we should be doing.
The modern media and internet are constantly bombarding us with conflicting views about what we should be doing and how we should be doing it, giving us yet more urges to go and do research.
I have only covered choices relating to singles or couples. For families there are numerous additional choices that have to be made.
Why is this so? Perhaps it’s because we lack trust in the professionals now, or maybe it’s because governments are now giving us freedom to make our own decisions. The free market might be to blame, or perhaps it’s our own insecurities that we are somehow not getting ‘the best’, whatever that might be. And there is the potential for people to feel guilty about not having ‘the best’, as if somehow this makes them inferior.
The bottom line is that we are being asked to become experts on areas that are the preserve of those who have spent many years learning to become professionals. And yet, despite this, we are still corralled into feeling obliged to have significant knowledge of these areas. This all takes time. And so much time can be spent on these things that we fail to find enough time for ourselves.
Getting ‘the best’ may, in fact, involve reclaiming time for ourselves rather than spending inordinate amounts of time trying to learn everything about everything. In terms of mod-cons and services, in the long term ‘the best’ cannot be bought anyway, because everything is constantly evolving and changing.
It surely must be time to re-evaluate all of this, and realise that life is something to be enjoyed rather than something to be endured.
First published at www.onlineopinion.com 10/10/08
The large number of options now available, for many things, requires the consumer to do a lot of research and become relatively proficient in evaluating what is on offer. For instance, if a person wants to buy a new washing machine they now have numerous manufacturers to choose from and numerous stores selling washing machines at different prices. They might also feel obliged to consider other factors such as environmental impacts, the type of labour conditions in the factories that make the machines, and whether it is made within the country of purchase. This all takes time.
Other larger purchases may take more time. Deciding which company you are going to have provide various types of insurance is of concern to many, as is the provider of the mortgage on a house, or the type of superannuation fund that is best for them. With the breadth of choice now available this is a complex and time-consuming activity. As all those who have read mortgage contracts and insurance policies know, trying to evaluate what is actually being provided and the potential pitfalls is a challenge in itself when reading one, let alone trying to compare a variety of such documents. If you have the money, then you can get a professional to look at this for you, but then again, which professional to choose?
With a greater emphasis on people providing their own retirement fund, we are now being asked to become proficient in the assessing investments in the Stock Market. Becoming an expert on the financial markets is not something that happens quickly and yet more and more of us are being asked to make decisions on investments and superannuation. The current Stock Market turmoil is taking its toll on many institutional investors and funds, and one can only speculate about what it is doing to self-funded retirees and those who are nearing the time when they are set to retire.
Of course, the experts also tell us that we should review all of our major financial commitments on a yearly basis. Is our house and car insurance still the best? Should we be considering changing our bank or mortgage provider? Is our health insurer as competitive as it should be? Perhaps our car and/or computer is out-of-date and in need of upgrading. Are we getting the best deal on our telecommunications? All these things are changing at a rapid rate and we are all being asked to keep up.
But, in addition to spending all our time delving into these big financial commitments and purchases, there is a need to do even more research. The nutritional value of some of the food we buy at the supermarket is doubtful, so should we take any notice of the non-stop advertising that assaults us on a daily basis? And do we need to know what those numbers relating to additives mean? A trip to the shops becomes a matter of looking closely at the labels to see if there are any dubious additives included, or whether the weight or quantity has been reduced while charging the same price. This lengthens the time needed to get the job done.
I haven’t yet mentioned the environment. We now need to consider our carbon emissions, our water use, whether we should recycle what we consider waste, and the carbon footprint of everything we buy. This is not a bad thing, in fact it is very good to consider these things and act accordingly, but after considering much of the above, it becomes yet one more call upon our time to research what we should be doing.
The modern media and internet are constantly bombarding us with conflicting views about what we should be doing and how we should be doing it, giving us yet more urges to go and do research.
I have only covered choices relating to singles or couples. For families there are numerous additional choices that have to be made.
Why is this so? Perhaps it’s because we lack trust in the professionals now, or maybe it’s because governments are now giving us freedom to make our own decisions. The free market might be to blame, or perhaps it’s our own insecurities that we are somehow not getting ‘the best’, whatever that might be. And there is the potential for people to feel guilty about not having ‘the best’, as if somehow this makes them inferior.
The bottom line is that we are being asked to become experts on areas that are the preserve of those who have spent many years learning to become professionals. And yet, despite this, we are still corralled into feeling obliged to have significant knowledge of these areas. This all takes time. And so much time can be spent on these things that we fail to find enough time for ourselves.
Getting ‘the best’ may, in fact, involve reclaiming time for ourselves rather than spending inordinate amounts of time trying to learn everything about everything. In terms of mod-cons and services, in the long term ‘the best’ cannot be bought anyway, because everything is constantly evolving and changing.
It surely must be time to re-evaluate all of this, and realise that life is something to be enjoyed rather than something to be endured.
First published at www.onlineopinion.com 10/10/08
Friday, October 3, 2008
20 Songs to Relax to on a Hot Summer’s Evening
This is a totally self-indulgent list, but I encourage anyone who reads it to take time to listen to these tracks, with a beer in hand, and tell me they aren’t classics. Mind you if you’ve sat through them all on said evening, then your are probably snoozing in an alcohol induced sleep. So in no particular order:-
Big Log (Robert Plant) - This solo effort from the Led Zeppelin frontman captures the mood of solitary reflection and contemplation while on the road. A fine effort.
On the Beach (Chris Rea) – From the guitar master with the gravelly voice. This smooth combination of a catchy beat overlain with keyboards and a relaxing guitar riff runs for almost 7 minutes. It’s well worth the time though.
That’s Entertainment (The Jam) – Paul Weller at his best. This track is a great reflection of urban life in the late 70’s, but also holds true for urban life today in many areas.
Last Train to Heaven (Paul Kelly & the Coloured Girls) – As well as being on the album gossip, this mellow track can also be found on the surfing film Jungle Jetset. Paul Kelly remains a classic Australian musician.
Girls on the Avenue (Richard Clapton) – Perhaps not too well known outside Australia. An ode to girls of negotiable affection.
Maybe Tomorrow (Stereophonics) – Great stuff from these guys. Strikes the balance of melancholy with a simple chord progression.
Walking in the Sunshine (Bad Manners) – The ska boys in rare reflective mood, but intent on drinking red wine. This song has a saxophone ‘riff’ that just resonates and is, in my humble opinion, one of the best uses of the saxophone in ‘pop’.
Long Hot Summer (Style Council) – If this song doesn’t relax you, then nothing will. One of the first Style Council songs, from the summer of 1983.
Slave (James Reyne) – The Australian Crawl lead singer in solo form. A bit of late night classic to wind people down.
Every Kind of People (Robert Palmer) – The late Robert Palmer’s cover of this song from 1978 leaves you feeling laid back and tolerant of the other occupants of this planet of ours.
School (Supertramp) – Classic use of the keyboards and a song that ebbs and flows. May be not their best song, but many people will know the piano hook from the mid-section of this song.
Saturday Night (Cold Chisel) – One of Australia’s finest rock bands. Sadly not well-known outside the antipodes. This is one of many great songs. Good use of recorded sounds from a pub in the intro.
Cars and Girls (Prefab Sprout) – Under-rated and under-played, Prefab Sprout were the master of the melodic pop song. This one will take you on smooth journey.
Take it Easy (The Eagles) – One of the earliest, but one of the best songs from the Eagles. Just under three minutes of country-pop that won’t leave you bored.
La Viguela (Gotan Project) – This combination of French and Argentinean musicians will get you wanting to dance the tango, but you’ll be able to resist this and just enjoy the flow of the music, while imagining latin scenes in far away Buenos Aires.
This Too Will Pass (Rodney Crowell) – Rodney is big in the USA, I believe. I only have two CD’s but this optimistic song stands out as a country-pop classic.
In These Shoes (Kirsty MacColl) – The late Kirsty MacColl shows her sense of humour and latin musical influences on this track, which has been used extensively in advertising.
Summertime (Gerry & the Pacemakers) – What can I say about this. This cover is just silky-smooth even after all these years. Cole Porter would be proud.
Kiss Me (Sixpence None the Richer) – A short-lived band from Texas that produced a classic. I can’t remember the film that this came from, but it’s a great piece of laid-back pop.
Jamming (Bob Marley & the Wailers) – I couldn’t not have some reggae in this list, and who better than Bob Marley could I include. Jamming must be one of the best mainstream reggae tracks of all time.
Big Log (Robert Plant) - This solo effort from the Led Zeppelin frontman captures the mood of solitary reflection and contemplation while on the road. A fine effort.
On the Beach (Chris Rea) – From the guitar master with the gravelly voice. This smooth combination of a catchy beat overlain with keyboards and a relaxing guitar riff runs for almost 7 minutes. It’s well worth the time though.
That’s Entertainment (The Jam) – Paul Weller at his best. This track is a great reflection of urban life in the late 70’s, but also holds true for urban life today in many areas.
Last Train to Heaven (Paul Kelly & the Coloured Girls) – As well as being on the album gossip, this mellow track can also be found on the surfing film Jungle Jetset. Paul Kelly remains a classic Australian musician.
Girls on the Avenue (Richard Clapton) – Perhaps not too well known outside Australia. An ode to girls of negotiable affection.
Maybe Tomorrow (Stereophonics) – Great stuff from these guys. Strikes the balance of melancholy with a simple chord progression.
Walking in the Sunshine (Bad Manners) – The ska boys in rare reflective mood, but intent on drinking red wine. This song has a saxophone ‘riff’ that just resonates and is, in my humble opinion, one of the best uses of the saxophone in ‘pop’.
Long Hot Summer (Style Council) – If this song doesn’t relax you, then nothing will. One of the first Style Council songs, from the summer of 1983.
Slave (James Reyne) – The Australian Crawl lead singer in solo form. A bit of late night classic to wind people down.
Every Kind of People (Robert Palmer) – The late Robert Palmer’s cover of this song from 1978 leaves you feeling laid back and tolerant of the other occupants of this planet of ours.
School (Supertramp) – Classic use of the keyboards and a song that ebbs and flows. May be not their best song, but many people will know the piano hook from the mid-section of this song.
Saturday Night (Cold Chisel) – One of Australia’s finest rock bands. Sadly not well-known outside the antipodes. This is one of many great songs. Good use of recorded sounds from a pub in the intro.
Cars and Girls (Prefab Sprout) – Under-rated and under-played, Prefab Sprout were the master of the melodic pop song. This one will take you on smooth journey.
Take it Easy (The Eagles) – One of the earliest, but one of the best songs from the Eagles. Just under three minutes of country-pop that won’t leave you bored.
La Viguela (Gotan Project) – This combination of French and Argentinean musicians will get you wanting to dance the tango, but you’ll be able to resist this and just enjoy the flow of the music, while imagining latin scenes in far away Buenos Aires.
This Too Will Pass (Rodney Crowell) – Rodney is big in the USA, I believe. I only have two CD’s but this optimistic song stands out as a country-pop classic.
In These Shoes (Kirsty MacColl) – The late Kirsty MacColl shows her sense of humour and latin musical influences on this track, which has been used extensively in advertising.
Summertime (Gerry & the Pacemakers) – What can I say about this. This cover is just silky-smooth even after all these years. Cole Porter would be proud.
Kiss Me (Sixpence None the Richer) – A short-lived band from Texas that produced a classic. I can’t remember the film that this came from, but it’s a great piece of laid-back pop.
Jamming (Bob Marley & the Wailers) – I couldn’t not have some reggae in this list, and who better than Bob Marley could I include. Jamming must be one of the best mainstream reggae tracks of all time.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Modern Jargon: How to use it to disguise your moaning and whining
Trying to get ahead but finding yourself time-poor? Then perhaps you are spending too much time with modern jargon!
Every new generation of kids and teenagers comes up with words and phrases that are new and confuse older generations, however it is now the adults that are coming up with new stuff. The trouble is that this new jargon often doesn’t make sense, even though it infiltrates modern language. I have two examples that I want to rant about, because they are really nothing more than excuses for begin miserable and trying to paint oneself as a martyr.
Time-Poor
What does time-poor mean? Has there ever been a more annoying phrase? How has anybody got any less time in the day than anyone else? Don’t we all have the same number of minutes and hours in each day?
Yes, as you may have gathered, this is a phrase that really strikes me as inane. If there is not enough time in the day it probably means that you are trying to do too much. Most of us have a lot of choice about how much we try to fit in. So, if you are finding that there are not enough hours in the day, perhaps you need to slow down a little bit and take some time to smell the roses.
At the end of the day it’s your choice how much you take on, irrespective of whether you feel you have to or not. Learn to say no, or at least put aside time for yourself (and don’t compromise on this one!). There will always be jobs that appear to be, or at least we perceive to be, urgent and it is so easy to get caught up in the rush to achieve for achievements sake rather than for any worthwhile outcome.
Perhaps we need to slow down and accept that there are things we have to let go of. Everything is not urgent, no matter what we may think. Opportunities come and go, but the chances are that more opportunities will come along. We don’t have to fight every battle that comes our way either, the confidence to let an issue go frees up time we can use for our own enjoyment. We can be selective. Put simply, if you find you are struggling to fit everything into your day, don’t try to do so much!
And above all, don’t use the phrase time-poor, it sounds like the workaholics justification for not allowing time for themselves to enjoy life.
Getting Ahead
Getting ahead of what? Exactly how will anyone know when they are ‘ahead’? Who will they be ahead of, and how? I hear this phrase so often and I still wonder what, or who, the users of this phrase are competing with.
The question arises – if you are ahead of someone, on your self-generated scale, surely there are probably people you are ‘behind’. And if you are ‘behind’ people, can you possibly say that you are ‘ahead’? It makes my head hurt.
By all means set goals which you want to achieve, but to use the term getting ahead is tantamount to saying that you are somehow not up to scratch and struggling to keep up. It is a way of reinforcing that you are somehow inferior to others and cannot be good for self-esteem. Is that any sort of way to live a life? I expect a lot people trying to get ahead also use the term time-poor.
Negative Growth
Sorry, this is just drivel. What is negative growth? Growth is an expansion of a substance of a network or some other ‘thing’. It cannot be negative. The phrase is contradictory. What people who use this word mean to say is something like, shrinkage, or contraction, and they usually mean this in relation to a business or the economy.
So when treasury or a business executive say this annoying phrase, they are doing everything they can not to mention other words, but this is pointless. Everyone knows what they mean if they utter this phrase – we’re going backwards.
This is symptomatic of our fear of a bad result, our fear of failure, of admitting that we might not have succeeded. It’s pathetic really. And it’s also very bad English, irritatingly bad English. So economists, executives and bureaucrats, please stop using this phrase.
Every new generation of kids and teenagers comes up with words and phrases that are new and confuse older generations, however it is now the adults that are coming up with new stuff. The trouble is that this new jargon often doesn’t make sense, even though it infiltrates modern language. I have two examples that I want to rant about, because they are really nothing more than excuses for begin miserable and trying to paint oneself as a martyr.
Time-Poor
What does time-poor mean? Has there ever been a more annoying phrase? How has anybody got any less time in the day than anyone else? Don’t we all have the same number of minutes and hours in each day?
Yes, as you may have gathered, this is a phrase that really strikes me as inane. If there is not enough time in the day it probably means that you are trying to do too much. Most of us have a lot of choice about how much we try to fit in. So, if you are finding that there are not enough hours in the day, perhaps you need to slow down a little bit and take some time to smell the roses.
At the end of the day it’s your choice how much you take on, irrespective of whether you feel you have to or not. Learn to say no, or at least put aside time for yourself (and don’t compromise on this one!). There will always be jobs that appear to be, or at least we perceive to be, urgent and it is so easy to get caught up in the rush to achieve for achievements sake rather than for any worthwhile outcome.
Perhaps we need to slow down and accept that there are things we have to let go of. Everything is not urgent, no matter what we may think. Opportunities come and go, but the chances are that more opportunities will come along. We don’t have to fight every battle that comes our way either, the confidence to let an issue go frees up time we can use for our own enjoyment. We can be selective. Put simply, if you find you are struggling to fit everything into your day, don’t try to do so much!
And above all, don’t use the phrase time-poor, it sounds like the workaholics justification for not allowing time for themselves to enjoy life.
Getting Ahead
Getting ahead of what? Exactly how will anyone know when they are ‘ahead’? Who will they be ahead of, and how? I hear this phrase so often and I still wonder what, or who, the users of this phrase are competing with.
The question arises – if you are ahead of someone, on your self-generated scale, surely there are probably people you are ‘behind’. And if you are ‘behind’ people, can you possibly say that you are ‘ahead’? It makes my head hurt.
By all means set goals which you want to achieve, but to use the term getting ahead is tantamount to saying that you are somehow not up to scratch and struggling to keep up. It is a way of reinforcing that you are somehow inferior to others and cannot be good for self-esteem. Is that any sort of way to live a life? I expect a lot people trying to get ahead also use the term time-poor.
Negative Growth
Sorry, this is just drivel. What is negative growth? Growth is an expansion of a substance of a network or some other ‘thing’. It cannot be negative. The phrase is contradictory. What people who use this word mean to say is something like, shrinkage, or contraction, and they usually mean this in relation to a business or the economy.
So when treasury or a business executive say this annoying phrase, they are doing everything they can not to mention other words, but this is pointless. Everyone knows what they mean if they utter this phrase – we’re going backwards.
This is symptomatic of our fear of a bad result, our fear of failure, of admitting that we might not have succeeded. It’s pathetic really. And it’s also very bad English, irritatingly bad English. So economists, executives and bureaucrats, please stop using this phrase.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Travel: Walking therapy on the Bibbulman Track
It doesn’t take long to drive from Walpole to Albany, on the south coast of Western Australia, in fact not much more than a couple of hours. Along the way there are many green fields with, depending on the season, open water lying on the clay-rich soils and reflecting the skies above, or herds of cattle strolling trough the grass. There are also many opportunities to drive through majestic karri forests, many invitations to turn off the main road and visit an inlet or a beach, and plenty of opportunities to enjoy the many other tourist attractions.
There are wineries that offer cellar-door tasting, and producers of fresh fruits and vegetables. There are also numerous art galleries and restaurants. In addition to this, there are offers of recreational opportunities including walking among the treetops of the karri forest, riding horses, swimming, fishing, and four-wheel driving. All along the way are chalets and farm-stays that provide pleasant accommodation. Invitations to adventures or pleasures are signposted on the side of the road.
Yet, on the horizon to the south lie the coastal hills. They seem so far away, but they lie only a few kilometres distant. Karri forests offering shade and mystery lie to the north of the road. Narrow access roads leave the highway on an irregular basis. They lead to small car parks and walk trails hidden behind the dense foliage or in distant dunes.
This method of visiting the south coast is like watching a slideshow. One minute you are in a forest, the next you are in a winery, the next you are at the coast. Then there is a fleeting image of an orchard or some farmland, or perhaps a picturesque town. None of these images stay with you for very long, it is all so superficial. The experience you get is two-dimensional – a pretty picture, some nice colours, a few tastes and smells, but no real warmth. All too soon you find yourself back home with some fast fading memories and a vague feeling that there was more to see and do, or that an important experience was missed.
However, walking through the landscape is a very different experience from driving through it. When a person walks a track, they become part of the landscape and have the chance to experience it as it changes. When safely cocooned inside a car, coach or train, or racing through on a motorbike, an individual is isolated from that which they see.
While many shy away from the weather, preferring the cocoon, it is the feel of the rain as it hits your skin, the sound of the rain hitting a jacket or dropping on to the leaves of surrounding trees, which indicate you are within the landscape. It is the feel and sound of the wind tugging at clothes or rustling the through the vegetation that tells you that you are in a dynamic environment. And it is the smell of freshly dampened vegetation or the approaching rain, which lets you know you are in a three-dimensional place, and not simply looking as you would at a postcard.
Walking takes time, and this can be a problem to those who have convinced themselves that time is in short supply. Time is a precious commodity, too much of which that should not be wasted on the mundane or unenjoyable, but should instead be used for the fulfilment of life and the chance to immerse oneself in enjoyable experiences. The phrase ‘Time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time’ comes to mind. Taking time to walk puts the emphasis on enjoying the journey rather than achieving the goal. This slows us down and encourages some reflection and thought outside the screaming urban centres, where we are bombarded thousands of messages each day from a multitude of sources, asking us to make decisions, telling us we have to achieve quickly or we might miss out, or that we are falling behind in an attempt to achieve the ‘perfect’ life.
So, if you drive between Walpole and Albany you will, all too soon, arrive back into the maelstrom of everyday life. Two hours and it’s gone; you’re in Albany looking for a hotel. But if you take a walk on the Bibbulman Track that runs between these two towns, you will experience the forests, the coastal dunes, the beaches and the inlets (in fact the track runs from Perth to Albany, a distance of eight hundred kilometres or more, and this just the last leg). You will find secluded huts where you can simply put your feet up and enjoy the views, remote benches overlooking majestic coastal cliffs, and dense forests that hide a multitude of wildlife rarely seen by most people.
The track asks that the journey not be rushed. It insists that you do not brush off the views, the smells, and changes in the weather and light. You can’t close windows, turn on the lights, or turn on the air-conditioning. It demands that those who walk its length cast off the shackles of urban life and surrender to the whims of Mother Nature. It presents a chance to cleanse the mind and body of stress; to return to that peaceful place we all need to go to reclaim our sanity and our humanity.
There are wineries that offer cellar-door tasting, and producers of fresh fruits and vegetables. There are also numerous art galleries and restaurants. In addition to this, there are offers of recreational opportunities including walking among the treetops of the karri forest, riding horses, swimming, fishing, and four-wheel driving. All along the way are chalets and farm-stays that provide pleasant accommodation. Invitations to adventures or pleasures are signposted on the side of the road.
Yet, on the horizon to the south lie the coastal hills. They seem so far away, but they lie only a few kilometres distant. Karri forests offering shade and mystery lie to the north of the road. Narrow access roads leave the highway on an irregular basis. They lead to small car parks and walk trails hidden behind the dense foliage or in distant dunes.
This method of visiting the south coast is like watching a slideshow. One minute you are in a forest, the next you are in a winery, the next you are at the coast. Then there is a fleeting image of an orchard or some farmland, or perhaps a picturesque town. None of these images stay with you for very long, it is all so superficial. The experience you get is two-dimensional – a pretty picture, some nice colours, a few tastes and smells, but no real warmth. All too soon you find yourself back home with some fast fading memories and a vague feeling that there was more to see and do, or that an important experience was missed.
However, walking through the landscape is a very different experience from driving through it. When a person walks a track, they become part of the landscape and have the chance to experience it as it changes. When safely cocooned inside a car, coach or train, or racing through on a motorbike, an individual is isolated from that which they see.
While many shy away from the weather, preferring the cocoon, it is the feel of the rain as it hits your skin, the sound of the rain hitting a jacket or dropping on to the leaves of surrounding trees, which indicate you are within the landscape. It is the feel and sound of the wind tugging at clothes or rustling the through the vegetation that tells you that you are in a dynamic environment. And it is the smell of freshly dampened vegetation or the approaching rain, which lets you know you are in a three-dimensional place, and not simply looking as you would at a postcard.
Walking takes time, and this can be a problem to those who have convinced themselves that time is in short supply. Time is a precious commodity, too much of which that should not be wasted on the mundane or unenjoyable, but should instead be used for the fulfilment of life and the chance to immerse oneself in enjoyable experiences. The phrase ‘Time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time’ comes to mind. Taking time to walk puts the emphasis on enjoying the journey rather than achieving the goal. This slows us down and encourages some reflection and thought outside the screaming urban centres, where we are bombarded thousands of messages each day from a multitude of sources, asking us to make decisions, telling us we have to achieve quickly or we might miss out, or that we are falling behind in an attempt to achieve the ‘perfect’ life.
So, if you drive between Walpole and Albany you will, all too soon, arrive back into the maelstrom of everyday life. Two hours and it’s gone; you’re in Albany looking for a hotel. But if you take a walk on the Bibbulman Track that runs between these two towns, you will experience the forests, the coastal dunes, the beaches and the inlets (in fact the track runs from Perth to Albany, a distance of eight hundred kilometres or more, and this just the last leg). You will find secluded huts where you can simply put your feet up and enjoy the views, remote benches overlooking majestic coastal cliffs, and dense forests that hide a multitude of wildlife rarely seen by most people.
The track asks that the journey not be rushed. It insists that you do not brush off the views, the smells, and changes in the weather and light. You can’t close windows, turn on the lights, or turn on the air-conditioning. It demands that those who walk its length cast off the shackles of urban life and surrender to the whims of Mother Nature. It presents a chance to cleanse the mind and body of stress; to return to that peaceful place we all need to go to reclaim our sanity and our humanity.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Sport: Does Olympic Gold cost too much? - Not really
There is more to life than money! This is a phrase that is heard a great deal, and is often cynically attributed only to those who already have money. But whether it comes from the mouth of the wealthy or not, it is true. This brings me to the debate about funding for Olympic athletes.
There are a lot of positive impacts of having a strong sporting team representing the country, that are not easily measurable in economic terms. The same can be said for funding other activities such as the arts and public festivals. However, I will use the Olympics as an example as it is current.
The figures that have been touted about the cost of each gold medal won at the Olympics that range (from memory) up to $50 million, sound large, but there is very little detail about what is being counted in this figure. It’s a bit like saying the cost of the navy rescuing a yachtsmen is ‘X’ number of dollars without clarifying that this money includes wages that would have been paid anyway, fuel that was going to be used anyway, the goodwill of the nation whose yachtsman was plucked out of the ocean etc. The other option is to cost such an activity in terms of additional money that had to be spent over and above what would be spent in normal circumstances. It’s all about how people choose to calculate the figures.
So, when trying to apportion dollars to our Olympic performance we need to separate what is spent over and above our spending on grass roots sporting activity, coaches and athletes who turn out for domestic events that would happen in some form or another. Making sensational claims about the cost of medals often appears to come from those who don’t, or refuse to, see the wider benefits of investment in sport in physical and mental health benefits. This is a proper use for public money.
What is often left out of such calculations, because of the difficulty of putting dollar values on them, are benefits including the joy many people get out of seeing their athletes perform on an international stage, or the pride felt when an athlete wins in their chosen field. These can last for days and keep give people something to be happy about that might distract them from the monotony of everyday life (although this can be accompanied by the irritation of overly nationalistic television coverage). The better people feel, the more likely they will be
In addition to this the Olympics provide something that young athletes can aspire to and is a way of bringing people together as a nation. In the current climate where there is mortgage stress, worries about climate change, problems with social groups, and numerous other pressing concerns, the value of this should not be underestimated.
The intangible benefits of investment into sport, and the arts for that matter, should not be ignored. Also, given that the returns are difficult to quantify and are of benefit to the wider community, it appears that public money is appropriate for this purpose.
Out athletes, providing they are successful, can do very well out of this too, but if they brighten people’s days, then I do not think that we should begrudge them their success. That would be very small-minded indeed. And we should also acknowledge that many of our sporting stars also contribute a great deal through their work in supporting charitable organisations. This would not have the same impact of they were not successful.
So, I think we should be comfortable that public money is spent on training these athletes, although I would not necessarily be keen on increasing the current expenditure (we do very well for a nation of 20 million people). The insecurities that are coming out because Australia got less medals than the English, reflect poorly on this country.
In conclusion, the funding of sports and arts needs to be maintained, and it has to be acknowledged that these activities provide a great deal of benefit to our society. It does nobody any favours to carp at the current expenditure on the Olympic team, we should instead be happy that the we got the great results we did and that the athletes provided us with many moments that that will be remembered for years to come.
There are a lot of positive impacts of having a strong sporting team representing the country, that are not easily measurable in economic terms. The same can be said for funding other activities such as the arts and public festivals. However, I will use the Olympics as an example as it is current.
The figures that have been touted about the cost of each gold medal won at the Olympics that range (from memory) up to $50 million, sound large, but there is very little detail about what is being counted in this figure. It’s a bit like saying the cost of the navy rescuing a yachtsmen is ‘X’ number of dollars without clarifying that this money includes wages that would have been paid anyway, fuel that was going to be used anyway, the goodwill of the nation whose yachtsman was plucked out of the ocean etc. The other option is to cost such an activity in terms of additional money that had to be spent over and above what would be spent in normal circumstances. It’s all about how people choose to calculate the figures.
So, when trying to apportion dollars to our Olympic performance we need to separate what is spent over and above our spending on grass roots sporting activity, coaches and athletes who turn out for domestic events that would happen in some form or another. Making sensational claims about the cost of medals often appears to come from those who don’t, or refuse to, see the wider benefits of investment in sport in physical and mental health benefits. This is a proper use for public money.
What is often left out of such calculations, because of the difficulty of putting dollar values on them, are benefits including the joy many people get out of seeing their athletes perform on an international stage, or the pride felt when an athlete wins in their chosen field. These can last for days and keep give people something to be happy about that might distract them from the monotony of everyday life (although this can be accompanied by the irritation of overly nationalistic television coverage). The better people feel, the more likely they will be
In addition to this the Olympics provide something that young athletes can aspire to and is a way of bringing people together as a nation. In the current climate where there is mortgage stress, worries about climate change, problems with social groups, and numerous other pressing concerns, the value of this should not be underestimated.
The intangible benefits of investment into sport, and the arts for that matter, should not be ignored. Also, given that the returns are difficult to quantify and are of benefit to the wider community, it appears that public money is appropriate for this purpose.
Out athletes, providing they are successful, can do very well out of this too, but if they brighten people’s days, then I do not think that we should begrudge them their success. That would be very small-minded indeed. And we should also acknowledge that many of our sporting stars also contribute a great deal through their work in supporting charitable organisations. This would not have the same impact of they were not successful.
So, I think we should be comfortable that public money is spent on training these athletes, although I would not necessarily be keen on increasing the current expenditure (we do very well for a nation of 20 million people). The insecurities that are coming out because Australia got less medals than the English, reflect poorly on this country.
In conclusion, the funding of sports and arts needs to be maintained, and it has to be acknowledged that these activities provide a great deal of benefit to our society. It does nobody any favours to carp at the current expenditure on the Olympic team, we should instead be happy that the we got the great results we did and that the athletes provided us with many moments that that will be remembered for years to come.
Travel: From Olgii to Ulaan Bataar
We had just spent three weeks travelling around Mongolia, enjoying the scenery and interaction with the locals. True to form I had just had the obligatory traveller’s bout of ‘Montezumah’s Revenge’, or whatever the local term for a stomach upset was. Now this part of the trip was over and I was looking forward to a trip with my wife to the north of Mongolia, to visit the nomadic Tsaartan people. We were in the regional town of Olgii, having spent a night there after clambering over some mountains to the west, and were looking forward to getting back to Ulaan Bataar and spending a day looking around the city.
Getting to the airport for our flight back to Ulaan Bataar was no major operation, now that my stomach had settled down! We were up and breakfasted by 6:30am and at the airport by 7:00am. We milled around aimlessly until they opened the small terminal for checking in baggage. It was a long, drawn out process that appeared at the same time chaotic and ordered. It’s hard to explain! Anyhow, we eventually got our luggage in, but no sooner had this occurred than we started hearing rumours that the flight had been delayed. This, of course, turned out to be a rumour and not true at all. Our flight had not been delayed, it had been cancelled! There was some story about how the Turkish ambassador was flying through the airspace, and that all other flights had been cancelled for security reasons. How important could an ambassador be? Surely not so important to close national airspace and ground all other flights in a region! However, apparently this was the case.
We were told that they would try to get a new flight for 7pm that evening, so we all had a reason for hope. It did mean that we were going to miss our free afternoon in the capital, but we would have the next day do some sightseeing before our flight to Moron. By now problem number two had become apparent. Our checked in luggage had been locked away in the airport and was not reachable, so we were left with whatever we had with us in our hand luggage.
With nothing else to do we spent an enjoyable few hours in the town of Olgii where we visited the Khazak Museum and wandered around the city centre looking at the local rugs, two of which we bought. However, there was only so much that we could see and do in such a small town and so, other than the odd passing conversation with local who spoke English, we were soon thinking about lunch.
Our guide had excelled again successfully negotiated the use of the Gers (traditional Mongolian tents) with the owner of the Ger camp, that we had stayed in the previous night, and so we headed back there for lunch and an afternoon rest. As the camp was on the Khovd River, which happened to be flowing rather quickly, we had our meal sat in the grass watching the local birdlife prey on the poor old fish in the river. After this there was precious little else to do other than complete our diary entries and laze about in the sun. This was certainly not an unpleasant experience, but by mid-afternoon we still had not heard about our flight and a vague suspicion was creeping into our minds that there was no flight coming for us that night.
We spent much of our time watching two yaks that had somehow managed to get through the torrent of water that was the river, on to an island mid-stream. They seemed to be content to stay there and we took some solace from this, after if they were content to be stranded and in isolation, perhaps we could relax too. It soon came to pass that the yaks were considered an omen for our own predicament and that until the yaks moved from their island, we too were going to be stranded in Olgii.
On a brighter note, I did manage to skip a stone twelve times on the river, a fact that was doubted by other members of the party, as I had no witnesses to confirm my momentous achievement. However the lack of other entertainment options meant that I took the opportunity to invite a whole group down to witness my attempt to repeat the feat and promptly skipped a stone fourteen times. The point was proven and another half hour was occupied with further attempts at glory. It was certainly a highlight of the afternoon.
There was some brief excitement when a plane came in to land in the late afternoon, however after speeding off dramatically in dust cloud, our guide returned with the news that this had been a regular flight in from Kazakhstan and would not be taking us out of here. By six o’clock that evening we were still sitting in our Ger camp and had learned that our flight was indeed not going to arrive that evening and would be leaving the next day. This caused some consternation among those people who were scheduled to fly out of Mongolia the following day; however, they were all re-booked successfully on alternative flights. Thankfully there were no more guests due that night so we had use of the gers once again. At about this time we learned that some of the local goats had got into one of the gers and had started eating the bedding. It was all happening!
Despite the assurances that we would indeed be on the flight the next day there were still some doubters and doomsayers predicting that we would be stuck in Olgii for some time, but to me the omens seemed promising. Our two yaks, for so long stranded on their island, had now successfully reached the comparative safety of the riverbank and were wandering away towards the town. To me this led to no doubt that we were indeed flying out the next day and I could sleep easily during the coming night. ‘Don’t be an idiot,’ I was told!
So I was left to lie on my bed and reminisce about the day that was now coming to an end. I remembered how I spent hours watching the ants and other insects climbing up and down the frames of the beds and gers and deliberating on the plight of the yaks that had been stranded. It had not quite reached the heights of a couple of days previously, where I had spent the best part of an afternoon watching the raindrops hitting my tent flap and forming little rivulets as they succumbed to the forces of gravity, but it was close to it! And then there was a summons to the main ger where had our meals.
Our guide, Dashka, had again moved heaven and earth to organise some entertainment above and beyond the call of duty. We arrived in the ger to find the premier traditional dancer and throat singer for the Kazakh region, and his son, ready to perform for us. So in the soft light of candles we were treated to some throat singing and some traditional dancing, including a performance of the ‘eagle dance’. How Dashka had managed to organise this at such short notice I have no idea, but it was a magical performance. I certainly went to bed happy and content that night.
The next morning we were successful in finding a plane to fly us to Ulaan Bataar. It flew in sometime around mid-day and that meant we might even make our flight to Moron that evening, which was to leave at six-thirty. However, we were told that this would be tight and that we ‘should’ make it time!! We weren’t exactly brimming with confidence, but then again, Dashka had done a good job so far.
The aircraft that we flew in was an old Antonov 24 and to start us off on our journey it felt like it bounced three times before it managed to get airborne. Some further inspection revealed that there was a family sitting on top of bags at the rear of the plane in a luggage compartment. There was no wasting space on this flight! Being an old twin-prop plane it wasn’t going to be able to get us to the capital without a refuelling stop after two hours. The landscape we flew over was dry and barren desert with the odd lake dotted here and there and I wondered at what town we would be landing to refuel. Were there any towns out here? That question was soon to be answered as we began descending.
We landed at a non-descript airstrip and all got out to stretch our legs while the plane was attended to. In the distance we could see what looked like a substantial town but there was no indication of where we were. The sign on the airport building was in Cyrillic form, or some other form that I could not understand.
‘Where are we?’ I asked Dashka.
‘Moron,’ he replied.
‘Moron?’ I repeated. ‘Isn’t this where we need to fly to tonight? Can we stay here and wait for our luggage?’ Our luggage that we had left in Ulaan Bataar was to be reunited with us today.
Unfortunately, Dashka told me, no-one was allowed to disembark from the flight at this point as it was only a fuel stop and not a scheduled stop but we were all entitled to our ‘in-flight’ meal. This was served in the airport building and consisted of a rather nice combination of mutton and assorted cooked vegetables.
Then once more we were in the air heading towards our destination, hoping to arrive in time for our flight to Moron. It was going to be a close run thing too. We landed in Ulaan Bataar at 5:45pm. This was followed by a nervous wait for our luggage at the carousel, before we were rushed through to meet our new tour leader and check in for our flight back to where we had just left. Thankfully we made it, and were soon in the air and on our way to start the next leg of our trip.
Getting to the airport for our flight back to Ulaan Bataar was no major operation, now that my stomach had settled down! We were up and breakfasted by 6:30am and at the airport by 7:00am. We milled around aimlessly until they opened the small terminal for checking in baggage. It was a long, drawn out process that appeared at the same time chaotic and ordered. It’s hard to explain! Anyhow, we eventually got our luggage in, but no sooner had this occurred than we started hearing rumours that the flight had been delayed. This, of course, turned out to be a rumour and not true at all. Our flight had not been delayed, it had been cancelled! There was some story about how the Turkish ambassador was flying through the airspace, and that all other flights had been cancelled for security reasons. How important could an ambassador be? Surely not so important to close national airspace and ground all other flights in a region! However, apparently this was the case.
We were told that they would try to get a new flight for 7pm that evening, so we all had a reason for hope. It did mean that we were going to miss our free afternoon in the capital, but we would have the next day do some sightseeing before our flight to Moron. By now problem number two had become apparent. Our checked in luggage had been locked away in the airport and was not reachable, so we were left with whatever we had with us in our hand luggage.
With nothing else to do we spent an enjoyable few hours in the town of Olgii where we visited the Khazak Museum and wandered around the city centre looking at the local rugs, two of which we bought. However, there was only so much that we could see and do in such a small town and so, other than the odd passing conversation with local who spoke English, we were soon thinking about lunch.
Our guide had excelled again successfully negotiated the use of the Gers (traditional Mongolian tents) with the owner of the Ger camp, that we had stayed in the previous night, and so we headed back there for lunch and an afternoon rest. As the camp was on the Khovd River, which happened to be flowing rather quickly, we had our meal sat in the grass watching the local birdlife prey on the poor old fish in the river. After this there was precious little else to do other than complete our diary entries and laze about in the sun. This was certainly not an unpleasant experience, but by mid-afternoon we still had not heard about our flight and a vague suspicion was creeping into our minds that there was no flight coming for us that night.
We spent much of our time watching two yaks that had somehow managed to get through the torrent of water that was the river, on to an island mid-stream. They seemed to be content to stay there and we took some solace from this, after if they were content to be stranded and in isolation, perhaps we could relax too. It soon came to pass that the yaks were considered an omen for our own predicament and that until the yaks moved from their island, we too were going to be stranded in Olgii.
On a brighter note, I did manage to skip a stone twelve times on the river, a fact that was doubted by other members of the party, as I had no witnesses to confirm my momentous achievement. However the lack of other entertainment options meant that I took the opportunity to invite a whole group down to witness my attempt to repeat the feat and promptly skipped a stone fourteen times. The point was proven and another half hour was occupied with further attempts at glory. It was certainly a highlight of the afternoon.
There was some brief excitement when a plane came in to land in the late afternoon, however after speeding off dramatically in dust cloud, our guide returned with the news that this had been a regular flight in from Kazakhstan and would not be taking us out of here. By six o’clock that evening we were still sitting in our Ger camp and had learned that our flight was indeed not going to arrive that evening and would be leaving the next day. This caused some consternation among those people who were scheduled to fly out of Mongolia the following day; however, they were all re-booked successfully on alternative flights. Thankfully there were no more guests due that night so we had use of the gers once again. At about this time we learned that some of the local goats had got into one of the gers and had started eating the bedding. It was all happening!
Despite the assurances that we would indeed be on the flight the next day there were still some doubters and doomsayers predicting that we would be stuck in Olgii for some time, but to me the omens seemed promising. Our two yaks, for so long stranded on their island, had now successfully reached the comparative safety of the riverbank and were wandering away towards the town. To me this led to no doubt that we were indeed flying out the next day and I could sleep easily during the coming night. ‘Don’t be an idiot,’ I was told!
So I was left to lie on my bed and reminisce about the day that was now coming to an end. I remembered how I spent hours watching the ants and other insects climbing up and down the frames of the beds and gers and deliberating on the plight of the yaks that had been stranded. It had not quite reached the heights of a couple of days previously, where I had spent the best part of an afternoon watching the raindrops hitting my tent flap and forming little rivulets as they succumbed to the forces of gravity, but it was close to it! And then there was a summons to the main ger where had our meals.
Our guide, Dashka, had again moved heaven and earth to organise some entertainment above and beyond the call of duty. We arrived in the ger to find the premier traditional dancer and throat singer for the Kazakh region, and his son, ready to perform for us. So in the soft light of candles we were treated to some throat singing and some traditional dancing, including a performance of the ‘eagle dance’. How Dashka had managed to organise this at such short notice I have no idea, but it was a magical performance. I certainly went to bed happy and content that night.
The next morning we were successful in finding a plane to fly us to Ulaan Bataar. It flew in sometime around mid-day and that meant we might even make our flight to Moron that evening, which was to leave at six-thirty. However, we were told that this would be tight and that we ‘should’ make it time!! We weren’t exactly brimming with confidence, but then again, Dashka had done a good job so far.
The aircraft that we flew in was an old Antonov 24 and to start us off on our journey it felt like it bounced three times before it managed to get airborne. Some further inspection revealed that there was a family sitting on top of bags at the rear of the plane in a luggage compartment. There was no wasting space on this flight! Being an old twin-prop plane it wasn’t going to be able to get us to the capital without a refuelling stop after two hours. The landscape we flew over was dry and barren desert with the odd lake dotted here and there and I wondered at what town we would be landing to refuel. Were there any towns out here? That question was soon to be answered as we began descending.
We landed at a non-descript airstrip and all got out to stretch our legs while the plane was attended to. In the distance we could see what looked like a substantial town but there was no indication of where we were. The sign on the airport building was in Cyrillic form, or some other form that I could not understand.
‘Where are we?’ I asked Dashka.
‘Moron,’ he replied.
‘Moron?’ I repeated. ‘Isn’t this where we need to fly to tonight? Can we stay here and wait for our luggage?’ Our luggage that we had left in Ulaan Bataar was to be reunited with us today.
Unfortunately, Dashka told me, no-one was allowed to disembark from the flight at this point as it was only a fuel stop and not a scheduled stop but we were all entitled to our ‘in-flight’ meal. This was served in the airport building and consisted of a rather nice combination of mutton and assorted cooked vegetables.
Then once more we were in the air heading towards our destination, hoping to arrive in time for our flight to Moron. It was going to be a close run thing too. We landed in Ulaan Bataar at 5:45pm. This was followed by a nervous wait for our luggage at the carousel, before we were rushed through to meet our new tour leader and check in for our flight back to where we had just left. Thankfully we made it, and were soon in the air and on our way to start the next leg of our trip.
Travel: Horse riding for beginners - Mongolian style
In a fit of eccentricity my wife and I decided to go on a vacation to Mongolia. After all, it is the place that produced Ghengis Khan, Kublai Khan and Tamerlaine, as well as having been the centre of one of the largest empires that the world has seen. After the initial three weeks of festivals, mountains, lakes and open plains, we left our group and went off to see the remote and nomadic Tsaartan people, who live in the extreme north of the country with their herds of reindeer. This required a significant horse trek, and I had done next to no horse riding. I looked forward with some excitement to the 60 kilometres of travel that awaited us. Needless to say the Tsaartan, being nomadic, were not where they had been expected, and the ride extended to over 120 kilometres!
Day one consisted of an introductory riding lesson. I had been told that no previous experience was necessary, however I must admit to feeling some trepidation.
‘Have you ever ridden a horse before?’ the trek leader asked me through the interpreter.
‘Uh…no not really. Well once, when I was about nine years old I did, but only for about 15 minutes.’ I replied.
‘Never mind. It’s easy. Just get on the horse and we’ll go from there.’ I proceeded to get myself up into the saddle and found a set of leather reins being put in my hand. They were more like shoelaces in my opinion.
‘OK Peter, tug left and right to steer, and tug back to stop.’ I nodded and made some tugging gestures to show that I had understood.
‘To get going say “Cho” and give the horse a good jab in the ribs with your heels. If you want to go faster just dig the ribs some more and say “Cho” in a louder voice.’
I waited for some more instruction, but I waited in vain.
Not having any other option, off I went, or rather, off I tried to go. After a couple of unsuccessful attempts at getting my trusty steed to move, one of the local horsemen came to give me a hand. It was then that I learned to trot as we caught up with the rest of the group. To encourage me further, one of the guides was thrown from her horse. However, we don’t talk about that because you just don’t fall off horses in Mongolia, and anyhow she was ok. So no worries!
We rode for six hours until we reached our campsite. On the way I learned how to cross rivers, holding on for dear life. At the end of the day it was compulsory to open a bottle of vodka and share its contents. So that’s what I did.
Day two started with sore knees and some excitement. This was the day that we were going to see the Tsaartan people. After breakfast I got back on the horse, which was now looking at me in a scornful way. I could swear it was smirking, and I knew that it was thinking, ‘Right sonny Jim, you thought you had a tough time yesterday, but just you wait. Hahahahahaha!’ Perhaps this paranoia was just part of the learning experience.
We rode a short way before we entered the forest. It was dense and muddy, and downright boggy in areas. The path wound its way up and down very steep and slippery slopes between the trees. Some trees had spaces of approximately one metre between them through which the path went. My horse, bless him, thought it was entertaining to try scraping me off at these points. I had to either mastering basic steering, or be good at putting my knees back into place. It was usually the latter. It was an evil horse!
Once out of the forest we proceeded up precipitous rocky slopes. I tried to ignore the long drop to my left. I prayed my horse’s instinct for self-preservation was greater than its desire to send me tumbling into the raging mountain river some hundreds of metres below.
Of course, there was no let up after this. Just as we were nearing the Tsaartan camp, we could see it in the distance, we encountered severe boggy ground. My horse found itself up to its backside in the mud on many occasions. It was impossible to tell which bits of ground had a covering of six inches of mud, and which hid pools a metre or more in depth. At this point my horse decided to ignore my yelling and screaming, preferring to stand still and wonder which way to go next. My local guide came to my rescue and found me an equally boggy and hazardous route. This further ‘cemented’ my relationship with my horse, however I was grateful to be led by an experienced horseman during this, and some of the more challenging parts of this journey.
Despite this, we did make it to the Tsaartan camp. However, time was of the essence, so after a short break for lunch and some photo opportunities with cute reindeer, some entertaining repartee with the local people, and a chat with the local shaman, it was time to leave. Of course I now had an idea of what to expect on the return journey.
At the end of the day I resisted the urge to utter sentences like, ‘Ahhhh my knees’ or, ‘I have chafing’ or, ‘I can’t walk anymore’. No, instead I walked confidently to my tent showing no signs of protesting joints. To prove my fitness I went through two or three rounds of traditional Mongolian wrestling with my guide. I think that being dumped on my back a few times may even have loosened my aching muscles and realigned my spine.
As day three dawned I tried to ignore my aching limbs and back, now unsure whether the wrestling had been wise, and stoically mounted my horse once more. I wondered whether my look of supreme confidence fooled anybody. Our guide was obviously fooled as he took me for a canter as we neared the end of the journey. He tried to teach me to grip with my thighs and half stand in the saddle like the locals did. I tried, but not having spent a lifetime in the saddle it lasted for only a few minutes before my protesting muscles won the argument. We eventually slowed down and came to our waiting vehicle. It was a day-and-half drive back to Moron airport, but I was, by now, looking forward to getting off my horse and relaxing in a seat. Without me on its back my horse quickly distanced itself from me to avoid the shame being associated with a mere novice. In fact novice was probably too advanced a definition for the horse’s liking.
So the ride finally had come to an end. Despite the aches and pains and moments of terror, it was a great journey! Where else could I have gained such varied experience of riding in such a short period of time? The goal of reaching the reindeers had been attained, but it was the journey that stuck in my mind. With no previous experience, my wife and I had ridden over 100km. Each evening we had sat around a fire waiting for the night’s chill as the sun slowly fell behind the mountains, which engulfed us in their shadows and. We shared vodka and food with our guides and gazed up at the endless clear night sky. We rode in glorious sunshine over land seen by very few people, and we had plenty of laughs along the way. I even learned some Mongolian wrestling moves, so next time I won’t be such a pushover. The memory of the aches and pains quickly fades when I remember those three days. In fact, what aches, pains and physiotherapy bills?
Day one consisted of an introductory riding lesson. I had been told that no previous experience was necessary, however I must admit to feeling some trepidation.
‘Have you ever ridden a horse before?’ the trek leader asked me through the interpreter.
‘Uh…no not really. Well once, when I was about nine years old I did, but only for about 15 minutes.’ I replied.
‘Never mind. It’s easy. Just get on the horse and we’ll go from there.’ I proceeded to get myself up into the saddle and found a set of leather reins being put in my hand. They were more like shoelaces in my opinion.
‘OK Peter, tug left and right to steer, and tug back to stop.’ I nodded and made some tugging gestures to show that I had understood.
‘To get going say “Cho” and give the horse a good jab in the ribs with your heels. If you want to go faster just dig the ribs some more and say “Cho” in a louder voice.’
I waited for some more instruction, but I waited in vain.
Not having any other option, off I went, or rather, off I tried to go. After a couple of unsuccessful attempts at getting my trusty steed to move, one of the local horsemen came to give me a hand. It was then that I learned to trot as we caught up with the rest of the group. To encourage me further, one of the guides was thrown from her horse. However, we don’t talk about that because you just don’t fall off horses in Mongolia, and anyhow she was ok. So no worries!
We rode for six hours until we reached our campsite. On the way I learned how to cross rivers, holding on for dear life. At the end of the day it was compulsory to open a bottle of vodka and share its contents. So that’s what I did.
Day two started with sore knees and some excitement. This was the day that we were going to see the Tsaartan people. After breakfast I got back on the horse, which was now looking at me in a scornful way. I could swear it was smirking, and I knew that it was thinking, ‘Right sonny Jim, you thought you had a tough time yesterday, but just you wait. Hahahahahaha!’ Perhaps this paranoia was just part of the learning experience.
We rode a short way before we entered the forest. It was dense and muddy, and downright boggy in areas. The path wound its way up and down very steep and slippery slopes between the trees. Some trees had spaces of approximately one metre between them through which the path went. My horse, bless him, thought it was entertaining to try scraping me off at these points. I had to either mastering basic steering, or be good at putting my knees back into place. It was usually the latter. It was an evil horse!
Once out of the forest we proceeded up precipitous rocky slopes. I tried to ignore the long drop to my left. I prayed my horse’s instinct for self-preservation was greater than its desire to send me tumbling into the raging mountain river some hundreds of metres below.
Of course, there was no let up after this. Just as we were nearing the Tsaartan camp, we could see it in the distance, we encountered severe boggy ground. My horse found itself up to its backside in the mud on many occasions. It was impossible to tell which bits of ground had a covering of six inches of mud, and which hid pools a metre or more in depth. At this point my horse decided to ignore my yelling and screaming, preferring to stand still and wonder which way to go next. My local guide came to my rescue and found me an equally boggy and hazardous route. This further ‘cemented’ my relationship with my horse, however I was grateful to be led by an experienced horseman during this, and some of the more challenging parts of this journey.
Despite this, we did make it to the Tsaartan camp. However, time was of the essence, so after a short break for lunch and some photo opportunities with cute reindeer, some entertaining repartee with the local people, and a chat with the local shaman, it was time to leave. Of course I now had an idea of what to expect on the return journey.
At the end of the day I resisted the urge to utter sentences like, ‘Ahhhh my knees’ or, ‘I have chafing’ or, ‘I can’t walk anymore’. No, instead I walked confidently to my tent showing no signs of protesting joints. To prove my fitness I went through two or three rounds of traditional Mongolian wrestling with my guide. I think that being dumped on my back a few times may even have loosened my aching muscles and realigned my spine.
As day three dawned I tried to ignore my aching limbs and back, now unsure whether the wrestling had been wise, and stoically mounted my horse once more. I wondered whether my look of supreme confidence fooled anybody. Our guide was obviously fooled as he took me for a canter as we neared the end of the journey. He tried to teach me to grip with my thighs and half stand in the saddle like the locals did. I tried, but not having spent a lifetime in the saddle it lasted for only a few minutes before my protesting muscles won the argument. We eventually slowed down and came to our waiting vehicle. It was a day-and-half drive back to Moron airport, but I was, by now, looking forward to getting off my horse and relaxing in a seat. Without me on its back my horse quickly distanced itself from me to avoid the shame being associated with a mere novice. In fact novice was probably too advanced a definition for the horse’s liking.
So the ride finally had come to an end. Despite the aches and pains and moments of terror, it was a great journey! Where else could I have gained such varied experience of riding in such a short period of time? The goal of reaching the reindeers had been attained, but it was the journey that stuck in my mind. With no previous experience, my wife and I had ridden over 100km. Each evening we had sat around a fire waiting for the night’s chill as the sun slowly fell behind the mountains, which engulfed us in their shadows and. We shared vodka and food with our guides and gazed up at the endless clear night sky. We rode in glorious sunshine over land seen by very few people, and we had plenty of laughs along the way. I even learned some Mongolian wrestling moves, so next time I won’t be such a pushover. The memory of the aches and pains quickly fades when I remember those three days. In fact, what aches, pains and physiotherapy bills?
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