Laundry

I've been in the middle east for 2 weeks now and in this sweat dripping region not managed to get my washing done once.

Sure I could pay for the hotel to do my washing, but with each piece costing the same as your average MP's salary to get clean, I was far from comfortable with throwing any more money down that hole.

On a side note, do you think MP's would cut the benefit if that's what they earned for being dutiful representatives of the community? I think not. I think you'd find most beneficiaries would suddenly have free access to penthouse inner city living.

Anyway, rather than have to dig out a kidney with a spoon in order to get my pants clean, I have instead spent considerable time finding a nearby laundromat.

When first I heard rumour of this divine quarter I sought its location from the helpful staff here at the hotel. Except no-one at the hotel knew what I was talking about, but were more than happy to point me in a myriad of directions.

I've thus spent most of my frugal days off exploring the city in a vain attempt to locate anywhere that could make my shirts stop sticking to me like some kind of sci-fi exo-jelly, each futile step only adding to my already icky predicament.

Desperation came in the form of a footbath full of my undies, an absurd attempt at trying to hold out as long as I could against the organ harvesting nature of the hotel coffers. In the process I managed to flood my bathroom floor and break the showerhead off, so all in all a pretty successful day.

While the laundry soap I bought was effective, drying my undies proved to be anything but. The irony that the desert outside could dry my unmentionables in mere seconds, but that I was forever separated from this blessing by my airlock of a hotel suite, was not lost on me.

I wouldn't exchange my pure air conditioned paradise for anything, except maybe some clean undies.

I have been absolutely parsimonious with my last two pairs of gruts. I've not worn them around my room and have avoided being outside in them as much as humanly possible. Even at work I have only chosen to sit in the breathable nylon thatched chairs, fearing anything cushy would only lead to perspiration no matter how minor.

This entire time my other five pairs have lived the high life, strung ineffectively across the air conditioning duct. There I hoped moving air would dry them quickly and enable me to move more freely without being fraught over bum sweat and tears. To no avail.

Crucially while preparing myself by the hotel's back door for another trek into the unknown, a kind chap asked me where I was heading, when I said I didn't know and explained why, he pointed to the building next door and said "there it is". I've not wanted to punch and kiss someone all in the same moment before, so did neither, in fact I don't think I properly uttered a response of any kind, just swallowed my emotions, turned and left.

Sure enough the building next door has a laundromat and while not cheap, is certainly not in the league of having to have children to sell them off to afford their services.

However the hours they keep, despite the proclamations of their signage, are irregular. On no fewer than six occasions did I venture there only to find them closed. On the one occasion I did find them open and hurried home to gather my clothes, they were closed by the time I got back.

Then came Tuesday, sure enough they weren't open when I bundled up my belongings to take them for a walk, but "lo" they were open upon my return two hours later. My joy was unparallelled and the man behind the counter did very well to avoid a hug, he was fortunate his confused face from my constant thanks put me off him.

And so today, Thursday, I returned, not once, not twice, but thrice. Not because they were shut, but because on some level I managed to forget my inventory slip on two separate occasions. This despite one of those occasions being me returning solely to my hotel and to my room for this specific purpose.

Somehow I managed to come in, pick up the slip, move it to the other side of the room and forget it again. I see this playing out like an episode of 'Unsolved Mysteries', but was no less amusing for the door staff or laundry people.

The other side of the coin is that I have an inner ear issue from an accident I had when I was 12. What it means is that I don't always balance.. good, and even standing up can be a bit of a rollercoaster. Riding an elevator is always a mixed bag and after five trips of 23 floors I was walking absolutely sideways. Old Wobbles was getting the looks from the locals as I negotiated the footpath like it was the deck of a vessel in high seas.

But it was worth it, well not exactly $100 worth it, but dammit if I'm not happy to have clean everything again. For the next week I can look forward to having clothes which don't require me peeling them off.

Then repeat cycle.

Tummyhair

My tummy is getting hairy.

I don't know what set this off, but after 33 years of body baldness things they are a changin'. Feel free to sing that however you wish.

In just a handful of months I've gone from squeaky clean bald boy to slowing enveloped fluff man.

I honestly thought after having been overlooked for puberty that my one saving grace would be the avoidance of unsightly body hair. Now in a cruel twist of fate just as my metabolism hits an all-time low and I begin to spread like I can't believe it's not butter, I am now burdened with extra hair I don't use and never needed.

I suppose this decline began in my mid twenties, a slight row of darker than normal hairs reaching above my belt in an orderly fashion reaching ever closer to my belly button. This is where the advance stopped. Now, as it has begun again encroaching ever further north, I can only assume the hairs went down into my navel and got lost, slowly circling for ten years and asking each other if they hadn't passed that bit of lint before.

I now consider this to be an all out assault. The forest reclaiming the desert (like that ever happens in this world). My body is defying nature and rising up against me, even though I did nothing to provoke it.

The hair itself is spreading in all directions directly out from my belly button, squads appear to be heading both east and west, while several do-gooders stay behind to help the women and children build a city and the main attack force slowly advance north.

Here, just below my man mountains, they have set up camp while advanced parties of their darkest tallest warriors have set up outposts around my nipples.

Runners appear to be relaying messages between these two outposts, while covert operations take place behind me.

I really do hate to think of the breadth and scale of that operation, hidden as it is in total darkness.

If for whatever reason they make a tactical move for control and strangle me in my sleep tonight, know this, I didn't want this fight and was always a conscientious objector.

Life

A week ago a friend of mine passed away. We weren't close, we hadn't spoken in a couple of years, but she was a constant figure over the years as we knew many of the same people and she dated a good friend of mine for some time.

When young people are taken too soon you feel robbed, you're left with an empty chasm and your heart falls right into it.

A couple of months ago I saw this person pop up on facebook and I went to say hello.. I stopped myself, thinking it had been too long and it would be too weird.

My advice to everyone is not to wait, not to hold back.. she never did.

I can't imagine what my friends and her family are going through, but I'm sure they know just how well she spent her time on this Earth and that will be celebrated tomorrow.

She lived a full life and spent her time discerningly. Those of us lucky to have been given any of it are very fortunate indeed.

Today

Today was a hard day. I had to work with a lot of grueling pictures out of Syria for several hours and I feel physically sick.

Two shots stuck with me the most, one of a man standing with three others when he is unexpectedly shot in the head and just drops to the ground mid conversation, and the other of a small girl singing to the camera when a missile flies in and explodes next to them killing her.

Both of these images will haunt me for a while, especially the stuff I removed which couldn't be shown on air.

I'm glad I get to help tell these stories to the world, I almost feel like I am doing something useful, almost, I wish I knew it made a difference to these people's lives. When you see what people are going through at the hands of governments, religious factions and corporations day after day, it becomes very hard to stomach the way we ignore their struggle and accept the excess with which we live in the west.

Beach

I want to write, but I'm soooo tired. In short, I found a laundromat close to where I'm staying so I don't have to be extorted for clean undies. I went for a walk around the embassies and met many many security guards who wanted to know what I was doing, "Going for a walk" is apparently an acceptable if surprising response. Some of the embassies were remarkable buildings, which I thought the best of was Kuwait, until I came across Iran. However, these signs were everywhere and I was being watched like a hawk.

Beach wasn't much to write home about.

I'm pretty sure some other things happened, but I'm too tired to remember what they were. I ate some Frosties. I saw a child driving a truck.

Oh and I saw a man eating KFC and blowing his nose at the same time.