Travel Diary - Day Five

Day Five

To say I’m running on empty would be to put it mildly. Here’s why.

Last night I left for the airport at 2pm to be in plenty of time for the flight. Actually the taxi arrived 20min early and I had only just finished packing my stuff and moving it toward the door. Nothing like cutting things fine. The taxi trip was fine and then the story really begins. I went up to the counter to check in my bag and after a couple of minutes of playing around the person on the counter told me that I couldn’t travel because I didn’t have a visa for Trinidad. What!!! That’s not what any of my information had been. They were really friendly and helpful and spent quite a lot of time trying to confirm what they thought and looking for ways around it. In the end they refused to let me on the flight and thus began a day of phone calls – I have racked up in the vicinity of $NZ200 in phone calls today – just as well CWM have said they are paying!! But then I would have had to do it anyway.

The first thing was to go back into town, find somewhere to dump my bags, rest for a couple of hours and then get to the NZ Embassy. Found a youth hostel in the centre of the downtown area that had a room and got there just after 4am. Crashed for 3 hours before getting up, having breakfast and heading off to find the consulate. Breakfast was cornflakes and milk. Sounds innocuous enough until you realise that the cornflakes are coated in sugar and the milk is more like NZ farm milk, also with a liberal dose of sugar. One of the most sickly breakfasts I have ever had. I forced it down because I didn’t know how far I would be walking or when I would eat next.

Went to the subway and caught the wrong train – still confused by the signs – got on the right train and emerged in a part of the city I had seen briefly on the bus tour but was completely disoriented. Spent the next 20 minutes trying to figure out where I was, walking in an expanding circle. Finally found something I could identify on the map to realise that I was twice as far away as when I had come out of the subway. To make matters worse, just as I was nearing my objective, still looking completely confused with my map out a friendly and very helpful gentleman offered to help and gave me directions to the British Arts Centre, then took me there in person, in exactly the wrong direction. Fortunately the centre wasn’t far and so once I realised the mistake I only took a couple of minutes to retrace. From there it was about 200m to the target.

The people at the Embassy, Angela was who I was dealing with, were unfailingly helpful, although it was a little disconcerting to be left on my own in the lobby for nearly half an hour without explanation before she appeared with the information I needed. We went through everything and she went off and got several more bits of info before sending me on my way. Getting back to the hostel was easy and soon I was heading for the phones. By the time I have called the travel company multiple times – about 6 all up I think, Ruth twice, once to moan, once to give her a much more positive update, 4 to CWM numbers in London and several to local numbers I had certainly racked up the phone time, and the bill.

In the end I returned to the airport and spoke to the people in the airline office. They began work and after a conference that lasted for nearly half an hour they came out and told me that everything was under control, that they would put me on the next flight and there would be no cost to me. They gave me window seats and paid for my taxi back into town and the return to the airport and have organised a chit to pay for my airport tax. And in every way they were unfailingly polite and friendly.

I got back to town, more phone calls to sort out the next stage of my trip from Port of Spain to Georgetown, something for lunch that I didn’t really feel like eating – a huge and very nice but completely unwanted omelette (actually I think that was before I went to the airport the second time), something for dinner I didn’t really feel like eating – this time a ham and tomato roll with ham that was unlike any ham I have ever eaten and I’m not that keen on trying it again either.

Somewhere in there I organised to withdraw lots of pesos and change them into $US, a quite bizarre process that required using two different banks – go figure. I needed the $US to show that I was not going to cost the Trinidad government anything for my stay (of a whole 10 hours). Now that everything is organised properly I have a little under 4 hours at the Port of Spain airport and the whole conversation has been rendered completely unnecessary. Never would have picked that one eh!

So the taxi driver picks me up for the airport – 20 minutes early again – just as I am about try to track down where my final ticket arrangements from Trinidad to Guyana (which is pronounced here as Weeana). Since I am leaving early I’ll get to the airport with time to spare and I can use the communications centre to chase up the ticket and print out the result. No problem J.

The plane is packed and the queue is miles long when I get to it, so I decide to write some of this while I’m waiting (notice the change in tense). Unfortunately the queue is only getting longer so I decide that I’m going to wait in the business queue. They have someone checking people’s credentials to make sure they don’t cheat. Turns out I’m special – not business class L but special for all that. So I get to go nearly to the front of the queue, which makes me feel a little embarrassed for all those who are waiting patiently in line, but then I justify it with the thought that I’ve waited a whole lot longer than they have. Actually that doesn’t work for me very well but it’s as good as I’ve got. Anyway, the girl at the counter makes the comment that they’ve all be briefed about me and she does a fine job of sorting me out, evening putting my bags in the priority queue so they come off the plane quicker – a subtle benefit when I just have to wait another 4 hours for my next flight but there we go. And I got my leg space too – major bonus on a packed flight!!

The rest is pretty uneventful really. Wander through seeming miles of empty space to get to each of the various immigration and bag checks, through seeming further miles of perfume, makeup, expensive (majorly) bags, clothes and chocolates to sit and wait in a lounge that isn’t actually too bad. In fact I would rate it rather well. And the café does an ace hot chocolate!

So I think I’ve had about 6 or 7 hours sleep in the last 60, but I’m feeling OK. Looking forward to arriving in Guyana. I don’t think I’ll be overly sociable when I get there, but actually despite the frustrations, and upsets there have been a bunch of good points too. When I was feeling quite down about everything earlier in the day I kind of mentioned to God that it would be quite cool to have a decent conversation in English. On the way to the airport in the afternoon I was with two Australian guys from WA and we had a great conversation about travel, cricket and life in general. Then on the way back from the airport my driver was a brand new Christian. When he found out that I was a Christian he excitedly told he was too and put on a CD with a whole bunch of Hillsong United songs in Spanish that he wanted to sing with me, he in Spanish and me in English. Nice. And the taxi driver on my final trip back to the airport couldn’t speak English but promptly offered me some sweets, and when we arrived at the airport insisted that I take the rest of the bag. He hardly said anything but he was really good to just be around. I’d like to be like that some day.

Well, I’m about done for now. I’ll fire this off and I expect by the time that’s done we’ll be boarding.

Musings - on war, violence, capitalism - little things

Musings

I’ve been thinking about war and stuff. What got me started was the way so many of Buenos Aires streets and monuments and parks and… are named for generals or battles or revolution, you get my drift. I’m not sure I’ve seen anything quite like it. But it’s not just that the roads and parks are named this way. The tour I went on spend more time pointing out statues to war heroes and martyrs than any other one thing.

Then take the national obsession with Tango. It is ostensibly a dance about love, but much of the dance is built around control, and the history of Tango carries a sense of unresolved violence in the way people treat each other, particularly the men of the women. Then you look at how Tango grew out of grinding poverty and you are reminded of the violence done by the rich to the poor, even as they claim to offer a hand up with the right hand while stealing any hope of real freedom that would allow equality with those who consider themselves ‘better’ with the left.

And what about the violence we do to each other in attempting to speak and be heard. Those who are not heard feel they need to fight to be taken notice of. Those in power feel they need to fight lest there be seen an alternative pathway that would diminish or remove their power. The demonstration I saw in BA was a fine example of this, protestors on the one side representing a deeply felt need to be heard while riot police stood on the other on the grounds that those who should be listening felt unsafe. How can that be unless violence is perpetrated in the simple act of ignoring the cares and needs of those less well off.

Then I read a quite unrelated article about how Britain remains deeply affected by the events of the two world wars and that it colours the thinking even of those for whom the wars exist only in history books. And that took me to another article about Russia and Europe’s relationship with Poland and the bizarre celebration of the invasion of Poland by Germany in 1939. What I fail to comprehend in all of this is why you would celebrate the ultimate monument to violence of one person toward another unless you have every intention of having another go at some point, perhaps not in exactly the same way, but certainly with the same underlying intentions of imposing your will on another without their consent or desire.

That led to thinking about how the media at least portrays American thinking about war and the way that it almost seems all-pervasive. Then before I got too wrapped up in my own goodness of being I thought about the growing scenes in NZ around ANZAC day and the desperate will with which we hang on to a defence force that we know to be utterly defenceless should push come to shove. And what about the constant talk about the ‘Nanny State’ we see in the media? Is this a way of deadening our senses to something deeply offensive to true freedom by hiding it in the open? If we talk about it enough with just the right amount of seriousness and tongue in cheek mixed together does it break down our resistance to the point that when things become really serious and the state begins dictating not minor things but the very essence of what and why we believe what we do about life, faith and the future, that we simply shrug our shoulders and allow it to happen with little more than a broken shrug of our shoulders?

Taking all of that together, and I don’t claim to be original on this, it’s just what is running through my mind at the moment, as a human race we seem to be intent on defining ourselves through violence. And lest some of us try to back out of this one, how about the violence we do to each other through what we so politely call the ‘Free Market.’ Never mind the few, and it is a few in the greater scheme of things, cases of physical abuse that we so loudly decry when they are flashed across our television screens. And leaving aside the murders and rapes, the car accidents and occasional student riots. The deepest violence we do to each other is in basic denial of the freedom to exist from day to day, month to month, year to year with sufficient to supply our needs. We loudly trumpet the capitalist mantra that demands that the strong grow stronger and the weak band together to support the elite in their excess. And we do violence to each other in the process.

Travel Diary - Day Four

Day Four

OK, not sure if I want to own up to this one, but here goes. I arrived at the airport in time, although I was getting worried that I would be late and that wasn’t a good feeling! Made my way up to the counter, handed over my passport and ticket information to find out that I was a day early – I really did have a whole extra day. AAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!

To back up a little, one of the buttons on my watch isn’t working so I couldn’t change the time to Argentina time. So I bought a cheap, $20 watch so I could have proper time – especially important given the last couple of days. What I didn’t realise was that I managed to accidentally set the date wrong – I mean what digital watch these days expects you to set the day and the date separately?? Whatever, my bad. That meant that when I looked at my new watch the date was a day ahead. I didn’t check my laptop because I hadn’t got around to changing the time and date – figured I would leave that ‘til I got to Guyana. The guy who checked my ticket so he could ring the taxi didn’t notice, not that I blame him, it was my fault all the way.

Sooo…an early morning trip to the airport and then another back again, for the grand total of $78. What a waste of time and money! So I’m sitting here writing this up waiting for another taxi. I’m kind of pleased I’m leaving tonight – there is something of a party going on in the room next door and I’m not sad to be missing trying to sleep through it.

Otherwise it has been an OK day. I slept until 10. Had a shower and breakfast and then headed into town for a bit more sightseeing. Decided that the weather would be OK so didn’t take my $6 umbrella or my hat – bad call, but we’re over it. Took the train to a station I hadn’t tried before and found myself next to Plaza de Mayo – named for the date of Argentina’s independence from Spain. (On the topic of independence and other war related thoughts you might like to look at what I have posted on my blog. It’s a work in progress but some stuff worth thinking about.) On arriving I could hear a band playing and thinking that sounded interesting I wandered in the general direction to find large numbers of riot police and barriers arrayed around the Plaza, and I was in between. Fortunately, no-one else seemed in the slightest bit concerned and I just followed people who were clearly about their business and wound my way out as quickly as I could without running. Acutally the band was quite good and as I did a rotation of the block so I could look from a distance a large demonstration marched into the Plaza. Well it looked large to me, maybe a few thousand people. They were all waving flags but seemed pretty relaxed from where I could see.

I walked around and into the big Cathedral that sits on the square. I could watch from there while having a ready avenue of retreat. It got uninteresting pretty quickly so I spent some time wandering around the Cathedral. Some beautiful art and a really great ‘Stations of the Cross’. Nice to be in a peaceful space like that. After that I wandered around some of the side streets before making my way to the other side of the Plaza. On the way I crossed the road behind the demonstration as it wended its way off into the distance. The place looked like it had snowed from all the paper on the ground – turned out, at least from my non-existent Spanish, that it was an election campaign. Makes our elections look rather tame!

I managed to find my way from there to the Russian Orthodox Cathedral and had a wander through that. Remarkable how similar to the Roman Catholic and yet how different. It would be good, with plenty of time to go through the two a few more times and ponder the similarities and differences. If only I had all the time in the world J. Just across the road was a restaurant where I could use my Visa card – useful because after last night’s escapade I was nearly out of pesos. Waved my finger at the menu without having any idea what it would bring to find I had ordered this amazing chicken and bacon and vegetable dish that was exquisitely cooked and came with a drink as well. All for 25 pesos – just under $10. NICE!

By then it had started to rain so I found my way up to a subway station, another one I hadn’t visited and came back to the hotel. Got here in time to ring Ruth and the kids before they went to work/school. Missed Tim – he needs to get out of bed earlier!!J!! Then went down to pay for the phone call and nearly had a heart attack at paying $75 for 16 minutes. Last time I’ll call anyone from a hotel! But I remember Dad telling me a long time ago that whatever it costs, you ring. So I did. And I think it was worth every penny – Tim you had better be up next time!!!

So I slept for a while, wrote for a while, read for a while, watched a movie on TV, went out to get some pizza, or something like it, not sure what you would really call it, booked my taxi and here I am. Much less stressed than last night, that’s for sure. In the end a pretty good day. Hmmm, that’s an improvement from what I wrote earlier. That’s good.

Travel Diary - Day Three

Day Three

Well…got up at 7:15 to catch the train at 8am. Found that breakfast wasn’t ready that early. Took the train – three different lines, and caught the wrong one for the third line. Fortunately the stop I got off at was only 10min walk and I got there with time to spare. Then wanted breakfast – I broke my unspoken rule to only eat Argentinian because Burger King was the only thing near enough to get there and back before the tour bus arrived. In the end it was OK because a BK breakfast amounted to $2.30 for two small, sweet croissants and a cup of coffee. Dumped the coffee and the croissants weren’t too bad, and it wasn’t BK as we know it so I’m still counting it as Argentinian.

The tour traipsed us around the city – I had seen large sections of it in my wanderings yesterday. I would have enjoyed it more but the tour guide’s voice grated somewhat. Oh well…anyway, for those who like statistics, the city proper has 3 million people living in it with 12 million in the greater BA region. They have 44 thousand taxi cabs, and sometimes it looks like it too! The world’s widest avenue is 144m wide – with the traffic you just about need a taxi to cross it. And one of the streets we went on has 14 lanes in places, and it is one way!!!! Give me Dunedin traffic any day!

The ‘All day tour’ finished at 12:30pm and we were given the choice of being dropped off back at the hotel or being left in town. We had just gone past the national Museum of Fine Arts so I elected to stay there and went for a wander. The Museum was pretty good, but I was rather hungry by then and probably didn’t appreciate it as much as I might have. I could have caught a bus into the middle of the city but I started walking and didn’t stop until I got there.

Having managed to get my time differences thoroughly mixed up yet again I called home to get a very dozy Ruth complaining about me calling at 5:15am. Duh! Again!! Still, at least I got someone this time. I carried on walking for a while until I found a shop that sold hotdogs – well not really as we know them, but near enough. All sorts of weird sauces and the bread was sweet. Seems to be a thing here – nearly all of the bread is sweet – not my thing really.

Caught the train (using the Subte) and managed to get confused by the directions – I must be suffering from jetlag – it’s been two days and I am still confused by the signs in the subway stations, and that’s NOT just because they’re in Spanish either! Finally found my way back to the hotel and had time for a nap before my Tango lesson (makes me sound old).

The lesson was fun, the basic Tango is quite simple, it gets harder from there, and from there we went into dinner. Our meal began about 8:45pm and the show started at 10pm. The steak was 3cm thick and tasted great and the show was fantastic. I thought it would just be a bunch of dancing but they had made a story of it (no idea what the story was because it was all in Spanish, but it looked like it was a good one, and all the Spanish speaking guests seemed to enjoy it). The dancing was superb and they had all of us in on it at one point or another, much to our surprise I might add.

The show finished at 11pm and I settled in to go to sleep before thinking I might just check my flight times. Just as well – I had in my head I had another day here – would have been nice, but turned out that I had a plane to catch in 4 hours. Whoops! That was a close call. Can’t leave me anywhere!!! So I rushed down to the office which seems to have someone around at all hours of the night and they booked me a taxi to the airport and then I ducked upstairs to pack. In the end I had plenty of time – at least enough to write this great essay and watch most of a movie as well. Still, I don’t think I want to make that kind of mistake too often, it could have been seriously embarrassing.

But it wasn’t and it isn’t, at least not as long as I don’t think about it too much. And it’s all good and in a few minutes I have a taxi to catch. Just enough time to send this and get underway. Doubt I’ll write much before I get to Guyana so it might be a day or so till then.

Travel Diary - Day Two

Day Two

What a day! Decided to walk to town, had walked around 2km in the rain before I realised I was going the wrong way. Walked most of that back, following an abortive attempt to hire a cab – the driver couldn’t speak English and couldn’t explain why he wouldn’t take me where I wanted to go. It did highlight something I have noticed though. I explain to people that I don’t understand Spanish and then spend the next couple of minutes listening to a stream of Spanish explaining everything I wanted to know, at least I think that’s what they’re saying, they could just be abusing me, but I guess, what I don’t know mostly won’t hurt me J

I finally came across a railway station and after some help from a student who spoke as much English as I speak Spanish managed to find my way into one of the major shopping plazas. I had a lovely time finding my way around, had a great meal for about $6.80 (half of that was for the 500ml bottle of water – I think I’ll take my own from now on). Bought some clothes for the Tango lesson, dinner and show that I’m going to tomorrow. Got back mid-afternoon and chilled out for a couple of hours. Then I headed back to the railway station to find my long-promised steak dinner. On the way I thought I would try and ring Ruth and the kids. Duh! Had my times completely wrong and couldn’t understand why no-one would answer the phone. Found an amazing steak dinner – a huge piece of meat with a mustard sauce that was quite exceptional. It came with potatoes in creamed spinach which were rather delightful all on their own. And all this for less than $NZ20. I love this place!!

Having said that, I have to admit that if I was staying for much longer I would be heading to a language school – it is so frustrating not understanding what people are saying. I am picking things up as I go, but there are an awful lot of words that zoom past without a hint of me understanding what is being said.

After dinner I continued to wander and came across a market that went for well over a kilometre and I didn’t even walk the full length. It was amazing what was laid out for display, although it was also amazing just how many stalls had the exact same stuff on them. I picked up a couple of knick-knacks but mostly it was just fascinating wandering along, looking at the wares and watching the people in the act of selling them. I must have a dose of my father in me…

Found my way back to the train station – the place is all well marked and as I have gradually got my bearings I can see that it is pretty easy to get around, although the bus system is quite out of my ken at this point of things. It probably will still be out there when I leave – the trains are good for what I want and the station is only 150m down the road from where I am staying.

My biggest disappointment, though not surprise, is that while the leather goods here, especially the leather jackets are much cheaper than in NZ they are still well out of my price range. Oh well. I wasn’t really expecting much else.

So a big day tomorrow – I have an all day tour followed by Tango lesson, posh dinner and Tango show. Should be good!!!

Travel Diary - Day One

Day One

As trips go, not particularly eventful. The plane from Dunedin was delayed 30 minutes on the tarmac to take on extra fuel. Then the plane in Auckland was delayed 2 hours for who knows what reason. I did get to see a whole lot of old friends for the short time I was in Papakura. It was the local Boys Brigade 60^th Anniversary and there were lots of people I hadn’t seen in a long time. That was good.

Back to the plane, we finally boarded a little after 8pm. The plane was packed full. I had been given a window seat and when I got there a lady had already made herself at home. I couldn’t be bothered making anything of it and in the end that was a good thing because it was much easier to get up and wander around from there. Her name was Vanessa and it turned out she had done a theology degree, had taught English in Japan and was heading to BA with the thought of doing the same thing there. We covered some pretty deep theology as we went and easily filled three hours of conversation. Most of the rest of the flight was spent sleeping or reading.

Arriving in BA and processing through customs was a piece of cake – they didn’t even look at my luggage. I found a bus/taxi combo to get me to my hotel – just under $20 for a 75min bus ride and then a shared taxi. The most interesting sight from the bus, apart from all the motorcyclists in shorts and t-shirts and no helmet, was hundreds of people picnicking on the green belts beside the motorway – and that includes the green bits in the cloverleaf areas. The taxi ride was something else – why pay for a roller coaster ride when you can travel by taxi in BA! Whew! But it was definitely fun.

My hotel room is rather nice and even has a couple of TV channels in English with Spanish subtitles. I don’t think it would take all that long to learn the language if I was going to be here any length of time. There are enough similarities to English and sufficient translations all over the place that I would pick it up fairly quickly. The great thing about my room is that it has an airconditioner. I enjoy the heat (it was 33° when we arrived) but having it a little cooler to sleep is definitely a good point.

Dinner, at 9pm, was pizza from a pizzeria just around the corner from the hotel. Good pizza, if a little much – a very similar setup to what Ruth and I experienced in Rome – you could order a piece of ready cooked pizza that was then heated up for you, or you could order a full pizza. The pizza was good and the chef was a rugby fanatic who wanted to talk about the Pumas and the All Blacks and how the All Blacks were the greatest team on the planet – he obviously hasn’t been following the Tri-nations recently!

The bed is decent – I’ll have no problem sleeping on it while I’m here. The only real hassle so far is that a button on my watch has died and I can’t change the time – just means I have to constantly covert – not a major, I may even just go without for a few days, but a pain nonetheless.

Phew! It's been a while. Been a lot on and a lot to think about. Here's some notes I made for my PhD last week...

Bringing all this to a practical level raises the very real problem of dealing with change how the church in its broader sense deals with changing cultural expectations, differing interpretations of what is ‘normal’, increasingly powerful advocacy on the part of minority groups, rapidly moving patterns of socialisation, radical economic and political swings, and much more. When tied in with the challenges that are brought with new theological approaches to old problems, changing expectations of how the church should look and feel, constant change in how professional ministers are trained, demand for greater participation in leadership, to mention just a few current topics of conversation it becomes clear that a point of liminality has been reached that cannot be ignored.[1] The impact of this upon the church in terms of church planting is to cast doubt on how things have been done in the past and to raise questions about what the church might have to offer to society both institutionally and socially.

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[1] Alan J. Roxburgh, The Missionary Congregation, Leadership and Liminality (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 1997), 38-9. Roxburgh develops the idea of liminality in relation to society as a whole, that there is no longer any fixed point of reference, of a central point that can be used to gain meaning.