The Native Iowan

While I was in my hermitage the town was rioting…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WAM-5nbCSv0&noredirect=1

http://tvnz.co.nz/world-news/flood-victims-riot-in-solomon-islands-5974284

Sore lo Solomoni

It’s been over a month since huge amounts of rain caused huge amounts of damage in Honiara.

And my tank is empty.

I find reference to some 1500mm, 1.5 meters, or almost 6 feet of rain falling in this region the 3rd, 4th and 5th of April. That is huge, huge, huge in real terms… 6 feet of water falling in under 72 hours… !!!

I bought water yesterday.

It rained a bit last night. It has been threatening to rain all day. The sky is promising. There is weather in the wind…

But it only drizzles here.

I have been bouncing around Honiara these last few days. I admit I am not “good” for the long, difficult trips “through” town. I guess I am a fair-weather friend of Honiara. I park at the post office and ensure I don’t need anything from the east side of the Mataniko. If I do I send my Admin Manager/ my daughter.

What do I see…

Lots of people. Thats for sure. This is not the Honiara of the 80s or 90s or even the 2000s. This is a busy, active, mobile Honiara.

I was thinking today, as I sat in the very nice and clean Solomon Telekom offices getting my phone service sorted out, how bitch’n the girls look. I’m not coming from a dirty old-guy/ perv position. No, the girls, ladies, females of the town are by and large pretty classy looking. High-ish heels, nice outfits, big smiles and nice hair-doos. I like it a lot considering that when I hit these streets the female standard dress code was a cotton mother hubbard type affair. Straight from the methodist style gurus of the day.

I see a middle class. I see an urban middle class.

I bumped into an old buddy from the Gizo days of the 80s… Gabby was a police man. Originally from Makira, Gabe was walking past Rove on his way to town. I surprised him by calling his name. It’d been a decade or two since we have met. So I holler at him as he walks to the main road… An ugly white guy in a dirty truck… I think my voice more than my looks triggered his recognition. It was a short but meaningful encounter: Gabe is retired and happy to be such. He owns a place above Rove, has educated 4 kids through university level, and now helps care for some 6 grandkids. I asked him about “home”, going “back” to Makira. His reply? “Here now home, ia”.

I see a lot of hanging around. A lot of what appears to be aimless loitering. A policeman I know calls it loitering with intent. I’m not sure. I smell a boredom. A less than articulate-able illness. Most young guys I have seen show no sign of self-respect in their dress. I, perhaps unfairly, feel a loss, a helpless, a disenfranchisement which goes to the male bone of these young men. But I see that childish Solomoni twinkle in they eyes and capitalise on it.

My upper body is 100% inked. It’s taken me 30 years or so to achieve this but the body-art from my elbows, up and over to my chest and back are, I feel, quite eye-catching. My ink is of the Maori tradition, Te Moko”. Lots of curves and obscure symbols, flowing like the ocean or the fern or the meaning of life. All in monochrome. No cartoons, no names or colour. Just, what I like to feel is, traditional ink.

I “wear” my ink so am knocking around town in a cotton singlet. I get a lot of these “lost-guys” engaging with me solely because  they are attracted to the ink. I note that most westerners will basically ignore the ink. Act as though its common or nothing to comment upon. But here it is different. The tribal nature of my ink brings smiles n comments. So I briefly engage with a fair number of folks as I walk Mendana Avenue. And it is positive.

The roads are dirty, dusty, unkept, uncared for. The round-a-bouts n median strips are often sponsored by some business. These are rather nice but they glare in the light of the unkept-ness of it all.

There are terrible blots, like festering sores, on the landscape… The concrete monstrosity that used to be Town Ground.  A general con deal. Who was conning whom is unclear but the town lost a parkland and now has a huge, ugly, unfinished mess. As well, the old, old, old buildings that are still in use accost the senses. The old Pink Palaces are slums of a highaccord. Lord knows what the interior of these places are but I’d think that 4 stories of life without power or water may be a bit dire.

There is not adequate parking in town, and with the large number of cars on the minimal roads, the inevitable result is chaos. Cars park on sidewalks, any and all spare mud puddles, and even in the road-way. A lot of town has seen open places, sold off, fenced off and closed to the public. There is little public land any more so a two lane road with parking on the shoulder becomes 2 lanes of confused parking and a snarl or traffic along side.

But I still like it. Though I no longer belong to the culture of the streets of Honiara, I don’t feel threatened. I see a lot of families, young gals, et al walking the byways. I see mostly smiles. And the absence of a smile normally comes from an obviously disgruntled male. I met one on Hibiscus Avenue. A big bloke. A snarl on his face. My guess is he was a bit drunk. He made a bee-line for me as I walked between cars parked on the side of the road. A white man was a target for this guy and I was it. As I came around the cars and walked up to him, his face changed to a beaming smile. My ink had made him smile. He wanted some. He wanted to talk, be my friend.

And it made me smile.

Next week!

We all do it. Don’t lie.

And this is what it looks like…

A broken right toe for my efforts. Hurts like the dickens…

I guess this land, filled with poetry and raw beauty, brings the best out of me…

A hot morning. Blistering sun and it’s only 9am. The wooden deck is quite hot as I walk to refill my coffee cup. I live in a compound and the kitchen is on the lower level. My house is on the second level. So, cup in hand, I stroll down past the pool.

I am commenting to myself that it is a day filled with humidity. The air is so thick n moist it creates a haze. I glance up and see a large Solomoni Sea Eagle. I originally learned these were called Sanford’s Eagle.  When I arrived in the early 80s these were very rare to see, noting that in my first couple years I only spied, maybe 3 or 4 birds and all in very remote locations. The good news is they are not all that uncommon these days. Something that makes me inordinately hapi.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sanford’s_Sea_Eagle

My biologically correct friends now a days call this the Solomoni Eagle, not sure when or where it got the name change.

So my day starts with a huge smile as I watch this large bird soar above the coast line. A small tug, half way between here and Gela, flashes orange and white in the bright sun.

And thus we have hazy skies, the eagle flies n’ a tug on the water…

Noting of course the pict doesn’t show the eagle or the tug…

more later

Back in Honiara after a couple month absence. Since I was last here we have seen floods, tidal waves, earth quakes n loss n destruction. And it shows… it shows in the topography and the bad roads n the washed out rivers. But, as the Solomons are known for… it does not show in the faces of the people. As far as I can fathom it’s all business as usual in the Big Mango…

The interesting thing about the above shot is two-fold… a) there is a guy sleeping on the pile of rice, and b) in traffic, sitting still, the blue truck has no lights in the rear at all.

I like bill boards as they tell us what is happening in the market place… above is a sign for “Discount Auto” spare parts.

Outside the #9 facility… No Smoking, finally! But it took a bloody big sign.

I like this one because it advertising BIOMETRIC voting casting

Considering it took half an hour/ 30 minutes to travel from the Anglican Church to Town COuncil, the need for a Highway Patrol is real, evident, and immediate

The “new” Commonwealth Avenue

And Point Cruz…

Just doing some work in the shed n have this lineup of “British Babes” to share…

Starting on the left: 63 T120R flat tracker; 1952 stock Thunderbird; 1972 pristine X75 Hurricane; 1957 T100 pre-unit on Norton featherbed frame… an original and illusive Triton; 2013 Thruxton.

For me, from the 52 to the 57 was an amazing period of 2-wheeled speed. The 60s brought more speed and, of course, the 72 was the “last of the mohicans” when it comes to old school Brit babes on 2-wheels.

Ok, So the R9T is getting broke in. Weather has been quite good. A bit on the cold side but clear skies n good riding.

8 year old Mendozza reckons it’s a nice set of wheels…

I am writing this with the intention of posting onto Carpy’s CB Cafe site, thus, I write in public voice, addressing the owner of the site, Mr. Steve Carpenter…

I’m looking for Carpy’s thoughts on this bike. There is a lot good about it but, and I get ahead of myself, there is some bad.

“Carpy” and I share a lot of similar philosophies when it comes to 2-wheels. I really dig his work and have talked bikes and riding with Carpy and know we’re in agreement as per what it means to call ourselves “Cafe Racers”.

The Story:

I recently swapped a lovely but heavy BMW R1200RT SE …

for a 90th anniversary BMW R Nine T …

http://blog.motorcycle.com/2013/10/16/manufacturers/bmw/2014-bmw-r-ninet-celebrates-90-years-bmw-motorrad/

Though a cool, cool bike it is always a bit suss when yet another manufacturer tenders its version of a retro-cafe-racer. I am very much into BMW bikes noting that Carpy and I once agreed they were the “dependable” machines of the old days,before the Japanese 2-wheeled invasion.

I heard of the R9T last year and was told I’d have to wait until March 2014 to see one. I read reviews (good and bad) and contacted the 2 big BMW dealers here putting my name down for a test ride. I even tried getting a sneak preview in the LA BMW shops in March, but no go.

About a month ago my “local’ dealer told me they had a demo model I could ride. I grabbed my helmet n a jacket and drove straight over. And I was impressed. Though not what I call a “cafe-ride” it was a nice bike. Light n fast and balanced, well-balanced, and easy to sit.

So I did a deal to swap my never-used big full-dress tourer for the “NINET”.

I picked mine up last eve and now have 200ks, maybe 2.5 hours in its saddle. And my initial assumption remains… a nice bike but no cafe racer.

The handle bars are too high. I can’t drop my elbows down to my knees. The front foot pegs are too far forward and the back pegs are too high to use as reverse highway pegs. Noting that I can and will make some changes to modify the above referenced dislikes. I’ll make this work but it is not a cafe-racer.

I do like the balance of the bike. It is well powered by a 108hp standard Bmmrr engine. It has a huge tank, 20 litres (something I bemoan about my well used Thruxton whose range is minimal at best), and the ABS brakes are double brembos on front and a decent (which I never use) single disc brake on the rear.

So good speed and good, good braking capabilities.

The R 9 T is a killer bike that rides nice and gets heaps of head-turning attention. It fits nicely in my collection which records the history 2-wheeled speed… the history of man pushing that 2-wheeled envelope… from the 1952 Triumph T Bird, (where it really started in my opinion) to the 1957 Triton, to the 1972 Triumph X-75, to the 2013 Bimota 3D TESI, to the 2013 Thruxton and, now, the 2014 NINET.

Funny ending here is I got a call from the dealer in Brisbane today. Asked if I was interested in a ride on a NINET. I had to tell him I’d just picked mine up and was very pleased with it. Made me smile.

Love that 2-wheeld VRRROOOOMM…

Sitting in Pasadena and am a bit weary.  Just did about 4000 miles of driving in 10 days. Yesterday we did 9 hours of drive time and in the past three days we did over 2000 miles…

Of course this was after a flight from Brisbane to Los Angeles…

So in the past 10 days we have traveled over 11,000 miles.

Like I said… a bit weary…

Packing up for another long-haul.

Lets see, In the last 2 weeks + a couple days, I traveled for about 20 hours from Australia to Pasadena. I then drove about 7 hours to Phoenix. I then undertook a long drive that saw my rental-car break down in Oklahoma after about 12 hours. Then a straight shot back to SoCal which took over 20 hours.

Tomorrow will see another 20 hours or so before I get back to Palmwoods.

Add in there a loss of a day traveling east and the gain of a day traveling west.

So, I guess it’s not all that bad… only 3 solid days of travel, plus some small change.

What an amazing world we live in.

Its 233am. I am sitting in Pasadena, CA. Been here a couple of days. And my sleep patters are all messed up.

Part if it all is due to the 24 hours or so I went without sleep while traveling from Aus to LA. The flight was real good and comfortable and I simply chose to not really sleep. I watched  a bunch of movies and read to while away the 14 hours of flight time. I had slept little the night before I left. So by the time I checked into a hotel here in Pasadena I was pretty beat. I spent Sunday (after arriving at 6am and checking in about 8am) dozing and watching TV. It was rainy and cold so no chance of a walk. I ate little and napped a bunch and ended up sleeping real well that night.

Monday was real, real busy. I had heaps to do here in Pasadena and chose to walk everywhere I needed to be. All in all I covered miles. Got heaps done and made a dreadful mistake of having a burger and a couple of beers too early, 3 to 4pm, then came back and basically passed out. I woke about midnight and didn’t sleep again until 4 to 5 am.

So I slept in way late Tuesday, hit the streets by about 1pm and walked more and got a lot more done. very productive and I waited until about 6 to find a Peruvian kitchen and had a very spicy plate of fried rice. I was back and snoring by 8pm and awake and puttering by 2am. Another dawn nap, but I had an 830 meeting so up n going early, done by 11, then back for a couple more hours of nap time.

Was out agin this afternoon for a few hours but was back and worked from about 6pm onwards.

I have turned the lights off twice and tried to sleep. I’ve read and listened to music and worked some more.

Tomorrow is an easy day. Have a 12noon appointment so am happy to sit here, listen to the night sounds of the city, and putter some more.

I’ll comment on impressions and experiences in Pasadena in a later post. But thus far I like it here. It is a city and it noisier and more lit-up than I am used to but all in all the place has a good vibe. People are mostly open and cheerful. I’m a bit surprised that people make eye contact and say hello. Few are actually plugged into their earphones, ignoring the world around them.

Almost 3am… guess I’ll read some more…

more later

Saturday morn here in QLD. I fly off tomorrow  for a couple of weeks of travel. Been doing odd jobs n tidying up all week. This morn; all we had, after completing most of our list, is to give the house a good once-over, and mow the lawn.

9:18am and the house is almost done. Grace commented to the boys earlier that they did a very good job. She said that when they were big they would be able to keep their houses very clean.

Mendozza answered quickly, “I’m going to have house girls”, he said.

A true island kid if I ever saw one.

Got a week back in the big Mango. It’s very blustery with a number of storm fronts brewing and dying all around us.

The day is ending, and this is the view from my window…

Something of interest that came from a discussion I was having earlier today…

…

even better than that… I am dressed in board-shorts and a light T. Have my work boots on, a golf hat Grace left laying around… sort’a of a tropical working man attire. I spent the morning putting a 1957 650cc BSA “Super Rocket” back together. 6 volt electrical systems are not something I know a lot about, but I will learn. I smell like WD40. I think I walk around with a dufus smile on my face because people either smile back  or walk away quickly. The better one dresses the less they are inclined to smile at what they think is a dufus or a loser. Kids n dogs exchange my day-dreaming smile without shame. I’ve had both kids n dogs run away from their owners and want to spontaneously play with me. Life is good. The birds smile easily too, but they lie, they’re just after food. Beware of the birds who smile back.

After listening to the State of the Union Address, I feel better.

I wanna thank my buddy Barack for his wise comfort.

See, I thought the US economy was a mess, that unemployment was growing into insane numbers, that the current propensity to “give free stuff away” has led to a debt that is more than unsustainable.

I guess I am wrong. After listening (I did fall asleep) to the address I understand that everything is just peachy and if not for Congress the US would be the Emerald City of the free world.

I feel better.

Thats the impression I have always had of Pete Seeger.

My path has crossed Pete Seeger’s a couple of time. In the 70s I hung around the folk/ bluegrass scene.

Pete Seeger, Doc Watson and his son, Merle; Flatt n Scruggs, Emy Lou… and others were common performers as well as casual participants at weekend-long “festivals”. It was usual to be hanging where performers were simply enjoying the scene.

Those were the days…

I spoke to and listened to Pete Seeger and, though a punk kid, I was impressed. He struck me as a totally honest man.

Guess I’ll go listen to some folk music…

Here’s to Pete…