Half-term, what to do?
Anja is busy with the PHD; a bunch of Guys from Reading Climbing Centre went to font two weeks ago on a pre-arranged trip, during term-time; the peak looks soggy and warm.... The solution? Head over for a week-long half-term trip to the Swiss Alps, to Magicwood. Make that an early birthday present for the up coming big 3 0.
Fly to Milan Bergamo with Ryanair, bouldermat checked in as hold luggage. Train to Tirano and stay there the night before heading up the impressive UNESCO Welterbestrecke
Bernina Express. Awesome way to see the Alps in pure warmth and comfort. Arrive Thusis and two busses, via Andeer, to arrive in Magicwood. Next time I would probably fly to Zurich or Basel or even Geneva I think.
Encouraging first day
Arrived Magicwood and caught up with a couple of German lads, Bjog and Farid, who were off to add a low start to a couple of problems that they had mistakenly started too high on during a previous trip. I asked if I could join and went along for the ride. Day 1 resulted in two font 7Bs, Schrotti and Hageltrauma, one of which a flash (although with a shared start so not a real flash). Not climbed V8 this year so good first day, and looking hopeful for climbing something harder for the first time!
As I had rushed to catch the bus transfers and trains the whole way, I'd managed to arrive in Magicwood with no food or gas for the stove. Bjog and Farid offered me a meal, which I accepted, before heading over to the fire pit to join the other campers.
Soggy biscuits
After this encouraging first day, things turned soggy. People who'd been there for the weekend left, meaning the campsite became somewhat deserted. The cloud came down, the wind died down, leaving the forest very very soggy indeed. I climbed again with Bjog and Farid the following day, but after out speedy warm up on a couple of classic 6Bs, it began raining so we retreated to the Bruno boulder to try Supernova 7C, which remains dry in light rain, due to the overhanging rock. Good session but kept coming unstuck on a crux foot swap. No tick for any of the 3 of us.
The sogginess continues
The next few days stayed wet and for me turned into a mixture of: trying Supernova in the wet; going up to Edelweiss hostel to catch up with other climbers staying at the Gasthaus; going to bed around 8 or 9. In amongst this, I had an awesome, dry day climbing with Dorethea from Frankenjura and Thomasina from Canada along with her daughter Cedar. Really inspiring people, Thomasina and Cedar on an extended climbing trip, Dorethea down from Bayreuth; all climbing very strong indeed. Had a play on Kechenmonster a 7A that's going on 7B... Failed on the same move and moved on to give the girls the opportunity to go on with the day. Dorethea claimed to have been trying the problem for the last 7 years! After that, I joined them for a play in Foo Fighter and managed the first two of 3 crux moves. All good. Finally, I returned to Supernova, given the prima dry, cold conditions and managed to get all the moves. Still no tick however!
Soggy sog sog
The remainder of the trip taught me something. If it's dry and you're getting all the moves, man up and get on with the send. For the rest of the trip the cloud descended, and didn't leave. Apart from a quick pull on Foxy Lady (8A) which felt strangely do-able, nothing else occurred. No more ticks.
To Milano
So off to meet Anja (Anja's friend currently living in Milan) for a night on the tiles (quick wash in the train loo) before returning to the UK, to Reading with a lift from my Anja, who managed her first trip solo in the car, all the way round the M25 to Stansted!!!
Things to take away from the trip:
- the kindness of strangers is all good!
- if it's prima conditions, keep going, take a rest and go for the send!
- climbing hard is slowly becoming a reality
Sunday, 3 November 2013
Wednesday, 11 January 2012
Llamadas telefónicas por Roberto Bolaño
The book works in a similar vein being split into a number of short stories, set out like this:
1. Llamadas telefónicas
i. Sensini Follows the friendship, through a shared interest in writing competitions, of the protagonist and an older and more accomplished author.
ii. Henri Simon Leprince Centres on a writer of poetry and stories battling against French critics around the time of the first world war and describes his philosophy of helping writers through the resistance. The story is very tongue in cheek. In his heart, Leprince finally accepted his condition as a bad writer but also understood and accepted that good writers need bad writers as alone, they would be but readers or squires. He also knew that by saving (or helping) a few good writers, he had earned the right to blot paper and make mistakes. Also, he knew that he had earned the right to to be published in two or maybe three magazines.
iii. Enrique Martín Here, Arturo Bolano describes a successful poet living in Barcelona who begins to write Science Fiction opens a bookshop and becomes apparently quite paranoid.
iv. Una aventura literaria is a fantastic story about writer, named simply 'B', who is not famous, has no money, and whose poems are published in marginal magazines. 'B' writes a book in which one of the chapters pokes fun at a writer, named simply 'A'. 'A' is the same age as 'B' but is famous, has money, and is well read. This book is well received and 'A' appears in interviews, waxing lyrical about the book. The story follows 'B' and his (or her) thoughts about whether 'A' in fact knows that the book is poking fun.
v. Llamadas telefónicas is again about a character named 'B' and his break up with 'X'. 'X' is subsequently murdered and investigated by the police.
2 Detectives
El Gusano tells the story from a young boy who plays truant, and spends his days buying or stealing books and going to the cinema to watch erotic Mexican films. The boy befriends 'el Gusano' and their relationship is explored.
La nieve is an account by the protagonist, of the story told to him by Rogelio Estrada, whose 'smile seemed permanently stuck between astonishment and mischief', of his life in Moscow working for a rather dodgy Russian businessman, who has a love of Dostoevsky and Chekhov. This plot becomes quite dark, and involves love, death and books.
Otro cuento ruso again takes place during the second world war, this time on the Russian front line and is just exquisite in content and form. I'm not going to describe anything of the plot but have instead translated the short story as it isn't available in English.
William Burns is an odd story about a time in William Burns' life when he had a relationship with two women, one older, one younger and the events surrounding a holiday house in the mountains.
Detectives is a dialogue between two police detectives, driving and reminiscing. The conversation, of course, is very odd.
The third part of the book La vida de Anne Moore, has four more short stories, each centering on a group of people and their lives. One woman goes mad and tries to kill one or more of her friends, while another story focuses in an actress in adult movies. The stories vary in scope and style and seem not to be linked in any way. Friends, family come and go, they seem not to be tied particularly to any one place or time. Many of them seem to enjoy talking into the night, smoking cigarettes and have some connection to writing, though not all. What I'm beginning to recognise as a Bolaño style. This style also accounts for the fact that they all seem to live and breath and seem as flawed and lost as anyone really is.
Translation into English of 'Another Russian story' taken from Llamadas telefónicas by Roberto Bolaño
For Anselmo Sanjuan
At some point in time, after discussing with a friend about the wandering identity of art, Amalfitano told a story that he had heard in Barcelona. The story dealt with a soldier of the Spanish Blue Division who fought in the second world war, on the Russian front, more specifically as part of the Army Group North, in a zone near Novgorod.
The Soldier was a a small man from Seville, stick thin with blue eyes that, life as is (he was no Dionisio Ridruejo nor Thomas Salvador and when he had to salute the Roman salute, neither was he a real fascist or falangist), he went to stop Russia. There, without knowing who started, someone told him soldier go over there or soldier do that or the other, and the word soldier was left in his head, but in the dark part of the head, and in this place, large and desolate with the passing of time and with the daily shocks, the word transformed into a precentor. I don't know how this happened, let's suppose that an infantile mechanism activated it, some happy memory that had been waiting for the opportunity to return.
This meant that the Andalusian thought about himself in the terms and duties of a precentor, although he didn't consciously have any real understanding of the significance of this word which is given to the head of the choir in certain cathedrals. But somehow, and this is remarkable, through the power of thinking of himself as precentor, he was converted into a precentor. During the terrible winter of '41, he put himself in charge of a choir that sang carols while the Russians crushed 250 Regiment. In their memory these days were full of sound (dry, constant sounds) and of a subterranean happiness, a little out of focus. They sang, but it was as if their voices arrived afterwards or even before and the lips, the throats, the eyes of the singers slid over a fracture of silence, in a brief journey, equally foreign.
Anyway, the man from Seville behaved courageously, with resignation, even if his mood soured as time passed.
He didn't have to wait to taste his share of blood. One evening, in a lapse of concentration, he was injured and for two weeks he was interned at the Military Hospital at Riga, in the care of robust, smiling nurses of the Reich, skeptical of the colour of his eyes, and of a few ugly Spanish volunteer nurses, probably sisters or sisters in law or distant cousins of Jose Antonio.
When orders arrived, something happened that would not have grave consequences for the man from Seville: instead of receiving a ticket with the correct destination, he was sent one that took him to the quarters of an SS batallion, posted some three hundred kilometres from his own regiment. There, surrounded by Germans, Austrians, Lithuanians, Danes, Norwegians and Swedish, all much taller and stronger than him, he tried to rectify the mistake using rudimentary German, but the SS put him off and while clearing up the matter, gave him a broom to scrub the barracks and a mop and a bucket of water to mop the enormous, oblong wooden building where they held, interrogated and tortured every kind of prisoner.
Without giving up on everything, but still complying with his new task conscientiously, the man from Seville saw time pass from his new barracks, eating better than before and without exposing himself to new dangers, being as the SS batallion was stationed in the rearguard, fighting those termed 'bandits'. Then, in the dark part of his head, the word soldier returned to be readable. I am a soldier, he told himself, a raw recruit, and I must accept my destiny. The word precentor disappeared little by little, although some evenings, under an unending sky that took him back to nostalgic memories of Seville, the word still echoed, lost who knows where. Once he heard some German soldiers singing and was reminded of it, another time he heard a child singing behind some bushes and remembered once again the word, this time more precisely, but when he looked behind the bushes, the child had gone.
One day, what had to happen, happened. The SS barracks were attacked and taken, according to some, by the Russian Cavalry, according to others, a group of partisans. The fight was brief and went against the Germans. After an hour the Russians found the man from Seville hidden in the oblong building, dressed in the uniform of an SS and surrounded by not long since committed disgraces. As they say, caught red handed. He was quickly tied to one of the chairs that the SS had used during interrogations, one of those chairs with belts on the legs and arms, and everything the Russians asked, he answered in Spanish that he didn't understand and that he was only a dogsbody. He also tried to say it in German, but he hardly knew four words in the language and the Russians didn't know any. After a session of slaps and kicks, they went to find one who knew German and got to work interrogating prisoners in another of the cells in the oblong building. Before they returned, the man from Seville heard shots, he knew they were killing some of the SS and lost the hope of walking free that he had still held; however, when the shots stopped he went on clutching onto life with everything he had. The one who knew German asked him what he did there, what was his rank and his role. The man from Seville tried to explain in German, but in vain. The Russians then opened his mouth and with a pair of pliers that the Germans used for other parts of the anatomy, started to pull and squeeze his tongue. The pain that he felt made his eyes water and he said, or shouted the word 'coño'. With the pliers in his mouth, the Spanish outburst tranformed and came out in a shriek as the word kunst.
The Russian who knew German looked at him quizzically. The man from Seville shouted kunst, kunst, and cried with pain. The word kunst in German means art and the bilingual soldier understood it as such and said that the bastard was an artist or something. Those torturing the man from Seville pulled out the pliers with a little piece of tongue and waited, momentarily hypnotized by the discovery. The word art. It tamed them. And so tamed, the Russians took a breather and waited for some sort of signal while the solder bled from his mouth and swallowed and choked on his blood mixed with large doses of saliva. The word 'coño', metamorphosed into the word art had saved his life. When he left the oblong building the sun was hidden but hurt his eyes as if it was the middle of the day.
They took him with the other remaining prisoners and a little after another Russian who understood Spanish was able to listen to his story and the man from Seville was stopped up at a prison camp in Siberia while his accidental comrades in wickedness were shot. He remained in Siberia well into the next decade. In 1957 he moved to Barcelona. Sometimes he would open his mouth and happily recount war stories. Other times he would open his mouth and show whoever was willing to see, the piece of tongue that was missing. It was hardly visible. When people said this to him, the man from Seville explained that his tongue, with the years had grown. Amalfitano didn't meet him personally, but when he told the story, the man from Seville still lived in a hostel in Barcelona.
At some point in time, after discussing with a friend about the wandering identity of art, Amalfitano told a story that he had heard in Barcelona. The story dealt with a soldier of the Spanish Blue Division who fought in the second world war, on the Russian front, more specifically as part of the Army Group North, in a zone near Novgorod.
The Soldier was a a small man from Seville, stick thin with blue eyes that, life as is (he was no Dionisio Ridruejo nor Thomas Salvador and when he had to salute the Roman salute, neither was he a real fascist or falangist), he went to stop Russia. There, without knowing who started, someone told him soldier go over there or soldier do that or the other, and the word soldier was left in his head, but in the dark part of the head, and in this place, large and desolate with the passing of time and with the daily shocks, the word transformed into a precentor. I don't know how this happened, let's suppose that an infantile mechanism activated it, some happy memory that had been waiting for the opportunity to return.
This meant that the Andalusian thought about himself in the terms and duties of a precentor, although he didn't consciously have any real understanding of the significance of this word which is given to the head of the choir in certain cathedrals. But somehow, and this is remarkable, through the power of thinking of himself as precentor, he was converted into a precentor. During the terrible winter of '41, he put himself in charge of a choir that sang carols while the Russians crushed 250 Regiment. In their memory these days were full of sound (dry, constant sounds) and of a subterranean happiness, a little out of focus. They sang, but it was as if their voices arrived afterwards or even before and the lips, the throats, the eyes of the singers slid over a fracture of silence, in a brief journey, equally foreign.
Anyway, the man from Seville behaved courageously, with resignation, even if his mood soured as time passed.
He didn't have to wait to taste his share of blood. One evening, in a lapse of concentration, he was injured and for two weeks he was interned at the Military Hospital at Riga, in the care of robust, smiling nurses of the Reich, skeptical of the colour of his eyes, and of a few ugly Spanish volunteer nurses, probably sisters or sisters in law or distant cousins of Jose Antonio.
When orders arrived, something happened that would not have grave consequences for the man from Seville: instead of receiving a ticket with the correct destination, he was sent one that took him to the quarters of an SS batallion, posted some three hundred kilometres from his own regiment. There, surrounded by Germans, Austrians, Lithuanians, Danes, Norwegians and Swedish, all much taller and stronger than him, he tried to rectify the mistake using rudimentary German, but the SS put him off and while clearing up the matter, gave him a broom to scrub the barracks and a mop and a bucket of water to mop the enormous, oblong wooden building where they held, interrogated and tortured every kind of prisoner.
Without giving up on everything, but still complying with his new task conscientiously, the man from Seville saw time pass from his new barracks, eating better than before and without exposing himself to new dangers, being as the SS batallion was stationed in the rearguard, fighting those termed 'bandits'. Then, in the dark part of his head, the word soldier returned to be readable. I am a soldier, he told himself, a raw recruit, and I must accept my destiny. The word precentor disappeared little by little, although some evenings, under an unending sky that took him back to nostalgic memories of Seville, the word still echoed, lost who knows where. Once he heard some German soldiers singing and was reminded of it, another time he heard a child singing behind some bushes and remembered once again the word, this time more precisely, but when he looked behind the bushes, the child had gone.
One day, what had to happen, happened. The SS barracks were attacked and taken, according to some, by the Russian Cavalry, according to others, a group of partisans. The fight was brief and went against the Germans. After an hour the Russians found the man from Seville hidden in the oblong building, dressed in the uniform of an SS and surrounded by not long since committed disgraces. As they say, caught red handed. He was quickly tied to one of the chairs that the SS had used during interrogations, one of those chairs with belts on the legs and arms, and everything the Russians asked, he answered in Spanish that he didn't understand and that he was only a dogsbody. He also tried to say it in German, but he hardly knew four words in the language and the Russians didn't know any. After a session of slaps and kicks, they went to find one who knew German and got to work interrogating prisoners in another of the cells in the oblong building. Before they returned, the man from Seville heard shots, he knew they were killing some of the SS and lost the hope of walking free that he had still held; however, when the shots stopped he went on clutching onto life with everything he had. The one who knew German asked him what he did there, what was his rank and his role. The man from Seville tried to explain in German, but in vain. The Russians then opened his mouth and with a pair of pliers that the Germans used for other parts of the anatomy, started to pull and squeeze his tongue. The pain that he felt made his eyes water and he said, or shouted the word 'coño'. With the pliers in his mouth, the Spanish outburst tranformed and came out in a shriek as the word kunst.
The Russian who knew German looked at him quizzically. The man from Seville shouted kunst, kunst, and cried with pain. The word kunst in German means art and the bilingual soldier understood it as such and said that the bastard was an artist or something. Those torturing the man from Seville pulled out the pliers with a little piece of tongue and waited, momentarily hypnotized by the discovery. The word art. It tamed them. And so tamed, the Russians took a breather and waited for some sort of signal while the solder bled from his mouth and swallowed and choked on his blood mixed with large doses of saliva. The word 'coño', metamorphosed into the word art had saved his life. When he left the oblong building the sun was hidden but hurt his eyes as if it was the middle of the day.
They took him with the other remaining prisoners and a little after another Russian who understood Spanish was able to listen to his story and the man from Seville was stopped up at a prison camp in Siberia while his accidental comrades in wickedness were shot. He remained in Siberia well into the next decade. In 1957 he moved to Barcelona. Sometimes he would open his mouth and happily recount war stories. Other times he would open his mouth and show whoever was willing to see, the piece of tongue that was missing. It was hardly visible. When people said this to him, the man from Seville explained that his tongue, with the years had grown. Amalfitano didn't meet him personally, but when he told the story, the man from Seville still lived in a hostel in Barcelona.
Wednesday, 6 April 2011
Round up of climbing in Thailand and Laos
After a year of climbing an average of once a month, Anja and I took the opportunity to spend December and Christmas exploring some of what Thailand and Laos have to offer in terms of sport climbing and bouldering. The plan was this:
1) Fly into Phuket and catch a boat to the island of Phi Phi for a gentle introduction back into climbing routes.
2) Go over to Tonsai form Phi Phi and get crushing around the Railay peninsular.
3) Head north to Vang Vieng, Laos stopping at the bouldering paradise of Koh Tao on the way.
Part 1: Phi Phi Island.
Diving and partying. . . oh yes, almost forgot climbing. As you sail around the coast of Phi Phi island into Tonsai town you are reminded of the volume of climbing potential here in Thailand. On this island alone is just wall after wall of fantastically formed limestone. Most of it remains difficult to access and hence undeveloped and the most popular wall here is Tonsai Tower which is at the end of the south beach. This is the wall where we spent out 3 days as we got out head back on it and our fitness level up some, sampling the delights of the wall's starred routes.
Part 2: Railay Peninsular
1) Fly into Phuket and catch a boat to the island of Phi Phi for a gentle introduction back into climbing routes.
2) Go over to Tonsai form Phi Phi and get crushing around the Railay peninsular.
3) Head north to Vang Vieng, Laos stopping at the bouldering paradise of Koh Tao on the way.
Part 1: Phi Phi Island.
Part 2: Railay Peninsular
DWS AROUND TONSAI
Coming to Tonsai from Phi Phi just made the place seem even more special. We were impressed with Phi Phi to be honest but the climbing on Railay is just so incredible and extensive it throws you; where do you begin? Well we went from Tonsai Beach where we were staying and walked across to Mui Thai wall, Railay East. A 6 a.m. Indonesian style approach meant we missed the crowds but also meant we were too early for breakfast. Plenty of good climbing though. The rest of the holiday continued in that vein and we met a good bunch of people to climb with and even had a DWS trip out. Now the only problem is I can't wait to get back there and sample some more. We had a week there when most people you chat to are staying for at least a month.
Almayer's Folly - Joseph Conrad
I found Conrad, as I think a few of my generation must have done, through the film Appocolypse Now, which based on the novel Heart of Darkness. The film is really moving and quite disturbing and the book opened a new world to me. Not only do I find Conrad's ability to reach vivid realist descriptions and to firmly imprint images on ones mind just astounding but in doing so he somehow maintains the momentum and pace in the writing and keeps ones interest in the prose.
Published in 1895, Almayer's Folly is set on the Malayan island of Borneo during the 19th century with the backdrop of Dutch colonialism and pioneering explorers setting out to make money from the rich resources of these tropical lands. It's a great setting and the book is written at a time when few people lived in this part of the world and few Europeans had any idea about what it might be like. One can assume that Conrad wrote his book with the knowledge that those reading would almost certainly not not have sampled first hand the tropics or moreover the Malay archipelago. Perhaps this is one driving factor behind the rich imagery that he builds up; he wants people to be able to experience what he has so obviously seen, heard, smelled first hand and he achieves this wonderfully.
Being here in Indonesia, a nation that today shares the island of Borneo and therefore vistas as well as aspects of culture, allows me to read the book with knowledge of the places and and having met people like those described in the novella. Reading the book when you have this knowledge of the people here, of the landscapes, of the villages you realise just how exact the descriptions in the book are.
Every time you pick up the book it involves you and moves you to such a depth. You watch the story unfold before your eyes, unconscious of everything else and when you awake it is as if from a dream. While it isn't a page turner in the traditional sense, Conrad does keep you hungry for more. Style aside. The story itself: tragedy in human endeavor and the plight of the dreamer unable to realise one single ambition. The main protagonist finds himself thrust into a world to which he is not suited and manages to undo everything that has been done for him. Driven by intense motivation but contrantly thwarted by the obstacle of his own lack of a clue as to how to put it into action, the story describes him as he loses every single thing he has.
JOSEPH CONRAD
Being here in Indonesia, a nation that today shares the island of Borneo and therefore vistas as well as aspects of culture, allows me to read the book with knowledge of the places and and having met people like those described in the novella. Reading the book when you have this knowledge of the people here, of the landscapes, of the villages you realise just how exact the descriptions in the book are.
Every time you pick up the book it involves you and moves you to such a depth. You watch the story unfold before your eyes, unconscious of everything else and when you awake it is as if from a dream. While it isn't a page turner in the traditional sense, Conrad does keep you hungry for more. Style aside. The story itself: tragedy in human endeavor and the plight of the dreamer unable to realise one single ambition. The main protagonist finds himself thrust into a world to which he is not suited and manages to undo everything that has been done for him. Driven by intense motivation but contrantly thwarted by the obstacle of his own lack of a clue as to how to put it into action, the story describes him as he loses every single thing he has.
Thursday, 28 October 2010
Kawasan Kebun has its first boulder
The most recent to Parang Valley was a short day out last Sunday because of a huge storm arrived in the early afternoon that chased us away from the area. While it perhaps left us with less time on the rocks, what we did manage to do was pure quality.
Finally back at the area we visited on our very first time at the area, below the main face of Bongkok, we had been to this place a couple of times and begun clearing the rock and area around (post: Bouldering in Indonesia 22/06/10). The rock there is pretty clean but is in the trees; in the shade but pretty humid. There are two large rocks there, both highball. While the larger one would need bolts to make it a realistic climb, the smaller one has at least two fantastic lines up it, one a central line which is pretty high, the other just skirts up the side and is quite low.
After a small amount of brushing and a few attempts, the first climb at the Kawasan Kebun went without too much trouble. Techinical face moves on a slight overhang and a powerful lock-off to a small hold just over the lip and then a better one high and left makes for an easy top out. The problem is on the left-hand side and is pretty low, Groovy is the first problem in the area. The sit start is 6C and the standing start 6B. On the front face of the same boulder, is a fantastic looking problem that I spent a good amount of time on but didn't really get too far on (there are so many projects now).
Behind the larger rock, through some (blank) caves are more boulders in another overgrown area. The whole place is worth a look and has potential but I'm just stoked to have two more quality problems added to the Lembah Parang circuit.
We heard the thunder for about an hour before we decided it was probably a good idea to head back and shortly after we got in the car, the rain came and so did the thunder and lightning; at the same time. It made an exciting end to one day and the start of another. An upside, apart from the spectacle, was that the roads were completely empty! No bikes, no lorries, cars. Plain sailing all the way home. Genius. It also gave us an early finish and an evening back in Bandung for once.
Finally back at the area we visited on our very first time at the area, below the main face of Bongkok, we had been to this place a couple of times and begun clearing the rock and area around (post: Bouldering in Indonesia 22/06/10). The rock there is pretty clean but is in the trees; in the shade but pretty humid. There are two large rocks there, both highball. While the larger one would need bolts to make it a realistic climb, the smaller one has at least two fantastic lines up it, one a central line which is pretty high, the other just skirts up the side and is quite low.
After a small amount of brushing and a few attempts, the first climb at the Kawasan Kebun went without too much trouble. Techinical face moves on a slight overhang and a powerful lock-off to a small hold just over the lip and then a better one high and left makes for an easy top out. The problem is on the left-hand side and is pretty low, Groovy is the first problem in the area. The sit start is 6C and the standing start 6B. On the front face of the same boulder, is a fantastic looking problem that I spent a good amount of time on but didn't really get too far on (there are so many projects now).
Behind the larger rock, through some (blank) caves are more boulders in another overgrown area. The whole place is worth a look and has potential but I'm just stoked to have two more quality problems added to the Lembah Parang circuit.
We heard the thunder for about an hour before we decided it was probably a good idea to head back and shortly after we got in the car, the rain came and so did the thunder and lightning; at the same time. It made an exciting end to one day and the start of another. An upside, apart from the spectacle, was that the roads were completely empty! No bikes, no lorries, cars. Plain sailing all the way home. Genius. It also gave us an early finish and an evening back in Bandung for once.
Tuesday, 12 October 2010
New boulders and new problems added
Finally, we managed to get back to the valley on Saturday accompanied by Anja's parents Gary and Siegrun. It's easy to forget just how incredible the setting is; whether it was having Siegrun along who hadn't visited before that made me look with fresh eyes or having not visited the place for a good month now. First of all, driving up the beat-up road from Plered over the hills which is in a constant state of repair. Going through the villages that become increasingly quaint (to my western eyes) the further along you get. Arriving in Cikandang and seeing the now familiar faces and hearing just how peaceful the place is, it all makes for good times away from the crowds of Java.
Local Ibu-Ibu
This time, the peaks around us were enveloped in a thick mist. The sun was nowhere to be seen, the rock faces paling as they met the cloud and the air temperature was beautifully cool and pleasant. It had clearly been raining a lot and the ground was really soggy; it was a bad day to have chosen to wear flip flops. Balls. Walking down the track together towards the boulders the cloud seemed to thin slightly and it seemed the sun was going to break through. Accompanied by Gary and Siegrun for the first climb of the day on the Ombak Boulder, Anja made short work of the arete there (shame you just missed that guys) while I was shut down by the hanging prow's sit start (glad you missed that). The same thing happened on the White Boulder but real progress was made. The problem is superb and a mighty cross-though move is all that separates a project and a problem. Cheers for the encouragement Anja.
Anja on Poopscoop
The sun had come out now and things were looking dryer, so we decided to take a look back up the hill at the high-ball bloc we had cleaned with the help of Bryan Tape on the previous visit and at another boulder accross the other side of the track. The two boulders sit right by the main path; the first is 8 metres high and has a brilliant-looking pair of aretes to the left of a soaring slab which will be the descent. The first problem to go is looking a solid but top notch face climb coming dynamically up off a left hand arete on crimps and pockets. The top looks well scary. Hours of fun.
and Crabbslabb
The second boulder now called the Banten Boulder due to its gross muddy and cow-patty landing, has some lovely easier problems up it. To finish the day off, Anja topped out two quality problems on the new Banten while her parents watched on, adding Crabbslabb (Font 4) and Poopscoop (Font 5A) to the growing circuit. She climbed Poopscoop in fine style after only a handful of attempts. Sweet. The problem tackles a scoop on small edges and pockets and a tough top out. The two add to the diversity of the ever growing bank of problems we now have firmly established in the Lembah Parang circuit.
Thursday, 22 July 2010
Bouldering in Indonesia
The weekend of the 10th and with Aunt Judy, Cousin Em in tow, we set off for Parang valley for a different sort of day out. Our first visitors gave Anja and I a break from the routine. Sharing this incredible area with others was something quite special. They have both climbed but neither have tried bouldering; the prospect of bouldering for the first time ever in swealtering heat and without rock boots somehow wasn't that enticing. Anja and I managed to have a bit of a go and one problem was sent: the hanging prow that eluded me on the last trip. Bear Pooh is hard 6C+ perhaps 7A I think and a really nice line.
The following weekend saw a successful completion of two projects. We were lucky with cool temperatures throughout the day and rolling motivation. Beginning with the White Boulder, a new problem has been added at 7A+. After four sessions, this problem takes a right-hand start to Simple Pleasures; sharp holds, small foot holds and big moves. Considering I'd ear-marked it for completion before the year was out, I'm pretty stoked. Just the direct start to go now and the right-hand side of the White Boulder is complete.
Feeling good but slightly drained, I needed a rest and Anja was feeling encouraged and wanted to climb. I guess this sort of thing is contagious. We set off up to the Ombak with lights hearts. Since we first found the block, the left arete has looked to be the most desirable line there. After a bit of work, Anja topped out the Ombak Arete problem. At 6A this is her finest achievements and took only a couple of goes on the day before swift dispatch. She was at full stretch on this one and had thought it impossible. Really pleased for you.
On the sister block of the Ombak block, I tried to piece together another problem but was firmly beaten into submission by it. It should keep me occupied for the time being. We'll see how it goes. Finally, a stop off at the garden area and cleaning the smaller of the two massive blocks there concluded the day and set up our next visit nicely. Looking forward to getting on to the two problems we found there. All in all a good day which felt like progress had been made. We now have six topped problems and as many projects to be completed. A few more cool days and we'll be sweet.
Bear Pooh
The following weekend saw a successful completion of two projects. We were lucky with cool temperatures throughout the day and rolling motivation. Beginning with the White Boulder, a new problem has been added at 7A+. After four sessions, this problem takes a right-hand start to Simple Pleasures; sharp holds, small foot holds and big moves. Considering I'd ear-marked it for completion before the year was out, I'm pretty stoked. Just the direct start to go now and the right-hand side of the White Boulder is complete.
Pleasurecore
Feeling good but slightly drained, I needed a rest and Anja was feeling encouraged and wanted to climb. I guess this sort of thing is contagious. We set off up to the Ombak with lights hearts. Since we first found the block, the left arete has looked to be the most desirable line there. After a bit of work, Anja topped out the Ombak Arete problem. At 6A this is her finest achievements and took only a couple of goes on the day before swift dispatch. She was at full stretch on this one and had thought it impossible. Really pleased for you.
Ombak Arete
Thursday, 15 July 2010
Kawasan Kebun
Two weekends of relative inactivity on the climbing front have resulted in slow progress in the valley. Sunday the 27th of July saw another attempt by Anja and myself to find a route up to the foot of the crags on Gn. Bongkok. On the two previous attempts we had gone unprepared and been shut down by the terrain, the midday heat and a bad choice of route. We had been using the topo from rockclimbing.com to do so (which comes complete with absolutely no mention of how to approach the crag). This time we were better prepared. Carrying ropes, the rack and enough supplies for a good day out, we set off this time from the path that leads down to the boulders.
Having scouted a possible route to the lower right hand side of the crag, we first followed a series of trails through the bamboo and then went up a dry river bed. At a certain point, the bamboo stops and so do the paths. Here, the jungle really seems to bite back and you're faced with a solid wall of greenery which Anja and I spent almost an hour clearing away in order to reach the lowest face. We finally managed to cut our way through, broke the Golok in doing so and, massively exhausted, found ourselves, at last, at the foot of the real climbing on the Gunung..
From where we were, lines of unbroken rock, rise up lightly-featured in places taking you up to the main face itself. It really is an inspiring place. We went for a look around and soon realised that this largely featureless rock, as we had guessed from bouldering, would be more of a sport climbing venue than trad. With this in mind, we set about looking for the line Iraqi Affairs but couldn't locate it. It had taken us two and a half hours to reach this point. It began to look as though our whole day might soon be spent making little progress in terms of useful developments in the area which over the last few weeks have been moving along nicely, we both decided that the best decision was to quit while we were ahead.
We decided to take another look at the two large boulders that we found on the first trip out. Anja was pretty dead from the trek up the hill and I was also wiped, both a little down about our necessary decision regarding Gn. Bongkok. While looking around at the rather high-ball problems, not only did I see a pretty gnarly line, I also found a cave the went underneath the larger rock and lead to a clearing - a sort of garden area with a bamboo shack in the middle. The garden has boulders all over, of all sizes and will be the next area to be explored properly. It seemed to pick us both up and re instill the feeling that the development of bouldering here at Lembah Parang is the best use our our time in Indonesia.
Having scouted a possible route to the lower right hand side of the crag, we first followed a series of trails through the bamboo and then went up a dry river bed. At a certain point, the bamboo stops and so do the paths. Here, the jungle really seems to bite back and you're faced with a solid wall of greenery which Anja and I spent almost an hour clearing away in order to reach the lowest face. We finally managed to cut our way through, broke the Golok in doing so and, massively exhausted, found ourselves, at last, at the foot of the real climbing on the Gunung..
From where we were, lines of unbroken rock, rise up lightly-featured in places taking you up to the main face itself. It really is an inspiring place. We went for a look around and soon realised that this largely featureless rock, as we had guessed from bouldering, would be more of a sport climbing venue than trad. With this in mind, we set about looking for the line Iraqi Affairs but couldn't locate it. It had taken us two and a half hours to reach this point. It began to look as though our whole day might soon be spent making little progress in terms of useful developments in the area which over the last few weeks have been moving along nicely, we both decided that the best decision was to quit while we were ahead.
We decided to take another look at the two large boulders that we found on the first trip out. Anja was pretty dead from the trek up the hill and I was also wiped, both a little down about our necessary decision regarding Gn. Bongkok. While looking around at the rather high-ball problems, not only did I see a pretty gnarly line, I also found a cave the went underneath the larger rock and lead to a clearing - a sort of garden area with a bamboo shack in the middle. The garden has boulders all over, of all sizes and will be the next area to be explored properly. It seemed to pick us both up and re instill the feeling that the development of bouldering here at Lembah Parang is the best use our our time in Indonesia.
Thursday, 24 June 2010
Boulder cicuit established
Sunday saw a number of problems sent, some more projects put up and an area of good quality bouldering finally established. Following four weeks of trips to the area, there are now 4 boulders with around 15 problems developed not all of which have yet been successfully topped out.
The first send of the day was Anja Crabb's Pleashure Cat which takes the line furthest right on the White Boulder. This follows a groove up and left onto the high slab to the top of the boulder. She puts this as one of the best problems she's done and gives it a grade of Font 5B.
The move of the ground involves a high step, then through delicate technical climbing left and a high reach and step up, a stable position is established on the high slab. From there, it's a quick trot up the slab to the top of the boulder. On the first ascent, the down-climb hadn't been finished and Anja had to wait for me to clear the path so she could come down.
The right-hand sitter to Simple Pleasures didn't yield despite a continuous assault, the sun moved and we lost our precious shade, so Anja and I decided to check out the pair of high ball boulders up the hill again. 50m up the hill from the White Boulder, we found another area with three boulders, both with shaded areas that provided our afternoon entertainment. An enourmous boulder has split at some point in the past to leave these two curiously formed pieces of rock; one takes the form of a tidal wave, leaving the other as a steep, blank slab.
On the Ombak Boulder there are two problems. On the left-hand side of the block is a very clean 6A arete problem. It really is an impressive line. Here, Anja is on the arete problem. This tackles the arete from a standing start and follows it up to a clean top-out.
The first send of the day was Anja Crabb's Pleashure Cat which takes the line furthest right on the White Boulder. This follows a groove up and left onto the high slab to the top of the boulder. She puts this as one of the best problems she's done and gives it a grade of Font 5B.
Anja on Pleashure Cat
The move of the ground involves a high step, then through delicate technical climbing left and a high reach and step up, a stable position is established on the high slab. From there, it's a quick trot up the slab to the top of the boulder. On the first ascent, the down-climb hadn't been finished and Anja had to wait for me to clear the path so she could come down.
Padding up the high slab
The right-hand sitter to Simple Pleasures didn't yield despite a continuous assault, the sun moved and we lost our precious shade, so Anja and I decided to check out the pair of high ball boulders up the hill again. 50m up the hill from the White Boulder, we found another area with three boulders, both with shaded areas that provided our afternoon entertainment. An enourmous boulder has split at some point in the past to leave these two curiously formed pieces of rock; one takes the form of a tidal wave, leaving the other as a steep, blank slab.
On the Ombak Boulder there are two problems. On the left-hand side of the block is a very clean 6A arete problem. It really is an impressive line. Here, Anja is on the arete problem. This tackles the arete from a standing start and follows it up to a clean top-out.
Anja on Ombak Arete
On the right end of the block is an equally impressive but more challenging line. This problem starts low down underneath the overhanging prow and from a sit start, climbs up the double-arete and onto the face of the wave itself. The problem slaps up both aretes until a good pocket on the right hand edge. From here, you rock onto the top of the block, round the back. I think, just to be in keeping with the way things have been going of late, the problem resisted, leaving me yet another problem for yet another day.
Underneath the prow
Tuesday, 15 June 2010
Moving up
Last Sunday we were back in the Lembah Parang, this time cleaning holds, cutting back jungle and sending, well sadly just the one problem, but sending problems.
The rock is andosite, which is igneous rock and sits right in the middle of the igneous spectrum. It feels like a fine-grained granite. In places it is almost pure white, in others it is a darker grey. It tends to be finely featured, lending itself to bouldering and perhaps sport climbing and the boulders themselves are on the large side all of which should make for some quality [as yet, unclimbed] boulder problems.
The whole area is heavily vegetated and so far, we have concerned ourselves with the baldest looking boulders that are within easy(ish) reach of the path. Development on three such boulders has begun; two very large ones and a third which is a short way down the hill and the first to have been dispatched. The White Boulder, has some very good lines up it, both hard and easy and even has a newly forged down-climb. The first problem is on the right hand side of the boulder. Simple Pleasures goes at Font 6C. There is a direct SS to be added to this, coming straight up off two fine undercuts that looks to be about 7B and another in from the right that continues up and left from where Simple Pleasures tops out, which should be about 7A+. Further right is Anja's first problem, as yet unnamed and ungraded which tackles a short groove via some sharp holds and a rock-over.
Progress is slow at the moment as we find our feet, clear bush and so on. Hopefully we can arrive before the full impact of Siang next weekend and have a decent couple of sessions before the rain comes. Photos to follow.
The rock is andosite, which is igneous rock and sits right in the middle of the igneous spectrum. It feels like a fine-grained granite. In places it is almost pure white, in others it is a darker grey. It tends to be finely featured, lending itself to bouldering and perhaps sport climbing and the boulders themselves are on the large side all of which should make for some quality [as yet, unclimbed] boulder problems.
The whole area is heavily vegetated and so far, we have concerned ourselves with the baldest looking boulders that are within easy(ish) reach of the path. Development on three such boulders has begun; two very large ones and a third which is a short way down the hill and the first to have been dispatched. The White Boulder, has some very good lines up it, both hard and easy and even has a newly forged down-climb. The first problem is on the right hand side of the boulder. Simple Pleasures goes at Font 6C. There is a direct SS to be added to this, coming straight up off two fine undercuts that looks to be about 7B and another in from the right that continues up and left from where Simple Pleasures tops out, which should be about 7A+. Further right is Anja's first problem, as yet unnamed and ungraded which tackles a short groove via some sharp holds and a rock-over.
Progress is slow at the moment as we find our feet, clear bush and so on. Hopefully we can arrive before the full impact of Siang next weekend and have a decent couple of sessions before the rain comes. Photos to follow.
Saturday, 5 June 2010
Tomorrow in the Battle think on me. Javier Marias
This was handed to me by Gary Crabb when I had run out of good books recently. It is written by Javier Marias who is a well-known Spanish author and translator. The book follows a short period of time in the life of a man who has the misfortune of being on a date with a woman who suddenly and unexpectedly dies in his arms. The title conjures up images of war or struggle and references the man's inner struggle with having to deal with the consequences of having an affair with a woman who dies the first time they meet up for a date, a woman who he barely met.
We find out very early on that the woman is both a wife and mother and that the narrator, although invited round, is in fact almost a stranger in the house and an imposter in his place at her death bed. As the death occurs within the first few pages, the bulk of the book deals with the the way that this woman's death plays on the narrator's mind and his obsession with her and with his desire to learn more about this woman, her family. The reader follows the twists and turns of his mind and somehow Marias manages to create sensations of utter excitement but also of horror, suspense; I suppose what we are reading is the narrator's own sense of guilt and the process as he moves through this. There are dark undertones throughout the book which at times I took to be a thickening sub-plot of another side to the main character; something that certain events in the book perhaps allude to but which I think, upon finishing the book, one realises perhaps simply reflect the human mind and dark places that we all have.
In the battle certainly ranks very highly in the list of books I have read. It is simply unlike any other book I have read. Rivas' ability to write in a manner which is so like human thought, at times it is scary. We move through his thoughts and feelings and find ourselves judging him for decisions and errors he makes. The book stayed with me for some time after finishing it.
We find out very early on that the woman is both a wife and mother and that the narrator, although invited round, is in fact almost a stranger in the house and an imposter in his place at her death bed. As the death occurs within the first few pages, the bulk of the book deals with the the way that this woman's death plays on the narrator's mind and his obsession with her and with his desire to learn more about this woman, her family. The reader follows the twists and turns of his mind and somehow Marias manages to create sensations of utter excitement but also of horror, suspense; I suppose what we are reading is the narrator's own sense of guilt and the process as he moves through this. There are dark undertones throughout the book which at times I took to be a thickening sub-plot of another side to the main character; something that certain events in the book perhaps allude to but which I think, upon finishing the book, one realises perhaps simply reflect the human mind and dark places that we all have.
In the battle certainly ranks very highly in the list of books I have read. It is simply unlike any other book I have read. Rivas' ability to write in a manner which is so like human thought, at times it is scary. We move through his thoughts and feelings and find ourselves judging him for decisions and errors he makes. The book stayed with me for some time after finishing it.
Sunday, 30 May 2010
West Java Climbing 30.05.2010
Checking over the Internet about climbing potential in and around Bandung this week revealed an article by a certain Reynold Sumayku, who had himself written a piece on climbing West Java. His article is not only headed by a photograph of some perfect rock in a perfect setting, it also mentions some places that I had previously not heard about. Further research revealed many of the places mentioned to be found around Plered, south of Purwakarta and therefore within easy reach of Bandung. This is the best thing to have happened, in terms of climbing since arriving in Indonesia for me and so in a state of excitement, a plan was formed and I took a look today.
Unknown to the outside world, the village of Cikandang is hidden away in a valley dominated by two rock escarpments of formidable proportions which dominate the landscape all the way down to lake Waduk Jatiluhur glistening in the distance. Parang's rockface (above) rises from the valley floor right to the sumit, with unbroken lines of upto 250m and provides the main focus of the area. Opposite, Bongkok has rock starting higher up, measuring up to 150m in length. From both rock faces, as far as you can see, the valley is peppered with large boulders which lie amongst sawah and bamboo and make this an idillic setting. There is a peaceful feel to the place and it feels as if time has stopped or at least slowed to a trickle as you walk along the winding path which rolls gently downhill.
This seemingly idillic spot is really quiet in terms of traffic. The area curently has a few routes recorded on both Gn Bongkok and Gn Parang but as far as I can tell there has been recent development or activity. The Parang face is known as Tebing Parang. There are photos dotted around the internet for example here. Rockclimbing.com has seven routes listed on three sections - East, North and West Wall - but there is little or no route description for these. Some appear to have been bolted while others are left trad and there is also an aid route (Ural 28 A2) on the north wall.
Over on Gn Bongkok the face is smaller but no less impressive. Information about this wall is less forth-coming but again rockclimbing.com has six routes shown on a topo and three routes are described quite well. Two are single pitch and one is a two-pitch route. There is also a photo of a tasty-looking 7b project. Bongkok appears to be more accessable than Parang from the ground.
The next thing to note is the boulders on the valley floor. There are hundreds scattered about. Just walking down through the valley along the path I found a couple of projects. One looks like a dream. I had a pull on the holds and it felt very much like it will go. Looking around there are so many up in the bush, down in the sawah. People have listed a couple of boulders on rockclimbing.com but neglected to describe where they are or what the routes / problems are like but the potential for bouldering is perhaps what excites me most.
All in all, after a trip there to check it all out, I was left feeling very encouraged. I planned to go there, see what ther place had to offer and see if I coud find any good rock that might warrent a return trip. What I found was a valley with two spectacular rock faces, both of which lend themselves to multi-pitching and single-pitch routes. I've put a selection of photos on rockclimbing.com (my new best friend it would seem) to give more of an over view of the area. The next step will be having a climb which I'm looking forward to immensely. That's the plan for this Sunday; climb. I look forward to writing my next post!
Directions
From Jakarta / Bandung toll: exit toll at Padalarang. Turn right at the main city centre intersection, following signs to Purwakarta. Stay on the road for Purwakarta through Darangdan and after 37km turn right to Plered. Head through Pered on the main road for 12km - straight through a cross road signed Selo Agung at km10 - and turn right onto a small road heading for Cikandang (Just ask people around if unsure). Follow this road as it climbs through settlements for 25 minutes and turn left just after you enter the village, signalled by bamboo fence posts (see image)
View of East wall of Gn Parang
Unknown to the outside world, the village of Cikandang is hidden away in a valley dominated by two rock escarpments of formidable proportions which dominate the landscape all the way down to lake Waduk Jatiluhur glistening in the distance. Parang's rockface (above) rises from the valley floor right to the sumit, with unbroken lines of upto 250m and provides the main focus of the area. Opposite, Bongkok has rock starting higher up, measuring up to 150m in length. From both rock faces, as far as you can see, the valley is peppered with large boulders which lie amongst sawah and bamboo and make this an idillic setting. There is a peaceful feel to the place and it feels as if time has stopped or at least slowed to a trickle as you walk along the winding path which rolls gently downhill.
This seemingly idillic spot is really quiet in terms of traffic. The area curently has a few routes recorded on both Gn Bongkok and Gn Parang but as far as I can tell there has been recent development or activity. The Parang face is known as Tebing Parang. There are photos dotted around the internet for example here. Rockclimbing.com has seven routes listed on three sections - East, North and West Wall - but there is little or no route description for these. Some appear to have been bolted while others are left trad and there is also an aid route (Ural 28 A2) on the north wall.
Over on Gn Bongkok the face is smaller but no less impressive. Information about this wall is less forth-coming but again rockclimbing.com has six routes shown on a topo and three routes are described quite well. Two are single pitch and one is a two-pitch route. There is also a photo of a tasty-looking 7b project. Bongkok appears to be more accessable than Parang from the ground.
Gn Bokgkok's main wall
The next thing to note is the boulders on the valley floor. There are hundreds scattered about. Just walking down through the valley along the path I found a couple of projects. One looks like a dream. I had a pull on the holds and it felt very much like it will go. Looking around there are so many up in the bush, down in the sawah. People have listed a couple of boulders on rockclimbing.com but neglected to describe where they are or what the routes / problems are like but the potential for bouldering is perhaps what excites me most.
Unnamed project with Bongkok in the background
All in all, after a trip there to check it all out, I was left feeling very encouraged. I planned to go there, see what ther place had to offer and see if I coud find any good rock that might warrent a return trip. What I found was a valley with two spectacular rock faces, both of which lend themselves to multi-pitching and single-pitch routes. I've put a selection of photos on rockclimbing.com (my new best friend it would seem) to give more of an over view of the area. The next step will be having a climb which I'm looking forward to immensely. That's the plan for this Sunday; climb. I look forward to writing my next post!
Directions
From Jakarta / Bandung toll: exit toll at Padalarang. Turn right at the main city centre intersection, following signs to Purwakarta. Stay on the road for Purwakarta through Darangdan and after 37km turn right to Plered. Head through Pered on the main road for 12km - straight through a cross road signed Selo Agung at km10 - and turn right onto a small road heading for Cikandang (Just ask people around if unsure). Follow this road as it climbs through settlements for 25 minutes and turn left just after you enter the village, signalled by bamboo fence posts (see image)
Wednesday, 21 April 2010
Albert Camus - The Outsider
The Outsider written by Albert Camus was published in 1942, his first novel, it is a mind-blowing piece of literature; it really allows you to look at life from a slightly different angle and is a major work of philosophy, dealing primarily with absurdism.
The book is used by Camus to explore the theory of the Absurd: a paradox which deals with the idea that although, as humans, we cherish life and value existence highly we are all destined to die and are conscious of our own mortality. Everything we do is futile in the face of this mortality. How can anyone enjoy life knowing that they are sentenced to death? Something like unhappiness is easy to deal with as we know that happiness will follow: we've been unhappy before but we have also been happy and we know that the two follow one another (Parmenides), but any enjoyment of life is impossible due to the meaningless of it. To illustrate this, Camus sentences his main protagonist Meursault, to death and the book follows the life of this character before and after the sentencing.
The Outsider is set in the author's own birth place of Algeria and chronicles a short period of the life of the main protagonist's life leading up to his untimely death. The book is split into two sections. Part one details the funeral of the protagonist's very recently deceased mother and Meursault's murder of a local man while the second part follows the same character's court trial for murder. In this way, Meursault confronts death in three distinct ways including facing up to his own end. The book leaves the reader uncertain about the nature of Meursault; although it is written in the first person he gives nothing about the his own interpretation of events and has a complete emotional detachment from what is happening around him:
"Maman died today. Or yesterday maybe, I don't know. I got a telegram from the home: 'Mother deceased. Funeral tomorrow. Faithfully yours.' That doesn't mean anything. Maybe it was yesterday." pg.3
The reasons for this detachment depend on the reading of the book one adopts. It is maintained throughout witnessing his own mother's death, the murder and his own road death trial. One interpretation for example, is that the character suffers from asbergers or autism to some degree; unaided and misunderstood as he stumbles through his own life and causing the reader to feel wonder, empathy, frustration as they read:
"And the more I thought about it, the more I dug out my memory things I had overlooked or forgotten. I realised then that a man who had lived only one day could easily live for a hundred years in prison. He would have enough memories to keep him from being bored. In a way, it was an advantage." Part 2, Chapter 2, pg. 79
If the book has a bizarre feel to it it overall, this can be explained in part by the fact that it is used by Camus to explore the theory of the Absurd. I find the theory of the Absurd and the way it is expressed through this book fantastic. Reading the book as an exploration of the theory: Meursault's emotional detachment is explained in an instant. This paradox deals with the idea that humans cherish life and value their own existence highly; they seek happiness, comfort and perhaps knowledge and more. Despite all this thirst for living, when all is said and done, we are all destined to die and everything we do becomes futile in the face of or own mortality. How can life have any meaning for you if you are aware that you will die. Coping with unhappiness is possible: we know happiness is sure to follow, but the meaningless of life means any enjoyment of it is impossible.
Monday, 12 April 2010
Roberto Bolaño's The Savage Detectives
The book focuses on two Mexican poets, Arturo Bolano (a ficticious alter-ego of the author) and Ulises Lima and documents their search, over twenty years, for Cisarea Tinajero, a mysterious dissappeared writer and founder of the real vicerismo movement. It is told in three parts. The first and last are diary entries by a young student who, through his involvement in Bolano and Lima's gang of real viceralistas, ends up leaving Mexico DF with the two. The main, central part of the book consists of a series of various freinds' and acquaintances' accounts of meetings with and reflections on Bolano and Lima, and their lives between 1976 to 1996.
The central part of the book is an audacious undertaking, in terms both of the scale of what it chronicles -twenty years of searching through Mexico, Spain, France, Israel and even Africa- and in the narative technique used to tell this. Some of the writers give numerous accounts, others appearing just once; some are a couple of paragraphs while others are over twenty pages long. What impressed me most was Bolano's ability to adopt the persona of these fictitious characters, and use them todescribe a certain period of one or the other of Lima or Bolano's lives. One character simply retells tales that Bolano told him. Fantastic tales and short stories in their own right. Another character is asked by Bolano to assist him in a duel with a critic who Belano feels has misrepresented him. Later in the book, there's a passage from a woman whose spare room Belano rents. She's a body builder who falls in love with Bolano, but with whom Bolano has little, if anything, in common. Sometimes I found myself stunned by the brilliance of these first person naratives. The content is so rich, giving you an awful lot to dwell on.
The book is realist in its descriptions and has an incredible richness in terms of the language. I have to admit that when I first picked up the book, I was overwhealmed. It had been a long while since I'd done much reaing in Spanish and it did seem a little daunting. It is certainly a book that you can return to, and understand more and more with time. It is the first book that I have read that is so closely tied to poetry and was an awakening, with regard to how beaurtiful writing can be. I'm now completely sold on LAm literiture. With Javier Marias and Jose Saramago, every book I pick up at the moment feels like it's the best book I've ever read.
Sunday, 4 April 2010
Work Now, Climb later
Climbing has taken a back seat since arriving in Bandung. The first indication of this came perhaps just before Christmas, in the Harau Valley, in West Sumatra. My interest in the Harau Valley was first sparked by the casual mention of a group of self-sufficient climbers in the Lonely Planet and the subsequent Internet searches that gave a hazy view of definite climbing possibilities. The Valley is a stop-off on the backpacker trail, with the waterfalls of Lemba Harau incorporated into tours to the area around Bukkitinggi. It consists of a single road around which there are villages in a rural setting which back onto distant rocky outcrops. As you continue up the valley, the rock gets closer, the dwellings get fewer and sweeping 100 metre expanses of yellow orange and blue rock rising from emerald green rice fields continue kilometre after kilometre and lead finally to the village of Harau itself. We stayed at the Echo Homestay, a place very close to nature providing an ideal location from which to set out on day trips into the valley itself.
While we managed to fit a visit to the place into a one week trip as well as cart a rope, shoes and harnesses along on the trip, we didn’t get any actual climbing in; in the three days we spent there we only took a look at the rock and the astounding scenery around from ground level. In retrospect it seems like a genuine missed opportunity, and in writing this I realize just how upset I am, while at the time it felt like we tried, although perhaps not with a full effort, to get onto the rock and get some climbing done. By the time we had psyched up to give it a go on the afternoon of the second day, the rain began and didn’t let up before we left to Danau Maninjau on the morning of the third.
While the circumstances and the rain were perhaps partly to blame I can’t help thinking that a fear of the prospect of having to down climb, of the bolts (which were for the most part in good condition), and of my unfamiliarity with the conglomerate rock all went together in creating a certain reluctance to climb and prolonged the climbing until it was, by accident, too late to do so. The trip to Maninjau made up for the lack of climbing for the most part.
In Bandung, we found a local climbing wall within the first week through a friend of Anja’s and went down a couple of times initially and then, when I started work I managed to get it together enough to trek down twice a week at 9 a.m. to have a rewarding pre-work climb. The wall is at a local outdoors shop Eiger on Jl. Cihampelas and by Indonesian standards is pretty good. It is a fully free standing 25 metre overhung, bendcrete-esque artificial wall with holds, bolts enough to get you to the top at about French 7a climbing. Inside, the shop has large glass windows looking into a small bouldering wall made of similar paneled climbing wall with a flat section, a stepped roof, overhung by about two metres and another by around one.
Coming from the UK and having worked at both The Edge in Sheffield and the Manchester Climbing Centre sets my expectations of how a climbing wall should be far too high. Having just one lead wall and small bouldering area at the Eiger Climbing Centre, both with questionable safety issues puts a slight damper on the whole experience. Still, the walls present enough of a challenge to keep me occupied. Throughout the month of March though, I haven’t been down. I put this down to the fact that I haven’t been out on rock since arriving in Indonesia. It really does kill the motivation. Let’s face it, indoor climbing just isn’t the same.
All in all, now that the dry season seems to be making a, appearance, I hope to be able to post some information about climbing around Bandung in the coming weeks and to be able to get motivation back up to the level it was prior to leaving the UK. Bandung has much in its favour in terms of climbing: the local competition climbers who, while perhaps being unable to go outdoors as much as one might hope, are always ready and willing to share a session. So Citata becomes less of a dream and more of a reality.
The Eiger Wall
While we managed to fit a visit to the place into a one week trip as well as cart a rope, shoes and harnesses along on the trip, we didn’t get any actual climbing in; in the three days we spent there we only took a look at the rock and the astounding scenery around from ground level. In retrospect it seems like a genuine missed opportunity, and in writing this I realize just how upset I am, while at the time it felt like we tried, although perhaps not with a full effort, to get onto the rock and get some climbing done. By the time we had psyched up to give it a go on the afternoon of the second day, the rain began and didn’t let up before we left to Danau Maninjau on the morning of the third.
While the circumstances and the rain were perhaps partly to blame I can’t help thinking that a fear of the prospect of having to down climb, of the bolts (which were for the most part in good condition), and of my unfamiliarity with the conglomerate rock all went together in creating a certain reluctance to climb and prolonged the climbing until it was, by accident, too late to do so. The trip to Maninjau made up for the lack of climbing for the most part.
In Bandung, we found a local climbing wall within the first week through a friend of Anja’s and went down a couple of times initially and then, when I started work I managed to get it together enough to trek down twice a week at 9 a.m. to have a rewarding pre-work climb. The wall is at a local outdoors shop Eiger on Jl. Cihampelas and by Indonesian standards is pretty good. It is a fully free standing 25 metre overhung, bendcrete-esque artificial wall with holds, bolts enough to get you to the top at about French 7a climbing. Inside, the shop has large glass windows looking into a small bouldering wall made of similar paneled climbing wall with a flat section, a stepped roof, overhung by about two metres and another by around one.
Coming from the UK and having worked at both The Edge in Sheffield and the Manchester Climbing Centre sets my expectations of how a climbing wall should be far too high. Having just one lead wall and small bouldering area at the Eiger Climbing Centre, both with questionable safety issues puts a slight damper on the whole experience. Still, the walls present enough of a challenge to keep me occupied. Throughout the month of March though, I haven’t been down. I put this down to the fact that I haven’t been out on rock since arriving in Indonesia. It really does kill the motivation. Let’s face it, indoor climbing just isn’t the same.
All in all, now that the dry season seems to be making a, appearance, I hope to be able to post some information about climbing around Bandung in the coming weeks and to be able to get motivation back up to the level it was prior to leaving the UK. Bandung has much in its favour in terms of climbing: the local competition climbers who, while perhaps being unable to go outdoors as much as one might hope, are always ready and willing to share a session. So Citata becomes less of a dream and more of a reality.
Sunday, 14 February 2010
And done
The blog has definitely been forgotten. In all the excitement, finding time to write about what's going on here has been.. well, in a way there has been plenty of other things to get on with. However to bring this page up to date: I have moved into a house in Bandung in an area of North Bandung, Dago, and since January I have been working for English First as an EFL teacher.
The two months that I've been in Indonesia seem to have flown by. After the initial week or so staying with Anja's folks in Upper Dago; their village is Ciburial, a week which, thanks to Gary and Siegrun's fantastic hospitality and culturally balanced environment, provided a gentle shift from West to East; we both headed to West Sumatra, the Island north of Java for one week, before returning to Bandung and heading to the south coast of Java to celebrate the Christmas holiday with Anja's parents. New Years was vastly different to the last few and was spent at Fashion Pasta an Italian restaurant which overlooks the city of Bandung. The night was accompanied by a small string band and four singers who rotated throughout the evening, which played a variety of eastern and western music and felt special. It was one of those events that you know is a once only affair. The set-up was two guitars, mandolins, and an instrument that I'd describe as a three-string cello and was simply surreal. What was really funny to see, was the way in which the majority of people seemed to bring in New Year together at midnight and then by quarter past, seemed to evaporate.
That more or less covers life in the first month in Indonesia in terms of events and what happened. Personal reflections are harder to put down on paper. I'm not sure that the phrase culture shock would be proper for the way I felt when I arrived in the country. It was more a sense of pure wonder. In a way, with the abundance of photos and information about anywhere you care to look at on the Internet, you can create a fairly good mind's eye of how a place might look and feel; you expect the heat and humidity when you step out of the plane so when it happens it isn't so much of a shock, but it still feels incredible. An entry in my diary from the first few days here reads: I'm astounded by everything and surprised by nothing. Livingwithin view of but outside the city, in the hills meant that Bandung wasn't in my face initially. It also heightened the intrigue: looking at it everyday, down below, wondering how it worked and what it felt like.
For me, one of the greatest experiences when stepping outside the environment to which you've become accustomed, is the feeling that so much is so new. The knowledge that you're really looking at the world and noticing it objectively. You walk around, drive, ride, all with eyes wide open, attempting to take everything in. To this end, everything here is so different visually, from what I've become accustomed to in Europe.
The two months that I've been in Indonesia seem to have flown by. After the initial week or so staying with Anja's folks in Upper Dago; their village is Ciburial, a week which, thanks to Gary and Siegrun's fantastic hospitality and culturally balanced environment, provided a gentle shift from West to East; we both headed to West Sumatra, the Island north of Java for one week, before returning to Bandung and heading to the south coast of Java to celebrate the Christmas holiday with Anja's parents. New Years was vastly different to the last few and was spent at Fashion Pasta an Italian restaurant which overlooks the city of Bandung. The night was accompanied by a small string band and four singers who rotated throughout the evening, which played a variety of eastern and western music and felt special. It was one of those events that you know is a once only affair. The set-up was two guitars, mandolins, and an instrument that I'd describe as a three-string cello and was simply surreal. What was really funny to see, was the way in which the majority of people seemed to bring in New Year together at midnight and then by quarter past, seemed to evaporate.
For me, one of the greatest experiences when stepping outside the environment to which you've become accustomed, is the feeling that so much is so new. The knowledge that you're really looking at the world and noticing it objectively. You walk around, drive, ride, all with eyes wide open, attempting to take everything in. To this end, everything here is so different visually, from what I've become accustomed to in Europe.
Wednesday, 11 November 2009
Job: check. Flight: check.
Incredible; incredible how an idea can grow from a vague possibility to become a reality. The move is now staring me in the face* with only three weeks to go. It was only last night, during a moment of pure cliche, that I realised for the very first time what I was doing; that I'm moving away from the UK, from friends, from family and everything I've known.. I felt like a gap year student.
The CELTA course seems like it happened a long time ago now. If I'd got on the course that I initially thought I'd be doing, I would have only just completed the four weeks now and would be looking for a job now. As I managed to get on the summer course, time has been on my side and I have a job sorted, a city to move to and a flight to the other side of the world on the 6th December. The job is with a company called English First (EF), a group of franchised English schools spread around the world and which, as far as I have heard, have a fairly good reputation amongst employees. I will be working with just one other native English teacher in a small school, in the south of Bandung in West Java. Throughout the application process the people at EF have been helpful, responsive and efficient. Given that they will be sorting out my Visa, my work permit and my health insurance as well as other things that I would almost certainly ignore if it was left down to me, I see these as very positive signs for a future employer.
So the job is sorted, Anja and I have a place to stay when we get there. In fact, I saw photographs of her parents' house for the first time last week when we managed to boot up her old computer to drag important files off. The place looks absolutely fantastic. Really though. The setting is perfect greenery in hilly terrain and looks over the plain on which Bandung is situated. There are some photos here: http://www.crabbweb.de/index.htm. The house is just near the area that it looks like we'll be living in anyway and should allow us to find our own place with as little stress as possible.
Thursday, 27 August 2009
CELTA course: check
It's been quite a while since I put anything on here and looking back at the last few weeks, I'm not very surprised. Making the leap from working in a primary school as a TA and finishing at 3.30 everyday had made me soft, soft, soft. Even climbing seemingly none-stop in between and weekends away had made me forget how hard life can be.... Ah.Really though, the CELTA has a fierce reputation as being a very intensive course when compared with other TEFL courses. If I compare it with other periods of stress that I've encountered in my life, it is surely up there alongside the most trying but I think it has been different from, for example my University finals or A-levels. For one thing, no one fails the CELTA, they drop out. Therefore, as long as you keep turning up and standing up in front of students and keep handing in assignments, you will get through it.
What I have found hard, has been the fact that for weeks 1, 2 and 3 you are constantly learning something and then immediately putting it into practice, weather that be using it in the classroom during TP in the afternoon, or writing about it in one of the 4 assignments. There isn't much time to sit back. It quickly becomes obvious though, that the standard of the work itself isn't too high and to begin with at least, trainees are spoon fed.
With just one lesson to go and all assignments handed in, the experience seems to have been extremely useful; I have learnt so many new skills and an enormous amount of information and would feel comfortable beginning work in a school, teaching English as a foreign language. In that sense, the TEFL is a wonderful course to do, especially for the short time it takes to complete. At the same time, I am conscious that I have a lot to learn. It is a similar feeling to one I got when I passed my driving test: I knew I could drive a car, but I knew also that I needed a lot of practice before I would be able to do it without a lot of conscious effort.
Saturday, 6 June 2009
Climb now, work later
Having set with the ball rolling with respect to working and doing research into possible teaching institutions and teaching possibilities, it could be time to begin exploring the climbing potential that Indonesia offers. Despite nearby Thailand and Malasia being well know for their aundance of developped areas, Indonesia appears at first glance to have received relatively little attention, as far as the climbing world is concerned. There are no topos published, as far as I can tell, but with a quick glance on rockclimbing.com and a trawl through their pages on Indo it's easy to find rudimentary information on the sort of places where climbing has been developped. The picture above is from the site and appeared with a caption explaining that the topo was created in "1988 when the French came" and is described as "where it all began regarding rock climbing in Indonesia". Good stuff. Citah 125 is located at an hour's drive from Bandung which sounds promising, with trad and heaps of sport said to be on offer.
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