Honesty

When I was in my early twenties there was a group of us who used to get together to play a board game. It was called "Scruples". In this game of moral dilemmas you were given a scenario and a yes, no or depends card. The dilemma in the scenario card needed to be matched with another of the game's players who would ideally answer yes, no or depends to the situation given. As for strategy, you could be honest in your reply, or alternatively you could play Devil's Advocate to stop someone else from winning. If you chose the latter option, you had to have a good reason for choosing the way you did and your rationale would be open to inspection/ridicule from the other players. A straight, or poker face was also a useful weapon, the first sign of a smile and people would know you were lying.

There are times in life when full fledged honesty is a choice that has to be made. The whole concept of white lies, or lies that don't hurt, came about from the desire to protect someone from a harsh truth. It has also been utilised to avoid saying what is truly on your mind. The downside is that sometimes by shielding someone from a truth makes that same truth doubly hard when it is eventually heard.

The rights and wrongs of absolute honesty is a conundrum for the ages. Biblical stories suggest that Peter denying knowing Jesus Christ was an act of self preservation in the face of betraying beliefs and principles. Such extremes show people to be shallow and untrustworthy. Yet in answer to a wife's question "Does my bum look big in this?", what should the husband say?

Sycophants, blithely agreeing with a boss to allow themselves the favour that may or may not come from that, are possibly self delusional but it's hard to deny them their choice when you look at the potential rewards that come from that sort of behaviour. Alas, if the superior is at fault, the wave of support can blind one to the reality and prudence of the situation. Nazi Germany, anyone?

So who amongst us hasn't wanted to tell a superior when they're doing something wrong? Sometimes blunt facts are the perfect broadside when leaving a job as you have no immediate reason to be wary of the words you chosse. But what if you're not leaving and still need to get your point across? A superior who doesn't want to hear the truth because they may not like it needs to look inwardly at themselves. I have seen 360 degree feedback used as an effective tool in this kind of situation. But it still comes down to the choice of words that one uses. A person who chooses to deliver information without considering the impact of what they're saying, shouldn't be surprised at the outcome, especially if in future they need something like a reference etc.

This is where diplomacy and tact join the party. These two guys allow us to pick and choose not only the words we use, but also the time and place in which we use them. Therefore it is possible to still tell the truth but also fall short of being considered impertinent. Alternatively, a good leader would encourage honesty, yet still to be delivered in a thought out manner.

As I said earlier, I guess it boils down to personal choice...

National Sport

Every country has a national sport. Well, most do anyway. Here's a quick quiz and see if you can get them right. I'll give you the country and you tell me the sport. Ready?

1. England

2. Wales

3. Scotland

4. Canada

5. Sri Lanka

6. Chile

7. India

You can find out how you did at the end of the post, and I'm guessing you're in for a surprise?

When I was at school all sports were considered 'fair game', as it were. The UK has been responsible for the creation of many sports and games; badminton, baseball, cricket, rugby, snooker, tennis, darts, football, table tennis, netball, golf, bowls, curling, and squash to name just a few and a cursory glance at some stats (I may have been gender or team specific) says that we're world number one in only 4 of that list.

The first secondary school I attended had a great attitude towards sport and games. If you were inclined and showed enough interest, the Physical Education Department would offer their help and resources to help you to do it. So it was that I got to play football, cricket, both codes of rugby, track and field athletics, basketball, volleyball and swimming. On top of this we were able to do lots of outward bound activities such as orienteering, hiking, sea surfing in kayaks, and mountain climbing, basically cause we had a great bunch of PE teachers. I will be eternally grateful to Chris Booth and John Hacking, the teachers, for their interest in us.

It was surprising that when I moved schools at 14, the new school only focused on cricket and football, even though in some ways it was in a better part of the country. I can only guess this was down to interest, or the lack of it, and the calibre of the PE dept.

Technically Indonesia doesn't have a national sport. Some may argue football or the martial art Pencak Silat, but in 1992 Indonesia won 5 medals at the Barcelona Olympics and since then it has been the de facto national sport. It could have been much, much different though as four years earlier Indonesia won it's first ever Olympic medal, a silver, in the archery competition.

Looking around, and especially teaching the youth of the country, one might be forgiven for thinking that electronic sports and games are king in. But when you look at how badminton can very quickly be set up and equipment not needing to cost the earth, it's easy to see the appeal.

Currently, football in Indonesia is in the doldrums. The professional football association is beset by problems relating from bad organisation to rumours of corruption and this has an effect on the teams and the fanatical supporters.

Indonesia is about to spend huge sums of money in building facilities for the 2019 Asian Games, including a velodrome complete with tennis courts. But many sports are elitist and expensive so I can't help wishing the focus was on getting to kids and giving them similar opportunities to those that I had.

I was lucky enough to meet some members of the current Indonesian men's badmnton team recently and I laughed at how even though we invented the sport Brits aren't very good at it when compared with Asians. They in turn joked that Indonesians are good because many don't work. Joking aside, if more people here were able to access the sports for free, rather than paying huge sums of money for facilities that will only be used by a ridiculously small proportion of the population, we might see a few more Indonesian world champions.

Quiz Answers 1. football, 2. rugby union, 3. golf, 4. la crosse and hockey, 5. volleyball, 6. rodeo, 7. hockey

sources:

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/expat/expatpicturegalleries/9438973/Sports-invented-by-the-British.html

"Takeaway beer" or "take away beer"?

Wandering around the internet looking for examples of extreme, crazy, or extremely crazy laws, I found these;

Only a qualified electrician is allowed to change a light bulb in Victoria, Australia

In Canada, by law, one out of every five songs on the radio must be sung by a Canadian

In Florida, it is illegal to pass wind in a public place after 6pm on Thursdays

In all of these instances, I find it hard to disagree. Anything electrical is potentially life threatening. Who among us hasn't screwed in that bulb only to get a vivid surprise when the bulb springs to life, indicating our lack of forethought where surging volts of death are concerned? Secondly, if we all started doing the jobs of electricians, they might be encouraged to take up secretarial work, or policing, that's not a good idea.

Canada has produced some awesome songsters. Leonard Cohen, Alanis Morissette and Joni Mitchell are just some of the amazing musicians from the land of maple syrup, so the chances of having to listen to Justin Bieber or Celine Dion that often seems within tolerance levels.

As for Floridian flatulence, well chances are that you're only going to be adding to the unnecessarily high methane levels if you go around casually bottom burping so maybe it should be enforced globally?

None of these laws would stop me from enjoying my time in these countries but that is where they differ from Indonesia's recent decision to remove bottled beer from sale in Minimarts.

The government of recently elected President Joko Widodo seems to be doing all it can to appease it's conservative coalition partners. To protect the morals of young people in a 90%-plus Muslim populated country by removing the temptation from the purchaser and the Minimart sales staff, is something I could live with. 

However, as far as I have been able to determine, the ban only applies to the "local store", not the supermarkets, even going so far as to specify that any supermarket with more than 12 square metres of sales floor area may continue to sell beer as long as it is located in an area next to the checkout.

So I'm perplexed at having visited the four big supermarkets in my local area this weekend; Hypermart, Farmers Market, Giant and Carrefour, to discover that they have all removed beer from their shelves and when asking a member of staff about it I was greeted with thinly veiled contempt. And laughter. 

 



It is not a need for alcohol on a daily basis that drives me, just the need to be able to enjoy a cold, frosty pilsner in the comfort of my own home whenever I feel like it. This is why I have less of an issue with the minimarts being banned from selling it. But why the need for supermarkets to jump upon the same waggon? 

Sure, beer is still available in restaurants, but at marked up prices and not the comfort of my own home. The agreement to allow Bali to be exempt from the law, on the grounds of disrupting tourism, is so shallow it resembles a beer stain. Tourism is a driver throughout the archipelago.

I also don't believe it's 'Creeping Sharia', a term that suggests Indonesia's slow move to that kind of  government. Rather, it's probably similar to visas and other red tape where the right hand refuses to take any interest in what the left is doing.

The House...now 6 months on

Having just returned to Indonesia from an extended trip to the UK, Yohana and I thought we'd go and take a look and see what's changed with the house that we have bought 'off plan' and which is being built from scratch.

Our expectations were pretty low, especially as Indonesia's rainy season seems to have been extended, but we got a pleasant surprise.

Not only has quite a lot of building work gone on (they are making good headway with ours), we were able to take a look inside one property which is the same as ours will be and should allow us to start making plans for fixtures and fittings.

We'll also be able to speak with the site architect about immediately extending the rear of the house to increase the size of the kitchen and master bedroom.

Currently they are targeting December for a handover which means we'll only need to extend the rent on our current place for 6 months.

the land in the foreground is for phase 2. Our house is over at the back, far right

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Chuffin' Hell It's Cold! - UK Trip, February 2015 part 4

.....The flight to Newcastle departed on time, courtesy of an Air France City Hopper, but weirdly badged up with KLM motifs. Garuda aren't currently allowed to fly into the UK, something to do with their safety record or something, but the flight was uneventful except for two things.

Firstly the seating is 2-aisle-2 on these small planes and my partner was a Cuban woman who spoke with a Teeside accent owing to the years spent living in Middlesborough. The one hour flight flew by (sorry) and this was due to a most interesting chat I had with my fellow passenger. I've never visited Cuba but am fascinated by the current politics that have seen greater co-operation with the USA, but also with the cigars (they are no longer rolled on the thighs of virgins), the food (Cuban sandwiches are evidently an American idea of Cuba rather than specifically Cuban themselves) and the music (Rumba is her personal favourite). It was a great conversation and before I knew it we were dropping into Newcastle.

Now if you remember that New Ice Age that I mentioned in part three, well this was the literally chilling sight that greeted me from the window seat...

My Auntie Julie and Uncle Mick; Dad's Siter and her husband, had kindly agreed to collect me and drop me at The Scotch Corner Hotel, further down the A1. The plan was that Dad would be left with a mate watching some football while Mum and her friend Pat, on the ruse of doing shopping, would collect me from Scotch Corner and bring me the short distance back to Leyburn.

Arriving back home, I followed the women into the lounge and I'm not entirely sure if Dad was happy to see me or not! I do know that it's the last time I'll give hime a surprise like that as I thought at one point the poor old bugger was going to have a heart attack! He quickly regained his composure and Chris and Pat wandered back home leaving me to catch up with Mum and Dad.

The last few days since I've been here have been quality time. We've shared some laughs and shed some tears, drunk some wine and generally relaxed as a family. Dad's not looking good and there has been a visible increase in the support of medical people. It's all relevant to dad's illness though and as I've said before we've had plenty of time to prepare. Yet I can't help feeling selfish and angry that he's so visibly being gradually taken away.

Dad on the other hand puts a brave face on things and maintains an awesome sense of humour and it's typical of him that his primary concern is that he thinks he's upsetting me by going to bed early.

Chuffin' Hell It's Cold! - UK Trip, February 2015 part 3

.....I have to admit that Garuda were not bad at all. The Boeing 777 with its 3-3-3 seating formation found me in the aisle seat of the middle section. The seat between me and the old guy at the other side was empty so we both stored pillows and blankets there but I realised the minute the snoring started, his, not mine, that conversation wasn't going to be on the agenda. That actually suited me fine as the benefit of a 1am flight is that you're pretty much ready for sleep. I waited until the meal had been served and had a beer with the unimaginative but tasty chicken and rice, watched Lethal Weapon and promptly fell asleep.

When I woke up we were about halfway to Amsterdam and at some point during my 4 hours sleep a clingfilm-wrapped sandwich had been deposited next to me. It didn't look particularly appetising so I went to help myself to a cup of tea from the galley. Yes, in the menus that had been handed out we were politely informed that should we need midflight service, we should help ourselves to items from the galley! I would imagine if this delegation of tasks continues, in a few years I'll be flying the plane! Armed with a cup of tea-I did think that a few miniatures and mixers was wrong at 7am Jakarta time-I made my way back to my seat and dug in my rucksack for some snacks that I'd packed. Airline food is passable, but there's never really anything in the way of chocolate-y stuff to go with a cuppa, and certainly nothing to compete with an orange Rocky or a peanut butter Beng Beng.

A few episodes of Big Bang Theory and I fell asleep again, waking this time with only 4 more hours to go. The Superman movie 'Man of Steel' took up another two and a half hours of that and also took in some more unimaginative chicken and rice for breakfast and pretty soon we were descending into Schipol.

Sat in the middle section, I really couldn't get a decent view of conditions on the ground, but once off the airplane it became apparent that Northern Europe was gripped by some sort of nuclear Winter. The sky was white and there was evidence of fallen snow, not bad for a city three metres below sea level. But it was the bone chilling cold which felt like -30 that got to me the most, and this was in a tunnel leading from the aircraft to the arrival/transfer lounge! Turns out it was actually a tropical 4 degrees, but what do I know.

We'd arrived an hour late, but all that meant was that we'd have an hour less transit so I whiled away some of it in a Heineken bar. I ordered a large beer and after seeing the menu a curried chicken flatbread seemed like a plan, especially as I wasn't expecting any food on the flight to Newcastle and wasn't sure exactly when in fact I would be eating again. If this weather was anything to go by, Newcastle could be one of the first victims of a new ice age.

The beer arrived and I sat surfing the net, messaging Yohana and sipping the beer while waiting for the food, after about twenty minutes, the waiter saw my empty glass and asked if I'd like another. He also asked if I'd had my sandwich yet. I told him that I hadn't but that there was no rush (strange that we English say things like that, especially considering there was only forty more minutes until boarding time) The second beer arrived along with the sandwich five minutes afterwards and delicious it was too. As I came to pay it was the same waiter that served me. "One beer and one sandwich" he declared, not asked. "No, two beers" I replied, honestly.....now what happened next was nothing short of gobsmacking. I'm sat in an airport, a prisoner to whatever pricing structure the airport feel like using and with no choice but to pay, when the waiter said "That's ok, the first beer's on me because of the wait for the sandwich". I thanked him profusely, left a five Euro tip and made my way with a beaming smile that was more about the generosity than the two large Heinekens to wait for the short flight to Newcastle.......

Chuffin' Hell It's Cold - UK Trip February 2015 part two

Saying good bye to Uchiel at the gates to the check-in desks, next stop was to find KLM. A quck x-ray of my bag later and I saw an official looking guy and approached him with a look of what I hoped said good day my man, i'm looking for something and i think you can help me, rather than I've just had a run-in with an obnoxious pillock and am still stark raving crazy.

"Can you tell me where KLM is please?" I asked in Bahasa Indonesian. "Gone" replied the man in English while at the same time gesticulating in a way that reminded me of an Italian stereotype rather than an Indonesian one. "You're too late, next one tomorrow" he said with an air of finality and turned to talk to the colleague on his left. "er, no" said I, holding out my e-ticket, but at the same time holding back my exasperation "It's tonight and I need to check in". Obviously annoyed that he'd been challenged, he turned to me once more and glanced suspiciously at this piece of contradictory evidence......

At this point let me just tell you that there was only one flight going out at 01.05am, it was going with Garuda, rather than with KLM due to their partnership and we were stood opposite the Garuda check-in desks.

........"Try down there" he said, pointing to the next departure hall, "they'll know." and so off I wandered in the direction he was pointing. Halfway down the next departure hall, with no sign of KLM, I stopped and asked another airline official. This conversation explained everything I had discussed with the first chap and, excusing himself, this new guy went off to consult his superior due to his perplexion at the information I'd been given.

The culmination of this was that 5 minutes later I was trapsing back to the Garuda desk where I had spoken to the first guy. Looking around with a view to giving him my best Paddington 'Hard Stare', where did I see him? Yes, behind the Garuda check-in desk! You've got to laugh, evidently.

Next stop in the airport process is the passport desk. This is pretty much pot luck as sometimes you get straight through and sometimes you get asked a leftfield question. It's possible you may also be asked to donate to the Injured Passport Officials Holiday Fund. Today fell into the second cateogary.

When you arrive in Indonesia, you retain the departure section of your arrival card for when you exit the country. Mine had actually been stapled into a page of my passport by an incredibly organised immigration guy who saw me in from Singapore. You could be forgiven for thinking that this would be pretty straightforward. "Where's your departure card?" he asked me in Bahasa Indonesian. "There in my passport" I replied in Bahasa Indonesian. "This isn't correct" he shot back at me in Bahasa. At this point I became possessed by a moment of pure Bahasa Indonesian greatness and proceeded to tell him the story of my last entry into Indonesia and how the card came to be there. Whether it was my Bahasa or the fact that he really couldn't argue with the actions of a colleague, he had no choice but to somewhat reluctantly let me through.

The next two hours were spent having a couple of beers and a cigarette in Royals Cafe near the final x-ray check and passing time chatting to a Dutch research scientist and his wife in the departure lounge before being called 30 minutes late for the flight......