Democracy in action... good triumphs over evil

I speak, of course, of tonight's frankly stunning final of Australia's Next Top Model.

The judges had cast their votes and the score was four to three in favour of the petulant, tantrum-chucking Cassi, with Tahnee (the favourite in the Blog household), watching her modelling career drift away like her very unfortnate last-minute nosebleed. Alex Perry, how could you?

Like millions (I'm sure) of other Australians Mrs Blog and I were galvanised into action early on in the show when the first judges' votes came in. Tahnee was down three-two at that stage, so Mrs B and I texted our votes.

The end result? People power triumphed and Tahnee won such an overwhelming majority of the viewers' votes that it was enough to unbalance the judges. She won!

I let out a whoop of joy.

Afterwards, it got me thinking about Africa. Here I am, living in Sydney, and the only thing of any concern to me in my day-to-day life, in between writing books, was which 17-year-old was going to win a car and a modelling contract.

This is what makes Australia a good country to live in - our (relative) lack of troubles, strife, and our excellent voting system.

And it's also what makes me want to get back to Africa. Soon.

Well done, Tahnee. Your country salutes you, and Mrs Blog and I salute you, you fine young Australian.

Back to Africa...

Yes, I hear you scream... "get back to talking about Africa. We don't come here to listen to you talk about Australia's Next Top Model, Mr Blog, or listen to your pathetic excuses for not visiting Melbourne or Brisbane..."

I hear you, Legion of Fans (LOF)... loud and clear!

Unfortunately, it's still two months and nine days before fly back to Africa so you, like me, will have to be content with a few re-hashed pictures and a bit of day-dreaming (unless, of course, you live in Africa, in which case you could very well be day dreaming about coming to Australia).

Above is a sunset shot taken at Tsitsikama National Park, South Africa, from my cabin at the Storm's River campsite. What a sensational place it was, too. Spectacular views and very different to the bushveld where Mrs Blog and I usually hang out.

Moving north, we find ourselves on the tranquil waters of Lake Kariba, between Zimbabwe and Zambia. Cue the bird... I think if I could live anywhere in southern Africa if would quite possibly be Kariba, where man and wildlife live, literally, side by side (that is if the man hasn't eaten all the wildlife by now). I'm planning on going back to Kariba on my next trip.

The pesky pied Kingfisher - hardest bird in the world to shoot (with a camera, that is. Pretty easy with a .22, though, I reckon, as they hover for a quite a long time before diving for their prey.) I bagged this beauty in Kruger, near the Sweni Bird Hide.

Not roaring... yawning. Lions do two fifths of bugger all, all day long, so one opening its mouth is a big treat. You can just about hear the "oohs" and the "ahhhs" from the other onlookers around me as I shot His Majesty, mid-yawn. Check those teeth.

All this is making me want to get on that plane, get back to Africa and crank-up old Tonka the Land Rover.

What will I look at for now, though, as I shivver my way through the Sydney winter?

I know, how about...

Forget the the African bush (for now), for the claws, teeth, (fake) fur, and big hair will be flying next Tuesday night as our own Big Cat(ty) Diary, Australia's Next Top Model, reaches its nail-breaking finale.

It's a showdown between the charming, lovely, peronable Tahnee (pictured above... Tahnee's aim in life is to be a Victoria's Secret model - true) and the whingey, whiny, tantrum-chcking boganista, Cassi.

Will good triumph over evil in the circle of life?

(I really need to 1. get back to Africa, or 2. find some work to do until my next book).

On tour - but I ain't afraid of no pig

Honest, Legion of Fans (LOF), it's not the risk of swine flu that is keeping me away from Victoria.

Newsletter edition two went out yesterday (if you aren't receiving my newsletter, please drop me a line at tonyparknews (at) gmail (dot) com and I'll put you on the list) and already I'm getting some forthright feedback about the lack of any speaking engagements in the fine state of Victoria on the forthcoming Shameless-self-promotion-of-my-pirate-book-IVORY tour.

Yes, Mexicans (which is what people in my state call people in the adjoining state to the south), as things stand at the moment it does not look like I will be venturing south of the border down Melbourne way... In case you didn't get the newsletter I will, however, be appearing at:

New South Wales

St Ives Library - July 31, 11am
Camden Library - August 12, 6.30pm
Belrose Library - August 25, 4pm
Lane Cove Library - August 26, 6pm
Ingleburn Library - August 27, 7pm
Viv's Travel Bug, Bowral, August 28, 5.45pm. Phone 4861 3433 to book.
Gordon Library - August 30, 2.30pm
Hornsby Library - September 3, 6.30pm

Save Foundation Black Tie Ball - September 5, 7pm at the Hunters Hill Sailing Club to raise money for the African Rhino. Two course dinner and South African beer and wine for $90 per head. Bookings essential, contact theafricanqueen@bigpond.com

Queensland
Toowoomba City Library - September 7, 6pm

South Australia
Marion Cultural Centre evening, Adelaide - August 3, 7.30pm. Bookings essential, phone 8375 6855.

West Australia
Dymocks Bookseller Event - August 5, 7pm at Tompkins on Swan Function Centre, Alfred Cove. Welcome, non-alcoholic drink and finger food for $15 per head. Contact Dymocks Garden City on 9364 7387.
Mount Claremont Library - August 6, 7pm, Mount Claremont Community Centre next to the library.

Painted Dog Conservation Inc Fundraiser - August 7, 7pm-9pm in the Gershwin Room, Hyatt Hotel, Perth to raise money for the endangered African Painted Dog. Drinks and canapes included at $50 per head. Bookings essential, contact lemonj@ozemail.com.au

Petition?

Here's the deal - if there is anyone other than Crookpaw and Trin from Victoria who would like me to come down to Australia's hippest, trendiest and coldest capital city (except, I supposed, for Hobart), then I will present your collective case to my publishers.

Normally, I will go to the opening of a door, so I don't need any convincing to go to Melbourne.

In other news... just finishing off the edits to my second non fiction book, which is due at the publishers this week. Hope they like it.

And, in truly important news, Adelle was voted off this week (predictable, but sad nonetheless), leaving only willowy Clare, the petulant and painful Cassi, and the thoroughly delightful Tahnee. I know who my money is on. Speak out, fans of Australia's Next Top Model (ANTM)... I know you're out there and I share your anguish at every elimination.

My reality television weakness is, quite clearly, ANTM. (Yes, I'm a guy, and that sounds a bit gay, but what's not to like - attractive young ladies behaving badly in lingerie?) What's your most embarrassing TV fixation, LOF?

To faff or not to faff...

Isn't faffing a good word, Legion of Fans (LOF)? Not heard of it? To faff means, well, to appear to be doing something, but not actually achieving anything at all.

Faffing is a way of life for me when I'm in between books, and I quite enjoy it. I could faff for days, weeks, perhaps months on end. In fact, when I worked as a government media adviser circa 1988-1992 I faffed for virtually the entire time (well, that's not entirely true, but I may as well have been faffing for all that I achieved).

With the catchily titled Book 7 having been accepted by my charming, witty, intelligent, Grace- Kelly-lookalike (when Grace was alive) publisher, and while I await some edits for my second (mysterious) non fiction book to come back to me, I technically have nothing to do.

Of course, I have a list of chores to do (organise junk in garage, write another newsletter, vacuum flat, clean bathroom floor, trim hairs in ears) but when I'm in Faff-mode I find it hard to do anything at all. The less busy I am, the lazier I get.

As an example of Faffing, I'm writing this blog, about nothing, instead of dilligently going through a stack of emails I've received about dates when I'll be speaking at various events and engagements following the release of IVORY. If I'd done that, I'd be able to post dates and places here, which might have been of some use to y'all.

Yet here I am, taking the time to write about nothing. I appear to be busy, tapping away on the laptop, but I am achieving zip.

That's Faffing for you.

Tony on tour.... gulp

Tour dates nearly ready to be released for my whistle-stop-round-parts-of-Australia tour, in order to shamelessly promote the release of my new pirate book, IVORY, post August 1.

Good news is... South Australia is definitely in (after being missed-out last year), as is NSW (of course), Qld (limited stops), and WA (lots of stops), but Victoria.... Well, let us just say, "Trin, do you have any frequent flyer points saved up?"

Paradise lost

We resume normal transmission, Legion of Fans (LOF). Mrs Blog and I have returned from the South Paficic with all body parts intact, having escaped being eaten by cannibals and (more realistically) food poisoning at the hands of the "chef" (read chief-defroster) at the Nukualofu International Airport Hotel.

Had us a great time, LOF, of that there was no doubt. I'd never fancied myself a cruise ship passenger (at least not for another 40 years or so), but I tell you, after a week aboard the Pacific Dawn I certainly had my sea legs (or was that the copious amount of beer I was drinking in the Lido Bar in between speaking engagements?). My favourite spot on the ship, however, was the poop deck, where Mrs Blog would lounge in our deck chairs in the sun and barely have to raise an eyebrow to attract the unifromed drink waiter's attention.

It was very, very relaxing. And WARM. Bloody hell, LOF, who turned off the heater in Australia while we were gone, eh?

I learned a new saying on Tonga: "Island Time". Island Time is remarkably similar to something else many of you will be familiar with - "African Time". Let us just say that unlike the snappy ship-shape service on the Pacific Dawn, things happenned ashore at their own pace in the Friendly Islands, and rarely without being asked for three or four times.

But how could you not be laid back and blissfully uncaring of interlopers' concepts of time and service when you lived in paradise? The people of the South Pacific (if one were to generalise) remind me of the good people of Botswana (if one were to generalise again). They live in a very nice place, run their own show, and don't much give a fig if tourists arrive late, early or not at all. I have to admire them for that.

Another similarity between the islands and Africa (apart from questionable and variable adherence to the rules of the road when driving) was the ever present spectre of times-past. I saw several charming old colonial homes and administrative buildings in Tonga and many of these had been allowed to go to rack and ruin. Why? Who knows. People don't have the time, inclination, or threat-of-flogging to keep the walls painted and the grass mown, I suppose.

The coast of Mozambique, I noticed (warning, warning, self-promotional segue approaching) is similarly studded with once shining touristic colonial jewels that are in dire need of a dip in coca cola or a scrub with the toothbrush.

In my soon-to-be-released sixth novel IVORY the lead character and modern-day pirate King, Alex Tremain, is trying to restore a once grand, but now run-down hotel on an island off the coast of Mozambique. Alex was born on the island, the priveleged son of the hotel's owners, but he and his family were forced to flee Mozambique when the Portuguese left en-masse in the 1970s.

I based Alex's hotel and the ficitious island where he lives on a number of similar old hotels and beautiful locales on the coast of Moz, from Xai Xai in the south, to the Bazaruto Archipelago, where I travelled extensively in search of inspiration and tax-deductions.

I had a pretty good idea in my own mind of what Alex's hotel must have looked like in its heyday, and how it looked these days. However, truth always being better and more interesting than fiction, I was de-socked to open an email from my ex-Zimbo friend Viv, and find this series of pictures which shows the Grande Hotel in the coastal city of Beira during the olden days of Portuguese rule in Mozambique...


...and then this pic which shows what the exact same hotel looks like these days!

And here's the swimming pool, circa Sasha Distelle...

... and today, where's it's still in use as a mosquito and malaria breeding facility.

So, if/when you pick up your copy of IVORY post August 1 and you want to get an idea of how things were/are in Mozambique, you could do worse than referring back to these amazing pics.

I spent some time in the coastal town of Vilanculos while researching and writing IVORY and was interested to see that its local concrete palace, the Hotel Dona Ana, was undergoing frantic restoration. Mozambique was devastated by civil war for many years and tourism is playing a key role in rejuvenating the country's economy.

It's a funny thing... part of Mozambique's attraction at the moment is that it is relatively quiet and low key in some places (outside of South African school holidays) and the infrastructure (or lack thereof) is keeping out mass tourism. I'm not looking forward to the day when I have to arm wrestle some Teutonic tourist for a sun bed and umbrella by the pool, but another part of me hopes that one day more of these grande olde monoliths will once more be gleaming with white wash and brimming with people in sandals and socks.

The very fact that so many of these colonial hotels are still standing on the coast is a tribute to the Portuguese colonialists' appreciation and mastery of the art of concreting. They mightn't be as attractive as a low-key, eco-friendly burres made of palm fronds and rafia work, but they do stand up to the odd cyclone and the test of time very well.

African Time and Island Time are all well and good, LOF, and I'd hate to sea the Indian Ocean coast of Mozambique built-out from north to south, but there's room on the beach and in the market for a few more of these concrete colonial casas and their snappily-attired and snappily-moving drinks waiters to make a come back.

Castaway!

Captain'f log, June 11th,

After running out of jokes and storief about the dark continent, and refufing to dreff appopriately for the Outback Hoe Down Lady Blog and I were forced to walk the plank in Tonga and were caftaway from the MV Paficific Dawn.

Although chriftened the 'friendly ifles' by Captain Cook, the good people of thif island nation alfo have a penchant for cooking hapleff castaways, according to Mr Grant Hyde Efq in hif excellent book, Lordf of the Pacific.

Today we learned that we were, in fact, marooned in Nukualofa af our flight home, on Pacific Blue, was cancelled. We currently await our fate in an encampment near the airport.

At thif moment the only thing going according to plan if the free wireleff internet acceff. Lady Blog'f complementary meal just arrvied stone cold. A cannibal'f cooking fire would not go astray right now - at leaft we would get a hot meal.

The drumf, Legion of Fanf, the drumf...

The nativef are getting restleff.

There are worfe placef to be shipwrecked, LOF, but I can alfo think of fome better onef.