Chuck Norris Facts

A South African friend told me about this website…here are some of the highlights:

There is no theory of evolution, just a list of creatures Chuck Norris has allowed to live.

Chuck Norris’ tears cure cancer. Too bad he has never cried.

Guns don’t kill people, Chuck Norris kills people.

When the Boogeyman goes to sleep every night he checks his closet for Chuck Norris.

Chuck Norris is the reason why Waldo is hiding.

Chuck Norris does not play the lottery. It doesn’t have nearly enough balls.

They were going to release a Chuck Norris edition of Clue, but the answer always turns out to be “Chuck Norris. In The Library. With a Roundhouse Kick.”

Chuck Norris likes his ice like he likes his skulls: crushed.

Industrial logging isn’t the cause of deforestation. Chuck Norris needs toothpicks.

As President Roosevelt said: “We have nothing to fear but fear itself. And Chuck Norris.”

Kenny G is allowed to live because Chuck Norris doesn’t kill women.

There are no disabled people. Only people who have met Chuck Norris.

There is no chin behind Chuck Norris’ beard. There is only another fist.

Chuck Norris never goes to the dentist because his teeth are unbreakable. His enemies never go to the dentist because they have no teeth.

Chuck Norris is currently suing NBC, claiming Law and Order are trademarked names for his left and right legs.

The quickest way to a man’s heart is with Chuck Norris’ fist.

On the 7th day, God rested…. Chuck Norris took over.

Chuck Norris doesn’t throw up if he drinks too much. Chuck Norris throws down!

Chuck Norris grinds his coffee with his teeth and boils the water with his own rage.

Chuck Norris doesn’t believe in Germany.

One time while sparring with Wolverine, Chuck Norris accidentally lost his left testicle. You might be familiar with it to this very day by its technical term: Jupiter

Chuck Norris once went skydiving, but promised never to do it again. One Grand Canyon is enough.

In a fight between Batman and Darth Vader, the winner would be Chuck Norris.

Contrary to popular belief, America is not a democracy – its a Chucktatorship.

http://www.chucknorrisfacts.com/

The Comrades Ultra-Marathon

Congratulations to Kristi for finishing the 2007 Comrades Marathon! The Comrades is an 83 km (56 mile) race from Pietermartizburg to Durban. The starting point alternates between the two cities each year- so next year it will start in Durban and finish in PMB. The route ending in Durban is considered the “downhill” since the elevation drops, however, some people claim that the uphill is “easier”. A special medal is given to people who run it two years in a row thus completing both the uphill and the downhill. The race is in its 82nd year.

This year’s winner was a Russian guy who finished it in 5 hours and 20 minutes – breaking a 20-year-old Comrades record for fastest time. The female winners were two identical twins, also from Russia, taking first and second place. They ran in at 6 hours and 10 minutes – about 29 seconds apart. Kristi finished in just over 11 hours – finishing at all is quite an acheivement not to mention INSANE. I’m still having trouble believing that people can run that far in one day.

According to the newspaper 12,000 people were crazy enough to start the Comrades, but it was silent as to how many of them made it across the finish line. In order to officially complete the race one must finish in 12 hours and there are various checkpoints along the way where runners who fall too far behind, to the point of having no hope of finishing in 12 hours, are eliminated. One man died.

One does have to qualify to run the Comrades – a major prerequiste being the ability to finish a standard marathon in under 5 hours. As we were hanging out at the finish line waiting to see Kristi run in, I observed that many of the other runners who were able to complete Comrades did NOT appear to be in very good shape. There were a few people who looked like they hadn’t run a lap around the track since Mandela left office. Then there were the handful of South African runners who cracked open six-packs of beer and lit up cigarettes within minutes of finishing the race!!! Unbelieveable.

Thankfully Kristi is still alive, although on this morning after she may wish she wasn’t. She’s glad she did The Comrades but has vowed never to do it again as long as she lives. Her sights are now set on entering the Boston Marathon. Go Kristi GO!

Help I’m Trapped in the MALL!

This isn’t like a joking statment in the sense of, “help I can’t stop shopping” – oh no – last weekend I was literally trapped in the mall. The Workshop Mall to be exact, in downtown Durban.

There I was having breakfast with some fellow PC volunteers when all of a sudden the people running the coffee shop put the place on lockdown – meaning closing and locking the security gates at the entrance so no one could get in – or out. Based on all of the ruckus I assumed that one of the stores in the mall was being robbed, as this is not unheard of in SA or in Durban.

It took us a few mintues to establish what was actually going on, and it turned out that it wasn’t robbers. Across the street from the Workshop Mall is Durban City Hall, which on this particular Saturday morning was the center of a large protest concerning the changing of street names in and around Durban. Protests in SA can go from calm to crazy relatively quickly which was what had happened. People protesting at City Hall came across the street and into the mall brandishing sticks and clubs and scaring the bejesus out of shopowners and customers until they were chased out again by mall security.

Unfortunately, the upheaval inside the mall continued for a long time after the protesters exited the scene – the protest itself was still going on outside and mall security feared for the worst. So they put the entire mall on lockdown and I spent the better part of my Saturday morning holed-up in an internet cafe before things simmered down enough for me to escape and take the bus home.

Despite their efforts to appear as threatening as possible, the protesters thankfully didn’t actually hurt anyone. Considering South Africa’s violent history though, most people are pretty on edge and usually react in the extreme to any potential threats – hence putting an entire mall on lockdown.

What’s in a name? In Durban lots of street and place names are British and therefore considered to be unpleasant reminders of SA’s colonial history.   But reportedly the main purpose behind changing the street names is to honor the heroes of the South African Struggle for freedom against the repressive apartheid regime of the last century (Mandela, the Sisulus, Oliver Tambo to name of a few of the more famous heroes). But in Kwa-Zulu Natal, it never seems to be quite that simple.

No one was protesting getting rid of the old British names – on that everyone can actually agree. The problem stems from longtime feuding between the two main political parties in the Province – these being the African National Congress (ANC) and the Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP).

The two have been kicking the crap out of each other for decades and there’s alot of animosity between them today. The current ruling party, the ANC, often abuses its power by witholding social services (water, electricity, etc.) from areas where large numbers of IFP members live. Back in the days when the ANC was fighting a guerilla war against the apartheid regime, Inkatha often supported the actions of the former government – sometimes leading the capture, detention and torture of ANC fighters. So its pretty safe to say some bad blood still exists.

The most recent row, the one that had me trapped in the mall, started because the IFP feels the ANC is being discriminatory in its selection of new Durban street names favoring ANC Struggle heroes only. So they got themselves all fired-up and terrorized downtown Durban over it. Really, if anyone wants my opinion, I don’t give a rat’s ass. Get over yourselves and let me go to the mall in peace.

Nobody worry…I’m OK!

So these big waves hit Durban last week. Well not just Durban – the entire east coast of South Africa was affected. The waves were freakishly large, not like tsunami large, but big enough to wreck alot of businesses on the Durban beachfront and homes along the coasts north and south of the city.

This was the scene in Ballito a short drive north of Durban.

But in Durban Proper the damage was localized to the beachfront area only, meaning my flat on top of the huge hill on the other side of the beach was safe, as was most of the rest of the city. To my amazement my sponsoring organization, the US PC, did actually check to make sure I was alive the next morning. Although had it been a real emergency like a tsunami, I probably would have already been dead. They also checked to make sure that that all the other volunteers in the province were OK, even those living several hundred km from the coast…just in case.

Diving on the Aliwal Shoal

Last Sunday I spent the day scuba diving on the Aliwal Shoal which is a point off the southern coast of Kwa-zulu Natal near the town of Scottburgh. It’s about an hour’s drive south Durban. The Aliwal Shoal is named after the Aliwal, a British ship that ran into trouble there about a hundred or so years ago. The shoal is also famous for being home to a Ragged Tooth Sharks – or “Raggies”- a docile group that can be found in the winter months (i.e. June and July here). Since this is technically still summer we didn’t bump into any Raggies, which is fine with me!

I went with Tom and his son Aidan (who’s visiting from the US) who are in the process of getting their diving qualification together. This was my first diving trip after being certified, so I was a little nervous that I had forgotten alot of stuff. My initial attempts at putting together my equipment reinforced these fears – I forgot or confused a couple things – which Aidan, unfortunately for him, was quick to point out.

In my defense though I should add that it was about 5 in the morning, definitely NOT the time of the day when I’m at my best and brightest! But once I got in the water I was good to go. During my dive course I think I had been paying alot closer attention to the underwater stuff than the equipment assembly – which isnt really the smartest thing since if you put your equipment together wrong you’re screwed!

We did two dives that day and both times the visibility (how clear the water is underneath the surface) pretty much sucked. It seems like the stronger the current or the rougher the sea the worse the visibility since more sand and debris gets stirred up on the ocean floor. The sea on this particular day was rough hence the crappy viz (diving lingo for visibility!). I did see a bunch of cool fish but nothing overwhelming or spectacular.

The conditions were perfect, however, for trying out my new seasickness pill. The pills worked OK since I didn’t puke or pass out. I did feel very nauseous on the way back in from the first dive when I think they were wearing off. I wasn’t even hungover at all this time – which is really unfair.

A Simian Sighting of Note

The other morning on my walk to the bus/taxi I saw a vervet monkey approaching on the sidewalk from the other direction. As the monkey and I got closer to each other we both slowed down a bit.

In my case I was trying to figure out how to best avoid any monkey-human contact. I decided that I would slowly, and in the most non-threatening way possible, abdicate the sidewalk to the monkey and walk in the street until we passed each other. The strategy worked perfectly and I think the monkey may have even been relieved that he didn’t have to bite me.

A burly Afrikaner man was standing across the street observing this course of events beside his parked bakkie. Our conversation proceeded as follows:

Man: You afraid of that little thing? (which incidentally was by no means little)

Me: I’m not afraid of monkeys. I’m afraid of monkey diseases.

Some things should just be obvious, even to burly Afrikaners.

Don’t Fence Me In

Cows are stupid. In South Africa they like to stand in the road. This really makes no sense as eating grass forms the basis of a cow’s entire existence and grass typically cannot be found growing in the asphalt of a well-used road. This lack of grass does not deter the cow, however, from standing, stupidly, in the middle of a well-used road.

There are many cows in rural South Africa but few fences. So you’re bound to see a cow or two in the middle of the road or secondary highway when driving through a rural area. If you’re lucky the vehicle you’re driving or riding in will be able to slow down or swerve in time to avoid a collision with the hapless bovine, or in some cases, small ruminant such as a goat.

Back home Pennsylvanians face similar dangers with deer that often dart out in front of speeding cars. This becomes a problem every autumn when the entire state becomes overrun with the fuzzy-tailed creatures. But at least deer are afraid of cars and are usually trying to get away from them when they’re hit. Unlike cows, which fear nothing and don’t even consider vacating the highway until prompted to do so with furious horn-blaring. Deer are also much cuter and move a hell of alot faster.

Deer vs. Car = Dead Deer and Messed-up Car. The degree of messed-upedness of the car depends on the size of the deer, as this varies.

Last week I was in a bus that almost hit a cow – it was close. I think that in a Bus vs. Cow situation the cow would not fare as well as the bus. In another near cow collision I was a passenger in a Hyundai Atos.

Cow vs. Hyundai Atos = Too close to call

Hit and Run

I hate running. This is due to the feeling I get after a do it for a while – kind of a cross between feeling the need to vomit and pass out at the same time. I will also, without fail, get a least one side-splitting abdominal cramp. And did I mention I have bad knees?

In high school I always avoided the sports that required long periods of running at practice; field hockey, softball, track – not to mention cross-country which seemed like a fate worse than death. I did, however, play soccer for a season and funny enough we didn’t run much…maybe that’s why we didn’t win much either.

But here in Durbs I can sometimes be seen on streets of my ‘hood participating in my most favourite activity. The reasoning behind this seemingly absurd choice of self-torture can be explained using simple “mathematics”:

Sitting at desk all day + No Gym Access = Fat Ass.

Sitting at desk all day + Periodic Running = At least not feeling like Fat Ass.

Running on the streets of Durban can actually be dangerous, although not for the reasons that Durban is usually dangerous (like muggings, car-jackings and other forms of violent crime) but because people here CANNOT DRIVE. I mean I’ve seen some pretty bad driving in my day in several different countries, not to mention at home in the US. Where my own brother for instance has had his driver’s license suspended since 2003. So let’s just say I’ve got some experience.

But at least under the circumstances in my recent memory the bad driving can be attributed to one or more causal factors:

1.) Being in a hurry. Examples: Most bad drivers in the US.

2.) Being an asshole/ Having Road Rage. Example: Me on the PA Turnpike after I get cut off by someone from Jersey.

3.) Lack of proper driver training. Examples: Most bad drivers in the developing world.

4.) Lack of traffic laws and traffic law enforcement. Examples: Developing world again and Europe.

5.) Pure stupidity. Example: My Brother.

It seems to me that there is evidence here in SA of all the above mentioned causal factors. The disturbing thing is the psychotic and sometimes homocidal nature of bad driving in South Africa. It’s like they want to hit you – even when you’re standing on the sidewalk!

I have the bad habit of stepping off the curb onto the edge of the street when I’m waiting to cross. But I’ve become a bit more patient recently since I realized that careening drivers seem to see this as a perfect opportunity to take me out and add a notch to their Dead Pedestrian Belts.

I also never proceed into an intersection – red light or no – unless I have complete visual confirmation that all oncoming traffic has definitively stopped. Because around here red lights are at best, optional. People say that’s because they’re afraid of car-jackings – but I don’t buy it. They just don’t feel like stopping. It makes much more sense to risk death in a head-on collision.

One good thing though: I like running alot more when it becomes an adventure sport.

I need an old priest and a young priest…

Air conditioners in South Africa are commonly known as “Aircons”. I have an Aircon in my apartment and it hasn’t worked properly for about 4-5 months now. While I acknowledge that I’m lucky to have any Aircon in the first place, I’m slowly being driven mad by the growling, spitting beast I’ve been living with since September.

My Aircon isn’t shaped like the ones in the US but like most of the ones here in SA which are long, skinny and mounted in the wall instead of in a window. When it started dripping a little (on the inside) I called my nice but slightly batty landlady to alert her to the problem. It wasn’t that big of a deal then since the water was only landing on the kitchen countertop and not doing any damage. My landlady intends to be helpful and she did try to do something about it.

I imagine getting something like an Aircon fixed shouldn’t be that difficult and would involve the following steps;

1.) Call Repairman

2.) Repairman visits and finds the problem

3.) Repairman fixes the problem

4.) Repairman is paid.

But as I learned sometime ago, nothing here is quite as easy as it seems, especially for my landlady – who incidentally walks around her own property in the disguise of a wig and sunglasses. I don’t think she’s trying to hide from people; she just seems to like wearing them. She’s very afraid of being thought of as an absentee landlord – although I don’t see how that could be possible since she lives a stone’s throw away from my front door – so she’s really put forth her best effort over the past 4-5 months to fix my Aircon problem.

Last week the Aircon stopped consistently blowing cold air, when it was blowing cold air it began leaking – ALOT – and making a very scary loud clacking noise, kind of like it was going to explode. I alerted my landlady to this problem. She stopped by yesterday evening, fiddled with the controls and promised that the elusive Repairman would be coming again the next day.

Then at about 4:30am this morning I was awakened by the sounds of splashing liquid coming from the vicinity of the Aircon. I soon realized that the sounds were caused by water squirting onto the countertop in diarrhea-like bursts. I was considering getting out of bed to inspect the situation, when the Aircon started making an extremely loud and unnatural growling noise. I tried to turn it off using the remote (there are no manual controls for some reason) but discovered the remote had been soaked by all the water and wouldn’t work.

Heather was lucky enough to be sleeping over last night and we proceeded to do what I normally do with malfunctioning machinery – beat the crap out of it. At this point the Aircon began to spit out chunks of ice like an ice cube machine but at a velocity fast enough to take out someone’s eye. After a few minutes of encouragement the last chunk clattered across the countertop there was peaceful silence.

Decapitation by monster ice shard spewed into kitchen from bowels of demonically possessed Aircon – one more way to die in South Africa.

Another Sh*t day in Africa

This is one of my friend Charlie’s favorite lines. He usually breaks out this gem when he’s doing something he really enjoys like drinking, eating or as I learned on a previous trip to the Berg (Drakensberg Mountains); horseback riding.

I was lucky enough to be invited by my friends and co-workers, Stuart and Precious, to the Berg for a weekend. It’s beautiful up there, dramatic peaks and rolling hills – some of which featured prominently in the hiking pics I sent out a while back.

One mainly goes to the Berg to relax, enjoy the mountain air, or hike. At the Champagne Castle resort where we stayed, horseback riding is also included as one of the activities available for guests. I’d never been on a horse since I was a kid.

My Nana had a “farm”. That was what we called it anyway, but it was more like a petting zoo where Nana kept a bunch of barnyard animals as pets. It was fun going there because I got to play with all the animals. That is until the day I tried to feed Nana’s horse a carrot and CHOMP – big horse teeth came down on tiny 5 year old finger – the wailing which resulted has now become somewhat legendary in family circles.

 

Nana also used to somewhat obsessively warn me about staying away from the horse’s rear end as to avoid being kicked in the head. I’ve pretty much stayed away from them ever since. I guess my fear of horses started early, as did my fear of Nana, who could be pretty scary herself when she wanted to be. But I digress.

I decided on this particular trip to the Berg that I would conquer my fear of horses by riding one, mostly since Charles and Precious were planning on going anyway. When I heard Charles (who is quite the horseman) had signed us up for the “Intermediate” horse-riding session I wasn’t alarmed since I figured we would each be able to go at our own speed. This, however, was not the case.

Apparently there are different horses that are taken out depending on the skill level of the riders that sign up. Some horses like to run, and others are slow and only like to walk – and the ones that like to run take off as soon as the ones in front of them start running. So when my horse started running after the two in front of him, I felt like I would be bounced off at any moment and held on white-knuckled for dear life. I had no idea what I was doing and just concentrated on staying in the saddle. Luckily the first running episode ended rather quickly, after Charlie developed a poorly-timed cramp in the arse.

I managed to get over my initial terror of flying off the horse soon and actually started to enjoy myself, although this occured mostly when we were walking or trotting. But the cantering was definitely fun too – in a high-adrenaline sort of way. The scenery was breathtaking, the weather was fine, and we even got to see some Zebra and Springbok (like miniature antelopes) as we were riding through some flatter grassy areas.

“What would I be doing if I were in America right now?” I wondered to myself as we rode along.