All Things Change

In my travels I’ve had the privilege of visiting 23 countries around the world. Which has left me with stories that can bore the average listener quicker than a *caravan owner’s family vacation video. Although I do treasure all I have seen and experienced in my travels. Like being shot at while climbing Barcelona’s Montjuic, or pulling a drowning kid from the Russian River (in California), or introducing myself as the Dali Lama to some Tibetan teenagers, and the list goes on… I could bore you thoroughly with it but I’ll show mercy and self control.

My self constraint though is only limited to travel stories. So here’s a few things I’ve experienced since living in the North East, of the country in which I live, that are different to my western world and occasionally alarming. Like:

1 Someone carrying a full sized refrigerator strapped to the side of their bicycle.

2 Rafting a river on inflated sheep skins.

3 Playing basketball with the equivalent of the CIA and accidentally beating them.

4 Being close enough to have a conversation with a wrecking crane driver while he swung the wrecking ball into the seven story building only 15 meters away. It got a little hard at times to talk especially when the building fell down.

5 Watching an international stadium implode, from the comfort of a five star hotel.

6 Watching just about every landmark within a half kilometer radius be demolished and redeveloped.

Which leaves me with my current obsession… DEMOLITION.

I can’t help seeking out buildings, bridges, stadiums, and any standing structure made from steel and concrete to watch it fall. There’s explosions, bulldozers, wrecking balls, extendable chomping claws, crane sized jack hammers, workers with no hard hats, and a readily made viewing area. To be exact the viewing area is pretty much where ever you find yourself: in the post office watching the wrecking ball glide past the window; or as a member of the informal street party that quickly disbands when the dust from the falling building over comes us; or from the more refined comforts of a five star hotel executive floor.

If there were a support group for demolition addicts I would need to join. “Hi, my name’s Damian. It’s been two days since I watched my last FTS (fixed structure collapse)… to be honest there’s a little bit of me wishing this building would fall down right now.” And my support group would answer, “We hear you man, just to have a wrecking ball come flying through that wall would be something else… wouldn’t it? But we gotta fight that mannnn. Like, you know, it’s destructive…” Then we’d all cry and pound our fists at the air…

I don’t need help though. I’ll stop just as soon as the banks stop handing out money to developers.

* A caravan, for the “non” commonwealth readers is a largish box on wheels with windows (and a door) you can tow behind your family vehicle. It promises all the convenience of a real home but delivers the comfort of an airplane restroom. These are usually owned by retirees and/or the mis-guided. And watching them being destroyed by monster trucks IS fun.