colloquium

So I spent the weekend testing an automation tool cool T-Robot and the Test Suite from T-Plan.

I also drastically reduced my friends on Facebook. It’s cool and all, but I miss my blog. What’s the point of having friends that I’ve hardly spoken to. Ever. So, if you don’t see me in your friends list, nothing personal.

Soon I might be going to Nigeria for at least 2 months. I’ll probably lose my MTN number and I’ll be back on my 084 number. But I’ll be here on my blog. I promise.

OMD’s first couple of videos are quite bizarre. Very 80’s. Not that it’s an issue. Music wise I seem to be stuck in the 80’s anyway. Saw this double CD the other day of Hi-NRG hits. Quality is not good though, but there are some awesome tracks on it.

And Avatar – awesome! Every bit as good as they make it out to be. And congratulations on District 9 on getting a best picture Oscar nomination. May Invictus please not win any. Just because one is playing Nelson Mandela should not make you an automatic contender. I’m sure if I were to play Mother Theresa I would get an Oscar nomination too.

And allofmp3.com moved to mp3sparks.com.

I have some moral issues with Dexter.

As for my 64GB SSD, totally cool. A pity they’re still so expensive, but worth it.

Over and out.

I propose two new words to the English language, against the protest of Justin.

Seriosity and Seriousness.

Gravity sounds to grave and severity is too severe. Critical is too negative.

If unfriend can be a word, so can seriosity.

Thanks

I promised I will not ponder things, but last night I had some sort of a conundrum.

I buy these Woolworths concentrated juice drink that should be diluted 1:4. The label states that the diluted product contains 50% fruit juice.

Now, I know that 80% of the diluted product is water, because 20% is the concentrate. Does that then mean that the concentrate contains more than 100% fruit juice? So if I take normal juice and halve it by evaporating water, I have 200% fruit juice? Can I assume that 50% of the concentrate is fruit juice and the rest other stuff like preservatives? If I then dilute 400ml concentrate with 600ml water do I have 100% fruit juice then?

So what percentage of the concentrate is pure fruit juice if the diluted product contains 50% fruit juice?

One quintillion I tell you. One quintillion!

That’s 10¹⁸ or 1,000,000,000,000,000,000.

BOINC

I’ve decided to simplify my life. I went through everything in my place and threw out everything I haven’t used recently. If only there were places one could take free stuff too. Anything that still works and can be reused.

Anyway, as part of this new resolution, I’m trying to stop making lists and count things and ponder too much on things.

Therefore I do not have posts this year on the 5 greatest things that happened to me this year or what I bought or lost or sold or watched etc.

Yes, I’ve neglected friends and I apologise. And yes, I screamed and shouted at the bloody incompetent and utterly useless ACSA last night. I decided it’s not that people want to blow up airplanes. It’s the actual airports and airport companies they’re trying to take out.

Personally, this past year has been the greatest year I’ve had this decade. Thank you to my friends and family.

See you all in 2010.

A good summary of my Ibiza Trip.

http://www.charlesjoubert.com/coppermine/thumbnails.php?album=56

I had a good night’s sleep. I remember having the most bizarre dreams, but I cannot remember them now. Maybe it had to do with the most burning issue I had before falling asleep. Do I want the air-conditioning on or not?

Woke up rather refreshed and I planned the day and packed accordingly. Checked out of the Regente Hotel off Callao and ventured to Plaza Mayor where I was waiting for Mario. But Mario didn’t come.

Walked back to the hotel to fetch my baggage and start the trek to the airport. I SMSed Mario thanking him for a very nice day yesterday, but he said that he would like to see me before I go on my way. So I met him and his father in Plaza de Espanya and we agreed to keep in touch. He seems quite keen to come over for the World Cup next year. And I have my previous ticket to use within one year, so I might just come this way again.

I wish I could bring my father along. There are so many things I want to show him and things I want him to experience.

Collected my stuff, took Linea 5 to Alfonso Martinez, Linea 10 to Nuevos Ministerios and Linea 8 to the Airport. Checked in for my flight to Frankfurt and onwards to Johannesburg. I didn’t realise I was flying SAA back. I don’t like that. Flying on a foreign airline is exciting still. Part of the trip. Flying one of your own airlines back is just a reminder that the fat lady has sung.

Everytime I return from overseas I vow to speak and insist on speaking Afrikaans. Like on the plane tonight for example. Not long ago it still was Die Suid-Afrikaanse Lugdiens, damnit. People in other countries and Europe especially are fortunate in so many ways they don’t even realise. We all should be proud of our heritage and not feel guilty for whatever someone else may think of it. I cannot undo what’s been done and I cannot be blamed for stuff that happened that I had no involvement in.

I get so angry.

Now I’m spending my last euros on a chicken and beacon sandwhich whish is nothing but ham and chicken.

I guess this is it.

The End.

What song was number one in Germany the day The Wall came tumbling down?

Lambada.

Which content’s population recently reached 1 billion?

Africa.

Just two of the questions on the German Who want’s to be a Millionaire show I saw the other night. There are more German and other language channels than English channels on TV (well, the one in my room anyway).

I’m dead tired but I have to do this. This trip has been wonderful so far and this is my way of keeping a diary.

Yesterday I spent between the swimming pool and my room, packing and organising and playing chicken with the sun, which beat me hands down. Today I’m in my Red Indian attire. It was unfortunately also that day of the trip that I have to accept that life is not Ibiza and that by next week this time this would seem ages ago.

And I silently wept a tear for being on Ibiza all by myself. How I wish that I didn’t feel cheated by life. Actually thinking about life and my life in particular was very depressing. If I can be sad on Ibiza then neither money nor travelling the world is the answer. They are but supernovae in a dark galaxy far away from here. And I’m not the Jedi Knight in shining armour. Am I turning into King Solomon, looking for that one thing that makes life worthwhile, except I don’t accept his answer? Or was it that Moulin Rouge song that said the only happiness there is, is to love and be loved in return…?

So, as usual, I plan to be ready for the bus around 07:30 to take me to the airport and at 06:30 I was ready to go. Took a taxi to the airport which was rather busy! I thought it was a quiet little airport. Looking at the destinations it would seem that Ibiza is emigrating to Germany. In a matter of 2-4 hours there were flights departing to Munich, Dusseldorf, Leipzig, Stuttgart etc. My flight was on time. I thought sitting at the window would be cool for a change but I slept the whole way to Madrid, is not an awfully long way.

Got to Madrid and navigated the Metro all the way to the hotel I booked last night. I was seriously perspiring when I got here. I don’t know how these people do it. I spent two minutes underground and my shirt is like a towel in the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. It contains all the necessary salt needed for a very long trip.

I then phoned Mario. I was really looking forward to seeing Mario again. I met Mario in 1998 when I was working in Switzerland. He was also there through the same organisation that organised me a job at EPFL in Lausanne. When my mother and I came to Madrid end of 1999, Mario showed us around.

And now 10 years later we meet again. We went for a walk all the way to Plaza Mayor where we sat down for something to drink. This woman who draws caricatures of people approached me in awe of my front teeth. She was just dying to use that in her drawing of me. I felt somewhat offended but Mario assured me that she had no macabre intentions.

Mario’s father then phoned and suggested that Mario and I use his tickets to go watch football. So after coming back to take a nap, Mario and I went to watch Real Madrid play Tenerife. And I got to see both Ronaldo and Kaka in action! What a wonderful experience just being there and watching the Spanish crowd enthralled.

But Mario had a late night so after walking with me to the Hard Rock Cafe, he left. It’s my own little tradition to visit each Hard Rock Cafe where there is one. I bought a shirt here 10 years ago, but I have outgrown it.

My room is pretty small. Must be a single room. Two people would easily suffocate and die peacefully in their sleep. Check-out is only at 12:00. That is so cool!

So I’m going to bed now. I’m going to sleep until at least 09:00. I’ll check out around 11:00 as Mario and I will be going to the flea market somewhere. And then around 14:00 or so I should leave for the airport where I will catch a plane to Frankfurt and a bigger one tomorrow evening back to Johannesburg.

Woke up a little bit clueless as to what I want to do today, so I took a taxi to Cala Bassa. I still have to figure out what a ‘cala’ is and how it is different from a ‘playa’ but in Ibiza terms it seems to be a beach with actual sand. My taxi driver tried to explain it but between my broken Spanish and her broken English we settled on a smile.

For the second time I had a woman taxi driver. She says that there are a couple of woman drivers on Ibiza, although only 2 or so drive at night. She is not very concerned about security. She says more often than not the people are either drunk or fall asleep in the taxi. I must admit that everyone seems to be very friendly and polite and I haven’t seen any aggravated persons except for a girl at Privilege who was screaming and shouting as if possessed. But she was escorted away in no uncertain terms.

None of the taxis or any cars I’ve seen are automatic. I always presumed that automatic cars are way more popular abroad. She, the taxi driver, explained that automatic cars are so much more expensive and more prone to problems.

Cala Bassa was cool. The Mediterranean is more cold and salty than I expected. Even the swimming pool here is pretty cold.

It was around 12:00 and the sun was potent. But I was armed with my bottle of suntan lotion indicating factor 30 on the outside. But from what I’ve put in there over the years, I think it averages out to about factor 23.4. The water is clean and clear and the fish were swimming around casually. I took a couple of pictures trying to avoid all the topless women – not knowing how they would react and not keen to find out. After all, there are way cooler postcards.

Finally got the bus schedule right and came back on Linea 7. Afternoon nap, swimming pool, bath. Then I set out to find decent paella. Found paella and a pretty decadent walnut and chocolate ice cream at this place down the street.

I love my street.

I contemplated whether I should go see a movie in Ibiza Town or not. District 9 is showing and it would have been interesting to see the Spanish version. I also considered going to Amnesia tonight to see Paul van Dyk. But I think that would have been an anticlimax. I came to see Tiësto at Privilege. I don’t want that memory to fade. And frankly, this trip tripled in price last Friday when I needed to buy new air tickets.

And now I’m treated by a crying girl on TV who seems to have been kicked out of the Spanish Big Brother house. But watching some of the clips I know exactly what Craig would have called her. A couple of very unflattering 4 letter words and one 5 letter one, basically all synonyms.

I should tell Eric. I’ve found a solution to our problem.

Pretty much nothing happens here before 09:00 in the morning, except for the rain on the plains of Spain.

Breakfasts include beans. It’s like mandatory. So every time I order breakfast without beans. And every time I get breakfast with beans. Instead of taking back my bean infested plate they give me a side plate. Then I take the beans off my plate at least.

I then took a bus to San Antonio and onto Eivissa (in Spanish a ‘v’ is pronounced like an English ‘b’). I guess I wanted to see it. But when I got there it rained. Cats and dogs. Soon my map was so drenched it just disintegrated. So did my eagerness to explore the town.

Hopped on the next bus back and had an afternoon siesta after a pizza.

From the road Privilege looks rather unimpressive. The entrance isn’t even marked.

Then went Arco Mar – my favourite cafe. They know me by now. Grande Coke. Got my timesheets and extra day leave form off my back. It was standing between me and a peaceful second half of my holiday. Let Raymond know that he is seriously missing out. I invited him along first of all, since he would appreciate coming to Ibiza the most.

Back at the hotel the sun was setting and I went to the rocky beach and took some pictures.

I organised a little bit as my room was getting somewhat out of hand. I neatly wrapped all the fragile souvenirs in a Spanish newspaper while watching Sky News – the only English channel there is.

The pictures from Sydney are quite extraordinary. I don’t envy them cleaning up afterwards, but it is probably one of those once in a lifetime experiences.

Tried sleeping but my mind is all over the place. Now I’m typing this in the dark while listening to my iPod. It must have decided that tonight is Afrikaans night. It’s shuffling everything from Vreemde Stad to Byeboerwa, carefully sidestepping Tiësto.

One thing that no one is able to tell me is where all the rich and famous people stay on Ibiza. I would have liked to at least stand in front of Matthias Reim’s and Michael Cretu’s gate. Especially Matthias Reim – he’s one of my favourite artists.

Tomorrow I want to soak up as much sun as possible and find out whatever happened to the alien in New York – the Dutch book I found on Monday.

One thing I want to pat myself on the back for is the way I’m handling languages. I’m in no way fluent in anything else than Afrikaans or English, but I had a conversation with a customs official in German at Frankfurt airport – he thought I was Dutch and quite surprised to learn that I’m from South Africa. I get by with my Spanish here and rarely switch to English. But then, I’m not having the most intellectual of conversations about life, the universe and everything. Still. I could have played the ignorant tourist if I wanted to. And reading that Dutch book was just so cool.

Hopefully I will fall asleep now.

I sit at this cafe to browse. They (or someone) offer free Wi-Fi access. They have Coke, Coke Light and a wonderful cappuccino. Even if you just scoop the cream off.

So yesterday was a rest day. Like a Sunday. Except it was a Monday. I took it real easy. Hung around this side of town, swimming, relaxing, started reading a Dutch science fiction book at reception that I want to steal. I did my souvenir shopping except I haven’t gotten anything cool for Etienne yet. Will probably find something in Madrid.

So. Tiësto.

The ticket said Privilege opens at 23:00. Privilege of course is the biggest club in the world and is about halfway between San Antonio and Ibiza Town.

I decided that I don’t want to miss a single minute so I got a taxi at the hotel at 22:30 and was there about 22:45. I joined the about 10 other people which later grew to a considerable crowd. But it only opened some time after 00:00.

I got a distinctly African feel in the casual way the staff went about their business preparing for the club to open.

Anyway, once my online ticket was checked against my credit card and Photo ID (passport) I could enter.

Once inside I was somewhat disappointed. How they could allegedly fit in 10 000 people I don’t know. I took the relatively peaceful time before 02:00 to explore the club.

I took the advice of my Alain de Botton’s The Art of Travel DVD and decided not to take pictures, so I didn’t take my cell phone with (my SLR camera would obviously not have been allowed). I could have taken pictures with my cell phone as every other laaitie did, but I decided that this is something I need to experience, take in and remember. Not rely on photos to tell me I was there.

My mother can still remember the day I phoned them back in 1998. I was in utter dismay about the R20 Coke I bought at the Zurich Festival. Later on that same trip I bought a R28 glass of Coke at a pizza place in Copenhagen (see it was permanently engraved in my mind). Last year’s trip to Norway put that to shame. But last night I paid €7 for a 200ml Coke and €6 for 350ml water. Must be directly from the fountain of youth or something, because paying €6 will certainly induce a myocardial infarction.

I spent a lot of time checking out the people. There are some gorgeous people in this world. Everything I’m not. Sometimes I wish I could look like that. I like to think that I would be so much happier if I could take my shirt off with confidence. Anyway.

So at around 02:15 the lights went down. The music stopped. And then began in all earnest. The night now belonged to Tiësto.

And it was awesome.

This may sound weird, but I’ve been to a club, any club, only 3 times before in my life. And then I didn’t get it.

Last night I got it.

The sound quality was absolutely brilliant. The special effects like the giant screen and 3D laser show were spectacular. Everything was breathtaking (literally and figuratively). I was thinking about Facebook and ‘What’s on your mind?’ The best and only response would have been ‘My feet are killing me.’

So I battled my way through the crowd to the nearest drinks counter and while I was waiting this English dude bought 3 Sprites and 3 shooters. I don’t know what it was as I’m not very clued up when it comes to alcohol. But whatever it was he paid €51 for that. Near myocardial infarction #2. I guess if I was a woman he would have been the man I want to marry. Money obviously was of no concern to him.

If you can count ‘rows from the front’ at an event like this, I guess I was about ’15 people’ away from Tiësto. Pretty close. I guess I was about 20m away from the booth itself. As the night went on I moved further and further away to get the full picture. Otherwise it’s like sitting 2m in front of a cinema screen.

Although I vowed to be there from the very first minute to the very last minute, around 05:00 I saw this kiosk selling Tiësto stuff. So I bought ‘In Search of Sunrise 6 – Ibiza” and a Tiësto lanyard.

And then I decided that that was it. I came, I saw, I couldn’t afford the T-shirt. And I left.

I was in bed around 05:30, briefly woke up at 11:30 and finally got up at 14:45.

I seriously recommend it.

What lies at the bottom of the sea and shivers?

A nervous wreck.

What happens when you find out that you require a transit visum for London Heathrow the morning you fly to London and you cannot get one the same day?

Exactly.

Stupido.

So I can either wait a couple of days when I’m able to get a visa but lose my accommodation and €50 Tiësto Ticket (the entire reason why I’m here) or fork out the money and buy another ticket directly to a Schengen country to bypass London.

Rapido.

So after Etienne dropped me at the airport and stayed with me until I was relatively calm, I boarded a Lufthansa Boeing 747-400 to Frankfurt. Muchas gracias to Amy at Epsom Downs Flight Centre.

The flight was rather uneventful but the in-flight entertainment dating back to no personal screens and a couple of overhead monitors. Hannah Montana did not appeal to me so I tried to sleep – something I’m not very successful at 35000 feet above sea level.

But at least I can add Lufthansa and Frankfurt to my airlines and airport list.

Stopped over for a few hours there while trying to get in contact with United Airlines to save my ticket I didn’t get to use since London was no longer on my itinerary. That roaming phone call will probably be more expensive than the actual ticket. Anyway. I haven’t lost the ticket to London either. Must use it within one year.

Arrived in Madrid with a couple of hours before my flight to Ibiza. Tried to get hold of Mario, my friend in Madrid, but only reached his dad – also called Mario. Confusion prevails.

Stored my bags at the airport and decided to take the Metro to Retiro. It’s been almost 10 years since I last visited Madrid and I decided spending the time in Retiro will probably be a good idea. But in retrospect, don’t visit Retiro when you’re already sleep deprived.

So I went back to Barajas and checked myself in for Spanair’s 19:05 flight to Ibiza. Killed time eating (like I always do) and exploring boarding gates D and E.

Arrived at Ibiza a bit later than scheduled and took a taxi to Ses Fontanellas outside San Antonio (I could have waited for the bus but when you’ve been up for practically 36 hours minus the 3-4 hours sleep on the plane, the extra money for taking a taxi and being in bed 60 minutes earlier than with a bus, I think it’s totally worth it.

Took one of my ‘pink pills’ and woke up rather refreshed this morning.

Explored this side of San Antonio, came back for a swim and a quick afternoon nap. Went to San Antonio and came back with a taxi. For some bizarre reason the bus schedule and the actual bus have different opinions on the route and the number of stops. I practiced my Spanish on the taxi driver. I can proudly say that he understood all my questions although they must have been horribly wrong.

Back at the hotel I made it my mission to find internet access that is not limited to internet terminals €1 coins for 10 minutes.

Approached this dude outside a restaurant down the street and he explained that there is free wi-fi access all along this street – password 11111. So after cooling down in the pool and watching the sunset from the rocky beach (where bare feet should be banned) I set out to surf and send my parents an email with a couple of photos.

Now I’m typing this message back in my room, drinking caffeine free Coke Light (not available in all third world countries) and having the TV on in the background, showing ‘Pipi Calzaslargas.’ The money spent on making Pipi would have made a couple of orphaned, starving, HIV+ children in some African country very very happy.

I will post this tomorrow or the day after when I connect again.

Tomorrow is the big day. Tiësto Day.

Updates to follow.

I am still looking for an affordable internet solution. But I got here alive but seriously tired!

Posting from my cellphone while roaming.

OK, so I have been very quiet. My apologies. Don’t trust everything you see on Facebook. It’s not a replacement for my blog.

What happened in the last two months?

I got a permanent position at DTS.

We painted my house and attempted a solution at the computer cable dilemma in my study. Looks better, but it’s just more hidden now.

In two weeks time I’m leaving for Ibiza. Will see Tiesto live at Privilege on the 21^st. Staying in an RCI resort with some timeshare points I have accumulated. Flying all over the place to get there. I got a SAA Voyager ticket to London. Used my United Airlines miles to get me to Madrid (via Munich) and then a Spanair flight to Ibiza.

Go Star Alliance!

Since I’m always scheming my next adventure, we started making plans for our return to Norway next year June. We will be visiting the same sites as we did last year in the winter. Especially looking forward to Tromso in the summer and the midnight sun.

The tickets are ridiculously expensive, with the FIFA World Cup and all in South Africa. We found a reasonable fare on Turkish Airlines via Istanbul.

At work I’m working with someone on some reference data management. Also trying my luck at Java.

As for series, I’ve watched Battlestar Galactica Season 4 and the Final Season. I’ve heard some stuff about the way the series ended and the unanswered questions, but I’m satisfied with the ending.

Smallville Season 2 and Season 3: Hmmm, again, how many peole can die in a small town like Smallville without raising eyebrows? Where is the FBI when you need them?

E.R. Season 14: Same old same old.

Stargate Atlantis Season 4: Quite enjoyable.

Stargate SG-1: The Ark of Truth, Continuum: As the title suggest, continuing the SG-1 saga.

The Big Bang Theory Season 1: Brilliant. Laughing at myself type of thing.

Curb Your Enthusiasm Season 1: Struggling to get used to it. I have issues with the boundaries of TV and reality. Why is it that I feel uncomfortable for his situations?

And that’s about that.

I am also sick and tired of some of the racial and apartheid talk surrounding District 9. Yes, it is based on historical events in South Africa, but in the movie itself -

What is the dominant race of people in the streets of Johannesburg cheering that the aliens are finally leaving Earth? Why oh why hasn’t the ANC banned the movie for the suggestion that black people don’t want foreigners in their midst? Who were the culprits in the xenophobic incidents last year? Isn’t xenophobia in this case a synonym for racism?

Are Britons not tired of Pakistani’s and is America not fed up with Hispanics? Don’t birds of a feather flock together? Why do I still need to specify my race when applying for a loan in this wonderful rainbow democracy of ours? Isn’t apartheid alive and well all over the world – but under different names?

Stop bloody pointing the fingers at white South Africans as the scum of the earth when the entire world is/was guilty of it. Come and see South Africa for what it is next year and try to establish the role that white South Africans have played in this country for yourself.

We most definitely deserve credit too.

I am a bit fed up with this now.

Here is my thoughts on it.

I do acknowledge that it must be an extremely humiliating process to be gender tested (even though some websites suggest that the science is good enough not to be parading naked).

Why is this turning out to be a racial row in South Africa? No one ever had it against her because she’s black. And how can they? Doesn’t Africa absolutely dominate middle and long distances in world athletics?

Why is the ANC taking it personally? Would they have stood by a South African athlete if the athlete was white (and for those who don’t know – yes, there are white people in South Africa). Come see us at next year’s FIFA World Cup.

How many gold medals did we won at the Beijing Olympics? None. And a year later we have an 18-year old athlete from almost out of the blue convincingly winning the 800m at a World Championship? Even if it was a male race, wouldn’t it have been a tad odd? Wouldn’t it have raised an eyebrow or two? If it was a white male, wouldn’t he be investigated for drug use? Even so, who of us can honestly say that we didn’t wonder how Bolt can break the world records left, right and centre, and not by one or two hundredths of a second…? Did we not in some way suspect him of some unfair advantage like maybe banned substances?

What I’m saying is that suspicion is natural. It might not be right but is human to be suspicious. I’m sure it plays a large role in our survival instinct. Research CANNOT rule out that genetic disorders (e.g. where a person develops as a women but has X and Y chromosomes) DO NOT give athletes an unfair advantage.

Yes, it would be extremely unfair and traumatic for an athlete to find out that they might have a genetic disorder disqualifying them from competing as a woman, but is it not just as unfair against her competitors?

Let’s do a thought experiment. Let’s say a black South African athlete competes in the 800 metres at the World Championship. She runs extremely well and make us all proud to be African. But she comes second nevertheless. Soon afterwards there is major media eruption about the winner – a white athlete who appeared from out of nowhere?

Wouldn’t our fair and just government be all over the IAAF to investigate and disqualify the white woman in favour of our daughter of Africa?

If YOUR daughter loses to an athlete who might have an unfair advantage, on which side would you be?

Let say for argument sake that it is proven that the athlete in question does have some sort of unfair advantage – genetically, not based on gender. Will dressing her up silence critics? Does male transvestites become women when they dress up, do their hair, wear nail polish and gold jewellery and be photographed for a magazine? I thought the whole point is not to judge or discriminate based on appearance and here we go and try to convince the world that she is genuinely a she because she looks like a she?

On the other hand, aren’t we playing Slumdog Millionaire? Thinking that it cannot be possible for an unknown athlete such as she to become an overnight sensation?

Do we not associate poverty with failure and money with success?

And that is all I have to say about that.

Last chance for anyone to join me in Ibiza for a week, two weeks from now.

Way to go Andy. Good luck Lance.

So it’s been a while. New responsibilities at work.

I’ve cancelled my upcoming trip to Shanghai and Dubai. Not swine flu. Just pressure. Traded it in for a week holiday in Ibiza. Going to watch Tiesto at Privilege on the 21st of September. Accommodation for two. Who wants to come? Used my expiring SAA Voyager miles to London, my expiring United Airlines miles to Madrid and expiring timeshare points for a week on the party island.

Finally we can download some proper music in South Africa with Nokia Music. I’ve downloaded a couple of songs. Only problem is that it’s .wma and not .mp3 and I still prefer iTunes as my music organiser.

I’ve been watching quite a few series since September/October last year – around the time I got my HD TV.

1. Medium Season 1 and Season 2: Very good. I thoroughly enjoyed it. All episodes are fun watching and good quality. No filler episodes.
2. ER Season 1 to Season 13. Took me a good couple of months. Interesting but what really can be innovative and original after 13 series?
3. Torchwood Season 1 and Season 2: Cool British Alien Drama: Takes some time to get used to the accent, but refreshingly different from American series.
4. Jericho Season 1 and Season 2: If you suffer from or ever had a depressive episode, stay away. I found it very very dark.
5. Alf Season 1 and Season 2: I love Alf! Takes me back to my high school days. A wholotta fun.
6. Oprah 20th Anniversary Collection: A very interesting look at Oprah’s career and her ups and downs. Finally got to see the Tom Cruise incident.
7. Millennium Season 1 and Season 2: Even though the X-Files is one of my all time favourite TV series, this series written by Chris Carter is utterly macabre. I’m not sure why I want to see the 3rd and final season, maybe to have some closure. I don’t know.
8. Freaks and Geeks: An interesting look at the life of geeks in American high school. Some very funny and peculiar incidents I can totally relate to. Not that I’m a geek, I think.
9. Roswell Season 1 and Season 2: Season 1 will probably go down as one of my all time best season of any series ever, although I guess it’s teenage romance and drama meant for teenagers (pretty sure Jason Behr was a contributing factor…) Every episode was really contributing well to the overall storyline and there were no let downs. But in Season 2 they lose the plot entirely. I was very disappointed. Ordered Season 3 from Amazon. Still waiting. Probably lost in the post somewhere.
10. Spaced – The Complete Collection: Even though I’m not into British comedy, this was quite funny. My kind of twisted humour. Of course Simon Pegg became Scotty in Star Trek.
11. Smallville Season 1: As I said before, just how many people can die before anyone notices anything suspicious?

OK, that’s enough info for now…