Posts Tagged With: Kruising Musings

Kruising Musing 18

16/08/17  A Fair Call

While the two of us motored along, I was quietly musing on the number of caravans travelling in the opposite direction. I was doing more waving than the Queen Mum and developing RSI in my wrist. I remarked to Di that about 1 in 4 vehicles coming the other way were travellers heading south – travellers being caravans, motorhomes, camper trailers and whiz bangs. To Di, 1 in 4 seemed a lot. Was I indeed correct?

On the road you look for anything to pass the time and we latched onto my latest theory like a magnet, resolving to put it to the test. Fact Check it – Fact or Fiction? Firstly, we deliberated and then agreed on the required statistical groups – Travellers vs Non-Travellers – and which vehicles fell into each category. It was then determined that a 10 minute survey would provide a reasonable and (for that time of day) representative statistical sample. Having laid the basis for our test, we then commenced a tally of oncoming traffic for the requisite time duration, with Di recording the count.
Calculation of the results proved that, indeed, my original estimate had been sound, with 24 Travellers recorded compared to 60 Non-Travellers, representing 28.57% of southbound traffic being Travellers. Close enough to 1 in 4 – well, 1 in 3.5 actually, but you can’t realistically have 3.5 vehicles….Hey, c’mon now, wake up! I hear you snoring. I know it’s not very riveting stuff, but it did help pass the time for a while. And besides, I like being proven CORRECT.

A good wife always forgives her husband when she’s wrong.

Travellers On The Road (Google Image)

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Kruising Musings – 17

7/08/17  What the Flock!

There’s always one in every bunch. We were camped up in a large grassy area, a few acres in size with lots of flat open space. Everyone just found their own spot, with heaps of separation from those around. Very pleasant. And then this guy pulls in! Obviously a lover of caravan parks who can’t deal with open spaces or personal space. Parking close was the first sin; then what little space did separate us was taken up by his bloody BMW; and to take out the trifecta he set up his generator on our side of his van!    What the!? Time for us to leave.

We came across a great article on campsite flocking behaviour at that explains it so well.

It’s time someone developed a scrambler that establishes a silent zone of electronic garbage for a reasonable distance around your van, scrambling every electronic device except your own, and overlaying a voice message to all their audio devices “This is the much neglected voice of your social conscience speaking. You have parked way too close to your neighbour. Show them some consideration and move away”. Priceless! I’d buy one!

“Out of all my body parts, I feel like my eyes are in the best shape. I do at least a thousand eye rolls a day.”

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Kruising Musings – 15

16/05/16  Where Was That Place?

Chats with other travellers at camps often wind up being about places you or they have been and things you or they have seen or done. “Well, if you’re going near …., then you’ll HAVE to go to the ….” Right off the top of their head, with no hesitation for memory recall.

We’ve been travelling for two years and I have to admit that my memory of things is starting to blur a little. Details like place names are sometimes impossible to recall. I’m a visual thinker. If I see a name, I’m more likely to remember and recall it than if I just hear it. So if I haven’t seen a placename for a while, it’s easier to forget it. Di’s different, so between the two of us, we can generally put together the details but the process can be a bit hit and miss. We’d look at each other and say, “Now, where was that place where we.…? Was it….? No, wasn’t it ….?” Enough can usually be pieced together to get by.

20160518 Our Trip To Date

I really envy those people who have memories that can retain every little detail of their lives since they were born. Sometimes even earlier, it seems. They are the “analogue” types, who use their natural grey matter to instantly recall and trot out stories and details and names with a clarity like it happened 20 minutes ago, not 20 years. How do they do that!? To me, it’s like some magical gift.

This is not an age related thing with me. I’ve always been the same. I’m the “digital” type when it comes to facts. I’m a tool user. I make a tool to do the work. A big part of my career involved information – its’ storage, recall and dissemination. Around this, I constructed databases to manage the mountains of information. There was, therefore, no need for me to remember any or all the detail; just how to find it quickly. I’m still doing the same thing now as we travel. The places we’ve been in the past three years are all detailed as an electronic snail trail winding its way across a GPS mapping app in my tablet. I can refer to it to see where we’ve been. And this blog forms a diary of our journey and what we’ve done. Again, there’s no need for me to remember all the detail.

I once heard that we are capable of remembering only so much, and to add anything new to that finite capacity, we have to get rid of some old memories to make new space. While home over Christmas, we both took time to read back through the blog and surprisingly discovered that some of it was almost like new, as we’d forgotten it. Those bits had been cleaned out to make space for the new. A little bulb came on illuminating memories that had gone dim. How good is it that we’ve been doing the blog from the very start, and also transposing it into printed coffee table books in case the blog ever goes belly up as web sites are wont to do. They will be our long-term memory of our travels. Five have already been printed, and volume six is underway.

So, in conversations, we “digital” folks will continue to rely on each other to fill in the blanks, as all couples do anyway. And if necessary I’ll trot out the tablet to add some more detail for those bastards with instant recall. That’s just the way we roll.

“It was impossible to get a conversation going. Everybody was talking too much.” – Yogi Berra

Photo 3-09-2014 7 03 00 pm

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Kruising Musings – 9


“Once a journey is designed, equipped, and put in process, a new factor enters and takes over. A trip, a safari, an exploration, is an entity, different from all other journeys. It has personality, temperament, individuality, uniqueness. A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike. And all plans, safeguards, policing, and coercion are fruitless. We find after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us. Tour masters, schedules, reservations, brass-bound and inevitable, dash themselves to wreckage on the personality of the trip…

…In this a journey is like marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it.”
― John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley: In Search of America

Photo 3-09-2014 7 03 00 pm

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Kruising Musings – 8

10/02/2015   An interesting but somewhat disturbing social aspect of caravan park society is the frequent sight of ladies of a certain age heading to or from the shower facilities clad in just bath robes. Seriously, what’s with that?!

The bath robes are generally white towelling, and fashionably half-length so as to achieve the necessary coverage of the wobblier bits. I once spotted a lady walking around the caravan park with just a bath towel wrapped around her rather fulsome figure! Not for her the modest towelling robe.

At this point, I want to be clear that I do not stake out the other park guests. It just so happens that sometimes you look up and see things which are hard to ignore. I’d really prefer to not see them, but there you go. Once seen, some things just burn onto your retina permanently.

I generally scan the caravan park rules to ensure we don’t breach any regulations, and am yet to see any mention of a rule that negates normally accepted dress standards when walking to or from the shower block. Nowhere have I read that it’s OK to strip off and wear just a towel around your waist, or that the park is designated as particularly Bath Robe Friendly. I subscribe to the school of thought that socially accepted dress standards should continue to apply when you enter through the gate of a caravan park. The Bath Robe Zone stops at the closed caravan door, and should extend no further outside. Please.

And, you know, it’s only the women who do this, not the men. I’ve yet to see a guy walking around wrapped in a bath robe or a towel. Shorts and singlets, perhaps, but definitely no towels or robes. So what possesses a grown woman to think that it’s OK to do this in a public place among total strangers? Do these ladies behave like this at home? Do they go out clad in just a towel to collect the mail or to bring in the wheelie bins, perhaps do a spot of weeding? Would they answer a stranger’s knock at the door like that?

I really would prefer not to see Bath Robe Ladies wandering around in their various stages of undress, both pre- and post-ablution. I don’t know these people. I am not related to them. If I was and we were perhaps within the confines of my own home, I might consider going from one room to the next wrapped in a towel…very quickly…like a quick leap from door to door…only if they weren’t at home, though, or were perhaps asleep in another room…because I have a reasonable grasp of the rules of social etiquette. And, besides, my days of having anything noteworthy to show off physique-wise are long gone, so why bother.

The Bath Robe Ladies should perhaps appreciate this of themselves. It is a little sad when your self-image has eroded to such a degree that you no longer care how inappropriately you dress or undress. You’ve hit rock bottom when you don the bath robe or towel…

Please, girls, cover up more.


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Kruising Musings – 7

10/02/2015  Some people name their vehicle and paint that name on the front of it, generally above the windscreen. We see it regularly on our travels and have started taking particular note of the names.

Naming a vehicle is generally a guy-thing. To be honest, I’ve generally given each of my cars a name. My 1955 Morris Minor panel van was known by many names, depending on where it broke down and what state of inebriation I was in at the time. But generally, it was called Morrie.

My 1990 Nissan 300ZX Twin Turbo rocket went by the name of Presciousss…you have to emphasise the “esses” at the end and say it like Gollum from Lord of the Rings to give it the right effect. Yep, that’s what I called it, sad I know.

But I never went so far as to actually paint the name on any of my vehicles.

That part, I think, must be a girl-thing.

In our travels, we’ve seen mainly motorhomes and buses that have a name painted above the windscreen like “Gone Romin”, or some-such-thing. And they were generally couples in them.

Noticeably, the signwriting is poor quality so the commitment to naming the vehicle hasn’t extended so far as to warrant a professional sign writer, but rather Hubbie did it.

Whenever I see a vehicle with a name painted on the front, it’s like a big flashing neon sign that says “Don’t bother coming over to talk with us because you’re likely to catch the vehicle naming disease and want to go straight back for the paint and brush”.

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