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2. The Da Nang Dunts, Vietnam (southern)

Touch down, Ho Chi Minh (Saigon), some 1611km away.

Fresh faced, feeling young and vibrant, but actually raggedy old, broken and probably hung over, our three heathens’ arrival in Vietnam saw them embark on the second leg of their inaugural Da Nang Dunts tour.

Vietnam, such a remarkable country with an amazing history that two of the three scallywags were yet to learn. Thousands of years of ancient history dating back far beyond, the Vietnam War, that the Vietnamese understandably call ‘The American War’.

The plan for the remainder of The Established Tour, 2023, was rough as guts. Start in Saigon and return home alive after a couple of weeks.

Like savage wolves of the wilderness, they prowled the lands seeking food, shelter and comfort, surviving by natural instincts alone.

Not too dissimilar to a David Attenborough documentary of the African plains where the primal drive of wild animals draws all to watering holes in a drought, the innate instincts of the Da Nang Dunts found they were never really very thirsty. They appeared to have a remarkable natural ability to find their very own modern day watering holes of bars and cafes.

Although hungry on occasion, the Dunts unanimously decided to avoid this fisherman’s catch.

Inner city fishing

Over the next couple of weeks, President Thor took his wolf pack to some of his old haunts. Whenever they entered a new village, or even a bar, Sarge and Member would scan the faces of wide-eyed young children for any resemblance of their president. They also listened intently in case any had such names such as ‘Lil Thor, Thorette, Tack Hammer, Mallet’, or had deformities like three legs.

Some things, like irons, toilets, ice creams and street food seatings are very small in Vietnam. Not that the boys did much ironing on tour, but eating on the streets and urinating, they did heaps of. The street food was on the streets, the urinating was not.

If so inclined, a great little tip when travelling overseas is to hook up with locals. One then gets inside local knowledge, a translator if needed, cultural advice and so many other little perks. The key is to find someone you not only trust but whose company is pleasant.

President Thor enquiring about buying the bar

President Thor’s previous incursions into Vietnam had given both him and his gang somewhat of an insight. However, as much as he had propped up Vietnam’s economy over the years, he was just too wrinkly, weathered and Thor-ish, to be considered a genuine local. Genuine Vietnamese tend not to be sucked into Aussie bars full of crusty old expat men. Thor did.

Belly’s Watering Hole, Vung Tau

On many an occasion, the other two gang members felt they’d somehow warped back into some Aussie outback bars. The usual dress code was a singlet and shorts (undies optional). Typically, there was usually an old white smoking male giving husbandry life a third or fourth attempt, whilst contributing to three generations of children from one set of swinging loins. Both Sarge and Member were not initially convinced they were being shown the ‘real Vietnam’.

Without doubt, two of the main must-see tourist ventures in Saigon are the Cu Chi Tunnels and the War Remnants Museum. There are undoubtedly other places, but it was these two tourist ventures that the Da Nang Dunts experienced. The locals, by the way, tend to use both Saigon and Ho Chi Minh in conversation.

Going into both the Cu Chi Tunnels and the War Remnants Museum with open minds, changed both Sarge and Member’s understanding of that part of history.

The Cu Chi Tunnels are but one of many throughout Vietnam. To comprehend what actually went on during that time of war, leaves one in genuine awe. Imagine traipsing through jungles without knowing your enemy was directly below you, amongst kilometres of tunnels with small vent and escape holes.  It really was a remarkable time in history.  

As for the War Remnants Museum, well that proved to be such an eye opener. In modern history, it’s the Vietnam War they’re mostly known for. However, the history of the country dates back thousands of years, during which time they were ruled by various empires including the Chinese for around 1000 years.

Should you ever visit Saigon, the Da Nang Dunts recommend these two experiences.

No bikes yet so mode of transport was by boat down to Vung Tau where a whole new set of adventures and learnings awaited the Da Nang Dunts. Learnings like, how to tell if a suspected woman is an actual woman, and not a transvestite. A rather important lesson in various parts of South East Asia.

The ‘old bendy elbow trick’

Belly’s Watering Hole is an expat bar owned by an old Kiwi dude who calls Vung Tau, Vietnam, home. Although some wise tips like ‘the old bendy elbow trick’ are provided free over morning vodka, a tour of The Battle of Long Tan does cost. It is however, nice to know the funds are a donation that goes towards local children/orphanage. A note of respect for the Vietnamese Government that allows these events to continue.

It was whilst in Vung Tau that the Da Nang Dunts became a fully fledged bikie gang.

Trying to make a quick buck

Upon sourcing their very own very powerful hog (variants), with thunderous pipes drowning the cries of trauma from the public, whilst the suffocating heat was filled with anarchy of gasoline fumes punching through the humid air, the gang let the horses run free and leaned back in pure ecstasy as they lived as one with the vibrations of the heavy metal throbbing between their legs… until their piles ruptured.

With their nifty fifties beneath them, these boys were never to look through the same set of eyes ever again.

Vietnam is not all historical war history, far from it in fact. Although, they do have some quite cool museums, like this one the Dunts came across.

With the gang name being the Da Nang Dunts, one would assume the Dunts actually went to Da Nang, right? Of course they did.

Da Nang was a highlight, not only because of naming rights, but because, yeah alright, because of the gang name. But also the Dunts managed to vroom vroom here and vroom vroom there and found such stunning places such as Hoi An and surrounds.

The historical scars left on this stunning country through all it’s twists and turns has ultimately played it’s part in making modern day Vietnam what it is today. Such an absolutely fascinating country. So much so that the Dunts made a point of returning to a year later.

Does the country appear at all divided, possibly by north or south or different religions? Definitely not!

Are they proud, friendly and welcoming people? Definitely.

Vietnam, The Da Nang Dunts tip their hats to you. You were awesome!

Subscribe to follow the adventures of this ruthless band of wandering heathens as they return to South East Asia.

Laughter is contagious

1. The Da Nang Dunts, est. 2023

The seeds were already planted but it took a conversation in a hallway for them to sprout into fruition.

“Hey bro, me and Ivan are going to the Philippines and Vietnam, soon.”

“Oh man, that’s’ cool as. Can I come too… please?”

“Um, yeah, ok, I guess.”

“Cool, cos now there’s three people, we’re actually pretty much a gang, ya know. I’m the new dude, so I’ll be the member, cos every gang’s gotta have at least one member.  And, that’s actually gunna be my gang name too, Member. Yep, call me Member from now on bro, ok! One of you will be president and the other, sergeant at arms. Just need to come up with a cool gang name and patch. I’ll design a patch, man. It’s as good a task as any for a new member. We’ll hire scooters in Asia and cruise the streets and then we’ll pretty much be a bikie gang.”

“Yeah righto, Member.”

And with that conversation the German Nation began… Argh, bloody auto correct!

And with that conversation, the germination began. The previously mentioned seeds, of what was to become the ‘Da Nang Dunts’ took root and started to grow.  More about that down the track.

The Da Nang Dunts patch
The Da Nang Dunts patch, designed in full by Member

Three middle aged dudes, all of whom had previously worked together on Straddie. Some would argue, sometimes they even carried on like cops, whilst others may swear they’ve witnessed them share a beer or two over the years.

One was practically mental (or at least that way inclined… nah, actually, he was already full mental).

One had lost his wife a year earlier and was arguable equally as mental. He’d actually been known as The Mentalist on more than one occasion.

And the other dude was actually a really brainy sensible fella who’d lost his father a month before flying out.

What could go wrong, right? Well, at least they had a brainy dude amongst them.

It all started way back though, when, as an act of mate-ship, the mental dude offered to travel with the widowed dude, following the widowed dude becoming a widow.

If you’re confused by previous sentence, imagine how the author feels.

Anywhere in the world was open for consideration, but with the mental dude having spent a substantial amount of time in South East Asia, this was the obvious ideal destination. The mental dude is also somewhat of a war nut and any travel involving him is based around war history. Plenty of history all throughout that region, but Vietnam became the ultimate main destination. A stopover was also included in Manila, Philippines, so in essence, experiencing two countries.

Due to already gained knowledge (not wisdom, nup, definitely not wisdom) and previous experiences in the area, it really was a no brainer to name the mental dude as the President and therefore, by default the widowed dude as the Sergeant at Arms.

For clarification purposes later on, the president was also gifted another name: Thor. Without going into too many details about why, let’s just say it involved a massive hammer, of sorts.

The widowed dude inherited Sarge.

Member was only ever Member because, as per his hallway conversation, every gang’s gotta have a member… plus he chose it.

To become a member in a gang though, especially this particularly cool gang, one is not simply gifted a cool name like Member and a subsequent gang membership, by right. No way! No matter how bad one yearns for it, one must earn it, and my word, did Member earn his name or what! Just wow! That’s later though.

So, back in March 2023, one mental president known as Thor, one sarge who’s not actually a real sarge and one member called Member got on a plane and flew to Manila.

It is this part of the story where the seedlings start to really come alive. Building, strengthening, growing.

Airside = beerside, Brisbane International Airport looking fresh faced and excited

They had a really good time, didn’t get up to any mischief at all and flew home afterwards. The end.

As if you, the reader, would let the author get away with such an ending. So with that in mind…

The Manila leg turned out to be a great little stopover. The ideal intro into the ‘thug life’, that this newly formed gang of ruthless hooligans were learning to live by.

For example, to help save the environment, 7-Eleven customers in Manila are invited to bring their own shopping bag… but only on Wednesdays. One would be foolish to take their own bag, Thursdays through Tuesdays. But not the Da Nang Dunts though. Well, not the Da Nang Dunts, if they actually had their own bags, but if they did, they would’ve taken them every single day of the week. Hard core, aye.

Fighting the good fight

The Filipinos are known to be very polite, friendly people and this really did prove to be the case.

Keeping in mind that Manila is a large city though, and as with most large cities, there’s also a lot of poverty and subsequent homeless living on the streets. The warnings about pick pocketing are for good reason, including young children working the trade exceptionally well. Be wary of this, especially at night, should you ever visit.

One of Sarge’s favourite memories was a group of young street-kids playing soccer with a shoe as their ball. On a busy downtown street corner, their pure joy was beautiful to see. Anyone would’ve thought they were playing with a real ball on the hallowed turf of Goodison Park. Any readers who don’t know Goodison Park, no dramas, because the author didn’t know either. Thor does though.

A common trait in Manila is placing wet tissues over freshly opened beers
Thor loves taking his mates to Aussie pubs, probably for rego checks actually
Thor looking exceptionally worried that Member isn’t trying to kiss him too
The gang contributed substantially to the Philippines gross national income in this bar with Jager alone
One of the more upmarket meals enjoyed

Sometimes eating street food is a great experience.

Hungry work being a ruffian, so BBQ street food is crucial

Sometimes eating street food is not a great experience.

BBQ’d chicken intestines

In Manila, it is also not recommended to get a massage at the same place Member went. That is, of course, unless you’re trying to blend your back into your faded red t-shirt.

Bikie gangs always check out other dude’s bikes, especially when those bikes come with heaps of beer. Although the Da Nang Dunts were technically not yet a bikie gang, because they didn’t actually have any motorcycles, being the rebels they were, they didn’t even care.

Bikie gangs (in the making) also enjoy taking photos of uniquely cut hotel curtains too.

A material-istic piece of art

The Da Nang Dunts spent a total of three days in Manila, and they loved it. Should they ever return to the Philippines, they would however choose another destination.

Well, that’s it for now folks. Be sure to subscribe so as not to miss these scoundrels in their next stop, Vietnam.

Menagerie

I had to shoot back home to New Zealand recently for some sad times.

While at the airport waiting for my return flight back to Aussie, I checked my CCTV and saw Dilan digging a garden.

I asked what he was up to and he said something about a fruit garden or some shit.

When I got home, I tapped into my finely tuned, fading eyes and ears and concluded that a fruit garden was a pair of ducks.

I’m like, “What the fuck, man?”.

Dilan’s like, “They’re Indian Running Ducks, or one is anyway. Crystal and Shaniqua. Cool aye.”

“No, not even a little bit cool, man.”

Knowing we don’t really have a duck pen or pond, or whatever it is that ducks live in, I shake my head in wonder.

Crystal and Shaniqua
A proud dad

Around the same time we got our first duck egg, we also took in Harry the Huntsman. He roamed our house and grounds freely, taking down cockroaches, mice, rats, and the odd weak wallaby. Talk about feeling safe, man.

I buggered off on a cool little overseas trip and was again ambushed upon return.

Fuck me, I now had a chicken in my backyard.

I’m like, “Nah seriously Dilan, ya cunt! What the fuck, man? This ain’t even a little bit cool.”

“Hey, nah Dad, don’t be like that. Bad Betty’s cool and she’ll be laying eggs soon.”

A few days later Bad Betty had Skanky Sally join her.

I go to work and whinge to my mate.

That didn’t do shit, because I woke up the following morning and glimpsed what I initially thought was a goat on my patio.

Lucky I took another look though, because I then realised it wasn’t a goat at all. It was two goats!

Billy and Tyrone

Two goats pissing and shitting all over my patio area, looking up at me with cute as ‘come cuddle me eyes’.

Dilan had already left for work and I’m about to myself but I’ve got goats bleating, ducks quacking and chickens bock-fucken-bocking.

Ol’ Bad Betty had escaped her piss-weak prison and was out front showing me chickens can cross the road, no matter what the answer to the age old joke.

So I hunt chook for a bit and throw her back into the backyard, where she doesn’t yet know she even belongs.

Four of the bastards

I’ve also got our dog Bella that now wants in on the action. But she doesn’t know if she wants to eat them, protect them, shepherd them or what, but she’s whining and running around like a spastic.

And lets not forget the first of them all, our cat Pudding. Her scorning look of absolute disgust, as she looks on, following the recent farm annexation.

Pudding trying to prove to me that age isn’t a barrier to being flexible

On a positive though, now that the trauma of the goat invasion has somewhat subsided, one of the ducks has started laying eggs again.

Ouch

Yesterday I thought one of our chooks was being raped but apparently she gave birth to her first ever egg.

Dilan, full of pride, watched on from his room.

Bella loves eggs but prefers meat, including poultry

As for the goats, I’m pretty sure, I won’t be getting any eggs from them. The fact that they’re both males – without nuts has something to do with it.

So without even goats milk to make cheese, they’re kind of useless, except for maybe cooking or cuddling.

I actually started this blog hoping someone would want the goats, maybe on a loan basis, or buy back situation, but I’m going to change the theme a little.

Shall I let Dilan keep the animals, does somebody else want them, or shall we eat them for Christmas?

I’ll try work out how y’all can vote for a few options at the end.

Oh, and they’re some sort of midget goats by the way. You know, like the equivalent of our human dwarfs or midgets… and, like some of those cunts, these goats also try to root each other.

Now there’s a sales pitch if ever ya heard one right aye. Miniature gay goat porn. Bit of a niche there, I’m thinking.

Or maybe you’re a midget and love riding horses but always need a leg up. No longer a problem. You can own your own goat. Man’s new best friend.

In hindsight, maybe I would’ve been better off letting Dilan get a dog. For the record though, I did not say yes to a menagerie, ark, zoo etc.

I now have a backyard that, should I wish to access, I have to study architecture and train as a ninja warrior to get through the obstacle course Dilan created in an ad-hoc solution to animal containment.

I’m not sure Dilan realised, that none of these animals, are actually rocks that do not move.

Maybe a pet rock next time, Dilan

Their current living arrangement is a cross between a shanty town shack in South East Asia and bivouac style camping.

There may come a day when I build a mountainous Himalayas themed backyard to accommodate these animals but until then, anyone interested in them is asked to sing out very loud, or even whisper. Fuck it, just a hint will suffice.

The goats are like petting zoo level of friendly, cuddly and far too cute and cheeky for me to want to spend heaps of time with.

Not sure why I feel so inclined but I am purchasing a decent chook pen. If I don’t use it for the chooks and ducks, I might move Dilan into it.

They say a Mum, can’t really be replaced.

Unless it’s with two ducks.

And two chickens.

And two goats.

And a huntsman spider.

Nah, she can’t be replaced but I do wonder what Marjana would’ve said.

I guess it’s all part of turning the page.

Five months…

Hey y’all,

A bunch of peeps been messaging me, so to save me replying to all, here’s a bit of an update.

Yes, I will blog again. In fact I probably need it more now than I did before. Just haven’t quite been able to bring myself to open up to the world like I did when Marjana was here to take joy from ’em. There’s more to it than just that and technically, I’m blogging now anyway so small steps I guess.

It’s just over five months since we lost my first wife and life has sucked like a back alley $2 whore but it’s also been good like the purest of virgins too. More on this when I open up and blog properly. The good and bad I mean, not virgins and whores.

A few months ago, I took our boys back to New Zealand where we reconnected with my family and mates and the boys really dug it. That trip was sad as fuck but personally, it was more therapeutic than I thought it’d be, so fuck yeah!

The recent ‘taking these boys for a ride on a big jet plane’ facebook post relates to a planned equivalent of our NZ trip but on a far bigger scale to Croatia, with a few stopovers along the way.

We’re gone for five weeks, most of which is in Croatia catching up with our family here.

As you’d imagine, there’s moments of joy and sorrow with Marjana’s family and friends but so far it’s been awesome.

Our family here are amazing. So pure! They’ve been crucial in plugging holes from wounds of sorrow, particularly with our kids and for that I’m forever grateful.

This is without doubt a medicinal trip of healing for the three of us travellers but also for our Croatian connection. On that note, I do appreciate the fact Dilan’s boss approved a five week holiday for him when I doubt he’s got anywhere near five weeks leave built up so cheers bro.

The reason we’re actually here right now is ‘cos our niece is getting married in a couple weeks. We always knew Marjana wasn’t gunna make it but she made me promise that I’d still come… and here we are.

On a bit of a downer though, our pet sitter advised me that one of our three pets is now dead too, fuck it. So that’s a little bit shit. Kind of a last on, first off scenario so sucks to be you Bird 😞 No more deaths though please 🙏

I will blog more but just give me a bit of time please as it’s taken me five months to put this post out there. Before you know it, I’ll be back writing shit for y’all.

This blog was brought to you by the letter C for the word cunt.

#61 Livestream link

Not sure if anyone’s ever really ready for a funeral and I gotta say it does feel like this Thursday’s celebration for Marjana was a long time in the making.

On Thursday it’ll be 12 rather long days since she passed and prior to that of course there was a three week wind down at the hospice, but we’re almost there.

I love this photo

If I thought the previous 60 blogs were hard to write, they ain’t got nothing on writing a eulogy for my first wife. Not only because I can’t say cunt but trying to fit her whole life into only a few minutes ain’t easy and in all honesty, I can’t do her justice like that. Actually, I could try reading her eulogy real fast like a racehorse commentator I s’pose. Yeah, nah, a few of ya will be looking around to have a punt.

But anyway, me and a few of our inner circle been working on the day’s events and unfortunately I now have a decent idea what’s required in organising a first wife’s Catholic funeral.

But we all gunna be there to celebrate her life and whether you’re there in person or watching livestream over a beer, I thank y’all in advance for even wanting to be there. For those watching online, unfortunately y’all gunna miss out on a decent feed at our Muddies Rugby Club. Sorry ’bout that aye.

QFES recruitment poster girl

Like most things we do, it’s a bit different to the norm and by that I mean most of it will be in English but some also in Croatian.

There’s a photo slideshow of family only and the reason for that is I just couldn’t risk leaving anyone out so took the easy option. It’s actually a nice little portrayal of her life with a couple of songs that may just help if anyone hanging out for a bit of a cry.

A few have asked me about a dress code. Oh man, I don’t give a fuck if ya wear a mankini (just don’t wear a lime green or we might clash). You can wear traditional black or you can wear lively bright colours or work uniforms. It don’t bother me none. Maybe just wear something comfortable. I dunno, up to you fellas.

I had my people talk to her people so we gunna have some our colleagues form a guard of honour which I am so fucking grateful for. It’s a nice touch, I reckon.

A very proud day for us all

It’s a bit of a weird one in a way as it ain’t really a traditional Queensland Police Service (QPS) service because she wasn’t a cop, nor was she a member of our Queensland Police Union of Employees (QPUE) or Police Legacy for that matter. She was of course a Queensland Correctional Service (QCS) prison officer and also an auxiliary firefighter on Straddie with Queensland Fire and Emergency Service (QFES). I’d try funk this paragraph up with some more acronyms but four is probably enough aye.

I do need to give a shout out to my QPUE and Police Legacy for being so proactively involved and supportive over these trying times and as soon as they heard about my Kastelanka’s death, they were straight on the phone offering help where it was needed. My team in particular as an entity has stepped up to the plate and then some.

What the above does show is how absolutely amazing our employers, management and colleagues have been with their support throughout. We ain’t at the finish line just yet but close enough that I can say ‘Fuck yeah! Thank you and I am forever grateful. Maybe one more ‘Fuck yeah!’.

Once again, the funeral details are:

Where: Star of the Sea Parish, 53 Passage St, Cleveland, QLD 4163

When: Thursday 10th March, 2022

Time: 11am

The livestream can be accessed on the day by following this link Marjana Winslow livestream.

Any issues or queries y’all got my number or ask online.

Happiness right there