Bumbling around the world

We've bumbled full circle

noreply@blogger.com (Laura) — Fri, 22 Sep 2006 10:52:00 +0000

We're all back again. We've caught up with most people we haven't seen for almost a year by now and are at the stage of trying to find a job & a place to live.

It all feels so normal but at the same time is weird.

I think I'm bumbling more now than I was when I was going around the world.

DCNY

noreply@blogger.com (Andy) — Sun, 23 Jul 2006 11:13:00 +0000

All right, so Washington and new york. (this is written through a haze of jetlag, so god only knows how it's going to turn out)

So it was hot in washington, and I went to museums, and hung out with a guy from Indiana and a girl from Switzerland. (the guy has since emailed me saying wouldn't it be cool if we all got matching t-shirts to remind us of our cool time in DC...wouldn't it be cool though?) Also, the guy who owned the hostel was a fire engine enthusiast. he kept one out the back. Odd.

Anyway, we saw museums, and Arlington Cememtery, and various large marble buildings of political import.

Then flew on to New York. Fun fact about America - they think i am a terrorist. Seriously, honest to god a terrorist. Every time I flew, i got the SSSS rating. which means 'Seriously Suspicious So and So'. I think. Anyway, The result was that each time i went near an airport i had people shouting orders at me, swabbing my extremities for explosives and mostly just getting more and more worked up at my inability to follow their orders. (as I've mentioned, I'm kinda...well...disorganised sometimes)

So, eventually touched down in New York. It's like walking into a film, looking at all the places I've seen on television. It was odd.( Although I didn't get to go on a date with any of the women from Sex in the City - thought that was something that just happened as soon as you get onto manhattan island, live and learn, i s'pose) I did, however see the sights, and walk around like ahomeless person. (spent the last few weeks growing a big nasty travelling beard)

Following new york, I did get on the plane at JFK, spent an hour taxiing around, and 6 hours later, touched down in Dublin, bringing the trip to an end.

probably some editorialising tomorrow. And that'll be it.

i'm a bit sad though.

Last stop...

noreply@blogger.com (Andy) — Tue, 18 Jul 2006 15:01:00 +0000

New York City.
It's hot.
I'm home on Saturday.

I'll put up a proper post before then.

LA.

noreply@blogger.com (Andy) — Fri, 14 Jul 2006 03:49:00 +0000

(I had a whole post devoted to steak, and argentina, but i'll put that up later)

So, I stayed in a hostel on Hollywood Boulevard. With 2 roomates. one's a dwarf who does impressions of Chucky (from Childsplay) for money outside Mann's Chinese Theatre, The other was - let me get this right - a poet, who was also a knight Templar. Who was trying to revive the tradition of knight poets. He was in LA to try and get a job with a breakfast radio show writing limericks. Or as a Male model.

These were only two of the people i lived with. Others included:
-The jingle writer, who sang about everything, all the time. 'maa-kin' a sandwiiiich...gonna put some peanut buttter iiiiin....'
-The would be soap star. Who lectured me on the importance of coke as part of a hollywood career. And on the danger of kissing girls who turn out to be guys.
-The guy who goes around pointing out celebrity resemblences. (i look like no-one, sorry dude)

So i went for a walk on hollywood Boulevard, saw all the adult shops, exotic shoe shops, exotic adult shops, tattoo shops, exotic tattoo shops, shoe tattoo shops, and any combination of the above.

And I decided, since I was there, I might as well have a bit of a wander out to see other parts of LA. So i did.

Long Beach - Gone in 60 seconds was filmed here.
Universal City - i couldn't afford the theme park, but i wandered along the shopping streets
Reseda - 'It's a long way, living in reseda...'
and
of course,
because I am the wisest man ever to have walked the face of the earth...

i went for a stroll in compton. (as in 'the hood' from 'boys in the hood' and 'compton' from 'Straight outta Compton' and...well, you get the idea, it's the hood)
(where stroll = getting off the train, wandering across teh road, saying wow, this place is kinda crap, and getting back on the next train)

Anyway, at the moment I'm in D.C. It's hot, but i don't care, i saw the capitol building over the top of some trees and thought I was in the west wing for a bit. awesome.

Travelling, all glamour, all the time

noreply@blogger.com (Andy) — Wed, 05 Jul 2006 01:56:00 +0000

All right. I'm a terrible traveller. You probably know this. I enjoy it, having a blast, but seriously, i'm very disorganised, prone to worry and have a short fuse when i'm really tired.
Some examples:
I had a complete meltdown in a chinese bank. (where complete meltdown includes, but is not limited to: incoherent swearing, clown like gesticulating, arguments that rely on the 'Just...Fucking...Because!' principle, and confusing of foreigners with half remembered junior cert language classes. -today i went around going 'i eat the bank?')
And a Danish train station.
And Hong Kong Airport
And Santiago Airport (Twice)
Various small ports in south east asia
Overnight buses make me suicidal (or homocidal, depending on whether or not you're all up in my face trying to get me to stay in your guesthouse)

So, this last few days, i've had a particularly complex bit of travelling to do. On my own. Rio- Santiago- Buenos Aires. With no Spanish or portuguese, a shortage of local currency (guaranteed to make me kick inanimate objects) 3 hours sleep a night, and lots of complicated and hitherto unknown (due to my aversion to guidebooks) airport taxes. Also, the fact that i've just apparently smuggled a mobile phone into Argentina. Anyway, I'm dead proud of myself. I didn't break down, didn't freak out (even when it looked like we were going to land in the middle of the Andes again)

I even managed to include an interlude of drinking whiskey with Chilean political activists, very inflamed about nationalisation. I think. They were speaking spanish. They may not have been activists, may in fact have been Zookeepers. My knowledge of spanish isn't great.

Anyway, I'm in Buenos Aires, alive and well.

Also, remember back in last August, I wrote this:
In my head, I'm playing the blues on a beach at sunset to a crowd of smiling brazilian girls. The waves lap in. There was a barbecue earlier, and we had freshly caught fish. I've a cold bottle of beer beside me, the moisture on the side slowly dripping down onto the sand.

That Happened! Not at the beach, but close enough!

Thursday night in Rio

noreply@blogger.com (Andy) — Fri, 30 Jun 2006 03:07:00 +0000

It's about half ten, we've spent the day wandering around Ipanema, came home, watched some tv, read for a while, had some dinner, drank a glass of wine with a nice English couple. He works in advertising, she had a dream she was going out with Michelle McManus.

Laura and Sinead wanted to go to a Samba nightclub, so around half an hour ago, they had their showers, got changed, got a group of backpackers together and headed off. I decided to get an early night and give my wallet a rest.
But i still fancied a walk, it was a nice evening, so i walked the two blocks to the garage to get some chewing gum. And maybe a can of Coke.
Between the hostel and the garage, there's a roadblock. Police cars block the road, and plainclothes officers dressed in jeans and t-shirts stand around, M-16s cradled in their hands.

I move along past them, on the path. They nod at me, I'm a tourist, one of them smiles. I get to the garage, buy the chewing gum, decide against the Coke, it's late, I could probably do without the caffeine and the sugar.

On the way out, a Taxi passes me. You have to understand just how crazy fast the taxi drivers go here. They run red lights, regularly hit 140kph. This guy's not going especially fast.

I stroll up to the roadblock unwrapping my gum. There's shouting, the Taxi has tried to run the roadblock. The policemen are pointing their guns in the driver's window, screaming in Portugese, the blue lights flashing off their guns. I don't know whether to walk on through the roadblock, or stay where i am.

They open the door, the driver gets out, his hands up. Two machine guns aimed at his chest. The guy who smiled at me now screaming orders at him. One of the policemen reaches in and pops open the boot. I follow the small crowd and walk on, unsure of gawker etiquette here. As I reach the corner, i look back. The driver is on the ground, one of the cops is emptying the boot, the other has his rifle trained on whatever might be in there.

I get home, rabbitting about what I've just seen.

'Oh, that's normal around here'

Palmy & Chile in Chilly. Also, Rio!

noreply@blogger.com (Andy) — Thu, 22 Jun 2006 04:03:00 +0000

Anyway, we spent the last week in sunny -read rainy- Palmerston North, with Kev & Eimear. Great time, great to meet up with them, see how they're, between them running the town. So in between hanging out in Palmy, we took a trip around the North island of New Zealand. Saw lake Taupo, a giant boiling lake at Rotorua (seriously, thermally heated boiling lake in the middle of the forest. it was like something out of Jurassic park)

And - i got the flu. There is nothing more miserable than being sick when you're travelling. Well - maybe not nothing, in fact i'd say there's quite a few things. Genocide comes to mind. fine, i'll rephrase that. The absolute worst time to get the flu is when you're travelling. Y'know when you're antisocial, and all you want is telly and food and sleep and warmth? Yeah...Anyway, thanks again to kev and Eimear for putting up with me in my wojus state. I owe you both more pints than any two people should ever drink.

So, post new zealand, we rolled on into Chile. Where it was...Chilly! (i rule, honestly - good Jokes? come to Andy) Santiago, to be precise, where we suffered from jetlag, spending whole days in bed, and whole nights wondering why we couldn't sleep. Fun times. However, despite all the films - well, one - about jetlag, i still haven't had an odd non-relationship with Scarlett Johannsen. I'm holding out hope for when i hit LA.

Santiago's quite nice in an odd, nondescript way. full of shops...and underground trains...and...uh...y'know...city-like stuff.

3 days of odd Chilean food, drinks with an incontinent politics professor and his wife and a scary night out that ended in a dodgy back alley odd smelling reggae club in Santiago (at which point i called chicken and went home) And we hopped a flight to Rio.

The Most Turbulent Flight Ever. The woman next to me grabbed my arm so hard there's still little white half-moons where her nails dug into me. I was all excited because it hought we were over the Amazon, and we could crash, and have strange adventures in the jungle, where no-one's sure what's real and what's not, and it all could be part of some fat guy's mental illness, or possibly some sort of purgatory, and then Kate and i would have a stormy relationship...ok, sue me, i watch too much lost. Anyway, looked at a map today, we were nowhere near the Amazon so scratch that. But we did fly over the Andes. During which time, i sized up my flying companions and tried to work out who'd be the tastiest. (watch Alive)

Point is, arrived safely in Rio, home to the Copacabana, Ipanema beach and more song puns than any one city should have. Also, apparently, more gun-crime. In fact, it's a wonder i'm still alive, the amount of gun-crime they talk about. GUNCRIME!
you get the point. (also, heard gunshots earlier on tonight) (Mam, don't read that last sentence)

as I write, Laura, sinead and Sam are knocking around the hostel, we're talking about going out to a samba show later, and earlier today we went up to visit that big scary jesus on the rock that overlooks the city.

More soon with less delay.

Christchurch 2. The Christchurchening.

noreply@blogger.com (Andy) — Tue, 06 Jun 2006 23:03:00 +0000

So, ok,I'd spent about 15 minutes in the spooky Japanese Hostel, Sinead got in touch with me, and I hit the road out to riccarton.

(conversation with bus driver:
-I'm looking to get off at riccarton high school
-is that before or after the church?
-i don't know.
-is it near the shopping centre?
-i'm from the other side of the world.
-do you think it'd be near the garage there?
I burst into cold, cold tears.

Anyway, it's still cold here, but i am getting more and more used to it. What did take a little more adjustment, however, was getting used to living in a civilised house rather than...well, the Broadway. For instance, some of the f*cking language that is par for the f*cking course in brisbane might not be appropriate for the dinner table here. F*cking oath.

Either way, thanks very much, Brendan and Trisha, for putting us up. Thanks also, for the go on your playstation. (Awesome!)

This afternoon, it's off to Palmerston North, to hook up with Kev & Eimear (also, Claire -from brisbane, well Cork, but via Brisbane)

Bye Bye Brisbane & Broadway

noreply@blogger.com (Andy) — Sun, 04 Jun 2006 04:15:00 +0000

So I left Brisbane this morning, hopped a plane to Christchurch. Where i am now, with the cold, and the rain.

Anyway, Here's the thing. I've left the place i've lived in and the people i've lived with for the last five months, stuffed all my crap back in my rucksack & hit the road. And I'm a little unhappy about that. So to all of you Broadway folks, hi.

But anyway, we must always look forward. In this case to Christchurch, home to Sinead. It's lovely. But extremely cold and wet. I've checked into the cheapest hostel i can find, the lovely 'kiwi backpackers' only to find that, like the 2nd hand camera i got in tokyo, it's all in Japanese.

Just as the Broadway (i'm not fixating) was mostly irish, (actually, barring 3 welsh guys, entirely irish) and every so often we'd get one poor lonely japanese guy wandering about, wondering why it was necessaly to have a righter for cigalettes to use the cook-ah, This place is Japanese, and there's one bald irishman in a fleece wandering around wondering why there's so many signs in foreign, and what they all say.

(HAIR MUST BE WORN ON SECOND FLOOR!)
(NO HUMMING ON TOILET!)
(FREE COFFEE FOR TIRED IRISHMEN!)
(JAPANESE GIRLS LOVE GUYS WHO PLAY GUITAR! FOR FURTHER INFORMATION ASK AT RECEPTION!)
(WARNING, SECRET TRAPDOOR! YES! RIGHT THERE! WHERE YOU'RE STANDING! HAHAH!)

ok, so i've been knocking around christchurch, waiting to get in touch with sinead, everything's closed, I'm looking to buy some lunch (tea by this stage) and making up signs is just funny to me. what do you want?

Fun conversation at customs:
-Welcome to New Zealand. Do you have any knives or guns?
-yes. I'm a cook, I have a kitchen knife with me.
-that's ok. So how long are you here?
-about ten days. then on to south america.
-gap year?
-yeah, I just finished a masters degree.
-i thought you were a cook
-i am, i mean i was, i mean...AHHH!(runs out into airport concourse, chased by siffer dogs, before being strip searched by giant Samoan)

Thoughts at 10:03 am on a Saturday morning, Broadway hotel

noreply@blogger.com (Andy) — Sat, 27 May 2006 05:47:00 +0000

Hm...i'm awake. And not dying. That's a positive. After last night. Big party. Must've played guitar for four hours straight. and i drank a whole bottle of wine. I must have odd looking lips. Actually, i'm ok. In fact, I feel great. Excellent. what's that noise? uh. Anyway, work in 57 minutes. ok. Shower, pants, shirt, apron, coffee, work.

What the hell are they doing over that side of the room?

Ok, Work. Stuff 30 chickens, That's mostly what i'll have to start with. Actually, no, Breakfast, that's what i'll start with. Steak and eggs. That's a good plan. Breakfast of Champions. Wasn't that a book?

Are they doing coke? They are. They're doing coke. 7 foot from where I'm contemplating breakfast, people are taking cocaine. That's messed up. Also, why is that guy twitching? he's not taking coke. ok, wait...no, he's on ecstacy. riiight. I have to not live here.

ok, so while i thought i had a heavy night. (I drank a whole bottle of wine!) I obviously didn't. That girl fell asleep on the bathroom floor in her underwear. This guy drank a litre of vodka, then started taking pills. Is this real? Are people really doing this? like, for real? Am I stuck in some Channel 4 documentary?

ok, I'm going to go to work. and I'm going to make a cuppa. Anyone want a cuppa? No? You've already got beer? ok, that's cool.

Right, breakfast of champions.

great title for a book.

Living in upside-down land #4

noreply@blogger.com (Andy) — Mon, 22 May 2006 05:03:00 +0000

1) 'So yeah, we were deployed to the gulf, and anyways, we're rolling out across the desert, and we see this truck, dropping off men. So we pulls up, and call in an airstrike. Hold tight for twenty minutes, and the A-10s, we call them vultures, blow the fuck out of it. We roll up to investigate and the sargent goes 'alright lads, photo op! because you see, the driver, he'd lost all his arms and legs, but he still had this massive erection. It was hilarious'

Conclusion - war veterans are scary. Then they show you the photographs on their mobile phone. That's even scarier. Especially when they just seem to be mild mannered nice guys.

2) 'i love coke, no really, i love it. Do you know where i can get any?'

-the new chef, demonstrating...uh...something.

3) 'Hey andy, these are some new guys living in our room'
'Any of yous snore? no? good. keep it that way'

-me, suffering from meeting too many new people, and just being rude

4) 'do you sell dinner?'
me: 'no, this is a post office, we only sell stamps'

-me, turning into Bernard Black

the conclusion this week is that i think it's time to move on. I love brisbane, and the folks i've met here. Unfortunately, most of them have moved on to pastures new, and I'm here for another ten days. Ten days of pure misanthropy. hooray.

Chowdaaah

noreply@blogger.com (Andy) — Sun, 14 May 2006 05:02:00 +0000

So, we live in the sort of hotel that has a 'Social Club' made up of locals. They gather of a friday evening for their weekly 'meat raffle'*. Anyway, this week, Phillipa from Sandyford won a massive tray of seafood. Enough to feed an army. (or defeat an army, if they were big, like in that film Galaxy Troopers, but they weren't massive.)

Anyway, last night, we got it together, and decided to make some seafood chowder. All the pieces came into play: recipe, ingredients, kitchen (kinda let ourselves into the restaurant kitchen) beer, camera. Anyway, between one thing and another, we started having a puppet show with the crabs, which (because we're normal) eventually turned romantic between them. Which, of course was the moment that Leigh (manager of the hotel) decided to walk in to the kitchen.

While myself and phillipa are forcing dead crustaceans to perform unnatural acts on each other, complete with giggles and sound effects.

I'm so proud.

(*ok, see the way i put that in inverted commas? Yeah...it's just a raffle where they give away meat. In fact, I should go back and take out those commas. y'know, because it makes me look like i'm looking down my nose at both the meat raffle and the social club. Just because it makes people happy to get prizes of 8 pounds of steak on a friday evening. Who the hell do i think i am, really?)

Career choices

noreply@blogger.com (Andy) — Mon, 01 May 2006 05:20:00 +0000

#1
Me at home: Yeah, I...uh, digital media? it's like the internet and that. Right now, I'm working on this...uh...I don't know how to explain it, but it's meant to be funny.

Me here: I cook. Dinners.

#2
Me at home: So...i need to redesign some of the front end of this, I need the colours to reflect more of the actual content rather than the percieved content.

Me here: So...i need to add salt.

#3
Me at home: Wow, look at that, I've got the exact shade of blue i wanted. And i only had to spend 20 minutes at that colour chart to do it...coffee?

Me here: Three meals on the go, flames everywhere, pans dancing on the hob, I'm listening to classic rock at full volume, and I still have time to wink at the girl ordering food.

#4
Girls at home: The inter...computers...media...wow...how, uh...interesting...for you.

Girls here: Oh my god, you cook?! I love that! Can I see the kitchen? Will you cook something for me sometime?

#5
Boss at home: Andrew, going forwards, can you please ensure that Sunday's shift reports are clearly labelled, as mislabelling can cause confusion within the weekly overview table.

Boss here: Yo! Andy man...i'm too...that's awesome...i can't move...uh...last night...oh man.

People, or doing myself no favours with St Peter.

noreply@blogger.com (Andy) — Tue, 11 Apr 2006 04:07:00 +0000

One of the interesting aspects of this job is that you meet a lot of other backpackers. And, unfortunately, don't get to make fun of them much. So here is a small rant about a few things i keep seeing in the backpackers.

1) Tattoos.
I recently met a man who had the tattoo 'Jim Morrison 1943 - 1971'. Fair enough, you like Jim Morrison, and want to have the dates of his birth & death available at all times. (handy for table quizzes, I'd imagine) But he had it written in Thai. Which he couldn't read, rendering it useless for all but the most multicultural table quizzes.

Anyway, my point here is: Why do people get tattoos in languages they can't speak? Is your 'Harmony' tattoo more harmonic because it's in chinese? And are you deeper or shallower because your sanscrit tattoo suggests inner peace. (by the way, you're off your nut on drugs, desperately trying to sleep with anyone you can find in a hotel across the world from home, I think you may have left the inner peace somewhere along the way.)

ahem.

2) Bondi

There's a suburb of Sydney called Bondi. (there's also a nightclub in Dublin called 'Bondi Beach') Apparently it's very nice. How do i know this? There's a breed of irish backpacker who at some early point in every conversation, will scream something along the lines of:
'Oh Bondi's brilliant, lad! It's only amazing! I'm earning forty-seven grand a day as a labourer, and drinking it all away at night! Fooking irish everyhwere, all standing on tables singing! best year of your life lad! Going mental! I'm trying to get sponsored, want to live in Bondi! I Fooking love it!'

That's great. I haven't been there. I can't wait.

3) Thailand

I think i missed out. We spent the guts of six weeks there. I think we did a lot, really tried to experience it to the fullest, but I can't help come away from most thailand conversations with two thoughts. The first is 'Wow, you found so much there, really had a deeply spiritual experience' The second is 'Spa'.

Seriously, shut up about thailand. It's a holiday destination, It's full of people with bad tattoos and worse opinions, and no grasp whatsoever on irony. (maybe that's it, i'm using irony as an excuse, being afraid to open myself up to new spiritual experiences...yeah. that's the one.) oh thailand, i must return to your cd salesmen, buckets of vodka and full moon parties and have the 'kicking time, but still, like, all spiritual and stuff' experience I missed out on.)

The burst of misanthropy in this post was brought to you by the recent arrival of 12 new backpackers into our previously nearly deserted hotel, and the subsequent loss of any sort of quiet we once had.

Living in upside down land #3

noreply@blogger.com (Andy) — Sat, 25 Mar 2006 07:21:00 +0000

ok, just to give you a bit of background, I'm sitting in an internet cafe, it's saturday, around six o'clock, I've a large Starbucks Coffee on the desk. Oh, and the man beside me has a parrot on his shoulder. A parrot. a F*cking PARROT! On his shoulder. and he's not even a pirate! (unless he's downloading illegal mp3s.)

#1 St. Patrick's night, & myself and Cian are sitting up late playing guitar. A Giant New Zealand Trucker comes to listen to us play, & gives us the following words of wisdom.
'yeah, if you're buying a gun, don't buy one with the serial numbers filed off. I bought a Glock, with the numbers filed off, found out it was used before, so I threw it out in the desert. Man, fuck, when I think what would have happened if I'd been caught with that thing....only cost me sixty-eight bucks, though.'

#1bis Two days later, I wander down, ready to go to work & bump into my friend, the Kiwi Trucker. 'Hey, Andy! I did it! I killed the possum last night! It took me three tries, but i got it, and i hit it with that stick and then it was crippled, and then, you know when it starts bleeding from the mouth that the brain is destroyed.'

#2 My boss & his wife were kicked out of the kitchen this week. I knew before they did that they were going to be given the axe. Happily enough, the new chef took me on. I went down to say goodbye to the old German boss as he was cleaning up.
-uh, hey.
-Don't worry Andy, you will be paid.
-um..no, I just wanted to thank you for taking me on.
-Well,I'm sure we can find something else for you.
-Thanks very much, but the new guy wants me to stay. Don't worry, I'll be just as clumsy for him as I was for you.
-...Andrew...no one ever said you were clumsy...

#3 So, Yeah, I have a new boss, and it's great, we get on well, he's a lot easier to get on with than old boss, the food is nicer & I'm learning a lot. But he also does a very funny thing. He vanishes for days on end. So I run the kitchen.
I'm not a chef, I'm just some guy. Some guy with an unnerring natural tendency for physical comedy. See me burn dockets accidentally in the gas ring, watch in amazement as I spill the unspillable, boil the unboilable, skate on previously spilt substance, precariously protecting valuable ingredients, only to add them to completely inappropriate dishes. Now, introduce Knives & Fire to the mix. Marvel at feats of unparallelled lunacy!

I am getting better at it all though.

#4 Monday, as we were changing over the kitchen, New Boss decided to run a barbecue on the front veranda of the hotel, just as a gimmick. (we're doing it tomorrow as well) Anyway, around three, a well dressed pretty woman in her thirties (think an older Tara Reid) comes in. She sits down, with a glass of wine, loudly arranges to meet someone on the phone & settles in with her magazine. Over the next 45 minutes, she dramatically breaks down, beginning with some slight tears, but moving on to full on sobbing & borderline hysterics. I get one of the girls I live with to go see if she's ok (i don't want to be mr. sleazy,just want to find out if there's anything i can do) , and apparently she's just having a really bad day. My boss mentions to me that she works in the brothel across the road.

The lady continues her breakdown for another hour or so, just me and her on the verandah, and to be honest, it's getting a little awkward. She's getting more dramatic, taking out her phone, and crumbling into a sobbing mess. She comes up to me to borrow some napkins.
-Hi, can I borrow some napkins, please darling?
-uh, of course...um, listen, are you ok, can I get anything for you, or call anyone?
Her demeanour instantly changes, she flutters her eyes.
-you could buy me a drink...

you can't win.
(just so as you know, i said i was working, and that i'd love to maybe another time, but that i hope it all works out for her)

Oldies but goldies...

noreply@blogger.com (Andy) — Thu, 16 Mar 2006 05:46:00 +0000

ok, so since most of what we're (well, me) are up to here in Oz-terr-alia revolves around working, getting ready for work, watching television, having a few beers after television, rinsing, repeating, I'll try and spice up the old blog with a few of the odder antics we got up to pre-australia, which, due to (and isn't this a long sentence!) one reason or another weren't covered here before.

#1 - we get tricked into teaching primary school english...

So you know when you wake up? and you're in a tiny Thai town, the name of which completely eludes you, but you can see the bridge over the river kwai from the window of your floating bungalow/shack? And you've spent the night before on a mad dash around the town with a canadian lesbian looking for bad live music? Yeah?

Well then you'll know that at 8 in the morning you're due to head off on a bike ride with a local guide. Anyway, what you mightn't know is that this guide will unexpectedly lead you into a school, get you to park your bikes & introduce you to a class of 7-9 year olds, and get you to teach them english.

You won't have a clue what to do, and will end up sitting on the floor, surrounded by hysterical thai children who can only say 'I am seven (or nine) years old!' They'll say this over and over again, increasing in pitch and volume, until you will not know just what the hell is going on. This will not help the pain in your head. You decide it will be fun to do animal noises (hey, it seems to make them laugh), and rather than teach them english, you will teach them what donkeys, lions and crows say. They'll do this. lots.

You're welcome, teacher who has to take that class back afterwards!

More Later...

Living in upside-down land #2

noreply@blogger.com (Andy) — Sat, 11 Mar 2006 04:56:00 +0000

#1

My boss' wife:
'Andy, this is a silent kitchen. Do you know what that means? No singing, no humming, no music.'

'No, I know we haven't paid you for three weeks, but that's really your problem, you know when I sign off on your pay in here I'm not really paying attention'

'When was the last time you called your mother?'

#2

The man in front of me on the bus drops something out of his bag. I reach down to pick it up, in doing so, I realise it is a pair of tights.

-'uh, you dropped your..um...stuff'
-'oh, yes, my tights...do you like them? they're great to bite through'
(the man mimes biting through tights)
-'yeah...i guess so'
-'Would you like to bite through my tights?...I'd like you to bite through them.'
-'um...thanks, but...ah, no'

I always knew I had a cult gay following.

#3

My break falls around the time Moonlighting is rerun on Channel 7. I've become evangelical about the programme, forcing everyone in the living room between 3 & 4 everyday to watch.

ok, so maybe this phase of the trip is less action-packed.

#4

Observation. The employees of the establishment over the road all have great names. 'Miss Honey', Tikki, Nikki, Jem, Jazz. I wonder why they never pick names like Eleanor, or Sarah-Jane.

Working Life

noreply@blogger.com (Laura) — Sun, 05 Mar 2006 10:02:00 +0000

So I'm staying in Sydney for a while to make some cash.

Straight off, thanks to my market research experience (thanks MORI!), I got a job at Woolcott Research. This turned out to be almost identical to my job at MORI except that my office is located just across the road from Sydney Harbour Bridge here, and the MORI office is located just across the road from some kind of warehouse (that's not even a little bit famous).

But, money hungry thing that I am, I have decided that I need more work, more hours, more money.

Now I could have put an effort into finding an office job, but I have heard from some people that there is money to be made in traffic controlling...

I had to do two courses to get the relevant certificates to apply for traffic controlling jobs. I did these last Thursday and Friday in a little shed/classroom in Lidcombe, a suburb of Sydney. The first day was taken up with getting my "green" card - a health and safety card all construction workers must have. All guys bar this little bunch of Irish girls, who have obviously also heard about the money to be made! That day we learned all about health and safety on work sites, and at the end of the day I completed a test by pretending I was tiling a roof, stating the hazards and saying how I would make sure everything went ok.

The next day it got funnier. We were back in the shed/classroom learning the specifics this time of traffic controlling. The day was kind of structured by a training video.....with its star, a young Russell Crowe! I thought that was going to be the highlight, but no, there was more to come.

The end of the day arrived, and with it our test. Picture us, decked our in hi-vis jackets holding up a baton with Stop written on one side and Slow on another. Naturally we needed some traffic to practice on. So our instructor spent about an hour going up and down the sideroad on a red scooter, while we practised our procedures!

So now I just have to find the work. However, apparently there isn't much of it around now because it's been raining lately (construction workers knock off as soon as it starts to rain here!) If I do get the gig, I get to buy steel-capped boots, wear the full regalia (neon trousers and jacket....and hard hat!) and do an impression of being a council worker!

But I reckon it'll be a better memory than an office job.....

Living in upside-down land.

noreply@blogger.com (Andy) — Sun, 26 Feb 2006 06:11:00 +0000

#1

I nearly burn my hand on a pan in the kitchen. My giant German former-bodybuilder boss bawls at me from across the kitchen. (for full effect, imagine in Arnold Schwarznegger's accent.)

"WHY DO YOU FEEL PAIN! YOU MUST TRAIN YOUR MIND NOT TO FEEL PAIN! THE ONLY TIME YOU SHOULD EVER FEEL PAIN IS WHEN YOU ARE SURPRISED!"

#2

I'm doing a delivery across the road (see the next post down). It's late & my mind is on autopilot. I have the following conversation with Miss Honey (I don't think it's her real name, but it's the name she uses to order pasta)

-Here's your dinner. That'll be ten bucks fifty.
-Thanks, darlin. So you busy over there tonight?
-Quiet enough, thank god. yourselves?
-Yeah, quiet enough at the moment, but gonna get really busy later.
-um...yeah

And then we had a good long conversation about the evils of working a late shift on a friday night. Albeit in quite different jobs neither of us quite made reference to.

#3

"So you're a dancer? From Las Vegas? And you don't smoke, drink, touch caffeine or eat meat? Well it's nice to meet you. And neither do I, by the way. Yeah, hate caffeine. Can't touch the stuff. And as for meat? pff. oh this? This is a non-alcoholic beer...in a normal bottle."

...

"oh, no. it's a normal word. It means it can...uh...work on it's own. Yeah...No, I don't think 'autonomous' is just an Irish word. Yeah, you could be right, maybe they don't use it much in Nevada."

...

"No, I didn't actually say that this is how your dad dances, just...uh, the implication was that I dance like someone's dad. I don't know how your dad dances, he could be a fantastic dancer....i'm not"

"Oh, implication just means...uh...that that was what I was getting at"

#4

My boss' wife corners me in the walk-in fridge. (literally, she corners me)
-What are your ten year goals?!
-eh?
-Your ten year goals. What do you want in ten years?
-em...I...uh...I'd like to manage a radio station.
-Your own radio station?
-um...I don't know...I...
-Because there's no point working your butt off for other people if you're not getting the profit.
-um...I guess that's...
-So why don't you get a loan and buy a radio station?
-what?...I don't think you can do that....
-Get an investor. get off your ass. you want to acheive your goal, don't you!
-I'm not even sure...uh...(changing tack) Also, I want to produce for a bit before that.
-Do that when you own the station!

#5

After a long day at work, I'm sitting in my manky work whites watching late night Australian TV, drinking a beer & eating a pie. A blonde german girl I've never laid eyes on in my life plomps down beside me, bursts into tears, mumbles something about an ex-boyfriend and tells me I'm so nice.

I thoughtfully munch on my pie, swig my beer and agree with her. I am quite nice.

#6

My boss's wife, direct quote.
"Ok, Andy. I've just had mouth surgery this morning, so I can't smile. But when I want to smile, I'll stick my tongue out. like this."

An aspect of my job that only became apparent after I started, and other reasons I love brisbane.

noreply@blogger.com (Andy) — Mon, 20 Feb 2006 04:54:00 +0000

So I'm a cook, in a hotel. However, the kitchen is owned & run by a catering company (which, in fairness, seems to be entirely comprised of a bickering married couple and me.) It emerges that we don't just cook for the hotel, we cook for two other establishments, namely, two of brisbane's largest brothels. (they serve food there, it's all very considerate) One of my new key responsibilities is to ferry the food over to the...um...establishments. Hilariously awkward hi-jinks are sure to follow!

Other than that, not much news. Laura rolled through for a weekend, on her way south with Aoife & Annette (hey guys!), and barring that, i've just been living here in the Broadway, cooking and hanging out at night. I'll do a proper post on the broadway & the cast of characters that inhabit as soon as I get a decent break from my immoral, yet tasty, job.

Also, I had this conversation with the cute waitress in starbucks yesterday:

-Hi, um, can I get a large black coffee?
-With that accent, you can get anything...

I do like living here.

Accidental employment

noreply@blogger.com (Andy) — Tue, 07 Feb 2006 02:01:00 +0000

So I went downstairs to buy some dinner, and got a job. I think the conversation went like this:

-Hey, can I get...em...some fish?
-Yes. Hey, how did the jobhunt go?
-Oh, not great.
-Where have you worked before?
-Oh, call centres, kitchens, college
-What did you do in the kitchen?
-oh, not much mostly prep stuff

And BAM, I'min the middle of a job interview!

I start monday.
No one ever leaves the broadway

Oops, I didged it again!

noreply@blogger.com (Laura) — Tue, 31 Jan 2006 01:45:00 +0000

I'm meant to be trying to save money & look for jobs so I can possibly even make money.

Instead I bought a didgeridoo!

They say the neon lights shine bright (or the Broadway Hotel)

noreply@blogger.com (Andy) — Mon, 30 Jan 2006 06:11:00 +0000

So I'm in Brisbane at the moment. I flew in 9 days ago, and so far, I could live here. I'm staying in a dilapidated, underpopulated hotel in the middle of an industrial estate, and opposite Brisbane's most famous brothel, eighty eight.

It's a fantastic (and enormously cheap) place to live, mostly populated (there's only 10 of us in the whole hotel) by Irish people. For the first time since we left, I'm finding myself getting back into a routine.

There's a real, almost tangible, sense of community about the hotel, yesterday we all pitched in and cooked a massive Sunday roast, then had a pool tournament, followed by thousands of cups of tea & Far and away on the telly. I can already tell I'm really going to miss this place when I move on. Brisbane itself is great too - they have cheap good food, a nice town centre, and even an enormous secondhand bookshop.

in fact, barring the cashier at the local convenience store, life is peachy. See, this guy is...well, he talks too much.

-Hi, can i get this milk, please, and...um..oh, i'll take these mints too.
He takes my groceries, and my money & holds everything hostage over his side of the desk.
-No problem.
I stand quietly, while he rings everything up. He pauses & looks up at me...
-So how was your day?
-um...grand...you know...
-no?
-Oh, it was...y'know...i had a good day.
-and what made it good?
-um...I guess i drank a lot of tea...
-oh yeah? you like tea?
(every fibre of my being wants to run at this point)
-yeah. So how was your day?
-Oh, good, i guess. I reorganised that shelf down there...see it?
I look at his shelf.
-um...that's lovely...yeah.
My groceries lie forgotten behind the register as he begins explaining the reorganisation.
-So you think i should do this side too?
-um...whatever you think best, I suppose.
-WEll, I'll try it and show you.
-great!

This isn't just a one off. Everytime i go into the shop, there's this really strange ten mintue conversation. Stupid friendly people!

For Sure!

noreply@blogger.com (Laura) — Wed, 25 Jan 2006 00:41:00 +0000

The phrase "for sure" seems to have crept into my vocab recently, and I'm trying to figure out if it's an Aussie phrase.
Anyone know?

Darwin Sucks!

noreply@blogger.com (Laura) — Wed, 25 Jan 2006 00:34:00 +0000

It's now Wednesday. I arrived in Darwin on Monday afternoon. By teatime on Monday I had seen all of Darwin "city" - it's probably not even as big as Longford and boasts such tourist attractions as oil storage tanks left over from World War 2 and fish that come in to shore to feed...
Yesterday I got a bike and cycled all day (why haven't saddles been redesigned yet??). I saw East Point Reserve - a nice spit of land to the north west of the city. I also saw another kangaroo (that makes one dead one and two live ones so far). My hostel is nice, but too quiet for me right now.
Today I'm full of plans to go to a crocodile park.
I hold my hands up - I'm probably a wee bit biased because I had a great time in Perth and am not really giving Darwin a real chance. However, it's not on my list of must-come-back-to places for sure.