The Flying Adventures of DOUG

Misery guts

2007-09-24T06:55:00.000Z

I have spent the weekend looking after my flatmate's dog while he (Davey) has been away in Slovenia. The dog is very cute and mostly very well behaved and low-maintenance. Davey has been texting or calling a couple of times a day to make sure the dog (Hamish) is alive and well.

The dog is alive. He is so eager to prove his live status that he threw up on my bed last night. I got home and wanted to go straight to bed, but had to stay up and do laundry instead. I had to get up at 5:30 this morning. In the DARK. We are not amused.

My weekend was fun, but relatively quiet after all as I got a sore throat and a massively swollen eyelid, so looked and sounded like Quasimodo. Slept a lot. Watched dvds. Walked the dog. Tried to avoid people in case they threw stones at me. Caught up with spiritually superior friends who were able to overlook my deformity.

Today my eye is just kind of red, but my throat is still sore and I'm starting the week feeling run-down. My life is just a box of treasures, really.

In other fun news, I just locked myself out of the office (at 7:10am). Fortunately, my workmate has the key to my boss's office, so we're now in there feeling powerful but unable to access most of our usual work until someone rescues us at 9am. At least we can answer the phones like common receptionists.

And, obviously, it's raining.

Little News!

2007-08-03T09:21:00.000Z

I'm putting the 'big news' mentioned in my last blog on hold. But in the meantime I do have little news for you!

I had my first pay review yesterday (after 3 months) - with a positive result! At first my boss offered me a measly £500 per annum. So then I had to say how great I was and how well I fit in with the team and how I was in the middle of major projects (implying he couldn't afford to lose me right now). He countered by highlighting all the things I can improve on, foremost of which was that I shouldn't be leaving work on time as it shows a lack of committment. I should be staying late more often to show that I'm working hard. So I said it seemed silly to sit at my desk doing nothing for an extra half hour every day just to look like I was working hard, but that when I had tasks to complete I would of course put in the hours needed to complete them. I forgot to mention that I work right through most of my lunch breaks eating at my desk and tapping away.

Anyway, he asked me what I wanted. I told him. He almost threw up. So we wrangled politely for around 30 minutes before settling on a figure we were both happy with. So now I have a £2000 raise! Yay! Afterwards he was in a really good mood and went out and bought us all coffees. He's been laughing and saying what a hard bargainer I am ever since.

In other news, I have a fun-packed month ahead! My Mum, Dad and sister are all converging on London for a few days starting next weekend and I have a three days off to hang out with them. Then at the end of August I'm going to watch Neelu race in Bordeaux and traveling with her to Paris for three days afterwards. I'll finally get to see more of Paris than the inside of a phone booth! We're staying there with Charlotte, who I worked with at the University Bookshop, and even though we only knew each other for a month we got on really well and I'm really looking forward to seeing her again!

Speaking of Paris, I need to book my tickets for the Eurostar. Bye!

Better late than never...

2007-07-12T20:50:00.000Z

Wow! It's been over a month since I last blogged!

Part of the reason is that my close family all seem so close by. Ali is in Gurnsey, Mum's in Oxford and I talk to her on the phone, and Dad's still in NZ but I chat to him all the time on Google Mail.

BUT, there is so much reason to blog. There are lots of people who don't know what I'm up to now!

Well, I took the job with the recruitment company and have worked over two months for them now. I'm coming up to my 3 month pay rise at the end of this month, which will be cool. I'm hoping to go up to around 23 or 25k. That'd be a big raise, but I think my boss is pretty happy with my work. Just have to make these next three weeks count!

So far I've written a proposal for London schools regarding intervention programmes for kids at risk of failing GCSE, along with all my usual stuff. That was the most fun, cos I had to research it from scratch. My boss also had me doing a whole lot of cold calling for a while, which I hated (sales calls, effectively), but we talked about it and I don't have to do it now. Basically I'm my boss's PA, but I do more interesting stuff than most PAs :)

I've made some really cool friends here, chiefly this awesome Canadian guy called Matt (coincidence?) who reminds me a lot of my other Matt! Miss you by the way, except there's no way you're reading this, seeing as you don't even use email...

I've kept going to the theatre even though I can't afford it... it's just so cool! Most recently I saw an acrobatic troupe from Australia called, originally, Acrobat. They did this amazing set of three solo performances, performed mostly naked or semi-naked with minimal theatrics. It was very cool. Bleak, tragi-comic, striking, at times painful (naked rope climbing anyone?), with amazing tumbling!

In my own world of fun, I've found a climbing buddy called Rich (another coincidence?) who kicks my ass on indoor stuff. Which is good, as it gives me a challenge to keep up with him. Climbing is pretty damn expensive here though, at £10.50 a pop. I go to this AMAZING place called the Castle. It was built by the Victorians as a pump station. Of course, being the Victorians, they built a pump station in the shape of Stirling Castle... so there's a massive space inside with three floors of climbing, including some stuff that goes all the way up. Plus they're seeking permission to put in repelling/abseiling down the outsides of the towers, which would be so cool!

Alright folks, next time I blog I might have some big news, so stay tuned!

Take it easy :)

Picture commentary

2007-05-30T16:06:00.000Z

So the London Eye was actually pretty cool. As you can see, there's a wicked view from the top, including some famous building with a clock. I think it has a catchy name, but you probably wouldn't recognise it...

If you look carefully in the neighbouring pod, you'll see Mike Richardson reading a newspaper, apparently under-awed by the sight. I don't know what he was doing in London, or why you didn't wave hello, Mike!

That river is so bad! Apparently there's been a massive cleaning/pollution reduction policy in effect for about 20 years or so. Even harder to believe, apparently it's had a huge positive effect! The barge is about 20 metres long. The eye is quite high.

I have some other photos of Mum, Ali and I on the eye, but in most of them I take up almost the entire frame. Can't think how that happened...

Emily actually was stealing that bike. She had got through two by the time I got there (broke them, don't ask me how) and thought she'd help herself to another. Serial bike thief, and never caught. Thanks for letting me stay Emily, it was wicked! Oh, these are the bike racks outside the Hague Centraal railway station. There are about fifteen rows of bikes like this.

PS: Could someone please comment so that I know I'm not just writing this into the ether?

Pictures!

2007-05-30T15:26:00.000Z

I haven't got this fully down yet, but here goes.

The London Eye!

And this is the bit that screwed up before, so finger's crossed...

The Chocolate River!

Phew! it worked. Doesn't that barge look teeny tiny?

Next! Cheesy family!

And lastly, The Bicycle Thief! (Ah, good times)

Someone let me know if you can click on these and view them bigger... And nice one Emily! She actually got accused of stealing this bicycle while I was taking this photo. But come on, there were plenty of bikes to spare!

Strange things

2007-05-26T22:25:00.000Z

London is full of things. Words, places, people. Weird stuff.

What is 'fly tipping'? All I know is it's forbidden across the street from my house.

In town tonight I kept on seeing people in sets of three. A guy and a girl, together (holding hands) with another guy tagging along. Like three-for-two deals they have in supermarkets. Once there was a tall girl with her taller boyfriend. She held the umbrella. Her boyfriend was eye-level with the umbrella, catching the drizzle. The tag-along guy was short, fit comfortably right under the shelter.

Walking around Soho, I was handed:
a prayer card for pentacost
a little silver icon of Mary
and a flyer inviting me to try out for Gay Porn Idol

When it's grey and gently raining, at least it feels fresh. On warm days I slide under the ground and come out feeling like I just worked eight hours at McDonalds. Tonight I saw a movie called Sunshine, then walked around in the drizzle watching my breath fog in the red and pink lights of West End theatres and strip clubs. A woman yelled out to me, calling me Honey. I walked past a church. I stopped in a square with a fountain and a stone Roman guy with a pot belly.

I even had the best falafel in London, served by a guy from Lovely Slovakia.

I saw people I'd like to meet, but didn't. I looked in the windows of restaurants I'd like to eat in. I started to know my way around back streets, and gave all my change to a guy sitting on wet cardboard. It was wicked. Got any change? I gave him change. Got a fifty pound note? *cue laughter*

There is a food bar near where I live called the Juicy Pattie Shack.

And somewhere in all that there is an important lesson. Learn it well.

Seeing London

2007-04-27T11:27:00.000Z

My mum and my sister have been in London since Monday night, so we've been doing all the touristy stuff.

Oops, start at the beginning. So, I accepted that job on Tuesday morning, and asked to start the following Monday, which was fine. So I've had the whole week free to hang out with my Mum and Ally, who arrived on Monday night!

Tuesday we just hung out and walked around a few places. Went on the London Eye, which was actually pretty cool. Wednesday we did a big bus tour round central London and checked out Harrods, then Mum and Ally came back to Pascale's flat for tea. Yesterday we went to the Tower of London and had a very dry-humoured Scotsman as our guide. He was great. In the afternoon I split to do some shopping for work clothes, then met up again in the evening to see the Lion King. It's fantastic, and I highly recommend!

So today I slept in. I'm catching up with Ally later to go to the London Dungeon, but right now I'm off to the gym. So, fun Dungeon today, and work begins for real on Monday...

Also, a couple of guys from Christchurch (James and Lyndon) are here now, too, so maybe catch up with them tomorrow. So busy, it's great!

Have spent so much money this week. Will be great to start earning pounds!

Progress

2007-04-15T10:13:00.000Z

- is having a job offer. So I've made progress!

I was phoned on Friday night, right at the end of the day, and offered a position with the company I interviewed with the other day. It's a research and development position with a recruitment company, possibly turning into a position as a recruitment agent later on. So far they've offered me a trial period of two or three weeks where I can go along and observe and do some basic work and figure out if I like it or not (and they can see if they like me, which seems fair). The good thing is it's not a full-on committment, so I can keep on looking around and seeing what's out there.

I've also applied for a position as a Junior Technical Author, which I'm pretty excited about. It means training to write documentation for computer programs and stuff, like users' manuals etc., but it's pretty well paid, and after a little while (couple of years experience) I could be commanding salaries of £35-50k. Also, a lot of well-know authors started out as technical writers or journalists. So I hope to hear back about that this coming week.

Either way, I have something to go on with.

Take care everyone!

I have two interviews already!

2007-04-12T10:28:00.001Z

Ok, so I'm in London. But I'm not just in London. I'm in London with a suit. I'm in London with a haircut. And I'm in London with an interview this afternoon, and another one tomorrow!

Firstly, the suit. I was just walking down Oxford street, stopped to casually look in a shop advertising £100 off Pierre Cardin suits, and spotted one that I liked. Fortunately, it didn't really fit properly. But then they got me another one. But it still wasn't perfect, you know? If you're spending £159 you want to get something you really want. So then they talked about alterations. Taking up the trousers, tapering the trousers, tapering the jacket, letting down the sleeves, taking the total cost to £235. So I said, no, too expensive (phew!). And so the price came down a bit. And I said, look, I can do it for £200. So the price came down to £205. So I said, give me some time to think about it. And viola! The price came down to £199.15! So now I have a perfectly tailored suit, 100% wool, Pierre Cardin, in a dark charcoal gray, for under £200. I told Pascale, and she said: "You bargained in London and won? Unheard of! We're not in Turkey now, you know."

Secondly, the haircut. On my walking around Lewisham, where Paz lives, I noticed a sign in a window asking for hair models. So I went in, organised a time, and this morning got a very decent haircut for £5. And £12.50 is cheap, so I'm pretty pleased with 5.

Thirdly, the interviews. I applied by email for 7 jobs yesterday, and by last night had two replies saying, "We're keen, but we'd like more info," so I sent in more info. I did a test on Microsoft Word and Excel at an agency yesterday, and scored really highly, so the people from the job as an HR assistant are really keen, and I'm going in tomorrow (Friday). The other job is as a recruitment consultant for teachers to work in London schools, has better pay, and they do recruitment drives to Ozzie and New Zealand, so I have inside knowledge. I sent them my CV last night, phoned them this morning, and must have caught them just in time, because I'm going in for 3pm today! So, any teachers who want to work in London, I might soon be your man!

Anyway, in other news, I've been tripping all over the place getting myself set up for London life. I'vc joined a local gym. I've bought a travel card for the trains so I can jump on and off as much as I want. I activated my bank account on Tuesday, and decided on a phone and plan but didn't sign up yet. It's weird, going on a contract for your mobile is MUCH cheaper than prepay here, and people call a lot more than text, and every contract comes with a free phone! I've also made friends with a lovely South African couple who are working as relief teachers here. I have a morning run date with Ben this weekend around Ladywell Park, and his wife Fatima is the only Christian I've met so far out of a whole raft of ba'hai, so we get on well.

Well, I should get sorted for the day, I suppose. I've been organising stuff on Pascali's Mac laptop, and it's taken half the day. Wish me luck for my interview this arvo!

Beautiful, sunny London

2007-04-09T07:58:00.000Z

Contrary to all my expectations, that's exactly what I'm experiencing so far. London has been putting on the charm.

Yesterday I got up pretty early and almost woke up two sleeping bodies in the lounge. Apparently everyone else had stayed up until about 4am, so I was the only soul stirring. I explored all around Lewisham village, which I really like! People keep making jokes about how dodgy an area it is, but it seems really nice so far. At the leisure centre they let me in for free to "have a look around," and I got to have the weights room all to myself and do a proper workout. Then I went down to another, flasher gym to compare prices, but there were no membership consultants in, so they couldn't tell me anything. The fact that they have membership consultants suggests it may be out of my price range... Felt so good to use my body again, so I'll go down to the leisure centre again today and see if there are different people on the desk ;) I will sign up, I just can't until I have a UK bank account fully sorted (and preferably an income...)

After wandering all over Lewisham and buying some groceries I went back to Pascale's house. Oh, and the sun has been shining the whole time, ok? Sat around with some of her friends having a long discussion about social evolution and what Ba'hai think about it (most of the people I've met so far are Ba'hai), then went into Greenwich for lunch. It's really nice! We strolled through the park near the former Naval Academy (now the university) which was designed by the same guy as St Paul's cathedral, so is very pretty as you'd expect. In the Greenwich markets we bought good food (salad, cashews, sour cherries, chocolate brownie, sushi, polenta roulade, frittata, dried pears, cranberries, and razzapple, which is pieces of apple soaked in raspberry juice), then took about half an hour to meet some more friends of Paz, and settle on the grass in the park to eat and talk. Meanwhile, the sun shined and I took off my sweater! That's right, jeans and a tee-shirt sufficed! But that's not all: on our way back through the market I bought some Havaianas (the best jandals in the world, just ask Matt) and wore them for the rest of the day. That's how nice it was. Mmmm.

So, the friends I met at Greenwich were Nick and Sarah-Jane (hope I got that right!) who are kiwis here for about 5 months so far. I've been picking up lots of bits of info about the sorts of jobs people end up doing, and how much you can reasonably live on, etc... I've also met a South African couple, Ben and Fatima, who are really nice! They were here at Pascale's the first night, and came around again last night for my birthday. They are seriously lovely people and I hope to get to know them better. I cooked a lasagne without any lasagne but lots of veges and some other kind of pasta and bucketloads of cheese, and beefed up the remains of a salad from the night before. Pascali cooked a fantastic chocolate cake, and a guy called Stephen (who seems really nice but talks so seriously all the time that when he starts joking around you have to pinch yourself and mentally change gears to keep up) brought around bags of pastries and sweet things. Very spoilt. So nice to have great people around for my birthday when I'm only here a day! Pascali is great like that: instant circle of friends.

So today I'm 24 and frustrated that it's another public holiday. I'm the only one, I'm sure, but there are lots of things I want to get on and do, but everything is closed! I can't get a sim card, buy some pants, get a haircut or talk to my job-agent people. :(

So that all starts tomorrow.

Too tired for a Fun Fair?

2007-04-07T21:13:00.000Z

I'm at Pascale's place in London now.

Emily and I went out last night and met some of her friends at a bar where some excellent jazz musicians were playing. It was so cool; we drank Bailey's and Amaretto, and then I almost fell asleep in my chair, so we went home and crashed.

This morning we bludged a ride on the tram and Emily saw me off at the train station. Ar, I was really sad to say goodbye, cos I had such a wicked time, and it was so good to have an ordinary friend around who knows you really well so that you can just relax and not care about anything. Miss you already, Emily!

In Amsterdam I took another superb ezyjet flight to Luton, paid too much again to get the train to Lewisham (very easy) and bowled on up to Pascali's house just in time for dinner. Roast kiwi lamb! Also met about 15 of Pascale's friends and was totally overwhelmed, watched a movie with them, and now they've all gone out to a Fun Fair (it's where you go to have fun) and I've started crashing like a downhill wheelie-bin race.

Tomorrow I check out the local church and leisure centre (these are of equal importance) and sort out my UK sim card for my phone. Pascale's house is really nice, and is super close to the train station, a park, and a shopping mall. I can't wait to work out tomorrow, I feel like a rubber band.

Wish me luck with the job hunt that starts this week!

Footsore

2007-04-06T18:45:00.000Z

It's been an energetic two days... Having finally made it to Amsterdam, hanging out with Emily and Adrian until about 2am, then crashing, I got up the next day, posted on my blog to keep the fans happy, and took off!

I took a pretty meandering route through the Hague to Mauritshuis, where Vermeer's paintings are. I got in free with Emily's Museumkarte, and they have a really good free audio tour. I could have stayed for ages it was so interesting. And normally I have a pretty limited attention span for looking at old oil, but the audio-thingy gave brief, interesting comments on techniques, historical context, anecdotes, art debates and symbols to look for.

From there I walked to the Peace Palace, where the Permanent Court of Arbitration was set up by Tsar Nicholas II and 26 original member countries in the early 20th century. Now it also houses the court where countries can sue each other. It's where Bosnia-Herzegovina sued Serbia for genocide, the first case of it's kind. It's most interesting for me because Emily has been working for the last three months on a case against war criminals of the former Yugoslavia, and she filled me in on some of the crazy history of that region, and Milosevic the uber-baddie. It's strange to think that a war that formed a constant backdrop to my childhood (on the news, talked about at school) is still being sorted out and put to rest, if something like that ever can be. Apart from history though, the Peace Palace is incredibly beautiful. They have four gigantic Ming vases in one room, that must be worth millions each. In the Japanese room the walls are covered in a giant tapestry that took 50,000 people five years to weave! Think about that for a second. One cool thing was that that room was set up for a meeting of all the ambassadors later in the afternoon, a meeting that only takes place once a year, and all the chairs were embroidered with the appropriate country's coat of arms. New Zealand's is much nicer than Australia's, I have to say.

After that I went to another museum to kill time, again for free on Emily's museumkarte, and arrived late at the buildings of the Criminal Tribunal of the former Yugoslavia, where Emily worked, and met her colleagues/bosses for drinks. It was some of the most interesting conversation of my life, listening to the Military Investigation team members talk about scurrying down Sniper Alley flanked by tanks, being shot at during take off in planes, and tracing witnesses for statements sometimes years after events only to find they had died six months before. Some of them have been here since the mid-nineties. It was Emily's last day, and I think she's going to miss it a lot.

Today involved mostly walking all over Amsterdam, which we visited by train. The Van Gogh museum was great, but I had very sore feet, probably aggravated by getting up at 6am and going for a run because I couldn't sleep. Oh, during my run there were crows all over the place and man are they creepy! Amsterdam was pretty, but super touristy and crowded (public holiday), so overall I prefer the Hague. Especially after coming back here in the evening and eating sizeable portions of fantastic Indonesian food on the cheap. Two people for 15.80 euros! So good, especially considering that one pancake in Amsterdam cost us 6 euros.

Anyway, my contact lenses are about to permanently fuse to my eyeballs, so I better go. Flying to London tomorrow to meet Pascale and get started on the great American Dream! Hang on...

Den Haag

2007-04-05T08:23:00.000Z

...and here's an update since then. I'm in the Hague!

Having flown from Sydney to Dubai (it was 14.5 hours) changed planes, and flown another 7.5 hours to London Heathrow, I was feeling like a draft letter that's been screwed up and thrown in the bin. I know I slept on the flight to Dubai though, because I definitely was not conscious for that long. I got chatting to the Ozzie girl in the window seat who was on her first international flight to do a two-week mission stint in Uganda. We played a really dumb 2-player trivia game on the cool Emirates entertainment system, and talked, and she slept a lot. It was great having company. The food was good. I watched Little Miss Sunshine, 2001: A Space Odyssey, Step Up, two episodes of Extras, five episodes of Scrubs and two of the Simpsons. And maybe more, there are literally hundreds of movies and you just pick it, start and pause it, fast forward, etc. Pretty cool.

Oh! One of the coolest things was being able to watch take off, flight and landing on the screen, via cameras mounted on the front and underside of the plane. You can change views, and it zooms in on the ground a bit if you're high up, as long as there's no cloud. Isn't it amazing how sunny it is above the clouds? England looks surprisingly green from the air.

Dubai airport is huge. It just goes on and on as far as you can see. Well, as far as you can be bothered seeing when you're as alert as I was feeling. What else? The food was good, my ankles only swelled up a very little bit, and the small of my back feels like damp cardboard.

I'm going to the Peace Palace today, and possibly a museum or two, one with some paintings by Dutch hero Vermeer. You know, the guy who did that portrait of Scarlett Johannsen wearing a head scarf? I probably shouldn't have called this post, 'Den Haag', as I haven't seen anything yet... will do better later.

To complete my travels: From Heathrow I caught a coach to Luton airport for a cool 17 pounds. That's worth about a bus ride to Dunedin, if you'd like to compare. Happily, though, I met a German guy on the bus who's living in London, so I've made one friend already. He was the only person who had to sit next to a stranger, as everyone else had two seats to themselves. He wandered all the way to the back of the bus, realised he was stuck with SOMEone, and I moved my bag. So glad I did, because we talked all the hour and a half to Luton, and hung out in the airport for a couple of hours until he flew to Germany for Easter.

Something about travelling makes me strike up conversations with random people. At the Heathrow bus station I got chatting to an Indian family (I assume Indian because the guy was a sikh, but I'm not too clued up on who comes from where on the sub continent). They needed help figuring out when and where to catch their bus, so I (the box-fresh immigrant) helped them out, and ended up listening to the turbaned, white-bristled man talk about importing, NZ/Aussie agriculture, the decline of British self-sufficiency and how people can't be trusted to pay for newspapers anymore. He's been in England for over 50 years, so he had a lot of opinions, and I didn't get much of a word in, but it was nice to talk, and he and his wife were so stoked that I would talk to them and help them out. I almost thought she was going to kiss me when we said goodbye!

So, Luton to Amsterdam, then spent 10 minutes trying to get a phone to work with my credit card to phone Emily and let her know I was on my way. Then the train ticket machine wouldn't accept credit without a PIN, so I had to buy some food to break a 20 euro note (that's weird, no euro symbol on this keyboard - dollar sign instead). THEN I noticed the huge, yellow, illuminated ticket office where I could have gone instead and paid over the counter. Long story short: arrived in the Hague, met Emily and a Kiwi guy working in the Hague, and helped them figure out that they both rock climb. Emily's had her gear here for three months and hasn't climbed once because she had noone to go with... She thought. So, walked through town, stopped for a drink, walked on to Emily's apartment, showered, washed hair, slept, got up, had porridge, and here I am. Almost 11 now, so one hour is almost up, and I have things to be and places to do.

Later.

It's only just begun...

2007-04-05T08:21:00.000Z

Hey folks, here's an email I sent out from Sydney, about... two days ago?

I'm in Sydney airport!

I had to get off my plane, I guess so they can clean it and bring on heaps more food before I get BACK on to go to Dubai. The BIG leg. It's massive, like 14hrs! Or 19... I can't remember, lots anyway. Feels like I've been flying for ages and I've only done the tiny bit. Man.

Anyway, I'm dying for some water and grizzling internally about the new rules about liquids. Luckily noone has noticed so far that my favourite hair product is actually 125mL, not 100, otherwise I guess it'd be gone. And it costs $15 so I'd be very cross. It's so weird, they make this big pedantic fuss and then noone really bothers to check. Like you could really do anything with that much stuff. Surely no more than you could do armed with the metal forks they still permit us to eat our dinner with.

All the transiting-to-Dubai passengers had a minor panic after we got off the plane. We were just let loose in the international terminal and couldn't see our ongoing flight on any screens. It turned up on the other side of the terminal, which some intrepid British folk discovered, so now we're all sitting around for an hour waiting to go back to the same seats we just peeled ourselves out of (think chewing gum).

Well, have a ball, I know I am...

... or will be, in about 24 hours.

Two days!

2007-04-01T08:05:00.000Z

Man, so soon.

I've had two farewell parties now, both with AMAZING food, and excellent company, and as I was seeing people off last night it felt like I was leaving a little bit at a time myself. I can't wait to get on that plane, but when you come to say goodbye to people you realise you're not going to see them again for a while. A long while. So you say, "See ya," instead.

I'm glad I'm going. I'm excited about all the possibilities out there, you know? Like throwing darts blindfolded. Who knows where they could end up? Hopefully not in your own foot I guess... I have to say, though, that I'm a wee bit nervous. In a good way? Hmmm. Things aren't exciting unless they're a bit risky.

Anyway, half-packed = half-ready, so I'm pretty much on schedule.

10 days

2007-03-24T00:51:00.000Z

That's how much longer I'm in New Zealand for. Uh huh, that's right, I'm taking off again on another flying adventure!

So, once again, this blog will be up and running and INTERESTING! Because I'll be regularly posting details of my new improved, stronger-faster-better travels! I know this blog still looks exactly the same, but apparently it's all upgraded and cool... I haven't figured out how yet...

Anyway. The countdown begins. It's very soon that I leave, and pretty much everything is sorted. I'm going for at least nine months this time, if not indefinitely, so I have a UK visa, a bank account and a one-way ticket! I've also got an interview lined up at Harrods, of all places.

Anyway, got to go cos I'm at work and I'm getting kicked off the computer. Thanks Emily :z

That was lucky...

2006-03-19T23:34:00.000Z

Well, not really. I thought this blog had died, but actually I'd just typed something in wrong. So, no panic. I'm glad this is still here for the next time I take off on a flying adventure, which may not be that far away...

WINNER!

2004-11-10T15:40:00.000Z

My Mum won FIRST PRIZE for first-time exhibitors at the Canterbury Potters' Association exhibition!!!

WOOT!

Mum, you are SUCH a LEGEND!!!

I am so proud of you!

I can't wait to get home so I can see the AWARD-WINNING pieces!!!

Yes!

Re-entering the atmosphere of Godzone

2004-11-02T15:55:00.000Z

Bilgehan's family are amazing. So generous, so fun, so kind and so nice!

Also, I will arrive back in NZ on November 17 at about 2-ish pm. I leave Heathrow on Nov 15, so this seems a trifle daunting...

I have decided to skip Paris in order to make the most of Turkey in the time I have and avoid doing a rush-job of the big Pamplemousse. We leave for Istanbul at midnight tonight. Oh, did I mention we are in Ankara? It's the capital city of Turkey, and home to the Berberoğlu family and Atatürk's massive mausoleum/museum.

May or may not make it to Gallipoli, but here's hoping. I hope to return to Turkey in the future, anyway.

See you all soon!

Oh, I have emailed Cup to ask for a job. I really hope they will give me one. Otherwise it'll be search-mode as soon as I get home.

Eine Kleine Mega Awesome Boat Cruise

2004-10-22T18:13:00.000Z

I'm in Fethiye. Tonight I sleep on a boat for free, because tomorrow we leave on a four day cruise to Olympos! Sweet!

To continue where my last post left off...

We finally caught a taxi to the bus station in Kusidasi, then a coach to Denizli, then a minibus to Pamukkale, which I have already talked about. Then, caught a Domus (bus) to Denizli again, and from there to Marmaris.

Marmaris: Mehmet gave us a free day trip on his boat. There were only fourteen other people on a vessel that can hold 150 people in peak season, so we had plenty of space to sunbathe. We also had lunch, bottles of water and icecreams, all for free, when the other passengers had payed 16 euros. The next day Mehmet organised a good deal with another company to go out for a day to get covered in mud and paddle in sulphur, which was cool, but nowhere near as much fun as the day on Mehmet's boat. On our last night there, he invited us for tea (as in the beverage) with his family at their winter apartment. It was SO much fun, his wife brought out plates of yummy desserts for each of us, and when I said, "wow, this is good!" she went out and brought back another huge dish piled high with all the kinds of desserts in excessive quantity. Chai (Turkish tea) is good. Mehmet's son has been learning English at school for the past two years (he's twelve) and he's really good! His accent is awesome and he's really keen to learn. He taught us the Turkish alphabet, and we learned a couple of phrases like goodnight and... something else that I've forgotten. The daughter went to bed not too long after we arrived. Man, it makes such a difference knowing people here!

From Marmaris we caught another bus to Fethiye (I hope you're all following this on your massive maps of Europe) where we planned to catch a boat cruise as soon as possible. The lowest price we had seen was 90 British pounds (they're always advertised in pounds, for some reason), but the guy at the pension where we stayed runs his own boat, and offered us the same deal - boat, four meals a day, water sports (skiing, snorkelling, the whole shebang), for three nights and four days, for 70 pounds. That's about one hundred and ninety two million Turkish lira. So we're doing that. It's pricy, but I can afford it after the general cheapness of Turkey. This is such a cool place.

Minor drama: I left my money belt with my passport and over 1000 euros in the hotel (under the mattress) in Pamukkale. I discovered this upon arrival in Marmaris, when I wanted to change some money. I phoned the hotel as soon as I could, and they couldn't find it, but said they would ask the cleaning lady (sinking feeling). It turned up, and they offered to send it on the next coach with one of the bus drivers. So, the next day I turned up at the bus station, asked about my belt, and noone knew what I was talking about. Luckily, Mehmet was with me, and he talked to them and offered to come back later to see if it had turned up. The next afternoon, Mehmet came to meet us at our hotel, and presented me with my belt, minus only sixty euros!!! So, a lesson learnt, and a small loss compared to what could have happened. Phew! Do not hide your valuables in silly places and then forget about them!

Minor drama 2: After swimming in Kusidasi and several times on boats in Marmaris, I was having troubles with my ears. They were blocked and sore. Actually, I first had problems on Mykonos, where I went to the free doctor and got some ear drops. They were working ok at softening the wax, but it was still sitting in my ears. So, on our second night in Marmaris, I was lying in bed unable to sleep because my ear was hurting SO much! So I got up and walked down to the 24 hour doctor. He wanted to charge me 50 pounds (**!!!**) but I must have looked pretty taken aback, because he said, "How much do you pay in your country?" I said, around 40 dollars. Unfortunately, he automatically assumed I meant American dollars, and charged me 60 million Turkish lira, which is actually about 60 NZ dollars. Still significantly less than 50 pounds! He gave me a shot in the bum for pain killing (a novel, but not soon to be repeated, experience) and said to come back tomorrow to have my ears flushed out. Which I did, and MAN you should have seen how much goop came out! It was nice and soft from all the drops, and it came out really easily, but who would have thought you could fit that much stuff inside your head? I felt really dizzy and nauseous immediately afterwards, but soon got over it, and since then things have been mint! I can swim and dive to my heart's content. Today I swam down and touched our boat's anchor (oh, yeah, we got another free day trip today for staying at this pension, and it was a good'un)! I was also the only person to climb from shore to boat on the guy rope, which is cool (hard as nails)!!!

Oh, Mum and Ali, I can't use my Yabba card to phone you from Turkey because there's no number. I checked on the internet, and Turkey's just not on the list.

So, that pretty much brings us up to date. At Olympos we are going to stay in tree houses, and in Capadoccia we hope to stay in a cave house! In Ankara we will stay with Bilgehan's family, and in Istanbul we will catch up with his Aunty. So cool! So juicy sweeeeeeet!

Oh, and I ate my first whole fish today, and it was good! Also, in Turkey there are places where you can get a whole baby salmon for lunch for six NZ dollars. This place is amazing!

Ok, keep safe, y'all.

Dondurma!

2004-10-21T06:48:00.000Z

Dondurma is icecream in Turkish. I like icecream.

Sladoled is icecream in Slovenian. Glace is icecream in French. I like icecream in ALL languages!

The last week and a bit have been magic. Turkey is a seriously wonderful place to visit, especially at this time of year. Things are so cheap that even though I've been spending up large and managed to lose over 1000 euro for a day (I got most of it back) and had to pay for a doctor, I'm still not wildly off my target of 30 euros a day! I should be caught up to it by the time I leave Turkey.

Kusidasi was the port we arrived in from Samos, Greece, on the ferry on Tuesday. We spent four nights there - more than we originally intended. The delay was caused by us wanting to go to Pamukkale, but not quite managing to get there two days running.

Our first big touristy thing was going to the ancient ruins of Ephesus. This place is so old it's in the bible! And Alexander and the Romans both used it at different times to rule the province of Asia. At its height it had a population of 350,000 people, which is massive! You can walk down the old streets lined with broken pillars, go inside old restored houses (unfortunately closed when we were there), see the facade of the old library, visit the house where the Virgin Mary (who by this time was undoubtedly no longer a virgin, as Jesus had younger brothers) supposedly died, stand in the old council chambers/concert hall and scramble all over the HUGE theatre, which seats 25,000 people! In recent times they've had Sting and Elton John concerts there. All this stuff is 2000 years old or more!

The next landmark was Pamukkale, but a lot happened in the intervening days of laziness. In Selcuk we talked to a carpet seller who is younger than us. He tried to find us a Turkish language book by escorting us around various little book shops, then invited us into his shop for tea. We chatted for about half an hour about NZ and the Turkish army (every Turk has to serve in it, though it's unclear whether this means women; people here just say "everyone") and not once did he try to sell us a carpet! He told us about his shop and how he was trying to change it to meet the demands of the tourist, making small, decorative things that could be easily transported and opening up the small dark shop to a lighter, open-plan layout. He was really cool, and at the age of twenty he'd been doing this for about seven years!

Back in Kusidasi we (by which I mean Paz) were making an impression on the locals. We've been offered jobs for next summer as anything from boat tour guides to toilet cleaners, had tea with countless shop owners (even after they'd given up trying to sell us stuff), been invited into a closed (for the season) bar to have drinks with its owners (this is where Paz had a proposal of marriage), been called lazy by our friendly local Turkish/Irish restauranteur and asked, "So, what do ya do when yer horny?" by same.

Pamukkale = a big white puffy (but not soft) hill with pools of water. Picturesque, but you walk up the hill... and then walk back down again. More interesting to me were the ruins of the Greek (I assume) city Hierapolis, which used to be on the same site, but we didn't go there. Also, it's a mission to get there, and not really worth staying the night. But, it's also on about a MILLION postcards, so it was a bit of a must-do.

From there to Marmaris, where Mehmet the Star met us the bus station. Ara and Paz have a friend at uni in NZ (who I can't wait to meet) who is Turkish and has been sorting stuff for us over here. His aunt in Istanbul has a friend in Marmaris who runs boat tours and various other enterprises, whose name is Mehmet. He found us a hotel where we were paying the equivalent of 10 euros per night for a flash place INCLUDING breakfast and dinner. So primo! Also, he did tons of other cool stuff for us, but I have to go pay for stuff and let others use the computer (what a hog).

Yakinda Gurusuruz!

Turkıye

2004-10-15T11:24:00.000Z

Man, I LOVE thıs place!

Sınce I last posted:

PARIS: Here I spent the nıght ın a phone booth. I managed to catch the metro to the statıon where the traın to the aırport connected... but ıt had stopped runnıng. I sat ın a smokey Parısıan cafe untıl around 2am when they kıcked me out to close, and then went wanderıng, found the phone booth and sat on my pack untıl I got too cold and had to get movıng agaın. When the metro reopened, I sat ın there sıngıng songs quıetly untıl 6am when the tıcket offıce opened. People gave me funny looks. Maybe they thought I was buskıng, but noone gave me any money... Fınally caught the RER to aeroport Charles-de-Gaulle and ran around fıgurıng out where to check ın and fındıng a phone card for Paz, then caught the plane and ate everythıng set before me. I made a lıttle sıgn sayıng ``s'ıl-vous-plaıt de me reveıllez au repas, mercı.`` (please wake me for the meal, thanks) and the lady near me oblıgıngly dıd so.

ATHENS: Arrıved ın the early afternoon, found the backpackers where the Aussıe-Brıt couple were super nıce and caught the metro out to the docks (Pıraeus) to buy a tıcket for the ferry the next day to Naxos. Then went back to the backpackers and went to bed because I had had one hour of sleep on the plane. Consequently, dıd not see much of Athens. Maybe I wıll on the way back.

NAXOS: Blusterıng wınd and massıve waves stopped other ferrıes soon after my crossıng. It was pretty fun; I sat on deck gettıng hıt by the spray and the salt drıed ın stıff patches on my clothes and skın and haır. At the port I was mobbed by people tryıng to sell me a room for the nıght, but I shook them off. Later, when I trıed to go for a walk, people kept sprıngıng out of nowhere sayıng, You need room? Good prıce! Look look! An old (desperate) lady was especıally persıstant, and eventually I sat down under a statue to waıt for the next ferry wıth Ara and Paz on board, and she and another guy sat nearby also waıtıng and askıng me questıons about NZ. Occasıonally the old lady would say, Come see room, ın a pleadıng sort of way and I shook my head and smıled and saıd, No no, I waıt for my frıends. She would ask, Myfrıends come on boat? When the ferry fınally came ın I waıted on the docks wıth a tourısm lady who was also pıckıng someone up. Suddenly she saıd, Is that your frıend? (We had been chattıng) And I saıd, No, not unless he`s grown a beard! Ara was wavıng, and had grown a beard. Weırd thıng: As the boat was comıng ınto the docks, Paz had saıd to Ara, I can see Doug, he`s standıng on the docks ın a red T-shırt (she had a pıcture of thıs ın her head). Except she was just jokıng and she couldn't even really see the docks. And then, voıla, there I was on the docks ın a red T-shırt!
We got our accommodatıon, ate Greek salad, and the next day clımbed up around the rocky hılls to a crazy tıny church whıch was more lıke a shrıne. Just a wall wıth a door and a mınıscule bell tower ın front of a hollow place ın the rock, to make a dark lıttle room wıth carved wooden screens and woven ıcons and candles and a vısıtors book. We came back down a valley and stumbled upon another church. You could clımb rıght up on top of ıt because ıt backed ınto the rock as well. I have a photo of me sıttıng under the bell. I broke the door handle off by accıdent.
We stayed three nıghts and after the second nıght a gırl called Marıe-Pıer from Quebec joıned us. She had met up wıth Ara and Paz on Santorını (I thınk). She came wıth us to Mıkonos, too, and that's another story.

Whıch I can't be bothered wrıtıng now. So much to wrıte!

I'm ın Turkey now, where everythıng ıs cheap and you can bargaın, and I'm almost caught up to my target of 30 euros a day. I spent a faır bıt to get all the way here from Naxos, but here I am under-spendıng everyday, so ıt's evenıng out. The food here ıs great. Kuşıdası ıs a full on tourısty resort town, but ıt's cool, and we have been talkıng heaps to the shop keepers and they keep on ınvıtıng us for tea. Also, we have been askıng about workıng here (very unusual for tourısts, by the laughs and raısed eyebrows) and already we have people promısıng us work ıf we come back ın June. So, that's the plan. Come home, fınısh unı ın summer courses, work for a few months and head back to Turkey to learn Turkısh. Then maybe a workıng holıday year ın France. Then work ın Edınburgh maybe. Ah, what dreams! And why not? The world ıs my ... pızza (I don't lıke oysters)!

Dream away kıwıs, we are SO lucky, our passport gets us almost anywhere!

To sum up

2004-10-02T11:57:00.000Z

I thought, seeing as I'm leaving tomorrow, that I would devote today's blog-time to all the characters and little details from the last five weeks that I have thoughtlessly overlooked in previous posts.

Les Personages du Verger:

The Portugese Molrus: A creature not well known in other parts of the world, the molrus is usually found in small burrows in the banks of dry rivers in the south of Portugal. These burrows are called gracas by the locals, and dust from a graca is a traditional remedy for inflamed ear lobes. It doesn't work. The molrus is stout and short with large front paws that can hold three medium sized apples each. It's coat resembles a dull blue or green plaid shirt under a mustard sweater-vest. Sometimes, the molrus can be seen with a strange plume on its head that resembles nothing so much as the hat of a garden gnome. Lone molruses can be found in other parts of Europe, where they speak French with a Portugese accent. They are distant cousins of the British mole, but have the large drooping grey moustaches and blunt nose of a walrus.

The strange girl: still don't know this girls name, and 'the strange girl' is what Dad called her after she responded to our bonjours by looking at us strangely and keeping silent. She is chubby and rides a very old bicycle that makes her wobble over the rough gravel roads that wind through the orchard. She also wears a lavendar jumpsuit and can pick like a nor'wester.

Michael: whose name may actually be Mickel, or Michel... seems like a nice guy. Talks to himself most of the time whilst picking. I suspect he may even tell himself jokes, because occasionally he laughs to himself, too.

Le Patron: who, I believe, is not actually the manager, but just another supervisor like the molrus. We just never found out his name. Well, actually, we thought we'd found out his name (Josef) from Jean, but when my Dad tried it out, this is what happened:

LP: Bonjour jeune homme!
Me: Bonjour monsieur; ça va?
LP: Ca va. Et Bonjour Steve!
Dad: Bonjour (*brief hesitation*) Josef.
LP: (*In French*) I thought your name was Steve?

Hmmm, kind of weird. I don't really know how that conversation went so awry.

Bertrand: This is the manager of the pickers. He is tall, young and looks stern most of the time. In ordinary conversation, though, he is very friendly and talks far far too fast for me to understand more than a couple of words in twenty. He was very enthused when I told him I was going to Greece, but I don't know what he said about it because he was talking too fast. He helped us out when we first moved into the house on the orchard, bringing us matches and detergent and switching on the water and power. Oh, Bertrand is also the name of the bottle of detergent. The box of matches is called Jacques.

Jean Champeix: A small and insignificant prize to the person who can accurately pronounce this man's surname just from reading it. It was Jean who hooked us up with this job and the accomodation and my work permit, AND who is giving me a ride to the train station tomorrow. I'm going to try and get his address so I can send him a petit cadeau for being such a star. Jean always seems dogged when you talk to him on the phone, but is relaxed in person and does have a sense of humour. He also has the unusual habit of continuing a conversation on for a while, then suddenly saying, "Bye", turning on his heel and leaving.

Laure: has been awesome. She speaks a bit of English, so we've struck up a friendship with her. Last week we went to Sarlat with her and her little daughter Mona, and on Thursday afternoon she gave us a ride to the Chateau and the wine tasting. Very fun. Otherwise we couldn't have done much sightseeing in the area. I have also practiced my French with her, and she corrects my mistakes, which is helpful.

Otherwise, I have talked briefly to a few other people. Thursday was great, because I had random conversations (all in French) with a Morrocan guy who is 26 and has two small daughters ("I work for them, not for me; it's hard"); a tractor driver ("I would be afraid to travel by myself; outside Bergerac I'm lost!); another Morrocan guy who I think was a student; the strange girl, who it turns out is really nice and loves autumn leaves; a Chinese student who speaks a bit of English and said "Goodbye, Stephen" to Dad; and ... oh, actually, that's it. It was a pretty slack day and people were standing around talking as much as picking.

It's pretty interesting though, when you think about it. On any given day picking I was surrounded by conversations in French, Chinese, whatever Cambodians and Laosians speak, Arabian (?) and occasionally in English. Crazy.

Other things:
There is a movie version of Asterix and Obelix: Mission Cleopatra; it's in French and looks terrible.

We saw 'Lucky Luke' on TV the other night, and in French it sounds as though everyone is calling the upstanding cowboy Lurky Luke, which I like.

Other TV novelties include watching Jurassic Park and The Seige in French, and seeing ads for The Horse Whisperer, which in French translates as "the man who murmurs in the ears of horses". Hee hee, that still makes me laugh!

Also, I've been watching Star Academy, which is a combination between Big Brother and American Idol. Basically, several young people live and learn singing, dancing and acting in a Chateau, with cameras in the walls. Every week they have an assessment in front of their tutors, and the three lowest scorers are nominated for eviction. Every Friday there is a big gala concert (it's massive: lights, fire, famous artists, dancers; the whole shibang), at the end of which the public votes are tallied and the candidate with the most votes gets to stay in the chateau. Then the rest of the housemates vote who they want to save out of the two candidates left. And one person leaves. Did that make sense? I like this programme. It's cool that they're all actually being trained and that they have to work really hard to get better at what they're doing. Also, they have a real vocal tutor, who is a dramatic soprano, I think. I think Hoda should win. Or maybe Gregory. I hope I can find out later.

Ok, that's probably enough for now, eh?

Oh, I tried to go and sit in a park yesterday and write a poem ... but I'd forgotten my pen. The park is small and pretty, except for a statue of Cyrano de Bergerac, who is small and ugly. A girl was sketching him and a blonde lady was photographing birds-of-paradise (the plant). I lay down on a park bench and pretended to be worth sketching. I could hear pigeons cooing out of sight, somewhere.

Farewell Bergerac!

Next time you hear from me I'll be in Greece! Or Heaven, I suppose, if things don't go quite as I expect. I can't wait to see you all again.

If some random person from some random part of the world happens to read this blog, please leave a comment so I can feel like an International Phenomenon.

Boy I need a haircut...

2004-10-01T12:58:00.000Z

However, haircuts are very expensive over here. Nineteen euros, so that's like... 38 dollars! That's just for the cheapo, standard men's cut.

So, I'm going to cut my hair myself. I've already successfully trimmed my hair once, a month and a half ago, and now it's in need of more drastic "guidance". I plan to do it this afternoon. Except, the only sharp implements I have are my razor, a pair of tiny aluminium sewing scissors which can't even cut cotton thread (I really should throw those away) and some nail clippers... I'm sure I can work something out.

Having done a fair bit of reading online today, I am feeling very frustrated. I want to write, but I can't because I don't have enough access to a computer. How dumb is that? I am dependant on technology. Writing on paper is just too slow! Also, my brain feels like mud. And, because I can't just delete stuff and rewrite it, I end up writing lots of awful stuff and not being able to edit it. So what's the point? Frustration. But you can't improve unless you practice, huh? This is stupid. I am going to go and sit in a French parc and write a poem. After I've finished here, that is.

Speaking of France, yesterday I explored le Chateau de Monbazillac and did some wine tasting! It was awesome! Wine is actually nice! Did anyone already know that? I was pretty astonished, myself. The only other time I've actually enjoyed wine was at Dave's 21st - but then, when something has been kept in a genuinely subterranean cellar, lovingly selected and presented to you by a passionate connoiseur (who you are also slightly frightened of), you enjoy it. Dad got a bit red in the face and started making bad jokes (ie. worse than usual and more frequent), which is a sure sign of the wines', um, quality. The Monbazillac wine is a famous super-sweet wine for drinking as an aperitif. It's good with bitter chocolate or strong cheese, but not with dessert (danger of hyperglycemia, I expect).

And soon I'm off; like old milk, like a good cheese, like a bride's nightey (that one's Dad's). Greece beckons. My itinerary may change, and will certainly become more detailed, so I'll just give the bare bones here. Paris-Athens-Naxos ... Turkey ... Athens ... Rome ... Nimes-Paris-London; home. I've had emails from Ara and Pascale today, and everything is all set as far as Naxos. Accommodation is relatively cheap now that the main tourist season is over, and for food I can dine à la dustbin, so I am hopeful that by the time I reach Paris I will still have plenty of funds to splash around. And in London, too. And then I can return home to my virtually empty bank accounts and the prospect of having to find a job, again, like every summer. If anyone knows of anything... Maybe I could get a job in Geoffrey Conway's café, that would be ideal!

Anyway, perhaps my head will be more firmly connected, more surely wired and swept and dusted by tomorrow, and I can say something that is *actually* worth publishing for you to read. It is my belief that too many wasteful, poorly chosen words are like junk food, for the writer and for the reader; they fill you up temporarily, offer little nutritional value and quickly leave you feeling hungry again. And yet still I indulge... Oh, and they make you flabby round the edges.

*And hastily he left in a tempest of furious torpor*

Allez!

2004-09-25T15:23:00.000Z

I have plans. I have tickets. I have a deplorable lack of information. That's right... I'm going to Greece!

I talked to Bertrand (manager of pickers at the orchard) yesterday about finishing on Friday and now it's all set. I'm getting all my money for the five weeks I will have worked on October 1, posting stuff home on the 2nd, catching the train to Paris on the 3rd, flying out on the morning of the 4th for Athens, and this has all come together over the last couple of days. I'm looking forward to being a tourist again, although I'm a little scared at travelling with myself because I can sometimes suffer from near-fatal bouts of disorganisation.

For example, having left this plan-making until the last minute (well, one week before is more than one minute...) I now have a train trip that arrives in Paris at 2345, while my flight isn't until 0940 the next morning. What am I going to do? The current plan is to catch the metro - assuming it's still running so late - from Mont-Parnasse station to Charles-de-Gaulle airport and crash in the flight lounge - assuming the airport doesn't close up. They may even have vagrant-spotters whose job it is to catch and expel loiterers like me. Here's hoping; I want to get a photo of a man in a camouflage jumpsuit wearing a badge that says "Vagrant Spotter". Or perhaps they'd sophisticise his title and call him an Expectorator of Undesirables. Hmmm, that would be cool!

Pascale and Ara, my kiwi friends, are going to Athens almost exactly a week before me and heading out to the Greek Islands after a couple of days. I'll spend at least a day in Athens (here's to bloody, blistered feet and snapshot-RSI in my index finger), then set out by ferry to hunt down Azza and Pazza. After that I expect we'll go to Turkey, and then I'll try and find my way as cheaply as possible back to France. I'm trying not to think about the logistics of this; the combined weight of my inability to speak Turkish, the general expensiveness of flights and the importance of booking in advance is all too much of a burden for my mind to assume at this point in time. I'm thinking of trying to work my way stepwise back to France, just choose a city on the map each day that looks closer to where I want to go, and go there.

Back in France, my plan is to go to Nimes so I can visit the Pont du Gard and the Maison Carée, then to go to Paris and have a good explore around. Ah, there are SO many things I want to visit there, especially le Sacré Coeur and le Musée de Picasso! And le tour eifel, I guess; I'm going to take the stairs! And I only really want to visit one wing of le Louvre, where they keep the Venus di Milo, Nike of Samothrace, the Mona Lisa, and works by a whole lot of Rennaissance painters including Carravaggio (sp?) and Rubens who are amazing. I've seen a couple of theirs now, in different galleries, and they really are all they're cracked up to be, in my opinion.

As for life on the orchard, the last two weeks have been spent picking by the bin (as opposed to by the hour), destroying all positive preconceptions my French campadres may have held about NZ'ers and thouroughly establishing my status as the worst picker in the world. I am so slow that they had to pay me by the hour anyway, because otherwise I would have been earning less than the minimum wage... I don't feel like I'm slow: I work solidly all day, don't take breaks except for lunch and toilet, and somehow (no matter what I do) I always pick 3 bins per day. Even if I go super fast, it still ends up being three bins. And if I go super slow? Three bins. Weird huh? I think part of the problem is that my conscience won't allow me to put in any apple that has a fault - they all go on the ground as they're supposed to. Dad, on the other hand, strips whole branches at a time and dumps everything in, pausing to pluck out excess leaves and sticks and to hide faulty apples in the corners buried under pristine apples. The quality control men only take apples from the top when they do their sampling.

I anticipate that this week is going to be difficult. I'll probably spend all my time bobbing up and down, jiggling, and saying, "Are we there yet?" Having a goal is not always a good thing.

Money is going to be very tight from now on. I'm going to eat at supermarkets and sleep under parked cars. If I can find a dog, I could become one of the many dog-people (as Dad and I call them) who sit on street-sides in all European cities hoping people will give them money. I think the dogs are a kind of help-me-I-have-twenty-children-and-five-disabled-wives-to-support ploy, except it's help-me-feed-my-dog, which is perhaps a little less tear-jerking/wallet-greasing. Tears make a good lubricant for stiff wallets. I want to have enough money left at the end to have a wee bit of fun in England when I get back there... Man, I hope I'm not being a naive wishful-thinker and massively overestimating my ability to pinch pennies.

Anyway, take care all. Sorry for missing a week last week!

It's all gone... pear-shaped

2004-09-11T14:40:00.000Z

Ach! I'm disgusted. How lame! What a terrible pun; what a schmuck! It was the only title I could think of, and it's at least somewhat appropriate...

For the last week I have been picking pears, and they are worse than apples. The trees are forty years old and they are Trees; not like the apple trees we've been picking from, which are splayed out on wires like vines, shortened and pruned and limbs loose for ease of plucking. These pear trees are massive, spiky, and tough. You have to climb right to the top step of your ladder and teeter around leaning far off-balance to pick the top fruit. Sometimes you have to put one foot into the branches, or climb off your ladder altogether, and with a heavy bucket full of picked pears sagging on your front, this is often a hair-raising feat. Sometimes the ladder sinks suddenly into the ground at opportune moments, pitching you forwards or sideways, or you lean so far to one side that the ladder helpfully leans equally far in the opposite direction, to even things up. This is almost as fun as a rollercoaster that is not actually attached to the tracks, but does loop-the-loops anyway; you stay in (on, alive) by luck, acrobatics and sometimes by gravity (it can work in your favour).

By the end of the week I was a drooling idiot, and spent Thursday afternoon picking slowly, climbing up and down slowly, walking as if in a trance and sometimes sitting atop my ladder singing songs quietly to myself; or were they in my head? This was partly due to the heat. It has been a very hot week. On Friday it had rained during the night and the morning was cool. We were picking apples again, just a few of us cleaning up what dregs had been left by previous pickers. It was like a cold bath on a hot day, a long cool drink by the pool, and I still coudn't get much energy up (also the trees were wet, so I was working one-arm-in at a time, to avoid slick embraces with armfulls of leaves), so maybe that had been the problem all week: I was tired. At the end of the morning all the pickers met by one of the big barns and we were given instructions for what's happening next week. And that was it! No afternoon work, no Saturday morning to get up for, the whole weekend free and a change on the breeze for the next Monday!

Next week we are picking the reds. As in, Red Delicious. They're paying us by the bin (crate/case, whatever). Up until now I've been earning 7.61 euros an hour, before tax (which isn't as high as I thought: it's more like 25% plus a bit more taken off for our lodgings). Next week I can earn up to 16.50 per crate, if I manage fewer than 3.5% defects! That's heaps. I just hope I can pick fast enough; I wasn't exactly flash-hot this week just finished. If we are really slow, we just get paid at the hourly rate again, but I'm aiming to pick around 6 crates per day, which would get me a bit of extra pocket money. So far my best has been about 4 crates per day (which is ok) but with the added incentive I think I can do better. I'm kind of scared all the other pickers will zoom through and I'll look like a floundering sludge-fly, but as Dad says, noone else will be paying me any attention. I predict a fury of flying leaves, a dark undercurrent of foot-tripping and eye gouging, smoking fingers and related injuries, and little conversation. I just hope it's cool (Lord, let it be cool, let it be crisp and overcast, but not rainy!).

Notes on accents
It's funny when you're surrounded by non English-speakers, how much English you think you hear. If you're not concentrating, you can hear things like, "leg loose talk talk!" or "bacon fresh twinning!" Sometimes you even hear complete phrases. I understand this is because you hear the shape of the word more than you hear the sounds, so that if I was paying close attention it would all remain gibberish, but in my semi-preoccupied state I hear familiar shapes and my brain interprets them as words. The most complete one I have turned into a story fragment, as follows:

*
"D'ya think so?" One ganster to another. A major Gangster to a minor one; not even a gangster really, small-fry, a ganger, lacking the sophistication of sibilance and the snap-frost violence of a 't'. A major silhouette, with a trenchcoat and a hat. A cigar. A match. A small stream of smoke and a tiny glow that whizzes down, down, and merges with the smooth, reflective pavement. Street lights in a puddle, or are they windows of the still-awake? Random light of a restless city.

An inhalation; an exhalation. There will be violence. There will be scruff-of-the-neck grabbing, low-voiced hissing, leg-wobbling and maybe cigar burns. There will be blubbering cooperation. Or perhaps a gunshot. Maybe both.

For now, a voice made of smoke. "Well? Do ya?"
*

The original phrase I heard spoken by a Laosian fellow-worker while saying something entirely different to his friend, is the first bit, the D'ya think so? The rest is what I came up with to describe the way it sounded, and to pass the picking time with a mostly intact brain.

I have three short stories now, although only one of them is actually written down. The other two are in note form because I am too tired to write on any day but Sunday (or perhaps today, given that I have it off) and even then I am frustratingly slow with pen and paper. Computers are easier, because I can type much faster and lose fewer good thoughts in the mean time, and because of the ease of erasure. I hate making mistakes and feel compelled to correct them, which is a nightmare because I make so many. I also have two novels, one of which is started, the other is still in my head. I don't see either of them coming to fruition anytime soon. This (one story and a straggle of notes in two and a half weeks) is more prolific than I've ever been; fruit picking must be good for the creative juices...

There's no such thing as apples, there's no such th...

2004-09-04T14:25:00.000Z

When I was little, I watched the Gremlins movie. It was one of the first "scary" movies I had seen, and boy, it freaked me out. That night it took me ages to fall asleep; the thing that eventually comforted me enough to allow me to fall asleep and turn my back to the dangers of the dark was repeating to my self, "There's no such thing as gremlins. There's no such thing as gremlins...," as I huddled in bed.

Now, apples do not exist. What don't exist? I don't know, they're not there, 'A' is for Aardvark... Don't try to convince me otherwise. I am an expert by now on the non-existence of apples. I spend eight hours a day, five days a week, plus four hours on Saturdays, contemplating how thouroughly and completely apples are not part of the material plane. They are a figment, an illusion; at most, a ghost of something once dreamed of and never realised.

In short, I got the job on the orchard. The French have an interesting system in which every rule that says you can do something is contradicted by a rule which says you can't. Sweet. So it took a while to get my work permit as some official in Perigueux (local government) decided which rule he was going to believe in. I guess he blinked the other, contradictory one out of existence. Like the apples. I've been working for a week picking nothing off rows and rows of trees. It's surprisingly hard work. I wear a big bucket strapped to my front which becomes pretty heavy by the time it's full... of nothing. Nothing is surprisingly heavy. And noisy. The sound of nothing pouring out of the bottom of my bucket into a big crate, and bouncing over other bits of nothing, is a multitude of tiny rustling thuds, like hundreds of flies colliding with closed windows. Non-existant apples can also be pretty gross: sometimes their far side is squishy, brown and speckled with white bits; or cracked and blackened; or covered in slugs that feel like dough saturated with far too much milk...; nothing is surprisingly tactile.

I'm doing pretty well though. I'm working for six weeks (only five left, now) and then taking off for some more flying adventures with a wee bit of cash burning through my pockets. I hope to catch up with some friends of mine, Ara and Pascale, who are in France at the moment but will probably be in Turkey by the time I finish working. So, maybe I'll get to Turkey afterall!

The days are tiring, but I've coped so far, to my surprise. It's the mental game that I was expecting to lose, trying to switch my mind onto other things while my body does tedious menial labour for eight hours, but it's been ok. I've made up stories, planned trips, and inserted myself into the plot of Harry Potter to pass the time. I've even delved into random fantasies like, "Doug winning an Oscar." It's all very silly, but it's better than thinking about apples or wondering what the time is.

Our house is pretty good. We live on the second story of a cottage with a red tile roof, in the middle of the orchard with views of the Dordogne, apple trees and crates. The washing machine works. The fridge works. The gas stove works. There's hot water; it's pretty sweet. This was not my initial impression. When we first walked in the floor was covered in dirt and dead flies. There were so many! I've never seen so many flies in one place before. Dad says that it wasn't that bad, but HE went for a walk to the supermarket while I swept and scrubbed all the floors. The nearest supermarket and telephone is a good forty minute walk away, towards Bergerac, so Dad was pretty stuffed by the time he got back. It was a necessary trip, as the only things in the cupboards when we arrived were two jars of mustard (best before sometime in 2003), a box of filters for a phantom coffee machine and an almost empty bottle of tequila.

I spent the next few days (Thurs-Sat) scrubbing the bathroom walls and the kitchen sink and writing the start of my first novel while Dad worked in the orchard. I cooked each night, too. My wife is going to be a very lucky woman. I started work on Monday afternoon once my permit had arrived and my contract had been drawn up, and the rest is history. We've received one pay (they come monthly) and we appear to be losing almost 40% of our earnings to tax or social security, to save for our pensions and medical expenses. It's a shame we won't be here to draw a pension and can't use the French health system for free, as we're not citizens or residents. Ah well, maybe there's some way we can claim some of it back. Our supervisor told us (in French) to take it up with Mister Chirac.

Due to the distance, lack of transport, and work pressures, it looks like I'll only be able to make it into town to use the internet once a week. Which is good, because it means I'll have lots of emails to read and answer after they've had time to stack up and because I'll save money on internet time. On the other hand, I'll miss being able to communicate as frequently as I was. I hope you'll all cope...

When I get home tonight I'm going to draw up a chart of how many days/weeks I have to go at work. Then, I'm going to savagely cross out the first week (it will be very satisfying), leaving only five weeks to go. Dad says the time will fly by, but I don't know how many times I can imagine winning an oscar or attending Hogwarts before it begins to get old. Any suggestions for other mental time-wasters would be appreciated!

New High Score!

2004-08-25T11:49:00.000Z

I suspect not many people play Quake on this computer. I am terrible at it: I only narrowly beat the bot on the level just above easiest. There's no way I should be getting high scores, unless my score is the only one...

At least that game was in English.

The reason for this time-wasting is that Dad and I are moping around Bergerac on a rainy day waiting for 4 o'clock when we will meet our contact at MacDonald's. Dad couldn't understand him over the phone and kept asking him to spell "Magdonarrz" even after Jean had said, "You know, ze fast food restaurant." Of course, being France, there is only one MacDonalds in the vicinity and it's not even within the town limits. Even in Perigueux, which is the capital of this region, there were only two MacDonalds, and they were well out of the city centre. I'm not sure why we're not meeting back at the warehouse or here in Bergerac. It's all very cloak-and-dagger.

He wants to photocopy my passport so they can see what sort of visa I have. I don't see how that will help, as it's just a standard entry stamp from getting off the ferry at Calais. It's all a wee bit confusing. He wants to show us the accommodation too, apparently, which I guess means that there is accommodation, which is a good thing. Pity I still don't actually know if I have a job yet...

I was very disappointed with my last book. So I've left it behind in the hotel room for someone to read or use as toilet paper. Unfortunately, that means I'm down to reading Harry Potter for the fourth time (third this trip) or starting my own novel. I think I'll go for the latter. I have a new notebook, which I will mysteriously refer to as Notebook 6. It should be ideal, as it has about 300 pages. That's certainly enough to start.

Speaking of movies not to see, I think Hell Boy is probably top of the list. Unless you go to see it in French, which (I can vouch for this) adds a certain novelty value and relieves the viewer from the trial of actually understanding the idiotic things that are being said. The best bit was a corpse that spoke in an unknown tongue, translated as French subtitles which I could read and actually understood!!! It said, "Go that way, red monkey!" and, "I prefer being dead." Inspiring stuff.

I had dinner for 3,67 euros last night, from the supermarket, which is fantastic value for this country considering I had a nice Tabouleh salad with chicken in it, a large portion of cheese and two big apple pastries. I saved some of the cheese and one pastry for breakfast this morning, so actually, it fed me for two meals, which is SUPER good value. Yesterday was a good day because I found and bought the second shirt I have ever found in my life that fit me!!! It's super cool and cost 31,30 euros, which is about 60NZD. That's just on the expensive side of what I would pay for a shirt back home, and back at the hotel I discovered it was 50% off from 61,30 euros, so I was stoked. Blah blah blah. Not much is happening at the mo, as you can probably tell. I hope to have some real news later with regards the job, so we'll see what happens. I wish the NZ and French governments would agree on what agreements they may or may not have already made. Gah.

Photos - Ste-Foy-la-Grande to Toulouse

2004-08-24T04:04:00.000Z

Apparently "Crust" is a desirable quality. And yes, Europe has paprika flavoured chips (it means capsicum). They're really good. Ste-Foy-la-Grande.

This massive tower used to be part of a circular Roman temple. Imagine it surrounded by pillars supporting a big roof, with steps in front. Perigueux.

The amazing Cathedral of Perigueux on a day when I wished I had taken Mum's advice and packed the mini-collapsible umbrella she got me...

Vanity shot... the Griffon-dog-thing is such a poser. Toulouse.

I call this one, "Toilet." Toulouse.

Is that a donkey? Toulouse.

It sure is. Toulouse.

This is what greets me when I get off the metro in Toulouse's centre-ville. Nice.

Edit 3/9/04: Reordered these. I got them mixed up the first time.

Nova Metamorfosi

2004-08-21T17:02:00.000Z

Today has been frustrating.

This morning I did very little after my big day yesterday. I finished Harry Potter (again) and started my new book, which isn't as good as I had hoped. I used the free computers at the hostel, which are good except that they have no sounds and no access to the CD drive, so I couldn't send photos or listen to my new CDs.

At about 4:30 I came into town to find somewhere where I could send photos and listen to music. It's now quarter to seven, and I have just sat down at this computer. The first internet place I went to had no headphones, the second (my usual) was closed for Saturday. The third had headphones but the internet connection was down. The fourth had no computers... I continued to search for two hours. I stopped to look at my map, started walking again and totally caned my shin on a little bollard that was so low and close to me that I hadn't seen it. My eyes watering, I tried to walk on normally, humming The Lord's My Shepherd. After a couple more disappointments, I found the place I'm at now. It has headphones, and I listened to my beautiful CD for about 10 minutes while checking email until the computer crashed just as I started updating this blog. Apparently the computers here can't handle playing music, so the guy doesn't want me to play my CDs, after all that. This is also the most expensive place I've found; I only came here for the headphones. Finally, ironically, the keyboard is an English one and I keep on making frustrating mistakes and forgetting where keys are after spending the last three weeks getting used to (and complaining about) French keyboards.

Yesterday
was a pretty cool day. I got round two galleries, the botanic gardens, heaps of backstreets, bought a new book and two CDs from the best little music shop in the world. It was good to have so much time to myself, just like wandering around town at home, taking as much time as I wanted and hurrying off when I got tired of wherever I happened to be.

Le Salon de Musique
is very cool. It's kind of like Radar Records in Christchurch, but with a wider selection, better organisation and less cramped (sorry Meels!). It's so amazing: you can find almost anything there, even stuff that is less common or impossible to find in New Zealand. I asked for Shostakovich, and got his 5th symphony played by the Leningrad Orchestra. I've BEEN THERE!!! You want Liszt's piano concertos? You have about seven options of recordings, ranging from 10 to 20+ euros. Satie? About nine options, including what must almost be his complete piano works in a set.

However, my prize finds were the Franck Martin Messe (of which there are about two recordings in the world) and this AMAZING cd of music from Milan in the early 17th century. It's by a French chamber choir called... actually, I'm not sure, but I think the cd is called Nova Metamorfosi. Unless that's the name of the group... anyway; it's simply amazing. I can't wait to play it to people (Rich and Meels, please forgive me in advance for boring you to death with endless playings).

Les Abattoirs and le Musée des Augustins
are the galleries I went to yesterday.
Le Musée is full of fragments of ancient church sculptures, fragments of Roman buildings, classical sculpture from various eras and a massive collection of circa Renaissance paintings. The big highlight was seeing another real Rubens (who I studied briefly last year).
Les Abattoirs used to be the city freezingworks (hence the name) but has been converted into a modern art gallery. It was pretty amazing.

Yesterday ended up being a long day.

I applied for a job at a pub called the Melting Pot, but was turned down because they were looking for long-term workers. I didn't mind; I was kind of nervous about working in a pub anyway as I usually avoid them, but I was also kind of keen for the experience... c'est pas grave.

Things are so up and down at the moment. Good one morning, terrible in the afternoon, great in the evening... it's disconcerting, but I am confident it will all settle.

I'm going to listen to my cd anyway. Too bad if the computer crashes. Oh, and I'm sending some more photos tonight, so they should be up soonish thanks to the incredible efficiency and willingness of Nathan von hesslehof, without whom no visual aids to my flying adventure would be available. Thanks Nath! Man, last time I sent him photos I had such a mare; got them all mixed up and had captions on the wrong photo, etc. but somehow Nathan managed to sort them all out and get them on here in the right order with the right captions. What a star!

Basso Cambo

2004-08-19T13:17:00.000Z

That's the metro I have to catch to get into le Centre-Ville of Toulouse from the hostel where I'm staying: à direction de Basso Cambo. The metro reminds me of Singapore because it is so efficient, so quiet and so clean. It does not remind me of London, for the same reasons.

Our hostel is really nice. It's only 13 euros per night (pp), plus 2 euros for le petit-déjeuner. Dad and I have a room to ourselves, with two nice, comfortable single beds, cupboards for storage, toilet and seperate shower-and-washbasin. French for washbasin is lavabo, which always makes me think 'loverboy'... The building is new and everything is clean and secure, AND the windows are like the cool Slovenian windows which can swing sideways on hinges at the side, or down vertically on hinges at the bottom. It's hard to explain.

Unfortunately, we had yet another mission-through-hot-sun-with-heavy-backbacks (sacs à dos) to get to the hostel, and ended up going about half a kilometre too far up the road. It was because our map wasn't very good, really! (Dad was navigating) We got there eventually, though, and stowed our stuff, had a quick rest, then headed out to explore the town of:

TOULOUSE!
So far, I really love this town. It's one of the major university towns of France (ie. there are multiple universities here), as well as being France's fourth largest city. Consequently, there is HEAPS to see here: the disjointed Cathedral, several unique churches, lots of galleries and theatres; as well as the atmosphere that a large student population brings to a town: second hand shops, bookshops everywhere (including English bookshops!!), little eateries, poetry readings, and a thin layer of greasy dirt over the whole lot. Very cool.

The streets are often narrow and semi-pedestrian, and you never know whether the street you're about to enter will contain a grungy music shop, army surplus store and clothing from 1920 to today, or designer boutiques full of Louis Vuitton, and lots of names I've never heard of before. There are little squares scattered all over the place (although actually a lot of them are triangles), and most of them have a fountain or monument or piece of garden.

Green spaces are not hard to find; there's an enormous roundabout whose middle is a really nice, shady, quiet park with classical statues and a massive fountain, and across the river is a stretch of very peaceful grass along the bank with trees and beige gravel pathways and park benches. We saw a jetboat go past on the river towing a wake-boarder.

If I had more time (and a ton of money) I would like to hang around here and check out all the crazy performances that go on around the city. The opera house here is one of the most prestigious in France, and Toulouse is well known for putting on unusual shows. There seems to be a big Jazz following here as well, although I haven't found anything to back that up yet...

Me:
Anyway, I'm doing ok. I was getting a bit glum a couple of days ago; missing friends and feeling a bit adrift at sea. Now I'm fine, after praying (in two languages, cool huh?) and reading and talking to Mum on the phone! When you're so far away from everything familiar, you have days like that. Mind you, you have days like that at home too, sometimes!

My French is definitely improving. On our last night in Cahors I met a guy at the hostel who is a med student. He was walking part (about 200km, I think) of the pilgrimage route to Santiago di Compostella. We got talking, and decided to go watch the Liberation Day fireworks in one of the town squares. It was really cool, we wandered around town (we were early for the fireworks) chatting in both broken languages for about an hour. He didn't speak much English and I didn't speak much French, but it worked ok. That's the second med student I've met on my trip so far...

Now:
Today we have just spent the day (so far) exploring the city a bit more. It's been overcast, which is good, because the further South we go the hotter it gets. I think I'm getting a tan, but I still feel mega-pastey next to all the super-brown French people. Actually, a lot of them are pastey too, but there are lots of naturally dark people who put my best tanning efforts to shame without even trying.

I bought new deoderant today, but the only anti-perspirant I could find in "Petit Casino" (don't worry, it's a mini supermarket) was Nivea women's stuff with moisturisers and girly things added. Seems to be doing the trick though, and my armpits feel so soft and silky...

Well, take care!

The Ferninator

2004-08-16T09:11:00.000Z

I am in Cahors, and Cahors is cool.

It's a town a bit South of Perigueux with a popluation of 25000 and the third most photographed landmark in France. The river Lot does a big elbow twist and almost meets up with itself, and Cahors lies in the loop. Although it's small, it seems really prosperous, with big squares and fountains and statues, and a beautiful old cathedral. There are tons of old buildings and the vista along the river as you walk into town from our camping ground is really something, with towers and tiled roofs reflected in the water.

We arrived on Saturday and grossly underestimated the distance from la gare (train station) to the camping ground. It was the hottest part of the day and by the time we got there and set up camp, all I wanted to do was strip off and lie in the sun reading Harry Potter. I kept my shorts on, but everyone over here wears speedos, so noone would have noticed if I'd gone right down to underwear.

On Saturday night I went and saw Mozarts Requiem in the cathedral. It was pretty bad, but they got a standing ovation anyway. At the concert I met an Aussie girl called Fern who is a musician too, so that was cool. She's living in Cahors for the year, attending a French high school even though she's finished school in Australia. It's some sort of Rotary exchange... She showed me round a bit after the concert to some of the main sights of the town. The main one was the famous bridge (that's the well-photographed monument), which looked supercool at night all lit up. It's the only fortified bridge in France that still has all it's towers and stuff, and it's in pretty awesome shape. I got some photos of it yesterday from the riverbank, with cool reflections. Then she took me to meet some British friends of hers. It was really fun; it's been a while since I hung out with a crowd of young people. I woke Dad up at 1:30 when I got back to the tent...

Man, yesterday was so hot. We did stuff in the morning and early afternoon, but eventually it got too much and we just limped from shady patch to shady patch back to the camping ground and wilted into soggy heaps on the ground. I read more Harry Potter in the sun, this time in my "speedos"; don't worry Mum, I'm not sunburnt again, although my shoulders have just started peeling a wee bit from the last time...

We ate pizza made on the spot by a man in white teeshirt, shorts and sweatbands and a blue truck who came round to the camp ground. This meant we didn't have to walk back into town (yes!). There is a swimming pool at the camp, but I don't really like crowded pools, so I headed off down the river with my gear and swam out to a wee island that has a sandy-silty beach at one end. From there I swam up and down the river as though I was doing lengths. Man, it was so nice. The water was really cool and the sun was just behind the hill. I just swam until I got tired, then walked back dripping and had a shower. I wrote outside until it got too dark, then moved inside and sat at the bar with a hot chocolate, listening to all the men playing petanque outside (they really do play it everywhere) and watching odd snatches of someone's old wedding video that was playing on the TV. I recognised a few people from around the camp, so I guess a lot of people know each other. I stayed until the men started coming in for their beers, and soon after took myself off to bed. The bar was getting crowded anyway.

And now it's today, and here I am. We're shifting to the Youth Hostel for tonight, where the management are apparently really nice and the beds are comfy, even though the building is a bit "funky," to quote my American friend. Apparently "funky" means scody. Woah, is that how you spell scody? I never wrote it down before... any suggestions?

Fern sent me a text and signed it Fernarita, which I guess is her full name; hence the title of this post.

The worst beds in the World, EVER! ...vol.1

2004-08-12T12:04:00.000Z

Today I am in Perigueux and it is "cold". This means that it is about 19 or 20 degrees, but it has been raining and the sun is behind the clouds. I'm wearing my jeans. Actually, I'm wearing my jeans because my all-purpose 3/4 length pants are in the wash again after I spilled bits of kebab on them, not because it's "cold". I only washed them a couple of days ago.

There is an attractive purple line running from the top of the flat screen of this computer to the bottom, dividing the screen neatly so that something less than two thirds lies on one side, and slightly more than a third lies on the other. I wonder what caused that? It's profoundly disturbing not to be able to say that the line lies "one quarter" or "one third," or even "one half" of the way across the screen; it is unquantifiable and it's bugging me.

Last night we slept in what my Dad described as a real French hotel room. Our window looked out on a tiny space bordered on three sides with concrete walls, and on the other side with a narrow patch of sky. There were leaves rotting at the bottom. The light was dim and swarthy. The cold tap squealed at multiple high pitches when running. The beds were...

...BAD

They were great monstrous things with high metal heads and feet, like beds from old psychiatric hospitals. They were so floppy they almost folded in half every time you put weight on them. I had to sleep on an angle with my feet pulled up and gripping onto the bolster tightly, lest I slip softly down and be smothered by the gaping, springless mattress. I have a sore back. Actually, my sore back is from sitting hunched over for hours on end reading Harry Potter on the ground, or sitting on my pack, at the camping ground in Ste Foy. The window of the toilet was directly opposite our window (on an angle) and you could hear every excruciating, humiliating sound with perfect clarity. I think I'll aim for fake or unreal, or even imaginary French hotel rooms from now on.

However: Perigueux is really cool. Ha, when I write "Perigueux" I think to myself, Perry gee you ee you ex. There are ruins everywhere, including a 1st century Roman arena that I haven't seen yet, but we'll probably go there today. Also, we shifted to the youth hostel today, where we are (so far) the only people in our four-bed room, and there is a merry social area downstairs with comfy chairs and a café-bar and a cafeteria. I have spent an hour there already, reading Catch 22 ostentatiously to try and entice any lurking English-speakers into conversation. No luck so far.

Looks like Dad is ready to go. The sun is out and the roads have dried already. Perhaps it will be hot again afterall, and I'm in my jeans...

More photos

2004-08-10T23:12:00.000Z

View from hostel window in Ljubljana, Slovenia.

Angel of Victory... or Peace... or something, in Vienna, Austria.

House of the Robber-Baron. Somewhere in Slovenia.

"A man whose legs are fish tails offering a woman a big fish, or maybe a kiss from said big fish. I don't think she wants it..."

Priests at the door of their church, which looks like a bomb went off inside because the walls are bare and broken and the stone decorations are missing or ruinous. They are applauding our choir as we rehearse in the town square of Sopron, Hungary.

A photo of girls from the choir all trying to take photos of the rest of us, who are all lined up on the steps of our hostel in Budapest, Hungary.

The white, fairy-tale battlements at a church on a hill overlooking Budapest, Hungary.

Trevor (girl from the choir) and I looking nonchalant and slightly bored on the spectacular fairy-tale battlements high on the hill overlooking Budapest, Hungary. Behind us (across the river Danube) are the massive and truly spectacular parliament buildings, which are *actually* totally AMAZING. Do we care? Apparently not; we've seen it all.

My buddies in business class, when we got bumped up because there wasn't enough room on the plane and we were last to check in. We drank Champagne because we could.

My excercise clothes for early morning physical warm-ups during the competition week (Nova Gorica/Gorizia, Slovenia/Italy). I think they really bring out my eyes. Actually, it was a dare, and I got caught on camera doing stretches and Tai-Chi by the documentary crew... There's another thing to pray about...

Doug in Concarneau.

It tastes like burning...

2004-08-10T18:26:00.000Z

Dear hello!

First things first: if possible, when commenting on my blog, please post under a name I will recognise rather than anonymously. So far I think I know who every comment is from and I appreciate them all!!! It just diminishes the warm-fuzzy feeling when I'm not sure who it's from. Those of you who have used "feeeheeeelings" and "Doug-iski," don't worry, I knew who they were from!

Now, to explain the title...

Today Dad and I went on a massive mission to Gardonne, which is only 15km down the road from Bergerac (I have already mentioned that I'm in Bergerac at the moment, haven't I?). Sounds not far, eh? Try walking it. Actually, we walked 4 or 5 kilometres and then managed to hitch a ride with a very nice Frenchman who was transporting furniture to his new house. Then we asked around the town about work in orchards, had little luck, and started walking back to Bergerac with the intention of popping in on orchards we had seen on either side of the road while whizzing past in the comfort of Michel's (the nice Frenchman) van.

So, we walked and we walked. And we walked and we walked. Eventually we came to a place down a long driveway, where very brown, scary-looking workers were pouring out of the woodwork. We hung around until the chef arrived, only to be told that the team was complet (full).

So, we walked and we walked. And we walked and we walked. Eventually we came to a lane where it was said we could find work. So, we went down to some big sheds and asked around. The man told us we were in the wrong place, and needed to go further down the main road to get to the office.

So, we walked and we walked. And we walked and we walked. Eventually we came to a little house next to masses of heavily laden apple trees. It looked pleasant and friendly, so we went round the back and knocked. Noone answered. So we rang the bell. Noone replied. So we tried both again. Again, noone answered and noone replied. So we waited. There was a little welcome plaque inside the door that said, "Welcome," in English. There were pink flowers and shady trees, and a little lizard living under a bush who came out to bask in the sun, then dashed away inside every time I got close enough to take a photo. We decided to knock again, and this time we got a reply! An old man, who had been asleep told us to look for Monsieur Herman, on the second road to the right, back the way we came.

So, we walked and we walked. And we walked and we walked. And pretty soon we saw that we were heading back to the same place we had just been, with the big sheds. I thought, Hmmm, are we going in circles and wasting our time? But into my head popped the image of the welcome sign in English, and a small voice said, Trust his directions! referring to the old man. So we did, and returned to the sheds asking for Monsieur Herman. And who did we find?

Find out in the next, hare-razing installment of: The Flying Adventures of DOUG!!!

Just kidding. We found, not Monsieur Herman, who it turns out is a massively wealthy man who owns the whole company and has a big manor house with two gardeners. Nor did we find the man (with a tractor) who had told us we were in the wrong place before. Instead, we found the manager of the orchards, whose name is Jean, and who speaks English, has been to New Zealand, thinks New Zealanders are really nice (more cultured and SMARTER than Aussies, who he described as "rough"), AND says that if he was ever to move countries, it would be to New Zealand. So we got on alright. He offered to talk to Monsieur Herman for us and hoped to be able to organise work for us, as well as accommodation (which they no longer offer but may still exist as they used to hire packs of Spaniards many years ago), and he even offered to find out what I might need to do to get a student working visa. He should get back to us by the end of the week. We have his phone number in case he doesn't... Then we left.

So, we walked and we walked. And we walked and we walked. And eventually we got sick of walking and tried (successfully) to hitch again. We were picked up by a man going on holiday to Sarlat who dropped us just outside Bergerac. So we had to walk a few ks back into town, and the point of the story (explaining the title) is that, with all that walking and because I was wearing a singlet, I got terribly sunburnt. Even though I had put on sunscreen (for once, although not on my arms and shoulders). EVEN on my nose, where I had put HEAPS of sunscreen because it is always the first thing to burn. I'm sure none of you are surprised. I do have a reputation for carelessness in the sun. I know that was a slightly round-about explanation, but didn't you learn a lot on the way? I think I killed about twenty birds with that stone (yes, ok, so the stone was the size and approximate shape of Texas, and almost as interesting).

So, I'm very red, but my hair looks cool, because I had a cold shower and dried my hair, then did absolutely nothing and it just happens to look really cool, kind of like a Japanese cartoon character's hair. It's one of my aims in life to be a Japanese cartoon character, like the ones off Digimon, they're my fave.

You'll all be excited to know that I am sending more photos to Nathan tonight to stick on here. I just discovered that my new camera takes photos that are too "big" to send via email, so from now on I'll be careful to take some lower quality ones that are nice and small.

Note for Ali: I took photos of sunflower fields today!!! Actually, I got one the other day, too, but it was of massive mutant sunflowers that are all seeds and no petals and are the size of the wheels of our old tricycle. Can you say Day of the Triphods (sp?)? The photos today were of nice normal sunflowers.

Anyway, I have absolutely no idea of the time, but it's dark (woops) which means it must be late because the sun doesn't go down until about 10:30 over here.

Gah! You have to press the shift key just to get NUMBERS on this keyboard!!! Otherwise, you get odd symbols, like & é " ' ( - è _ ç à (that was numbers 1 to 0). French keyboards are very dumb.

Miss ya! Bye!

AD HOC Addendum

2004-08-09T14:32:00.000Z

By the way, I have finished Harry Potter already. I finished it yesterday. Silly me, it was supposed to last for ages... It's not like there are English books growing on trees around here. Ah well. Now I've got Catch 22 to start, but I'm putting it off to try and make it last longer. Then I'll have to read Harry Potter again. You have to use the shift key to turn off caps lock on French keyboards. Very dumb.

Love you lots!

AD HOC Informatique

2004-08-09T14:02:00.000Z

That's where I am and that's exactly the most original title I could come up with, which is to say, not at all. I have no idea whether that sentence actually makes sense. I'm tired. English = leaving my brain.

I just read a comment on my last post, and laughed so loudly that the French teenagers who have been whispering at the computer next to me for the last half-hour looked around at me wide-eyed, then went back to whispering. I kept my eyes on the screen and pretended to be a carefree eccentric. If only I hadn't been blushing... Thanks Amelia G.

I'm in Bergerac now, having spent the last three nights in Sainte Foy la Grande, which is not "grande" (big) at all, but so small that there is only one internet place and it's closed for the holidays. Nice town though. I assume there must be a Sainte Foy la Petite, but apparently there are towns all over France called Sainte Foy, so who knows... We were camping in our little tent, which was fine after about 11pm, when it cooled down enough to go to sleep. Last night there was a thunder storm, which was great! Apparently I managed to sleep right through two massive thunder storms during the choir tour, so I'm glad I got to experience one last night. There was a moment just before the storm when I was lying on my back looking up through the trees. The sky had turned dark and you could feel the tension building as leaves began swirling around high up in the trees and birds flew past helter-skelter. I felt a tickle against my right arm and heard the wind rise up suddenly. I rolled onto my left side and covered my head just as a fury of dead leaves and dirt and little sticks pelted against my back, stinging the backs of my arms and neck. Boy, it was cool. It rained huge heavy drops for about an hour as Dad and I sheltered in a sort of empty common room by the toilet block. The thunder sounded like huge sheets of velcroe being torn apart, and cracking wood and gunshots and giants' bellies. Luckily our tent was fine and the rain had stopped by the time we went to bed.

We're looking for work at an orchard, but it's proving a little difficult so far (prayer would be appreciated). We asked near Ste Foy, but all the orchards are gone around there, and now it's mainly vineyards. A man reccommended we try Bergerac, so we went to the ANPE today (don't ask me what that stands for), and all their leads are around Perigeux (sp?), which is about 50km to the North. I like Bergerac though (and sleeping in hotel beds) so I wouldn't mind staying here a couple of nights... We'll see.

Anyway, that's all for now. I may try and get down here again to send some photos. It's less expensive here than some of the other places I've been to, and I got another CD burnt in Concarneau of more recent photos. Biya!

Books

2004-08-06T10:21:00.000Z

I am in Bordeaux, and not only have I found a British-European plug adaptor (for my British-bought camera which I couldn't recharge), but today I went to an ENGLISH BOOKSHOP!!! So good! Now I have Catch 22 and a Harry Potter to read, which should keep me going for a while. Ah, what a relief. Weirdly enough, I knew I was going to find English books here in Bordeaux. I had set my mind on finding The Goblet of Fire (Harry Potter), and when we came to the shp that's exactly what was on display in the window, with big banners and stuff...

Also, DOUGLAS really is a worldwide phenomenon! You know that photo from Maribor (see earlier post)? Well, I have since found Douglas shops in Russia, London, Rouen, and two in Bordeax, although one was called Mac Douglas (that's one for you, Amelia G!).

Ok, that's all for now.

So much time, so little to say...

2004-08-03T19:25:00.000Z

Wait. Scratch that; reverse it.

It's been a while since I last posted, and I have heaps to write about. Speaking of writing, I've been writing every day in my journal, usually quite a lot, and I'm now well over half-way through, maybe even 3/4! I've found writing almost as effective as reading, for escapism, and far better for sorting through thoughts. In fact, now I very often feel compelled to write, so maybe a career as an author wouldn't be so impossible as I previously imagined.

Anyway, back to the story of my life (of the last few days). I just went and checked what my last post was about and I am seriously out of date!

Rouen: On our last night in Rouen, Dad and I went out for dinner at a little Brasserie. It took us ages to decide where to eat, and then once we had chosen we found out that they didn't start serving dinner until 7pm, so we had to wander around for another 20 minutes (woe was us, we were both hungry and footsore by this time). Once seated, we decided to order the "menu", which means that you pay one flat price and choose one entrée, one plat principale (main) and one dessert from a list of options. What we call a menu in New Zealand - ie. the piece of paper with meals written on it - is called a "carte", hence the term, "à la carte". We both ordered salads for entrée (it's easy to get vege-starved when travelling). Dad ordered salmon for his main, and I thought I liked the look of the word "Andouillette". Don't you think it sounds nice? Such an elegant word! I asked the waiter what it was, but as he spoke no English and I only had my excruciatingly poor French, all the information I took in was that it was something fairly flat (I understood that from his gestures). So I ordered it anyway. When the cutlery arrived and the waiter put down one of those serrated steak knives, I got a bit worried. I thought it might be a horse steak, or something bloody, so Dad (who loves a good flesh-feast) volunteered to swap mains with me if mine turned out to be something I couldn't handle. Ah, poor Dad.

The mains arrived, Dad's salmon looked pretty appetising, and an "andouilette" appeared to be a sausage. I cut it open, and it looked like it was filled with shaved ham. That, and the fact that we were in France made me suspicious enough to request the swap with Dad. We (I should say 'I') waited until the waiter wasn't looking, then swapped plates. I ate the salmon (which, by the way, was delicious) and Dad, taking significantly longer to finish, ate the andouillette. Then we surreptitiously swapped plates back again so that I could eat my fries and Dad his croquettes, and so that I could look innocent in front of the waiter. Dessert was yummy. I had nougat ice cream and raspberry coulis, and I can't remember what Dad had. When we got back to the hotel, we looked up andouilette in Dad's Lonely Planet book, which has a guide to regional French cuisine. An andouilette is a sausage made from pig tripe (basically: pig intestine filled with bits of chopped up pig intestine). It's a bit of a regional delicacy, apparently. Thanks Dad!

Also in Rouen was a free show at night called, "De Monets Aux Pixels". There is a Cathedral in Rouen which was much loved by Monet, and which he painted several times (pictures of it, not the cathedral itself - it's just bare stone). What they did for this show was to project Monet's paintings onto the front of the cathedral, so that painting and real object were seamlessly interposed. There were about 10 or so paintings in total and each stayed up for a few minutes and was accompanied by sounds/music that fitted the different depictions. It was, I can honestly say, one of the most striking and amazing things I have ever seen in my life. Honestly, the crowd was so overwhelmed (myself included) as some of the paintings appeared that they gasped and applauded. The projectors must have been super-powerful, because the coulours remained intense and the picture was perfectly clear, and believe me, this Cathedral is massive! The pictures went right up to the top of it's two huge, assymetrical towers. Ah! It was so amazing! It became hard to tell what was painting and what was cathedral, and some of the paintings were so striking; there was one with intense peacock blues and greens, and intense shadows around the doorwells. Another was grey, white and lots of rusty red that made the cathedral appear to have been painted in blood with cold precision. The last painting was probably the most stunning, an almost pointilist (sp?) work just in black and white that exploited the shade-and-light of the ornate (and creepy) gothic style. Definitely a highlight.

Pontorson: We left Rouen the next day and headed for the quiet village of Pontorson. The only reason this quaint (sweet, but boring) little place has a youth hostel (in fact several hotels and restaurants) is because it lies only a short bus-ride from Mont St. Michel. We stayed here two nights, visiting the Mont on the middle day and leaving on the next. The best thing about staying here was that there were a few English speakers in the hostel, including a Canadian girl called Carol who asked around if people wanted to play cards. It was such a good night! I stayed up with Carol, a French girl called Floren (sp?), a Spaniard called Ouné (that's a total guess at the spelling, I write it differently every time) and another French woman whose name I didn't find out. We played Scum at first. Man, everyone knows that game! All of us already knew how to play, and in Canada it even has the same name. Amazed. Later Floren taught us (mainly me, as I think I was the only one who had never even heard of it) a French card game called Tarot (has NOTHING to do with the reading of the future kind of tarot). This took a wee while, as Floren can understand a little English but doesn't speak any, and it is a very complicated game. Luckily it's a lot like 500, except with an extra suit of 21 cards which is always trumps, a totally different scoring/bidding system and six cards in the kitty (which, by the way, is "chien" in French, which means dog. Funny, huh?), so I picked it up fairly quickly.

Le Mont St Michel is a tidal island (or it was until they built the causeway) on the coast of Normandie, very near the border with Brittany. The first buildings were erected there in the 8th century as a little sanctuary. Then, in the 10th century, Benedictine monks built the first abbey (I think, I could be mixing this up). Pretty soon, they enlarged and improved the abbey until it was a big enough to be a proper monastery. A village began to build up on the island below the abbey and the island became highly fortified. Now pretty much the whole island is surrounded by massive walls and ramparts, and there are more walls and battlements further up. The abbey itself is like a big fortress with a cathedral on top. At the top of the spire is a gilded statue of St Michel, the archangel Michael. The Mont is especially significqnt because it turned back every English attack during the Hundred Years War, which is not at all surprising when you see it. Because of this, it became a symbol of national identity and victory. St Michel is the patron of knights and battle. Definitely worth a visit, especially inside the abbey, which has amazing, beautiful, often very simple architecture. Dad and I got there pretty early, so we were among the first inside. We got to see many of the rooms with no people in them. This was just as well because, by the time we left, the place was crawling with tourists and the day had become scorchingly hot.

Concarneau: is right in Brittany. In the Lonely Planet it said this was a "quiet fishing village", but we have discovered otherwise. We caught the train from Pontorson to Rennes, and from Rennes took the TGV to Quimper, where we had to wait three hours for a bus to Concarneau. We arrived to find a bustling seaside town that reminds us both of Nelson. To me it seems like a resort town, though compared to somewhere like Ibiza or Biaritz, "a quiet fishing village" probably isn't too far off. There is a refreshing cool sea-breeze most of the day, which is a relief, and an old fortified island which is now a busy tourist shopping area with live entertainment like fire jugglers and music. Man, it was so good to hear music! I don't have my discman and I miss is a lot. It was cool music, too; French, but with a strong Celtic influence, which is typical of Brittany. Basically, that means panpipes, mandolin, drums and accordian. Pretty cool.

Funny story: It was at the station in Rennes, I think, when I went to use one of the pay toilets. There was a British family figuring out how to use the toilet, which was a fancy one that cleans itself after you've used it. The wife went in first, did her business, and came out. Now, you have to press a big red button to get out, so the toilet "knows" when one person has left. This lady, however, held the door open so that her husband could go in after her. The door closed with a satisfied sound, and strange, wet, whirring could be heard from within. After a few seconds, a very sheepish looking Brit figured out how to open the door and reappeared, with sodden sandals, just as the cleaning really got underway behind him and shifted from ankle-high strafing to tempestuous, overhead bombardment. He got out just in time.

Funny quote: from the wall of the Cyber Café I am in,

"Please save yours mails all 3 minutes.
Or work out of connection.
Servers, like Hotmail, shoot them when you want to send us."

Wrap-up
You may have noticed that I've been using some of the appropriate accents in the French words written in this post. That's because I'm using a French keyboard. I hate French keyboards. You have to use the shift key to type a full-stop or any numbers. And their letters are in annoying places, so I keep on making mistakes and having to correct them, and it takes me ages to write anything AND this CyberCafé is very expensive. So... I should go!

A World First!

2004-07-29T18:55:00.000Z

Actually, it's not a world first, I think it's a world second...What is it, you ask?

DOUG IS POSTING TWICE IN ONE DAY

Not really worth the build-up, was it?

Anyway, the reason I am posting twice in one day is that I felt like a walk, and had time to use up at this internet cafe (I bought the student special of 4 hours for 10 euros; you don't have to use it all at once). It's 9:02pm and still very hot here in Rouen, which bodes well for my travels further South: it's going to get hotter and hotter, and there is such a thing as too hot (can I believe I just said that?).

Today Dad and I had a cruise round and went to the Musee des Beaux Arts (sorry French scholars about the lack of appropriate accents, I don't know how to get them on this computer, and I'm cheating by using an English keyboard). It was awesome! I got to see Rubens, Carravaggio and some other dude that I studied in that unexpected Art History paper that I took last year, as well as a significant Impressionist collection including lots of Monet, Sisley, and some R... what was his name? ...........not Raphael, wrong era...........Renoir! (I had to look in the brochure, just to prove that I'm not a pompous culture buff-oon)

I just read an email asking me, "How was the singing?" which made me realise that I haven't said much on the subject in this blog. Poor form, eh? So, here are...

Some notes on the singing (pardon the pun, I really didn't intend it; it just came out that way): The singing was awesome!!! It was, afterall, the main point of the tour that got me to Europe in the first place. There is something entirely different about singing in a famous hall or cathedral, quite removed from just visiting a place and taking photos - which, of course, we did as well, where permitted. I don't know exactly how to explain it, but when singing in a place, not only do you get to see the beautiful frescoes and marvellous, mind-boggling architecture, but you get to hear the place, too. Every space sounds different, and you can hear it, particularly when you get to sing the same pieces in many different, amazing places. The piece changes a little in each space, it feels different and you have to get used to it, like a pianist playing an unfamiliar piano. The same basic instrument is the same, but the tone is different, the pressure required on the keys may vary, depressing a pedal may have radically different consequences to what you're used to (particularly on some very "special" specimens). And I guess that's the thing, as a singer (or maybe just as a choir?) the space you perform in becomes part of the instrument you are using, and it tells you something about the character and structure of a place.

Also, just general choir stuff was really cool, you could feel things changing every day as we got massively better over a short space of time, and that affected the atmosphere of the choir, too. People became pretty close in a short time, like a big family, and I talked with people I didn't really know very well before and roomed with people I would never have expected to end up rooming with. It was very cool.

Ah... very cool.

Ahhh... Par lez vooz Angles?

2004-07-29T09:11:00.000Z

Can you believe it?! I've been in FRANCE for three days now.

We arrived in Calais on Tuesday around 1pm, and I got to put my French to the test, with interesting results.

First, at the train station, I managed to successfully book us tickets to Rouen for the next day, even though I had only intended to make inquiries. That was ok, though, because I think we ended up on one of the cheaper modes of transport; a train that stopped at EVERY stop and took about three or four times as long as it could have. Then, talking to the man I had just bought tickets from, I tried to find out which bus to catch to get to a camping ground on the far side of Bleriot Plage. I made such a meal of it that the guy stared at me with a frown and his mouth hanging open, then shook his head in exasperation and said, "Speak English!"

Second, with the busdriver, I managed to get us dropped off at the wrong camping ground, which was full, and we had to walk about 3 or 4 km in the hot sun with our bursting-at-the-seams packs crushing us inches into the ground at every step (please excuse wild exaggeration) to the next camping ground. Which, fortunately, turned out to be really nice and pretty cheap, and mainly full of French people. We caught the train next day to Rouen.

Since those early small disasters, I have managed to successfully make enquiries about rooms and prices in hotels, and Dad and I are now staying in a pretty cheap little hotel directly opposite an old church, and about 150 metres from the train station. We are on the 4th floor (which, in New Zealand would be the 5th floor, because they start counting from the first floor up, here) which I love because we are on a level with the statues on the old church, and with it's clock tower, and which Dad does not love because of the obstacle of a large number of stairs between us and the street. There is a little corner store very near by, where I think they think I am French, so far, because all I've had to say to them is: bonjour, ca coute combien? Combien? Ah, oui (*hand over money*). Au revoir! Nothing complicated.

I was awoken this morning by the chiming of the clock (big clock; big, loud bells) outside our window at 8am. Dad said workmen had been working nearby since 7am, but I didn't really notice. Thankfully Dad didn't snore much last night, so I got a pretty good night's sleep (Calais was a different story, but lets let bygones be bygones, eh?). Today we're looking at finding accommodation in St. Malo or Mont St. Michel, one of which will be our next destination. We're in Rouen for two more nights so we can explore the city a bit. There are huge buildings here, like the Palais de Justice (courthouse?) and the cathedral, which have bits pelted out of them and shattered masonry and ornamental towers and parts of walls missing; a result of bullets and shelling during WWII. Also, this is the town where Joan of Arc was imprisoned, totured and burnt at the stake. We have already walked past the ancient tower where she was kept prisoner several times, as it's near our hotel. I want to find the massive cross that marks the place of her death. It is so strange that she was denounced as a heretic for political convenience and killed, then later made a saint, and now generates tourist revenue for the town of her death. Politics, religion, treachery, death, and money all mixed up together. It is good to know that God is actually someone real, behind the words of Christianity, because the religion itself, in the hands of wicked people, has been besmirched by some strange and terrible deeds.

Umm, anyway. I think I'm going to come home before Christmas, like mid-December, I think. But, until then, love you and miss you!

Photos!

2004-07-27T10:51:00.000Z

Doug e-mailed me a couple of photos, here they are (with captions):

Doug is a worldwide phenomenon, well known in places as far-flung as Maribor, Slovenia

Maribor viewed from the tower of the town's central church

Bon voyage...bientot

2004-07-23T10:37:00.000Z

We booked our tickets to Calais the other day, and yesterday they arrived! So it's all on, I guess.

Our plan is to travel South through France along the Western side of the country, through Brittany and Normandie, etc., destination: Spain! I'm going to SPAIN! Sounds alright, eh?

I went to see Spiderman 2 last night with Harley and a girl from the choir called Philippa. They're both hanging around in London until this weekend, so it was really good to catch up with them before I left. It meant navigating my own way around the London train and Underground system, and now I like London a lot more, because I have realised how easy it is to get around. The only problem is the cost. Yesterday it cost me £10 to get in and out of London, plus £5 for the movie, and £11 for dinner at an Indian restaurant (which was SUPER DELICIOUS by the way). That's around $75 dollars!!! For one day! Now I really need to cut back. It was worth it to catch up with NZ friends who I now won't see until...well, possibly never for Philippa, and at least 6 months with Harley.

I've discovered that some of the better places to buy electronics over here are shops run by Indian men, because they are willing to barter. I managed to get a camera for up to £80 cheaper than I had seen it elsewhere.

By the way, everyone should pester Paul, because he's got a wee secret that he won't tell me. So, anyone who knows how to get to Paul (I never figured out his weak points, and he's basically immune to tickling), get to it! And then get back to me with the "beans". As in, the beans-that-have-been-spilt. As in, to "Spill the beans"? Um, sweet.

Oh, please pray that my Dad and I find seasonal work in France, so that we can actually live for the rest of the year without resorting to "one split pea in a ten pound tub." Ask Richard about that quote; I've been listening to a particular recording that my uncle has, that Richard may wish was never published and sold in CD stores around NZ.

My Dad talked to an old lady at the laundromat today (a lot of people don't have their own washing/drying facilities here) who has been to NZ to visit her brother. She loved it, and talked about NZ with wet eyes. I'm beginning to understand that sort of feeling now. But I love travelling too. I can't wait to get on, now. Our plan is, after Spain to return to France to work on an orchard or vineyard for a couple of months, then to head to Greece for the Winter. Running out of time!

L8uz!!!

Was she speaking English?

2004-07-19T10:49:00.000Z

That's what I asked my Dad today, after walking past a girl talking on her cell phone who I am convinced was speaking Hungarian. Apparently not. It's very weird: I have been in non-English-speaking countries for so long (for a whole month!!) that I don't understand the people around me as speaking my language unless I really concentrate. Plus this girl had a particularly bizzarre British accent, like someone off Coronation Street with a rubber band around her tongue.

It turns out that Russia is not actually such a place of death, destruction and duldrums as I may have made out. After the unfortunate incident with the camera I spent a long time in my hostel room thinking and writing by myself, and then decided to get over it and get back out there. I've seen the most incredible buildings and monuments, as well as examples of the most abject poverty I have seen in my wonderfully sheltered life.

At Peterhoff palace I saw the most amazing fountain I have ever seen, with about fifty figures or more, all of them near life-size or bigger, covered in gold and many spraying water in all directions. Some were classical figures, like Perseus with the Medusa's head, some were Russian figures of muscly men strangling snakes (this is a major symbol in Russia, representing the victory over the Swiss or Swedish army, I can't remember which), and at the centre of the fountain is an enormous statue of a golden Samson wrestling open the mouth of an enormous golden lion, which sprays a massive column of water 62 feet into the air. The plume then comes crashing down on Samsons head and shoulders, which makes it kind of comical. You imagine he would get an aweful headache.

The same day, when walking to my hostel, I saw a little old lady using an old jar to collect rainwater to drink from one of the massive drainpipes that run down the sides of all the buildings. You can't drink the tapwater in Saint Petersburg because it has giardia in it, and I guess she couldn't afford to buy bottled water.

The average Russian earns $40 USD per month (declared income), and there are people in the poorer parts of the country that earn 50 roubles per month. That's about NZ $2.50. Fifty percent of the gross national product goes to fortyseven people, out of a population of 144 million. Crazy place.

Obviously I'm in the UK, now, and I can't say I'm not pretty glad. It's a relief to have a rest for a while, although I feel as though I ought to be on the go all the time, exploring the city, doing a concert, having a bus tour, meeting fifteen other people for dinner... I need to calm down and breathe for a bit.

Cool Stuff: I have mostly puzzled out the Cyrillic alphabet! I started trying to read signs in St Petersburg as soon as I arrived, and using movie titles, actors' names and transliterated English (like Photo Service) I was able to work out the pronunciation of most of the alphabet. For the rest I talked to the director of the documentary crew who were travelling with us, and he completed my notes and gave me extra pronunciation tips.

The steward on the plane last night (on flight one from Moscow to Munich) was really cool! He also works as a bartender in Venice, and he was showing off for the Kiwis, throwing cartons of juice in the air and spinning them around and stuff. He also plied us with drinks, saying things like, "Go on, go on. Have a Bailey's!" So we all had Bailey's.

Funny Stuff: Amelia was totally spaded by two French guys on flight one. The rest of us were forced to invent new sign language for, "You're in!" It involves pointing and circling motions and indiscreet grinning (and giggling). They gave her their cards, and one of them turned out to be the deputy mayor of one of the principalities of Paris, Haute Seine. 1000 points for Amelia. I wasn't totally eavesdropping the whole time (I was sitting across the aisle) but I did hear Amelia teaching them how to make donkey noises (apparently animal noises are different in French). Ask her to explain that one when she gets home!

See y'all! Thanks so much for reading about my travels. I especially appreciate the comments and emails. Don't worry, this blog will keep going, and I intend to make it funnier than it has been for the last wee while... Russia doesn't really inspire a light heart and merry humour, but England promises to be truly absurd :)

Built like a brick wharepaku

2004-07-14T14:57:00.000Z

That's a description of my Dad, who I can't wait to see and I wish he was here because my camera was stolen yesterday.

By the way, I'm in St Petersburg, Russia now. Been here since yesterday. It's an amazing city - the buildings are so huge and the statues so monumental. It's very post-communist, too.

I suppose you want to hear the camera story, huh?

The Camera Story: Yesterday I went for a big walk with three others right up to the far end of Nierskiy Prospect, which is the main street of St Petersburg. We went to the square where the Winter Palace is (massive, Baroque) and a huge triumphal pillar made of a single piece of granite (massive, granitty). On the way back to the hostel, we went to MacDonalds for lunch (not very massive, unoriginal). There was a bit of a queue, and I was behind my fellow kiwis when a man jostled me from one side, and another from behind, speaking Russian and pointing. I said, "sorry?" and just thought that the queue was a bit pushy. Then I noticed that my camera, which I had been holding on my front a moment before, was gone from it's pouch, and the strap had been cut from around my neck. I guess I let go of it in my confusion. Luckily, most of my photos are already on a CD in my hostel room, but the ones of Venice and Gorizia are gone.

Despite all that, St Petersburg is a very cool place. The history of this country and this city is fascinating and terrible. Still, I look forward to a time and place where I can feel really safe.

Funny Stuff: We found a menu from which you could order "Pooding" and "Ketchoop." We also ate in a restaurant called Rasputin last night.

I'm learning to pronounce the Cyrillic alphabet by looking at movie titles and actor's names, as well as random other signs. I reckon I'm over halfway through the letters, and man it's weird. They have vowells that look like Latin consonants, and consonants that look like graphics from really crusty old gameboy games.

Sorry about lack of photos - I haven't managed to get to a computer where I can freely use the CD rom drive. See ya!

Venezia!

2004-07-11T20:25:00.000Z

Not a very original title, I know, but it's about as pithy as I get after 10pm in Slovenia.

We went on our day trip to Venice yesterday. The city is almost unbelievable. Venice has always had a kind of fairytale quality about it for me; a city on the sea with roads of water seems too fantastic. However, I can assure you, inasmuch as my own senses are to be trusted, that Venice is a real and fascinating place.

First impressions are gained by sea, as you can only reach the town by boat or train. Seeing huge churches decked with statues and great domed palaces rising straight from the water's edge is... really cool (Doug's vocabulary rises to the challenge, as usual). When you land on the seaside plaza and wander into piazza di San Marco, it seems open and sunny and beautiful. Then you step into the real streets of Venice, and immediately everything closes in. It would be so easy to get lost there.

We sang Duo Seraphim in San Marco cathedral/church. The inside is cunfused with archways and domes, all totally covered in gold mosaic. The ceiling glitters with it, and there is a lot of ceiling to cover... Venice was once the trading centre to the East, and was very wealthy.

My mission was to find a piece of Venetian glass and a mask. I tripped around with Michael and the Ameliae (Amelia W and Amelia G) for a while, then we split up, and I went on an adventure with Amelia G to the other side of Venice. We caught a water bus right up to the top of the Grande Canal. The bus was full of flirting adolescent Italians, and was really fun. From the bus stop we went looking through the less touristy streets for a fabled shop where they made and sold leather masks. Traditional Veneitan masks are made from papier-maché or porcelain for the great Carnivale that happens every February. We never found the leather shop, but walked right around Venice from one side to the other. I bought fresh coconut from a street vendor, and it was delicious. There were fresh fruit and vege markets on that side of Venice, and cafés full of locals, rather than the tourist infested, rip-off-café side near San Marco.

Eventually I found a mask; it's really cool, and bought a small piece of Venetian glass. So, I'm pretty satisfied. Venice is so strange. It's a city of tiny claustrophobic alleyways between tall buildings, of sinking palaces and garish glass everywhere. I think it's basically just a tourist mecca now, especially at this time of year. Amazing, though. Ah. Queue for internet, impatience is building.

How can I share that moon with you?

2004-07-09T09:15:00.000Z

Sorry about the lack of information in previous posts, we've been super busy over the last few days because we've been competing in...

The Competition:
The last four days have been a wee bit insane. We competed in one section on Tuesday in an ancient Basilica about 50 minutes out of Gorizia. It was originally built in 313 AD, and has been rebuilt or added to five times on the same spot, each time on the ruins of the previous church. It was so old the floor had sunk in places and some of the mosaic tiles had had their colour worn away, or had been worn away completely.

We competed again on Tuesday, one category in the morning, and one in the afternoon, in a dry little auditorium in Gorizia. Then we had a prize giving and concert in the evening. We won both of those categories, although we officially came "second" because no choir got a high enough score to be awarded "first" prize. Does that make sense? We got the highest score in both those sections, but to get "first" you have to exceed a certain threshold, which no choir exceeded. The threshold was 90, and in one of the sections we got 88.6... It's a very weird system.

Yesterday we competed in the Traditional Music/Gospel and Spiritual section, using all Maori music, including I Te Timatanga, which has a huge haka for the guys, and lots of poi work for the girls. Man, did we rock!!! We all went so hard out it was like being pummeled and spun by a huge breaking wave. I made the ugliest Pukana and had huge red marks all over my arm and chest (the latter, fortunately, was hidden by my shirt). Pukana, by the way, are crazy faces with big eyes, tucked up chin or tongue poked out. Our manager in the audience said the energy was so strong you felt as though you were being pushed back in your seat by it. Man, it was awesome! Then, that evening we had the final prize giving. We won the traditional section. We were awarded both the Judge's Choice and Audience Choice awards for that category, as well as winning Best Director/Conductor, and best Artistic something for having the best overall repertoire throughout the competition. A girl in our choir, Anna Griffiths, also won Best Original Composition for Okarito Tuhituhia October, which we sung in our contemporary section (and which helped us to win that section). In the concert we got to sing all the Maori stuff again, this time for the other choirs rather than for the judges. We blew them away. At both prize-giving/concerts we were given the honour of performing last and capping off the evening, and each time we were asked to sing almost twice as much repertoire as any other choir. Hah! So cool.

Enough of that.

I realised last night just how much of this tour is still to go. We go to Venice tomorrow for the day, which means around 10 hours of wet and wild Venetian delight. How cool is that? I'm going to Venice!!! Then, on Sunday we get to hear last year's winners of all the European Grand Prix competions compete for overall winner. Then, we leave for St Petersburg. Mmmm, Smolny Cathedral, the Hermitage...the overnight train to Moscow... I'm so excited. This tour is unbelievable!

Man, I didn't tell you about our night in Budapest! We sang in a church set on these crazy fairytale white battlements and went for a cruise on the river Danube at night, seeing all the buildings lit up. In the morning we saw Heroes Square, with statues and collonades flanked by two huge twin museums. I reccommend Budapest. Did you know it's actually two cities? Buda and Pest, set on either side of the Danube, which, by the way, is not blue but beige, and wide and fairly shallow.

Funny Stuff: A girl in our choir asked the other day on the bus, "Why is there a Danube in Vienna AND one in Budapest?" Ah, classic. Also, before competing in the ancient Basilica, we were all waiting outside silently and one of the girls had a runny nose. So, she picked an old floppy leaf of the hedge and used that to blow her nose on.

Ooh! Have I mentioned the Mr Silly Awards? Every day (pretty much) nominations are taken for people who have done something particularly silly in the last 24 hours. Then, the choir votes with applause as to who has done the silliest thing, and whoever "wins" has to wear a pair of gold reindeer antlers on a red headband and a fluffy white bowtie for the next 24 hours. There have been some really good ones. There's one guy in the choir who gets nominated almost every day for spading foreign chicks. I've only been nominated once, for accidentally speaking French to a Viennese shop keeper (they speak German) and then (by some freakish coincidence) finding that he replied so quickly in super-fluent French that I couldn't understand a word he said and just had to smile and nod and pretend I was confused by trying to count out my Euros... I didn't win.

Wow, long blog. Hope I can do this again soon!!!

Love is in the air

2004-07-02T20:30:00.000Z

Man, I wish I could use exclamation marks on this keyboard. The love is not for me, I have not met a Hungarian wife. My best friend gets married todaz. (exclamation marks times a million)

To Rich an Em, I hope zou read this. Zes I cant be bothered fixing the z-y problem incurred bz this kezboard. God bless zou guzs (exclamation times twentz million). Love zou so much, and hope everzthing goes swimminglz. Wish zou were here. Actuallz, no I dont, cos Hungarz is a wee bit run down from what Ive seen so far. The showers have no heads, so its like standing under a tap, and no curtains, so the world can see zou. Thank goodness for mz super huge Kathmandu towell. Have a great daz, and know that im there in mz heart.

More later.

I visited the place where Haydn composed a lot of his works todaz. Its a mega palace.

Oprosti!

2004-06-29T13:12:00.000Z

Thats Slovenian for "sorry", though I may have spelled it wrongly. Sorry is for my previous post. I was at an internet cafe, and sent an email then ran out of time...

Ljubljana is SO COOL! It is more touristy than Maribor, but it is very beautiful, with lovely big squares and statues and churches and stuff... The symbol of Slovenia is a dragon, and there is a bridge near where we are staying that has the most amazing dragon statues on the piers at either end. There is a castle up on the hill, but it has been restored and the restorations are kind of modern and stupid looking, so when youre there it just feels like your in a square with a cafe. Nice views though.

The dogs of choice in Ljubljana are the black labrador and the bulldog, although the other day we saw this huge dog, as big as a small pony and looked like a spiderhorsedog. A Sporg? It was really weird.

Funny thing: At dinner yesterday, we were sitting at a cafe called Hot-Horse (where everything on the menu is some variant of a burger with a patty made from horse meat; except for the vege burger and the fries... I had the vege burger, the others did not...) when a couple walked past across the street snogging all the way down the narrow footpath. The funny bit was when the girl slipped off the curb mid-pash because she wasnt watching where she was going.

Tonight we have a concert in the most amazing cathedral in the main square of the city, by the river. Tomorrow we sing in the Postojama caves; it takes 15 minutes on a little train to get from the entrance of the caves to the centre, so theyre pretty huge. The orchestra performs there sometimes in a massive subterranean auditorium (I assume its a huge natural cave).

Alrighty, theres a queue for internet. Adijo!

Im late, Im late; for a very important date!

2004-06-27T19:42:00.000Z

I have one minute left! Doh!!!

Im in Ljubljana! Its big! Nice.

Bye!

In the Zone

2004-06-23T18:23:00.000Z

Time is a very strange thing, especially when its been rolled up and used to bash you over the head. Sorry about the lack of apostrophes: Im using a Slovenian keyboard and I cant figure out how to make them happen. Some of you will realise that this is very frustrating for me... how sad.

I cant decide whether I was actually in Singapore this morning or not. If I was, this has been an incredibly long day... Ive flown from Singapore to Frankfurt, to Graz (Austria) and taken a bus across the border to Slovenia, where I am now, in a town called Maribor. In all that, I only had about four hours sleep, bringing my grand sleep total to 10 hours since I left Auckland on Sunday.

I have been learning some Slovenian, with the help of Amelias guide book and the cleaning lady on our wing of the University hostel, who speaks no English. Zdravo is hello, adio is goodbye (not sure of spelling), and hvala is thank you. Drek is a swear word (of course, you always learn at least one of those on your first day in a strange country).

The Austrian countryside blends straight into the Slovenian - they both look very similar, scatters of houses all over the place so that it is semi-rural for mile after mile, not suburbs at all, and not rural at all either because the houses neighbour each other too nearly. Maribor itself is BEAUTIFUL. Most of the buildings and the roads look very old, and the city (pop. 96,000) have very few tourists, so it feels very natural and laid-back and under-commercialised (thank goodness). The entire town centre is basically pedestrian, a flow of wide boulevards, alleys, streets and squares without a car in sight; just a few bicycles. Most of the buildings have reddy tiled rooves (is my English imploding?). There are a number of huge and beautiful churches, with amazing altars, and towers you can climb for free, offering a wide view of the rooftops, replete with domes and spires and statues on pillars (on a small scale).

Ahhhhh! I miss my apostrophes! I can see them here on the keys, but those keys have three or more symbols on them, and I dont know how to make them come out!

Ive taken some awesome photos and as soon as I run out of space on my memory stick, Ill email some to Nathan to put up on here.

Im in Maribor until Sunday morning (its Wednesday today) so I should be able to post regularly until then - the uni hostel has free internet facilities that we can use between certain hours. Unfortunately, they dont have any DIY laundrey facilities, so we cant wash anything except by hand until we get to Ljubljana.

The weather is fantastic, by the way (DOUG is SMUG).

The ice cream here is far too sweet, but VERY creamy.

I have caught some rays. Oooh, sweet sunshine.

Can you see any hamburgers?

2004-06-23T04:04:00.000Z

...that is, of course, one of the questions asked by a Youth Choir member as we flew into Frankurt airport a few minutes ago.

Singapore was amazing! Among the highlights were finding a stall - in one of the shopping malls - called Parasite, drinking lychees pureed with ice and fresh lychees floating on top, and exploring Chinatown and Little India.

It was in the mid thirties for the day and a bit that we were there, with ninety-something percent humidity. Wach, it was unbelievable. I spent most of the time totally slick with moisture, but it was actually really cool! You get used to it pretty quick, and it´s nice to be able to go out with only minimal clothing, a wallet and a camera.

Our concert went really well, with the audience screaming as though we were pop stars. As another choir member said however, "Asians screaming is like Americans giving a standing ovation: it means absolutely nothing." Hmmm, maybe that guy needs some anti-cynicism pills. As luck would have it, Linkin Park were performing an open-air concert in the park across the road from our concert venue, so sometimes when we stopped you could hear their contrasting style faintly.

I am now standing at a free internet kiosk in the airport, so I´m not very comfortable on my tired swollen feet. There should be internet facilities at the hostel in Slovenia (Maribor); I think it´s a uni hostel. I´ll try write in more detail there. We catch another plane in two hours for Graz, Austria, and then take a coach from there to Maribor.

Bye for now!

Squeezed for time

2004-06-20T23:10:00.000Z

We are in Auckland airport, and I have exactly 12 minutes of internet time.

Our concert yesterday went really well. Um. Man, I can't think of anything to write! I'm under so much pressure... ten minutes left.

We fly out to Singapore today, so Meels and I changed almost all our remaining NZ money into Singapore dollars. Mmmm, random fruits and cheap watch, here I come! I can't wait to have curry for breakfast!

I tried some random perfume at duty free, and now I smell like aniseed and soap - I think it might be giving me a headache.

Maybe I should just check my email and blog more later when I have more time... ok.

See you again soon, IN ANOTHER COUNTRY!!!

So sorry! But here's the low-down:

2004-06-19T08:33:00.000Z

I apologise for making a liar out of myself in the post two before this one; I said I would provide a schedule of the tour for you to drool and feel envious over. Well, here it is now, and I hope you will judge for yourselves whether it deserves to be described as "salivatious" (what was I thinking?).

Monday 21 June: We fly to Singapore, and spend most of the next day sightseeing, buying cheap watches because we left our expensive one at home to keep it safe, and trying some of the weird and wonderful (and allegedly smelly) fruits that you just can't buy (or imagine) in New Zealand. We do a concert, too, at some point. The Singapore Youth Choir are also competing in Italy at the same competition as us; they will be in the audience at our Singapore concert, but they're not performing themselves... hmmm can you say "choral espionage"?

Wednesday 23: We fly, via Frankfurt, to Maribor, Slovenia. So, who knew that place existed, huh? Apparently Slovenia is very beautiful. It's part of the former Yugoslavia, so it has a lot of historical appeal. The war in Yugoslavia seemed like a fairly constant fact of childhood, so I'm looking forward to putting a landscape and some faces to the old news items. We get another free day in Maribor.

Sunday 27 After some concerts and a festival we catch a coach to Ljubljana. I love these Eastern European countries, they use so many consonants! I think we are doing a seminar on New Zealand music in Ljubljana, but my schedule is failing me on this point, so I'm afraid I can't be sure. We are also doing some sightseeing and a concert in the Postojana Caves. How cool is that? We'll be part of the Slovenian Underground... (my goodness, my jokes are lame).

Thursday 1 July: We depart by coach for Sopron, Hungary!

And... I'm sure you'll agree that's really enough for one post. So, I'll give you a synopsis - who am I kidding? I'll give you some headlines and no details for the rest of the schedule, and add more detail as things unfold. Yes, you're right, this is my shameless attempt to try and string you along with the promise of saucy and horrifying details to come. I hope it works! So, here's the brief-as list:

Sopron, Hungary
Vienna, Austria
Budapest, Hungary
Goriza, Italy
Day trip to Venice, Italy
St. Petersburg, Russia
Moscow, Russia

Then, of course, the choir returns home, but my own adventures will be only just beginning!

Reality Check: I am currently typing at Roshan's laptop, hunched over because the laptop is on a dining chair and I am on another opposite it. Roshan and Lottie are so lovely, they are the best billets I have ever had! Seriously though, it's so good to see them again, and it seems as if marriage has made them even more awesome than ever, if that's possible. I am sleeping in one of the Maxim offices for the weekend, and there is an ensuite containing an interesting toilet. The toilet seat and cover are made of sponge covered with yellow-and-white-striped vinyl. It's like a crazy seventies (what were those people thinking?) dream come true.

Where the Fare is Rarified...

2004-06-17T11:02:00.000Z

Home - a place of many comforts, and of many comfortable niggles and itches. It's my last night at home folks... and I still have to pack.

It's a very strange thing saying goodbye to people; everyone seems to have a different style. Also, it seems bizarre to make any sort of 'big deal' out of it. I'm not really leaving tomorrow, am I?

I have all the essentials laid out ready: a torch with spare batteries, a bible, and a bag of jet plane lollies. I have a couple of games in mind for that last, either to only eat them while flying on a plane and see how long they last, or to take photos of jet planes in unusual foreign places. I want to figure out a way of having them in photos so that they look as though they're flying, or parked on the tarmac, but without being able to see a hand in the shot. Hmmm.

It's hard to write, I feel so tired. Actually I feel as though I've drunk a cup of coffee, which for me means I feel headachey and shakey and a little sick to the stomach. Stomach in French is l'estomac, or ventre, depending on whether you mean the organ or a belly. Exams are over, and they seem very far behind me already, although the last was just this afternoon.

I don't want to pack just yet; I don't want to see a full backpack all zipped- and strapped-up. Tomorrow I'll be excited again, I'm sure. I'm still excited at the prospect of seeing Lottie and Roshan again, but the departure from Auckland airport on Sunday is now less enticing than it was. If I picture the Sacre Coeur, or a Russian minaret, that makes me feel a thrill again.

Goodbyes, huh?

Funny thing: my first port of call tomorrow morning is the Doctor, but not to get a vaccination or anything normal like that. No, I am going to get my ears syringed. That's right, my ears are spewing wax. They have always produced more than their fair share, and sometimes it builds up despite my best efforts, and I run the risk of getting blocked ears when swimming or showering; they have been known to stay blocked for over a week at a time. Tomorrow's aural enema should see me right for at least three months, maybe more!

In which Doug is too excited to study

2004-06-16T11:09:00.000Z

I am so excited. Two exams down, one to go, but who can give a flying ****? I leave so soon!!!

I bought my currency from the bank today, so I'm all up to date! (There is a bad pun hidden in that sentence, see if you can find it - it's not very well hidden) Euros are very pretty. Interestingly enough, their beauty seems to be directly proportional to how many of them you happen to be holding in your hot little hand. They have shiny bits...

I also bought my travel insurance, so that if I die, I get a whole lot of money, as long as I'm not pot-holing, rock-climbing with ropes, base-jumping or black-water rafting. Apparently there is such a thing as blackwater rafting, if someone knows what the difference is from the white variety, could they please let me know? I am also insured for a "distress allowance" of "$500 for each 24 hours (I am) detained should the public transport on which (I am) travelling be seized by forcible violent means for the purpose of theft, extortion, propaganda (what the?) or other illegal reason."

Oh, and it also covers funeral and cremation costs up to $15,000 "or the return of (my) remains to New Zealand in the event of (my) death." Sweet, huh?

Man, I am going to be the Emperor of Airpoints by the time I get home. My next post will be my schedule of salivatious places I am visiting! Get that mop ready!!!

btw: four stars (****) stands for DOUG.

The time draws near, as exams draw nearer...

2004-06-13T11:21:00.000Z

That's right. Today is Sunday, and on Tuesday I have my first exam. Then another on Wednesday and another on Thursday.

Then, on Friday, I leave!!!

...for Auckland. Where, by the way, I am staying with my wonderful friends Roshan and Lottie Allpress. They have a legendary oversized cupboard, which I was hoping would be my room for the two (or three?) nights that I'm there for. But, alas, Roshan claims that the cupboard, while large, does unusual (squashy) things to their double inflatable mattress, and apparently it gets a bit cold in Winter. But honestly, how cold does Auckland ever get, really? Especially considering I'm born and (semi-) bred a Hard Southern Man...

Now that Nathan's gone...

2004-06-11T03:12:00.000Z

I am now on a standard Uni computer, so battery time and patience are no longer issues. However, the notion that I should be studying rather than posting is something of an issue that I will have to deal with...

...later.

WELCOME TO MY BLOG!!!

You deserve a proper welcome. Make yourself comfortable.

Mission Statement: Basically, this blog is a way for me to keep in touch with all my friends and family while I'm away overseas. There's a good chance that I will not have prolonged access to the internet very often while I'm away, so blogging seemed like a viable alternative to bulk emails. I will still send emails when and where I can, but this will be my face, my medium, my manuscript upon which the trials, tribulations and triumphs of my journey will be published for all to enjoy.

I hope to update roughly once per week. And, if I can figure out how, I'll try and put up photos every now and then to give your imagination Visual Aid.

Now, to email everyone I know and tell them about this blog! So that I am actually writing to someone and not just into the unsmiling void called the internet (aka. the abyss)...

Countdown: T - seven days

2004-06-11T02:44:00.000Z

Only seven days, three exams, one concert and uncounted hours of anticipation to be traversed, not to mention several thousand kilometres, until I reach the first stop on my whirlwind tour of Other Places Besides New Zealand.

This is my first post; they will only increase in goodness and interest as I go along. More later (I'm on Nathan's laptop = limited batteries and patience). Nathan claims that the batteries will run out before the patience... shall we test this?

La la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la...

Meh, Nathan can win... this time (my patience ran out).