So it’s been a while since my last blog entry, mainly because I’ve been lazy and the days I could have been blogging I was actually on the beach, don’t roll your eyes, you would have done the same.
So what’s been happening Dan? How’s that building work next door? I take it they’ve finally stopped so you can get a good night’s sleep? Well actually no. Our neighbours who I refer to as Adolf and Eva are STILL bulldozing their house, in fact I reckon whatever it is they’re doing in there it would have been quicker to just bulldoze the place and start again from scratch.
We’ve had sharks at Manly beach which was all very exciting when Alison called me up to tell me. So being the dumbarse that I am, I figure I could run down there and check it out. Well I ran, for fifteen minutes straight at almost full pelt. Did I see the shark? Well yes...on the news that night. But having run all the way down there all I saw was firstly, no one in the water, no surprise there and one lifeboat going up and down the beach. Hardly Jaws. I was hoping to see an outstretched arm buried in the sand or a dodgy looking sailor with one leg saying things like ‘we’re going to need a bigger boat.’ Nothing. There’s 15 minutes of my life I’ll never get back. Nevermind.
What else, oh yeah I finished the first draft of my novel. No I won’t tell you what it’s about cos I’m superstitious and slightly anally retentive but it’s 77,000 words and now I’ve put it in a corner to ferment for a bit so I can come at it clean, so to speak.
Oh yeah, my tenant who does some sort of mysterious consulting work for the MOD in warzones has managed to step on a land mine in Afghanistan. Or he was playing Frisbee with it or something and has got himself hospitalized. So the rent, which was never really paid on the due date at the best of times, is now doubly late. Only I could find a tenant who likes to play with roadside explosives as a hobby. Typical.
Various people have come to visit out here which is interesting, as our place is the size of a small ironing board cupboard and you can just about fit four people in if everyone stands holding their breath. Alison’s parents are here at the mo, so we went up to the Whitsundays for her 30th, hired a seaplane and checked out the Great Barrier Reef which looked...great!
Then we had a little 3 day cruise around the various islands. Now the problem with cruises is, like a box of chocolates, that you never know what kind of people you’re going to get. This boat was very pleasant, expensive and for the more well-to-do. So what kind of passengers do you think we’d get? I’m timing you? Did someone shout out Commies? No. We got middle aged English people who were consistently the dullest human beings I have ever had the misfortune to encounter. Seriously, I think I had more in common with Alison’s left slipper. At least you can call it names and it won’t retort with anecdotes about sailing around Greek Islands. Man these guys were boring. One kept talking about all the cruises he’d been on, another was talking about...well I’m not really sure because he was French. Frankly I couldn’t wait to get in the water, not just to see all the pretty fishes, mainly so I could have 5 minutes of listening to nothing but the screams of my co-passengers as they were repeatedly stung by the resident Box Jellyfish.
Went to Melbourne for a few days which was nice but frankly I can’t see what all the fuss is about. It’s a nice city and has a lot going for it but as far as I’m concerned - no beaches, no fun. Yes okay, it’s got trams and museums and a bit more culture but that’s no good when it’s thirty three in the shade, is it?
Also tried our hand at a bit of whale watching. Four hours of sitting on a boat watching waves the size of small buildings and Alison running to the bathroom every five minutes being violently sick. My mum and her friend who accompanied us on that journey to Hades and back haven’t quite forgiven me. I think the theory was better than the reality on that one. How many whales do you think we saw? I’ll give you a clue, it’s between 0 and 0.
Told the BBC we’re coming back which, no doubt, they were euphoric about. We fly in to London on the 7th Jan and will be back in work sometime after the 16th Jan. There’s a date for your diaries, I’m expecting tickertape and pineapple on sticks.
Can’t believe it’s October already, seriously where did this year go? Anyway, I’m running out of things to say and you’re running out of will to live. We’re heading off to New Zealand for a few days next week so I’m sure you’ll all be tuning in to hear how I got munched by malevolent dolphins or carjacked by a bunch of unruly caravaners. I’m getting in to my writing now; see all the new words I’m using.
Till next time, take care of yourselves...and each other.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Thursday, July 31, 2008
WORKMEN, KOALAS AND RELIGIOUS VIGILANTES
It's been raining in Sydney. Storms, hail, thunder, lightning, dogs, cats, panda’s. You name it, we’ve had it. Our neighbours have decided to start doing some major work to their house which basically involves a skip truck reversing down the steep driveway outside our front door every day at seven in the morning. The workmen then have a chat, catch up on old times whilst leaving the engine ticking over. After maybe ten minutes they unload the empty skip and pick up the full one, then drive it away. Passed my fucking front door. It's like living in the middle of a building site. Then they start with the pneumatic drill for most of the morning followed by the occasional dumping of whatever they dug up. It makes a fantastic crashing noise. Tell you, I'm about ready to snap.
On the plus side we have been going in and out of the city on the ferry. One day last week on the way back, we were sitting outside, the sun was out, not a cloud in the sky it was all good when the captain comes over the speaker. 'Ladies and gentlemen if you look directly ahead you'll see a pod of dolphins.’ He says. Of course everyone goes nuts and sure enough as we're pulling in to Manly Wharf there are about thirty dolphins swimming past us. Pretty cool. In fact I'm so excited I tell a few complete strangers about it on the way back towards our house. They're like 'Really? Dolphins?' and they start looking out to sea, by which time of course, the dolphins are long gone and they hate me.
The Pope was in town a couple of weeks ago and honestly it felt like he was here forever. All these kids with brightly coloured flags walking around the city in groups a little like spiritual vigilantes. And, get this; they all have exactly the same backpacks. Red and yellow jobbies with World Youth Day printed on them. Maybe they're Vatican issued but it's a little strange. You can be sitting in a food court in the city, eating your sandwich or drinking coffee and suddenly the place will erupt with Chile's Holy Saint of Our Mother's Choir blaring out in full song singing happy birthday to someone called Rodrigo. And you cannot get away from these guys. They're everywhere. They're on the ferry, outside parks, at the wharf, even outside my house. How they find me with their John Lennon guitars and poorly played tambourines I don’t know. Do you remember, in school, the tambourine was always given to the kid with no sense of rhythm? Well that’s these guys, and they can’t sing either.
Tell you another weird thing that happened. We were walking through Manly the other day and we get to the beach. It had been raining quite hard but the sun was coming out. You know that sky where it's pretty much black but yellow sunlight streams from part of it creating rainbows and crap. Well that was what was going on here. Except as we looked out to sea at the forming rainbow we saw a funnel of a tornado, in the middle of a rainbow! The twister hit the ocean surface and started whipping it up. It was the weirdest thing and yet somehow quite beautiful.
Okay, I know what you're thinking. Dan's gone soft. I thought this was supposed to be a funny blog. When's it get funny? Huh? Say something witty, funnyman. Hurry up!
I don't know if it's just me but when the birds sing here it sounds like someone's being strangled. It's not like at home where they tweet, shut up then tweet again. These things moan about their breakfast, play some cards and then have a good laugh about it in the tree. I swear it feels like I'm in the middle of the Amazon sometimes.
Went to a koala sanctuary the other day. Those dudes are about the cutest things I've ever seen and in this place you can pet them and give them leaves and crap. Of course I end up next to this woman who listens in to my conversation with Alison. Here's a sample
Alison: (overhearing someone calling the koala a bear) Oh, is it a bear.
Me: Yes, it's a bear.
Alison: Really? You don't think of them as bears.
Annoying woman next to me: Actually it's not a bear, koalas are marsupials I don't know why everyone calls them bears. They're not bears.
Me: Shut the hell up.
Okay that last part was me getting carried away, I didn't say that but like Jesus lady, go bore someone else with your abnormal knowledge of koalas.
I've been feeling a little homesick recently as well. Hadn’t really hit me until recently. I don't know, just miss being able to go down the pub or grab lunch with friends I don't have to try with. It's been a little over six months since we left and I guess when you're travelling and doing loads of things you're distracted and don't think about it but maybe since we've stopped and since all the issues we have had with accommodation and money, I don't know. I kinda miss you guys.
Jesus, is he ever going to start saying funny crap? I didn't subscribe to this for a bunch of whiney, depressing crap. I get enough of that at home. Come on Dan, pull your finger out and start being funny or I'm just going to stop reading, mid sentence. Oh...where'd he go?
On the plus side we have been going in and out of the city on the ferry. One day last week on the way back, we were sitting outside, the sun was out, not a cloud in the sky it was all good when the captain comes over the speaker. 'Ladies and gentlemen if you look directly ahead you'll see a pod of dolphins.’ He says. Of course everyone goes nuts and sure enough as we're pulling in to Manly Wharf there are about thirty dolphins swimming past us. Pretty cool. In fact I'm so excited I tell a few complete strangers about it on the way back towards our house. They're like 'Really? Dolphins?' and they start looking out to sea, by which time of course, the dolphins are long gone and they hate me.
The Pope was in town a couple of weeks ago and honestly it felt like he was here forever. All these kids with brightly coloured flags walking around the city in groups a little like spiritual vigilantes. And, get this; they all have exactly the same backpacks. Red and yellow jobbies with World Youth Day printed on them. Maybe they're Vatican issued but it's a little strange. You can be sitting in a food court in the city, eating your sandwich or drinking coffee and suddenly the place will erupt with Chile's Holy Saint of Our Mother's Choir blaring out in full song singing happy birthday to someone called Rodrigo. And you cannot get away from these guys. They're everywhere. They're on the ferry, outside parks, at the wharf, even outside my house. How they find me with their John Lennon guitars and poorly played tambourines I don’t know. Do you remember, in school, the tambourine was always given to the kid with no sense of rhythm? Well that’s these guys, and they can’t sing either.
Tell you another weird thing that happened. We were walking through Manly the other day and we get to the beach. It had been raining quite hard but the sun was coming out. You know that sky where it's pretty much black but yellow sunlight streams from part of it creating rainbows and crap. Well that was what was going on here. Except as we looked out to sea at the forming rainbow we saw a funnel of a tornado, in the middle of a rainbow! The twister hit the ocean surface and started whipping it up. It was the weirdest thing and yet somehow quite beautiful.
Okay, I know what you're thinking. Dan's gone soft. I thought this was supposed to be a funny blog. When's it get funny? Huh? Say something witty, funnyman. Hurry up!
I don't know if it's just me but when the birds sing here it sounds like someone's being strangled. It's not like at home where they tweet, shut up then tweet again. These things moan about their breakfast, play some cards and then have a good laugh about it in the tree. I swear it feels like I'm in the middle of the Amazon sometimes.
Went to a koala sanctuary the other day. Those dudes are about the cutest things I've ever seen and in this place you can pet them and give them leaves and crap. Of course I end up next to this woman who listens in to my conversation with Alison. Here's a sample
Alison: (overhearing someone calling the koala a bear) Oh, is it a bear.
Me: Yes, it's a bear.
Alison: Really? You don't think of them as bears.
Annoying woman next to me: Actually it's not a bear, koalas are marsupials I don't know why everyone calls them bears. They're not bears.
Me: Shut the hell up.
Okay that last part was me getting carried away, I didn't say that but like Jesus lady, go bore someone else with your abnormal knowledge of koalas.
I've been feeling a little homesick recently as well. Hadn’t really hit me until recently. I don't know, just miss being able to go down the pub or grab lunch with friends I don't have to try with. It's been a little over six months since we left and I guess when you're travelling and doing loads of things you're distracted and don't think about it but maybe since we've stopped and since all the issues we have had with accommodation and money, I don't know. I kinda miss you guys.
Jesus, is he ever going to start saying funny crap? I didn't subscribe to this for a bunch of whiney, depressing crap. I get enough of that at home. Come on Dan, pull your finger out and start being funny or I'm just going to stop reading, mid sentence. Oh...where'd he go?
Friday, July 11, 2008
HOME AND AWAY, BILLS AND FRAGGLES
Well looky what we have here. Dan's got a new blog out. He said he was stopping, that guy is such a lying a-hole. I know he wrote that last one but he said he probably wouldn't be writing another for a while. Right, never believe a word this guy says, I think that's the moral of the story. Well I might think about reading it if it's short. We can't all be messing about on beaches every day, some of us actually have proper jobs.
Yeah so, it's a few days before we move out and I get an email from the people who own the house. They say they've received a $500 internet bill! What the...? Turns out, because they use this 3G wireless thing to connect to the internet it costs more...a lot more. And you know what else, the phone company bill you for just being connected to the damn thing. Isn't that just the biggest kicker you ever heard? Well maybe not for you, but for us it was devastating. We'd been going off shopping and for walks along the beach with the bloody thing connected. No one told me, no one explained any of this. UGH! What the hell else can go wrong here? First we lose our free accommodation, now this. We were once again plunged in to fits of depression. When will this end, how many more nasty surprises? Anyway, we pull ourselves together and just get over it. It's only money isn't it?
Strangely, ten minutes after reading the $500 email, Alison gets a call from the extras agency she signed up to saying they need her to be an extra on some Ozzy police drama called The Cut. They ask her if she knows any guys that might be able to come along at short notice...she says she does and volunteers me! Cheers fiancée! I have to say extra work isn't something I particularly saw myself doing at age thirty but what the hell, we need the money and it might be fun. Turns out we get paid to go to a beach just south of Bondi and watch half-naked girls playing volleyball! I know, it's an utter travesty.
We were asked to be part of the crowd cheering for the Australian volleyball team. So I get changed into my swimming shorts and t-shirt. As I’m walking towards the set, one of the wardrobe girls pulls me aside and says 'I think I can use you for something else, follow me.' Uhh okay. So I wander over to another trailer and she gets me to put on a suit. I am then escorted over to this volleyball court they've constructed and told to sit in the 'V.I.P.' area. I crack a couple of funnies to the guys sitting beside me. It's about twenty minutes later I realise that the two people next to me are the lead characters and they are filming the scene right here. GET IN THERE. So I got a starring role in the show which I'm sure I'll never see but weird how that all worked out. Ironically, the money we got from that job pretty much paid for the internet bill.
Moving day comes and we need to pack up all of our stuff and move to the flat in Manly. Now, I know what you're thinking. What stuff? You had one backpack, what the hell is there to pack? Well this is true but we have bought a couple of things since we got here. Like books and magazines for Alison, some extra t-shirts for me, a pet Kangeroo who I affectionately called Joey... We actually had to make two trips...oooo I hear you say, two trips. Look, if you're going to be sarcastic I'm not going to carry on, okay?
So the place we'd found to live in is perfect. It's cosy, the bedroom is also the kitchen which also triples as the living room but it's all nice. I did a little video on Facebook for those of you who really have nothing better to do. The lady who owns it has left all her pots and pans and sheets and things. She also left this bright neon blue, furry blanket on the bed. I swear it looks like they took a large, blue Fraggle, squashed him then rolled him out as far as he’d go and sold him off as a bed throw. Now I take animal rights pretty seriously and I think killing Fraggles is frankly not on, but it does get a bit chilly at night so I'll keep it to myself for now.
Alison got another call from the extras agency last weekend asking her to be in Home and Away. Rock on! So we drive about half an hour up the road, where they're shooting it. She has to be a caterer serving food to people at some posh house. I went to pick her up and saw the whole cast walking towards the trailers to get changed and I have to say I don't recognise one of them. At least with Neighbours they've still got Lou and Harold, but that's shot in Melbourne and I’ll be damned if I’m driving all the way out there for one job. No, I don’t care if Libby asked for me personally. With all this extra work Alison thinks it's a good idea that I sign up as well. I have to say, I'm dubious but what the hell, in for a penny in for a pound.
In the midst of all this we have also booked our wedding venue for May next year. Ooo I hear you all cry. Yeah it's this stunning castle thing outside Barcelona. Alison's had it on her favourites for about a year. We're starting to plan the wedding now and I gotta say, it's more complicated than I thought. I'm looking forward to swimming in the infinity pool and tasting the Cava they make on the property. Yes, did I mention it has 300 acres of vineyards...nice!
Well, I guess that's about all that's fit to print. See, that wasn't so bad was it? Relatively short and painless. Where have I heard that before?
Yeah so, it's a few days before we move out and I get an email from the people who own the house. They say they've received a $500 internet bill! What the...? Turns out, because they use this 3G wireless thing to connect to the internet it costs more...a lot more. And you know what else, the phone company bill you for just being connected to the damn thing. Isn't that just the biggest kicker you ever heard? Well maybe not for you, but for us it was devastating. We'd been going off shopping and for walks along the beach with the bloody thing connected. No one told me, no one explained any of this. UGH! What the hell else can go wrong here? First we lose our free accommodation, now this. We were once again plunged in to fits of depression. When will this end, how many more nasty surprises? Anyway, we pull ourselves together and just get over it. It's only money isn't it?
Strangely, ten minutes after reading the $500 email, Alison gets a call from the extras agency she signed up to saying they need her to be an extra on some Ozzy police drama called The Cut. They ask her if she knows any guys that might be able to come along at short notice...she says she does and volunteers me! Cheers fiancée! I have to say extra work isn't something I particularly saw myself doing at age thirty but what the hell, we need the money and it might be fun. Turns out we get paid to go to a beach just south of Bondi and watch half-naked girls playing volleyball! I know, it's an utter travesty.
We were asked to be part of the crowd cheering for the Australian volleyball team. So I get changed into my swimming shorts and t-shirt. As I’m walking towards the set, one of the wardrobe girls pulls me aside and says 'I think I can use you for something else, follow me.' Uhh okay. So I wander over to another trailer and she gets me to put on a suit. I am then escorted over to this volleyball court they've constructed and told to sit in the 'V.I.P.' area. I crack a couple of funnies to the guys sitting beside me. It's about twenty minutes later I realise that the two people next to me are the lead characters and they are filming the scene right here. GET IN THERE. So I got a starring role in the show which I'm sure I'll never see but weird how that all worked out. Ironically, the money we got from that job pretty much paid for the internet bill.
Moving day comes and we need to pack up all of our stuff and move to the flat in Manly. Now, I know what you're thinking. What stuff? You had one backpack, what the hell is there to pack? Well this is true but we have bought a couple of things since we got here. Like books and magazines for Alison, some extra t-shirts for me, a pet Kangeroo who I affectionately called Joey... We actually had to make two trips...oooo I hear you say, two trips. Look, if you're going to be sarcastic I'm not going to carry on, okay?
So the place we'd found to live in is perfect. It's cosy, the bedroom is also the kitchen which also triples as the living room but it's all nice. I did a little video on Facebook for those of you who really have nothing better to do. The lady who owns it has left all her pots and pans and sheets and things. She also left this bright neon blue, furry blanket on the bed. I swear it looks like they took a large, blue Fraggle, squashed him then rolled him out as far as he’d go and sold him off as a bed throw. Now I take animal rights pretty seriously and I think killing Fraggles is frankly not on, but it does get a bit chilly at night so I'll keep it to myself for now.
Alison got another call from the extras agency last weekend asking her to be in Home and Away. Rock on! So we drive about half an hour up the road, where they're shooting it. She has to be a caterer serving food to people at some posh house. I went to pick her up and saw the whole cast walking towards the trailers to get changed and I have to say I don't recognise one of them. At least with Neighbours they've still got Lou and Harold, but that's shot in Melbourne and I’ll be damned if I’m driving all the way out there for one job. No, I don’t care if Libby asked for me personally. With all this extra work Alison thinks it's a good idea that I sign up as well. I have to say, I'm dubious but what the hell, in for a penny in for a pound.
In the midst of all this we have also booked our wedding venue for May next year. Ooo I hear you all cry. Yeah it's this stunning castle thing outside Barcelona. Alison's had it on her favourites for about a year. We're starting to plan the wedding now and I gotta say, it's more complicated than I thought. I'm looking forward to swimming in the infinity pool and tasting the Cava they make on the property. Yes, did I mention it has 300 acres of vineyards...nice!
Well, I guess that's about all that's fit to print. See, that wasn't so bad was it? Relatively short and painless. Where have I heard that before?
Thursday, June 19, 2008
RAIN, MANLY APARTMENTS AND LEADING MEN
Okay, I know I said I probably wouldn't write unless there was something to tell. Luckily, since we've arrived there have been a couple of not insignificant incidents which I thought I'd share with you. I know what you're thinking, 'No, Dan I've got myself another blogger now. You can't just drop me whenever you feel like it and expect me just to carry on where we left off, it doesn't work that way.' All I can say is...I know who you really love, it's pointless to pretend, don't fight it.
The most important and immediately pressing thing is the fact we don't have sixth months free accommodation, as I previously thought. Of course, it's totally my fault, should have really broached the subject with the guys that -
a) own the house we were staying in and
b) the people who are actually paying rent and living here.
Doh! So we discovered this minor detail about two weeks ago and I swear it felt like our trip was over. See, the thing is, we had budgeted our year away banking on the fact that we would have accommodation when we got to Sydney. So this turn up for the books put a lion amongst the pigeons. We also thought the house would be empty. When we arrived we were surprised to find there were tenants. When we revealed to them how long we were planning to stay, so were they. The people that own the house are old friends of my dad and that puts him and them in a bit of a crap situation. Alison's parents have been ridiculously kind and lent us some money so we can stay and find somewhere to live. In short, it was a bit of a mess and all pretty much my fault so I felt like poo. Alison also felt rubbish as everything we were expecting in Sydney has turned out to be something quite different, but hey, that's life. At least there's good weather here right? Well... no.
The weather has been rubbish as well. It all started nicely, I went for sunny walks along the beautifulcoastline. Life was good. Then this all happens, the weather turns crappy and it literally hasn't stopped raining since.
(As an aside, it's dinner time and my ears have picked up the TV. There's a commercial saying '...the symptoms are not always easy to identify, and what you could have is genital herpes. For more information...' I swear I nearly spat out my orange juice. I mean Jesus, I know they're trying to improve public awareness but I don't particularly want to see that stuff at this time of the day. I'm trying to eat guys...come on. Anyway...)
We meet up with my one friend who lives in Sydney, Andre. I have known this guy forever. His wife, Mel, is expecting their second kid in July. It's really nice to see them again. Not just because I haven't seen them for two years but also it's just good to see familiar faces after travelling for so long. We both loved seeing Jayden, their little boy and Bella, the dog. I'm trying to persuade Alison to get a labrador and I think all this dog mingling is working, she seems to be coming around to the idea.
Alison signed up with an extras agency because she's always wanted to be an extra on film sets (and she's sad). Her first day was working on some dodgy Ozzy film called False Witness. They were filming at the Olympic Stadium and she got to dress up as a secret agent. The best story she told me, apart from this Brazlian trying to get in her pants all day (what do you expect, he's Brazilian), was when she sat down next to a guy and said 'Hi, are you an extra as well?' To which he gave her a shocked look and, trying desperately to contain the rage welling up inside him he muttered 'No, I'm the lead.' before stomping off to his trailer. Apparently he's quite well known here but she had no idea who he was. His reaction was classic though.
So we have to find a place and quickly. We decide we want to stay in Manly. (which some of you have pointed out as perfect for someone like me). Manly is 30 minutes ferry ride from the centre of Sydney and is in my opinion, the worlds best commute. However, house prices there are ridiculously high, so that's out the window. We try looking along some of the other Northern Beaches, Curl Curl, Freshwater or Dee Why. Problem is hardly any of these places come furnished and we have, well not a lot of stuff. I do have a souvenir Mate cup and decorative wine casket but somehow I'm entirely convinced those will make the place 'feel like home.'
We visit a few estate agents, most of whom look at us like they just scraped us off their shoe. Here's a sample conversation:
Me: Hi there, we'd like to rent an apartment in the area.
Dopey Blonde Receptionist: Okay.
Me: About **** a week.
Dopey Blonde Receptionist: Okay.Me: Do you have anything furnished?
Dopey Blonde Receptionist: No, sorry.
Me: Nothing? I know they're hard to come by...
Dopey Blonde Receptionist: Yeah, they are.
Me: Can I leave our details in case anything comes up?
Dopey Blonde Receptionist: No. We don't take people's details.
Me: Right.
It was kinda frustrating. Don't get me wrong, it may have been bad manors to interrupt her nail polishing session but I felt I had a legitimate claim to her time. So we try a few other esate agents, not much else around.
Eventually we walk back in to Manly again, about ready to offer ourselves up as quality shark food, when we pass an agent we had missed. In the window there was a sign saying 'Furnished Properties.' We wander in, see one we like and set up a viewing. It's in a place called Fairlight about 15 minutes walk from Manly...get in there!
We walk down the steep driveway and are greeted by Jackie, the English woman who owns the place. As we step inside, I'm confronted by the biggest plasma TV I've ever seen. The apartment is small but god it's nice. It's officially classed as a studio but it's really big and everything is new. New fridge, new kitchen, new bed, new sugar bowl. We love it immediately and hit it off with Jackie. She's going to leave us all her kitchenware and even offers to transfer the broadband to us if we want 'it's got unlimited downloads.' Man, this just gets better and better. There is a car parking space (our friends have very kindly let us have their car until they come back from London) and there's even a new mountain bike sitting in the garage just begging to be used. Outside, we're right next to a harbour and a very agreeable coastal path. You can hear the sea lapping at the rocks from our patio. Sea air permeates everywhere and the smell is amazing. We're exactly where we want to be. Fab!
So I guess things work out for the best in the end. It was pretty hairy for a while there and we actually seriously considered coming home. We even looked up the price of the flights but then realised we couldn't afford that either. But sometimes life just pulls together and things slot in to place. I'm sure next time I write there will have been some other crisis like I decide I want a sex change operation but can't front up the deposit or something. This was definitely one of the biggest we've had since leaving and I think we came out, almost untarnished. For those of you shouting at the screen sayinng 'What about Alison's hair?' I'm happy to report she went to a Toni and Guy here and the 'guy' has repaired the damage and you wouldn't know anything bad had happened. 'There is a God!' I hear you all cry. And believe me I'm with you on that. So all in all things are looking peachy again. I seem to have trouble pooing but apart from that...
The most important and immediately pressing thing is the fact we don't have sixth months free accommodation, as I previously thought. Of course, it's totally my fault, should have really broached the subject with the guys that -
a) own the house we were staying in and
b) the people who are actually paying rent and living here.
Doh! So we discovered this minor detail about two weeks ago and I swear it felt like our trip was over. See, the thing is, we had budgeted our year away banking on the fact that we would have accommodation when we got to Sydney. So this turn up for the books put a lion amongst the pigeons. We also thought the house would be empty. When we arrived we were surprised to find there were tenants. When we revealed to them how long we were planning to stay, so were they. The people that own the house are old friends of my dad and that puts him and them in a bit of a crap situation. Alison's parents have been ridiculously kind and lent us some money so we can stay and find somewhere to live. In short, it was a bit of a mess and all pretty much my fault so I felt like poo. Alison also felt rubbish as everything we were expecting in Sydney has turned out to be something quite different, but hey, that's life. At least there's good weather here right? Well... no.
The weather has been rubbish as well. It all started nicely, I went for sunny walks along the beautifulcoastline. Life was good. Then this all happens, the weather turns crappy and it literally hasn't stopped raining since.
(As an aside, it's dinner time and my ears have picked up the TV. There's a commercial saying '...the symptoms are not always easy to identify, and what you could have is genital herpes. For more information...' I swear I nearly spat out my orange juice. I mean Jesus, I know they're trying to improve public awareness but I don't particularly want to see that stuff at this time of the day. I'm trying to eat guys...come on. Anyway...)
We meet up with my one friend who lives in Sydney, Andre. I have known this guy forever. His wife, Mel, is expecting their second kid in July. It's really nice to see them again. Not just because I haven't seen them for two years but also it's just good to see familiar faces after travelling for so long. We both loved seeing Jayden, their little boy and Bella, the dog. I'm trying to persuade Alison to get a labrador and I think all this dog mingling is working, she seems to be coming around to the idea.
Alison signed up with an extras agency because she's always wanted to be an extra on film sets (and she's sad). Her first day was working on some dodgy Ozzy film called False Witness. They were filming at the Olympic Stadium and she got to dress up as a secret agent. The best story she told me, apart from this Brazlian trying to get in her pants all day (what do you expect, he's Brazilian), was when she sat down next to a guy and said 'Hi, are you an extra as well?' To which he gave her a shocked look and, trying desperately to contain the rage welling up inside him he muttered 'No, I'm the lead.' before stomping off to his trailer. Apparently he's quite well known here but she had no idea who he was. His reaction was classic though.
So we have to find a place and quickly. We decide we want to stay in Manly. (which some of you have pointed out as perfect for someone like me). Manly is 30 minutes ferry ride from the centre of Sydney and is in my opinion, the worlds best commute. However, house prices there are ridiculously high, so that's out the window. We try looking along some of the other Northern Beaches, Curl Curl, Freshwater or Dee Why. Problem is hardly any of these places come furnished and we have, well not a lot of stuff. I do have a souvenir Mate cup and decorative wine casket but somehow I'm entirely convinced those will make the place 'feel like home.'
We visit a few estate agents, most of whom look at us like they just scraped us off their shoe. Here's a sample conversation:
Me: Hi there, we'd like to rent an apartment in the area.
Dopey Blonde Receptionist: Okay.
Me: About **** a week.
Dopey Blonde Receptionist: Okay.Me: Do you have anything furnished?
Dopey Blonde Receptionist: No, sorry.
Me: Nothing? I know they're hard to come by...
Dopey Blonde Receptionist: Yeah, they are.
Me: Can I leave our details in case anything comes up?
Dopey Blonde Receptionist: No. We don't take people's details.
Me: Right.
It was kinda frustrating. Don't get me wrong, it may have been bad manors to interrupt her nail polishing session but I felt I had a legitimate claim to her time. So we try a few other esate agents, not much else around.
Eventually we walk back in to Manly again, about ready to offer ourselves up as quality shark food, when we pass an agent we had missed. In the window there was a sign saying 'Furnished Properties.' We wander in, see one we like and set up a viewing. It's in a place called Fairlight about 15 minutes walk from Manly...get in there!
We walk down the steep driveway and are greeted by Jackie, the English woman who owns the place. As we step inside, I'm confronted by the biggest plasma TV I've ever seen. The apartment is small but god it's nice. It's officially classed as a studio but it's really big and everything is new. New fridge, new kitchen, new bed, new sugar bowl. We love it immediately and hit it off with Jackie. She's going to leave us all her kitchenware and even offers to transfer the broadband to us if we want 'it's got unlimited downloads.' Man, this just gets better and better. There is a car parking space (our friends have very kindly let us have their car until they come back from London) and there's even a new mountain bike sitting in the garage just begging to be used. Outside, we're right next to a harbour and a very agreeable coastal path. You can hear the sea lapping at the rocks from our patio. Sea air permeates everywhere and the smell is amazing. We're exactly where we want to be. Fab!
So I guess things work out for the best in the end. It was pretty hairy for a while there and we actually seriously considered coming home. We even looked up the price of the flights but then realised we couldn't afford that either. But sometimes life just pulls together and things slot in to place. I'm sure next time I write there will have been some other crisis like I decide I want a sex change operation but can't front up the deposit or something. This was definitely one of the biggest we've had since leaving and I think we came out, almost untarnished. For those of you shouting at the screen sayinng 'What about Alison's hair?' I'm happy to report she went to a Toni and Guy here and the 'guy' has repaired the damage and you wouldn't know anything bad had happened. 'There is a God!' I hear you all cry. And believe me I'm with you on that. So all in all things are looking peachy again. I seem to have trouble pooing but apart from that...
Thursday, May 29, 2008
THE FINALE - HAIRCUTS, SUPERSHUTTLES AND MERRILLS
So having jumped on a bus back to Mendoza, a strange feeling is slowly starting to come to realisation. Our trip in South America is almost at an end. I'm not quite sure how to feel about this, afterall it seems only yesterday we were saying tearful goodbyes to our parents at the airport. Yet nearly five months later here we sit, staring out of a window on a bus heading North through the winelands of Argentina. In two days we'll be in New Zealand, strange how fast time flies.
Anyway, enough of this depressing crap. Here's a classic anecdote.
We decide that it might be cheaper to get our haircuts in Mendoza rather than waiting till we get to Sydney. So we wander along the various streets trying to find a reputable hairdresser. Eventually we come across this place, it's small and you have to be buzzed to be allowed in. Somehow the alarm bells did not ring. They didn't even ring when we saw the other clients in there and the various dodgy beehive incarnations that were being created. By now, of course we're well used to no one speaking English but one of the customers does and translates for the girl who greets us. The customer, by the way, is having her eyebrows tinted and it looked like a hammer horror movie. Something didn't feel quite right but what the hell you only live once. I immediately volunteered Alison to go first. 'How much?' I asked.
'Thirty pesos each.' The woman replied. I nodded.
Unsure, Alison went to have her hair washed. She kept glancing at me, a concerned expression on her face. I looked around telling myself this was going to be one great haircut for the both of us. I heard a yelp from Alison. The girl washing was being a little rough but I thought nothing of it. Alison was then bought over to the chair where we were introduced to this seventy year old guy, with long grey hair in a ponytail and a slight twitch in his eye. Strange, kinda assumed it would be one of the women doing it, where did this guy come from? Oh well, this is going to be great.
'They didn't condition it.' Alison whispered as she sat down on the chair. Bit strange again but my mind immediately started replaying moments from the latest Bourne film and I quickly forgot any concerns. I did notice, however, the guy take out his cut-throat razor. 'I'm sure he's a professional.' I hummed to myself. He then applied the razor...to Alisons hair. Actually started cutting it. Of course Alison, being the patient, understanding person she is put up with this for about a second before launching in to
'Uhh...no! Scissors!' The guy looked almost surprised.
'You want scissors?' He asked, no hint of irony in his voice.
'Yes please.' Alison said with a Chandler-esc incredulity. She looked at me in the mirror. You could almost see the idea forming in her head. 'I've made a terrible mistake.' She didn't move however and the guy carried on cutting. I noticed he seemed to be yanking clumps of her hair and snipping here and there with no discernible plan. 'I don't remember them doing it like that in our salon at home' I thought to myself. I noticed a line forming around the middle of her hair where he apparently wasn't bothering to make any effort in layering. It suddenly occured to me that the way the man was cutting her hair would be kinda like the way I would cut a girls hair...if I had no idea what I was doing!
Oh dear. This is going to be bad I thought. It occurred to me to raise the issue with Alison but I didn't want to get in to trouble so I kept quiet. She had only asked for a trim but as I glanced at the floor, there appeared to be great clumps of hair. Hmmm. Not good. And yet, still, I did nothing. The man started to blowdry it, Alison having to show him how to use the brush to give it a vaguely straight look. He finished, she looked at it. She knew. I knew. 'What's this?' She asked, pulling bits of her hair around and showing him. 'This bit is longer than this.' Then she noticed the line around her head, the lack of layering. Oh god.
'There's a massive line here. You've ruined my hair! I only wanted a trim!' He protested his innocence but I felt I should get involved. So I came out with the classic line 'Have you ever cut hair in your life before?'
The man seemed to take offence but I actually asked it with genuine curiosity. Alison was starting to get upset. I asked how much.
'Fifty pesos.' He replied. Say what?
'Hang on, you said thirty.'
'Blowdry, extra.' I blinked. Alison got there before me.
'So you ruin my hair, hack it to pieces and you want to charge us double the price!' She looked at me. I knew what she was expecting, be the man. Sort this dufus out. Take charge. And I did, in best way Dan can. I paid him and we left.
Alison was crying all the way back to the hotel, and pretty much the rest of the day. In fact, now I think about it most of the week. It was like she went in to some sort of weird mourning. I kept trying to reassure her. 'It's okay, it will grow back. Another hairdresser will fix this, no problem.' Nothing I said worked. In fact she came back at me with even more venom.
'It's ruined, the wedding will be ruined.' She replied.
'The wedding isn't til next year.' I attempted to say.
'Don't care, everythings ruined.' Man did she go on about it.
So we jump on another bus over the Andes leaving Argentina and most of Alison's hair behind. It's one of the most beautiful bus rides I've been on and certainly the curviest road I've ever seen. We arrived in Santiago and stayed in a nice hotel called the Orly in the rich district. I would elaborate but our last night in South America was quiet and unremarkable. We did feel sad to be leaving and as we sat on our bed watching Vote 2008 via Dominican Republic TV I thought 'I'm gonna miss this place.' Still, can't hold on to these things, I'm sure the next adventure is just around the corner.
The next day we fly to Auckland. It's another Lan flight and I hear grumbles from some of the passengers as they realise the plane doesn't have individual TV's. So we settle in, put the blanket over us and try to get some shut eye. I don't know how long I was sleeping before I was woken by the people next to me speaking rather loud Spanish. Being one not to make a fuss, I turned over and tried to carry on sleeping but damnit they had woken me up and were now speaking so loudly I thought they must have had some kind of hearing impairment. I waited about five minutes before saying 'Excuse me, would you mind keeping it down I'm trying to sleep. Sorry.' I like that little apology at the end. Gives it a kind of 'not my fault you're so bloody loud' feeling. They all turned to me, and, looking suitably miffed shut up. Nice. Of course now I was awake I couldn't get back to sleep but that's neither here nor there.
Of course it's winter in the Southern Hemisphere and we were expecting rain and nastiness but actually it was rather pleasant. We arrived at 0400 and went to our hotel right in the middle of Auckland and had a little nap. We wake up the next day and wander around the city and decide to go to Waiheke Island about 30 mins by boat from the mainland. Everyone keeps telling us it's paradise here and they were not wrong. It is absolutely stunning. Has a real community feel, nice beaches and best of all some of the most stunning views of vineyards I've ever come across. We went to this one vineyard called Mudbrick which had a 360 degree view of the island! Jealous yet? Thinking you might come out to Auckland afterall?
So when it was time to leave Auckland we got picked up by this Supershuttle van thing, where they take multiple passengers to the airport and it's less than a regular taxi. At 0625 we get a call saying the driver is going to be a little early so when we're ready just head outside. We finish packing and are outside around 0635. I say good morning to the driver. He's like 'You're going to make the other passengers late?' Huh?
'Sorry?' I replied.
'You were supposed to be out at 0625, now I'm going to be late with the drop off.' Injustice screamed out of my very being.
'We booked you for 0645! The guy on the phone said don't hurry. We're early as it is.' I tried to reason.
'0645? Well what time were you hoping to catch your flight?' He asks practically throwing my luggage in to the trailer. This guy is stirring the beast inside.
'I don't have time for this crap.' I actually said that.
'I just asked you how you thought you'd get to the airport for an 0800 flight by leaving here at 0645.' Now I'm angry.
'Our flight is at 0900! Doesn't take an hour to get to the airport on a Sunday morning and if the other people have to be at the airport for 8 then maybe you should have sent another van!' I yank open the door to the van and climb in. That shut him up. We got evils from all the other passengers.
'It's not our fault.' I pleaded. But they had already pronounced judgment. SOB's. By the time we got to the airport I think he realised the mistake was his and he started calling me sir. What a dick.
Nevermind, we got to the airport and caught the flight to Christchurch. The Supershuttle driver took us take us straight to Addington Jail. Or rather Jailhouse Hostel which used to be Addington Jail before it was converted. You actually get to sleep inside the cells. Really echoey and atmospheric. At night we sat in and watched the Shawshank Redemption. I wanted to start rattling the bars or get a tattoo but Alison didn't let me. We had our first roast for four and a half months and my first pint of Guinness in an Irish pub. Tell you what, it was great. How I've missed these little pleasures.
Then we go to the airport and catch our final flight. To Sydney. Where we will be for the next six months. As we go through New Zealand customs we get an official who looks like she's at the end of her shift. Brill.
So we approach. 'I notice you've only stayed here for four days, any reason for that?' She asks, peering over her glasses at me.
'Well, we've been travelling around South America and kinda ran out of money. We were going to spend two weeks here but we've been here before so we changed our flights.' This statement does not impress her.
'You ran out of money in South America? It's dirt cheap there.' She stares at me. What is this?
'Brazil isn't, Chile isn't...' I try to counter
'I've been there four times I know what things cost.' O..kay.
'So I see you're going to Sydney, how long are you staying there?' Bollocks.
'Uhh...six months?' I reply tentatively.
'So you're spending six months in Sydney and four days in New Zealand.' Her face looked like it was tightening up for a punch.
'Umm...yes.' I don't mean to offend you, dear woman, but can we get the passport stamped and allow me through. 'But we're planning to comeback in October, so we'll spend all the money we make in Sydney, here.' A sly grin on her face. That's more like it. STAMP, STAMP.
'Enjoy your trip to Sydney.' She says, deadpan. Thanks...I think.
A Tribute to My Merrill Ventilators
Dear Merrills, I just want to say thank you for not giving up on me, these last few months. You've been there, through thick and thin. Through hot and cold, dry and wet. You never gave me a blister even when I walked for 3 days straight. My feet were as untouched by the earth when I took them off as when I had put them on. In the heat you were cool. In the wet...well, no one's perfect. We trudged across glaciers and deserts. Hiked up mountains and down beaches. Along city streets and dusty roads. You were there for me every step of the way. No complaining, no fuss. Just there. With me. On my journey. My blister kit remained untouched as I stand in awe of your comfort. This is not an advertisement, nor is it an arse-kiss for Merrill. It is merely a thank you note from me to a very special pair of shoes.
We arrive in Sydney, the chap living at the place we're going to stay at picks us up from the airport. Mitch has the flu and has been off work all day but he still drove all the way to the airport anyway. Nice guy. We drive to the house our friends have let us stay at. It's beautiful. It's huge and has a view of the valley and in the distance, the sea. Immaculately designed and perfect for our needs, I couldn't have asked for more. They've even let us use their car. That Christmas present for them is going to have to be a sail boat or private jet or something. Mitch's girlfriend, Pipper has a lovely little dog called Audrey who I take for walks along the coast.
But this is where I leave you. I'm going to knuckle down, do some writing and enjoy life here for six months. I will post new blogs when there are stories to tell but they will not be as regular.
What's this Dan, you're leaving us? But...but...why? Did I do something? Was it something I said. No. Please! Come on, I need your blogs, what am I supposed to read when I'm bored at work and surfed every site I can think of?
Who else's writing style can I ridicule as much as yours? What am I supposed to delete if I don't get any more of those silly group messages in my inbox...crap I really enjoyed deleting those! Damnit Dan, I'm invested and you chose now to just walk away. Well screw you. You don't get to walk away from me, I'm going to unsubscribe from you HA!
Thank you for being with us on our journey, I hope I've shared some of the more quirky, entertaining stories with you. If nothing else, at least it was a way to kill time when work gets dull. Chao!
Anyway, enough of this depressing crap. Here's a classic anecdote.
We decide that it might be cheaper to get our haircuts in Mendoza rather than waiting till we get to Sydney. So we wander along the various streets trying to find a reputable hairdresser. Eventually we come across this place, it's small and you have to be buzzed to be allowed in. Somehow the alarm bells did not ring. They didn't even ring when we saw the other clients in there and the various dodgy beehive incarnations that were being created. By now, of course we're well used to no one speaking English but one of the customers does and translates for the girl who greets us. The customer, by the way, is having her eyebrows tinted and it looked like a hammer horror movie. Something didn't feel quite right but what the hell you only live once. I immediately volunteered Alison to go first. 'How much?' I asked.
'Thirty pesos each.' The woman replied. I nodded.
Unsure, Alison went to have her hair washed. She kept glancing at me, a concerned expression on her face. I looked around telling myself this was going to be one great haircut for the both of us. I heard a yelp from Alison. The girl washing was being a little rough but I thought nothing of it. Alison was then bought over to the chair where we were introduced to this seventy year old guy, with long grey hair in a ponytail and a slight twitch in his eye. Strange, kinda assumed it would be one of the women doing it, where did this guy come from? Oh well, this is going to be great.
'They didn't condition it.' Alison whispered as she sat down on the chair. Bit strange again but my mind immediately started replaying moments from the latest Bourne film and I quickly forgot any concerns. I did notice, however, the guy take out his cut-throat razor. 'I'm sure he's a professional.' I hummed to myself. He then applied the razor...to Alisons hair. Actually started cutting it. Of course Alison, being the patient, understanding person she is put up with this for about a second before launching in to
'Uhh...no! Scissors!' The guy looked almost surprised.
'You want scissors?' He asked, no hint of irony in his voice.
'Yes please.' Alison said with a Chandler-esc incredulity. She looked at me in the mirror. You could almost see the idea forming in her head. 'I've made a terrible mistake.' She didn't move however and the guy carried on cutting. I noticed he seemed to be yanking clumps of her hair and snipping here and there with no discernible plan. 'I don't remember them doing it like that in our salon at home' I thought to myself. I noticed a line forming around the middle of her hair where he apparently wasn't bothering to make any effort in layering. It suddenly occured to me that the way the man was cutting her hair would be kinda like the way I would cut a girls hair...if I had no idea what I was doing!
Oh dear. This is going to be bad I thought. It occurred to me to raise the issue with Alison but I didn't want to get in to trouble so I kept quiet. She had only asked for a trim but as I glanced at the floor, there appeared to be great clumps of hair. Hmmm. Not good. And yet, still, I did nothing. The man started to blowdry it, Alison having to show him how to use the brush to give it a vaguely straight look. He finished, she looked at it. She knew. I knew. 'What's this?' She asked, pulling bits of her hair around and showing him. 'This bit is longer than this.' Then she noticed the line around her head, the lack of layering. Oh god.
'There's a massive line here. You've ruined my hair! I only wanted a trim!' He protested his innocence but I felt I should get involved. So I came out with the classic line 'Have you ever cut hair in your life before?'
The man seemed to take offence but I actually asked it with genuine curiosity. Alison was starting to get upset. I asked how much.
'Fifty pesos.' He replied. Say what?
'Hang on, you said thirty.'
'Blowdry, extra.' I blinked. Alison got there before me.
'So you ruin my hair, hack it to pieces and you want to charge us double the price!' She looked at me. I knew what she was expecting, be the man. Sort this dufus out. Take charge. And I did, in best way Dan can. I paid him and we left.
Alison was crying all the way back to the hotel, and pretty much the rest of the day. In fact, now I think about it most of the week. It was like she went in to some sort of weird mourning. I kept trying to reassure her. 'It's okay, it will grow back. Another hairdresser will fix this, no problem.' Nothing I said worked. In fact she came back at me with even more venom.
'It's ruined, the wedding will be ruined.' She replied.
'The wedding isn't til next year.' I attempted to say.
'Don't care, everythings ruined.' Man did she go on about it.
So we jump on another bus over the Andes leaving Argentina and most of Alison's hair behind. It's one of the most beautiful bus rides I've been on and certainly the curviest road I've ever seen. We arrived in Santiago and stayed in a nice hotel called the Orly in the rich district. I would elaborate but our last night in South America was quiet and unremarkable. We did feel sad to be leaving and as we sat on our bed watching Vote 2008 via Dominican Republic TV I thought 'I'm gonna miss this place.' Still, can't hold on to these things, I'm sure the next adventure is just around the corner.
The next day we fly to Auckland. It's another Lan flight and I hear grumbles from some of the passengers as they realise the plane doesn't have individual TV's. So we settle in, put the blanket over us and try to get some shut eye. I don't know how long I was sleeping before I was woken by the people next to me speaking rather loud Spanish. Being one not to make a fuss, I turned over and tried to carry on sleeping but damnit they had woken me up and were now speaking so loudly I thought they must have had some kind of hearing impairment. I waited about five minutes before saying 'Excuse me, would you mind keeping it down I'm trying to sleep. Sorry.' I like that little apology at the end. Gives it a kind of 'not my fault you're so bloody loud' feeling. They all turned to me, and, looking suitably miffed shut up. Nice. Of course now I was awake I couldn't get back to sleep but that's neither here nor there.
Of course it's winter in the Southern Hemisphere and we were expecting rain and nastiness but actually it was rather pleasant. We arrived at 0400 and went to our hotel right in the middle of Auckland and had a little nap. We wake up the next day and wander around the city and decide to go to Waiheke Island about 30 mins by boat from the mainland. Everyone keeps telling us it's paradise here and they were not wrong. It is absolutely stunning. Has a real community feel, nice beaches and best of all some of the most stunning views of vineyards I've ever come across. We went to this one vineyard called Mudbrick which had a 360 degree view of the island! Jealous yet? Thinking you might come out to Auckland afterall?
So when it was time to leave Auckland we got picked up by this Supershuttle van thing, where they take multiple passengers to the airport and it's less than a regular taxi. At 0625 we get a call saying the driver is going to be a little early so when we're ready just head outside. We finish packing and are outside around 0635. I say good morning to the driver. He's like 'You're going to make the other passengers late?' Huh?
'Sorry?' I replied.
'You were supposed to be out at 0625, now I'm going to be late with the drop off.' Injustice screamed out of my very being.
'We booked you for 0645! The guy on the phone said don't hurry. We're early as it is.' I tried to reason.
'0645? Well what time were you hoping to catch your flight?' He asks practically throwing my luggage in to the trailer. This guy is stirring the beast inside.
'I don't have time for this crap.' I actually said that.
'I just asked you how you thought you'd get to the airport for an 0800 flight by leaving here at 0645.' Now I'm angry.
'Our flight is at 0900! Doesn't take an hour to get to the airport on a Sunday morning and if the other people have to be at the airport for 8 then maybe you should have sent another van!' I yank open the door to the van and climb in. That shut him up. We got evils from all the other passengers.
'It's not our fault.' I pleaded. But they had already pronounced judgment. SOB's. By the time we got to the airport I think he realised the mistake was his and he started calling me sir. What a dick.
Nevermind, we got to the airport and caught the flight to Christchurch. The Supershuttle driver took us take us straight to Addington Jail. Or rather Jailhouse Hostel which used to be Addington Jail before it was converted. You actually get to sleep inside the cells. Really echoey and atmospheric. At night we sat in and watched the Shawshank Redemption. I wanted to start rattling the bars or get a tattoo but Alison didn't let me. We had our first roast for four and a half months and my first pint of Guinness in an Irish pub. Tell you what, it was great. How I've missed these little pleasures.
Then we go to the airport and catch our final flight. To Sydney. Where we will be for the next six months. As we go through New Zealand customs we get an official who looks like she's at the end of her shift. Brill.
So we approach. 'I notice you've only stayed here for four days, any reason for that?' She asks, peering over her glasses at me.
'Well, we've been travelling around South America and kinda ran out of money. We were going to spend two weeks here but we've been here before so we changed our flights.' This statement does not impress her.
'You ran out of money in South America? It's dirt cheap there.' She stares at me. What is this?
'Brazil isn't, Chile isn't...' I try to counter
'I've been there four times I know what things cost.' O..kay.
'So I see you're going to Sydney, how long are you staying there?' Bollocks.
'Uhh...six months?' I reply tentatively.
'So you're spending six months in Sydney and four days in New Zealand.' Her face looked like it was tightening up for a punch.
'Umm...yes.' I don't mean to offend you, dear woman, but can we get the passport stamped and allow me through. 'But we're planning to comeback in October, so we'll spend all the money we make in Sydney, here.' A sly grin on her face. That's more like it. STAMP, STAMP.
'Enjoy your trip to Sydney.' She says, deadpan. Thanks...I think.
A Tribute to My Merrill Ventilators
Dear Merrills, I just want to say thank you for not giving up on me, these last few months. You've been there, through thick and thin. Through hot and cold, dry and wet. You never gave me a blister even when I walked for 3 days straight. My feet were as untouched by the earth when I took them off as when I had put them on. In the heat you were cool. In the wet...well, no one's perfect. We trudged across glaciers and deserts. Hiked up mountains and down beaches. Along city streets and dusty roads. You were there for me every step of the way. No complaining, no fuss. Just there. With me. On my journey. My blister kit remained untouched as I stand in awe of your comfort. This is not an advertisement, nor is it an arse-kiss for Merrill. It is merely a thank you note from me to a very special pair of shoes.
We arrive in Sydney, the chap living at the place we're going to stay at picks us up from the airport. Mitch has the flu and has been off work all day but he still drove all the way to the airport anyway. Nice guy. We drive to the house our friends have let us stay at. It's beautiful. It's huge and has a view of the valley and in the distance, the sea. Immaculately designed and perfect for our needs, I couldn't have asked for more. They've even let us use their car. That Christmas present for them is going to have to be a sail boat or private jet or something. Mitch's girlfriend, Pipper has a lovely little dog called Audrey who I take for walks along the coast.
But this is where I leave you. I'm going to knuckle down, do some writing and enjoy life here for six months. I will post new blogs when there are stories to tell but they will not be as regular.
What's this Dan, you're leaving us? But...but...why? Did I do something? Was it something I said. No. Please! Come on, I need your blogs, what am I supposed to read when I'm bored at work and surfed every site I can think of?
Who else's writing style can I ridicule as much as yours? What am I supposed to delete if I don't get any more of those silly group messages in my inbox...crap I really enjoyed deleting those! Damnit Dan, I'm invested and you chose now to just walk away. Well screw you. You don't get to walk away from me, I'm going to unsubscribe from you HA!
Thank you for being with us on our journey, I hope I've shared some of the more quirky, entertaining stories with you. If nothing else, at least it was a way to kill time when work gets dull. Chao!
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