Apologies, again, for the procrastinating. Simply put, I have been enjoying the end of our summer, despite the overbearing dull with wet patches conditions we have been enduring as of late.
If I had have written last week I would have started with my damming condemnation of the worldwide con that is Valentine's Day. I do not need any nod of the head from Clinton Cards, or any other card shops out there, to show affection towards Lysey; for anyone out there that does believe in the marketing wet dream you're a literal moron. Last year Lysey received her first ever card (I only bought her a card as she made such a point about never receiving one. It was a blank card however - I did not conform to Clinton's aims) so this year I went back to being myself and I bought her nothing. Maybe I could blame the timing; it was her birthday and our anniversary last week so she's been inundated with gifts. On that note, imagine my glee when I informed her that my present buying for her in 2009, bar Christmas, which is so close to 2010 I've conveniently rounded up, is over. She wasn't happy upon hearing this declaration, but what can I do about it?
The escapade that is St. Valentine’s Day annoys me. Everywhere I looked that Saturday it seemed apparent that men were running around trying to appease their other-halves. Even in the cinema, arguably the least lit arena for any lovebirds, people were still pandering. To me, the buying of random gifts on a date not predetermined by marketing forces is much more significant. Like I said, though, my present buying for 2009 is over!
We did venture to the cinema during the day, not to mark Valentine's Day, but because it was raining and we both wanted to see Ricky Gervais' new flick, Ghost Town. What a disappointed that turned out to be. Gervais plays a character that goes to hospital for a routine operation but he dies momentarily on the table. Consequently, upon making a miraculous return to full health, he has the ability to communicate with ghosts and throughout the film he is harassed constantly by this love-rat male who tries to relay his thoughts and fears for his ex wife. Not a new concept, I know; it was like Ghost, that cheesy flick starring Patrick Swayze, on crack. The script, vastly short on substance, was predictable and for all the talent Gervais has, he is becoming too two-dimensional. Do something new Ricky.
Because of her work rota, Lysey has been working the majority of recent Sundays, so therefore my hands were tied when it came to doing something during the night. The Mardi Gras opening ceremony began on the 14th, but the appeal of taking her to the world's largest gay and lesbian celebration was not withstanding. (Not because I am a homophobe - I am anything but. We are both going to the carnival parade in March, but the idea of celebrating Valentine's Day at a gay fest doesn't sound right). Therefore, I ventured into town to go to a few pubs and onto a club with a mate of mine from my hostel days.
Our final destination for the night was going to be the Chinese Laundry, where current superstar DJ Deadmau5 was playing. However, come 10pm - early for Sydney, the queue to the club was already stretching around the corner. Post haste, we joined it, but after 45 minutes' of waiting, coupled with the fact that it was monsooning upon us, we had had enough. I was literally drenched from head-to-toe, but I wasn't in the mood to head home so we all went to another of the city's clubs - Tank. Besides, Deadmau5 was due to play an encore set the following Friday (20/2), simply because of demand. However, I wasn't to go because the organisers sold out; they firstly put the ticket prices up from $25 to $40 and then they moved venues - from a decent club in the middle of the city to a stadium on the outskirts where transport links are virtually non-existent.
Anyway, I have heard many a decent report about Tank, but for one reason or another I have never actually ventured inside. I was immediately impressed with the open planned set up and the relaxed attitude of the bouncers (people were wearing wellington boots because of the rain; you wouldn't be allowed in many venues donning such a commodity). Despite resembling a drowned rat for the duration of the evening, I still managed to have a good time.
Moving on, the nation is still grieving over the bushfires that have raged through Victoria. The public support has been amazing - over $100ml has been raised in donations. The death toll has past 200 now and over 1000 homes have been destroyed or affected. Money cannot fix everything, but that sum sums up the nation's response to the disaster. Indeed, during a recent one-day cricket match between Australia and New Zealand, over $5.5ml was raised on the day. Corporate donations were coming thick and fast during the action, but the Australian players were doing the rounds of the Adelaide Oval during the day's play. By walking around with the buckets they raised over $25,000 alone.
The worldwide attention the disaster has received even amazes me. I heard that the 'fires were front-page news in the New York Times, displacing Obama's stimulus plan. Moreover, I gather having spoken to a few folks back home, the British press has been dominated by the events. This may not sound significant, but from my journalism studies and having a keen eye for all world news and current affairs, Australian news virtually fails to get a mention anywhere outside the Pacific region. For example, and I realise I am back dating here but this story is worthy to dominate the news coverage in all four corners of the world, in 1967 the Australian Prime Minister, Harold Holt, disappeared while swimming off the coast of Melbourne. A frantic search, as you would imagine, began, but two days later the police announced: "The search has come to a dead halt". His body has never been found. Bill Bryson, in his excellent book Down Under, comments on the news flow emanating from Australia, and he mentions that the west were virtually unaware that this had occurred. Furthermore, from his individual studies, he found this not to be a rarity. These findings appear in the beginning of the aforementioned book, so if you’re ever browsing in Waterstones read the first chapter. I cannot recommend it enough. (Moreover, there were rumours that Harold Holt was the first Australian Prime Minister to travel to the Antarctic, but these were never verified!)
On a more personal note, I have been granted my working holiday visa for New Zealand. Valid until February 2010, I have to enter the country before that deadline and once inside I am entitled to stay, work and travel for 12 months. As it stands, we're still unsure of our departure date; Lysey has heard nothing about potential jobs over the ditch (that's how Australians affectionately describe the Tasman Sea) plus she has her graduation ceremony in May this year, despite completing her course last year. I can now begin the process of job-hunting, but I tend to find this sort of thing more rewarding when actually being there (wherever 'there' is. We could still end up in Auckland, Wellington or Christchurch, thus rendering my job search pointless). Moreover, my aim is to arrive in NZ with a decent amount of money so I am not panicked if I am unable to find work immediately. However, my plans of arriving with a decent sum of cash depend on how long we are hanging around in Australia for; because of my visa I have to leave my current job at the end of March, and then my mate from my winery days, Jason, and I are planning a road trip. Sydney to Perth, some 4500 km's has been muted, but it's only at a planning stage.
Considering I hold intentions of raising a decent sum of money before I leave, I have subjected myself to the pitfalls of Australian TV. The nation's television schedule does reflect the consummate outdoors' lives of the average Australian; during the summer the airwaves are filled with repeats, but as autumn sets in new series of an array of different shows arrive. (There is a popular joke in Australia that goes as follows: during the Melbourne Open tennis championship, most games/sets were interrupted with television commercials advertising the new shows that were soon to appear. These adverts would conclude with the line ".... coming to the station after the tennis". Hilarious) Now that the tennis has concluded we're inundated with crap television, ala the Farmer Wants a Wife. Recently, I was thinking about the scheduling over here and the television directors remit to virtually give money to any production. I would like to make my own show(s), and I reckon they would be popular. Firstly, I'd suggest a new reality TV program called Osama Wants a Wife. Self-explanatory this one: I get bin Laden to appear on TV and he has to choose a wife(s) from anyone willing to be his other half. I would pay to watch that. Secondly, and this runs along a similar style, I would propose: A Backpacker Wants a Wife for Immigration Purposes. Again, a little self-explanatory, but I would watch it.
Like I said, bar a few exceptions, Australian TV isn't all that. Instead, I am keeping with my tradition of watching Tottenham play, usually at some ungodly hour in the morning, and usually on a non-English Internet stream. I recently woke at 5.30am to watch us play Shaktar Donnestk in a European match via some Turkish outlet. The game was awful and the commentary mind numbing. Couple that with the fact we lost and it didn't make a great start to my day.
Hopefully, I will have something to distract me from developing square eyes as the girls' football season should recommence soon. I haven't had word on anything, but as we're now staying until May I would be available to take up the mantle of coaching Marouba United under 12s once more. (That's if they haven't already found a permanent replacement for me). Moreover, I suppose we'll have a leaving party to arrange soon. I commented to Lysey that if there was to be a banner at the party signaling our goodbyes it would read as follows: “Goodbye Lysey”, and in the corner of the poster, inverted in tiny little brackets it would say: “plus him”. Of course, all of her friends are nearby, but mine are of the travelling-and-not-remaining-in-one-place variety, so it could be a one-sided affair.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Monday, February 9, 2009
As of the 7/2 (Saturday) I have been on the road for two years. Lysey regularly points out that 'I am no longer on the road' as I am settled, but still, I have been away from home for 731 days now. How much more 'on the road' can I get?
On the subject of all things home, I must say, for the first time in a long time, I have been envious of the weather back in Blighty. The aforementioned day of my anniversary happened to be the day when NSW was officially deemed the hottest place on the planet. (Take that plains of Africa and deserts of the Middle East). Baking in 47degrees heat is ridiculous, and unlike England who has witnessed a couple of snowflakes, we don't get time off work.
I have not stopped banging on about the snow back home. I have been keeping abreast of the weather, especially in Somerset, for the past week and I read that my old secondary school - Heathfield - closed because of the severity. Why did that never happen when I was there? Moreover, on the Beeb's Somerset news section, there are a number of webcams allowing viewers to watch the world go by from a variety Somerset townships. I know, it's a little intrusive, but for all the saddos out there (yes, I fall into this category) it offers a great way to pass the time whilst at work. (I remember, in a previous job for which I will not mention, I along with a colleague, watched the on-goings from the main street in Burnham-on-sea for over an hour. It was shocking, and the job wasn't much better).
Anyway, during my working week in the blistering heat, I logged on to the Richard Huish College webcam available on the aforementioned website. Lo and behold, the roofs were covered in snow, but because of the angle of the camera and the darkness, not a lot else was going on. (Not much happens on the bike-shed roof, especially at 2.36am, which was 1.36pm my end) I stopped watching after twenty minutes and returned to my work.
As you may have witnessed, Australia, and in particular the state of Victoria, is currently awash with bushfires. Tragically, over 170 people have died; having read their various tales it left me feeling numb – a feeling echoed by the entire nation. The worst of the fires, according to a few media outlets, was over 80km's long and it swarmed people's properties in minutes. With the gusting winds spreading the firing embers people also noted how it was literally raining fire. During my stay here of almost two years I have never known Australia suffer any disaster, but the national response has been overwhelming. I would draw comparisons to the response effort that occurred during the tsunami. Admittedly, it seems that only Australians have been affected, but the parallels between the response then and now can definitely be drawn. (Moreover, the worldwide attention it has received highlights this, plus America are sending experts in planning and reconstruction) Hopefully the forecasted rains will arrive soon.
On the subject of rain, the state of Queensland has been battered by cyclones and severe rain. Again, there have been loses of lives, and because of the raising waters crocodiles have been spotted in some towns. (A five-year-old boy, searching for his dog in a burst lake, was taken by a crocodile this weekend) It's amazing to think that on the south of the country they are fighting the worst bushfires in the nation's history, yet at the north-eastern side of the land they are battling a completely contrasting disaster. Admittedly, to fly from Melbourne (Victoria's capital) to Brisbane (Queensland's equivalent) would take roughly four-five hours; if one was to fly from London for such a similar amount of time they would end up in Egypt - a different continent. That offers a scale of how big Australia is. Being in NSW (where Sydney reigns as its capital) I am bang in the middle of the two; we've had a fair few bushfires within the state, but most of them have occurred in forests away from urban areas. The rain is due this week, and my incessant bleating aside of complaining about the climate, the whole of NSW and Victoria needs it badly. Queensland, on the other hand, needs no more.
K Rudd, or Kevin 747 as he's affectionately known to his detractors (simply because he's always abroad) has been, as you can assume, appearing in the news for a variety of reasons. Firstly, the PM showed a responsive approach to the bushfires by immediately enlisting the army's help, and providing $10ml in aid. (I suspect this figure will rise within time, especially as he public donations have so far exceeded $14ml) He has also been dealing with another on-going crisis - the economy. Earlier last week, in a bold attempt to stimulate the ailing economy, he introduced a $42bl stimulus plan with the intention of creating jobs and providing Australia with the opportunity to work itself out of the global downturn. He has also appealed to the average Joe Bloggs, too, by giving every tax-paying Australian (or student) a $950 cash bonus. The words 'every Australia' act as my downfall even though I have paid tax along with the rest of society. Opinions are divided amongst my social circle as to whether I will actually receive anything. I am not holding my breath, but I know Lysey will qualify for it. Politicians are divided on the issue too; the opposition are fearing that everyone will go and blow it on either plasma's or in the pokies, but I suppose you could argue that if they do just that they're stimulating the economy.
Politics aside, Lysey reached the grand old age of 24 last week (3/2 - a day after our first year anniversary. I'll never forget either dates that's for sure). One of her requests was that I cooked a meal, which I duly obliged in doing so. However, as I am no Gordon Ramsey in the kitchen I had to enlist the help of our housemate, who is a culinary genius. (However, I am better than her at telling people to **** off!) The meal, something involving pasta and prawns, tasted superb if I don't mind saying so myself. I cooked for four, and I think they were all in agreement with my biased assessment.
Another request of hers was to have an ice cream cake for dessert. Considering I have never heard of it before I wasn’t going to attempt to make one, so instead I bought one. The most appealing one on offer at the supermarket was a Freddo the Frog cake, but I don't think anyone minded. Besides, if I had have made one I only would have decorated it in frogs.
On the day she received a silver ring, a gold chain, a Trans-Siberian Lonely Planet plus some other stuff from yours truly. I have also ordered a few DVD's online, but because Australia is so behind the times, I wasn't allowed to get them sent directly to Sydney; one nameless DVD is yet to be released here, and as Amazon put it, 'this title isn't available in your region'. Therefore, I had to get them sent to my parent's house in England with the intention mother would forward them. However, because of the snow they were first delayed in arriving, and as I gather, mother has suffered because of the same conditions. Therefore, by the time Lysey receives them they probably will be 'available in our region'. (I am not having a dig at anyone - the snow cannot be helped. Mother, I really do appreciate you posting them on to us, you know I do.)
To also help celebrate, Saturday (7/2) the pair of us spent the day at Coogee Beach. The mercury has constantly been between 30-40 degrees during the summer, but this was the first time we have been to the beach. Nonetheless, the water was still freezing - and I mean freezing. We both struggled in the tepid temperature and an hour later I was getting annoyed the sand was sticking to me (which is definitely the reason why this was my first venture to the beach this summer) so we left. However, we had a good reason to do so - we were going out in Kings Cross with six of her friends to further celebrate.
Starting at a pizza restaurant, the eight of us all had a great time. We duly ended up in some back street joint in Sydney's red-light district (it's not as bad as it sounds, honestly) where we drunk the night away. Feeling slightly hung over the following day (8/2) we both went to the cinema, largely to escape the predicted 47 degree heat, and secondly to watch a film. Our choice of flick was the Changling; after leaving the cinema I commented to Lysey that the film was literally bleeding Oscars, such was the quality of the film and the acting. Set in America in the 1920s the film depicts the kidnapping of a boy and the corrupt attempts made by the police to help trace the lad. I could talk and talk about the storyline, but I don't want to say much more as I would reveal the plot to anyone who intends to see it. (However, because I watched it in 'our region' the Changling probably appeared in British cinemas in 2008).
On the subject of all things home, I must say, for the first time in a long time, I have been envious of the weather back in Blighty. The aforementioned day of my anniversary happened to be the day when NSW was officially deemed the hottest place on the planet. (Take that plains of Africa and deserts of the Middle East). Baking in 47degrees heat is ridiculous, and unlike England who has witnessed a couple of snowflakes, we don't get time off work.
I have not stopped banging on about the snow back home. I have been keeping abreast of the weather, especially in Somerset, for the past week and I read that my old secondary school - Heathfield - closed because of the severity. Why did that never happen when I was there? Moreover, on the Beeb's Somerset news section, there are a number of webcams allowing viewers to watch the world go by from a variety Somerset townships. I know, it's a little intrusive, but for all the saddos out there (yes, I fall into this category) it offers a great way to pass the time whilst at work. (I remember, in a previous job for which I will not mention, I along with a colleague, watched the on-goings from the main street in Burnham-on-sea for over an hour. It was shocking, and the job wasn't much better).
Anyway, during my working week in the blistering heat, I logged on to the Richard Huish College webcam available on the aforementioned website. Lo and behold, the roofs were covered in snow, but because of the angle of the camera and the darkness, not a lot else was going on. (Not much happens on the bike-shed roof, especially at 2.36am, which was 1.36pm my end) I stopped watching after twenty minutes and returned to my work.
As you may have witnessed, Australia, and in particular the state of Victoria, is currently awash with bushfires. Tragically, over 170 people have died; having read their various tales it left me feeling numb – a feeling echoed by the entire nation. The worst of the fires, according to a few media outlets, was over 80km's long and it swarmed people's properties in minutes. With the gusting winds spreading the firing embers people also noted how it was literally raining fire. During my stay here of almost two years I have never known Australia suffer any disaster, but the national response has been overwhelming. I would draw comparisons to the response effort that occurred during the tsunami. Admittedly, it seems that only Australians have been affected, but the parallels between the response then and now can definitely be drawn. (Moreover, the worldwide attention it has received highlights this, plus America are sending experts in planning and reconstruction) Hopefully the forecasted rains will arrive soon.
On the subject of rain, the state of Queensland has been battered by cyclones and severe rain. Again, there have been loses of lives, and because of the raising waters crocodiles have been spotted in some towns. (A five-year-old boy, searching for his dog in a burst lake, was taken by a crocodile this weekend) It's amazing to think that on the south of the country they are fighting the worst bushfires in the nation's history, yet at the north-eastern side of the land they are battling a completely contrasting disaster. Admittedly, to fly from Melbourne (Victoria's capital) to Brisbane (Queensland's equivalent) would take roughly four-five hours; if one was to fly from London for such a similar amount of time they would end up in Egypt - a different continent. That offers a scale of how big Australia is. Being in NSW (where Sydney reigns as its capital) I am bang in the middle of the two; we've had a fair few bushfires within the state, but most of them have occurred in forests away from urban areas. The rain is due this week, and my incessant bleating aside of complaining about the climate, the whole of NSW and Victoria needs it badly. Queensland, on the other hand, needs no more.
K Rudd, or Kevin 747 as he's affectionately known to his detractors (simply because he's always abroad) has been, as you can assume, appearing in the news for a variety of reasons. Firstly, the PM showed a responsive approach to the bushfires by immediately enlisting the army's help, and providing $10ml in aid. (I suspect this figure will rise within time, especially as he public donations have so far exceeded $14ml) He has also been dealing with another on-going crisis - the economy. Earlier last week, in a bold attempt to stimulate the ailing economy, he introduced a $42bl stimulus plan with the intention of creating jobs and providing Australia with the opportunity to work itself out of the global downturn. He has also appealed to the average Joe Bloggs, too, by giving every tax-paying Australian (or student) a $950 cash bonus. The words 'every Australia' act as my downfall even though I have paid tax along with the rest of society. Opinions are divided amongst my social circle as to whether I will actually receive anything. I am not holding my breath, but I know Lysey will qualify for it. Politicians are divided on the issue too; the opposition are fearing that everyone will go and blow it on either plasma's or in the pokies, but I suppose you could argue that if they do just that they're stimulating the economy.
Politics aside, Lysey reached the grand old age of 24 last week (3/2 - a day after our first year anniversary. I'll never forget either dates that's for sure). One of her requests was that I cooked a meal, which I duly obliged in doing so. However, as I am no Gordon Ramsey in the kitchen I had to enlist the help of our housemate, who is a culinary genius. (However, I am better than her at telling people to **** off!) The meal, something involving pasta and prawns, tasted superb if I don't mind saying so myself. I cooked for four, and I think they were all in agreement with my biased assessment.
Another request of hers was to have an ice cream cake for dessert. Considering I have never heard of it before I wasn’t going to attempt to make one, so instead I bought one. The most appealing one on offer at the supermarket was a Freddo the Frog cake, but I don't think anyone minded. Besides, if I had have made one I only would have decorated it in frogs.
On the day she received a silver ring, a gold chain, a Trans-Siberian Lonely Planet plus some other stuff from yours truly. I have also ordered a few DVD's online, but because Australia is so behind the times, I wasn't allowed to get them sent directly to Sydney; one nameless DVD is yet to be released here, and as Amazon put it, 'this title isn't available in your region'. Therefore, I had to get them sent to my parent's house in England with the intention mother would forward them. However, because of the snow they were first delayed in arriving, and as I gather, mother has suffered because of the same conditions. Therefore, by the time Lysey receives them they probably will be 'available in our region'. (I am not having a dig at anyone - the snow cannot be helped. Mother, I really do appreciate you posting them on to us, you know I do.)
To also help celebrate, Saturday (7/2) the pair of us spent the day at Coogee Beach. The mercury has constantly been between 30-40 degrees during the summer, but this was the first time we have been to the beach. Nonetheless, the water was still freezing - and I mean freezing. We both struggled in the tepid temperature and an hour later I was getting annoyed the sand was sticking to me (which is definitely the reason why this was my first venture to the beach this summer) so we left. However, we had a good reason to do so - we were going out in Kings Cross with six of her friends to further celebrate.
Starting at a pizza restaurant, the eight of us all had a great time. We duly ended up in some back street joint in Sydney's red-light district (it's not as bad as it sounds, honestly) where we drunk the night away. Feeling slightly hung over the following day (8/2) we both went to the cinema, largely to escape the predicted 47 degree heat, and secondly to watch a film. Our choice of flick was the Changling; after leaving the cinema I commented to Lysey that the film was literally bleeding Oscars, such was the quality of the film and the acting. Set in America in the 1920s the film depicts the kidnapping of a boy and the corrupt attempts made by the police to help trace the lad. I could talk and talk about the storyline, but I don't want to say much more as I would reveal the plot to anyone who intends to see it. (However, because I watched it in 'our region' the Changling probably appeared in British cinemas in 2008).
Monday, February 2, 2009
A little while back I put myself through two hours of so called acting when I watched Point Break, the film based on a group of President, mask-wearing bandits who rob banks, and the emotional conflict endured by one member of the gang who is in fact a policeman attempting to infiltrate their efforts. Before the credits were rolling it had made my list of 'worst film ever', which, at the time, solely compromised of Arnold Schwarzenegger’s Last Action Hero.
However, I recall, as a child (an impressionable one at that) watching Keanu and Swayze in the same film and thinking it was fantastic. So what's changed? Keanu has always been a bad actor, and the film hasn't deteriorated over time (it was as awful then as it is now), so that leads me to believe that I have changed. Here is where my incessant rambling comes to ahead, as last weekend, to highlight my change, I experienced something new - something as a child I could never envisage doing: I went to the Sydney Symphony Orchestra.
I have always told myself that, later in life, I'd like to attend the Last Night of the Proms. I annually tune into the Beeb's coverage, just to see and hear the patriotism oozing around the Royal Albert hall. Moreover, I actually enjoy the music, and last Saturday (24th) I couldn't let pass the symphony orchestra's appearance at the Domain, a massive stretch of green grass situated near the Opera House and Harbour Bridge. I am not going to lie, I am not at the stage yet of being able to dissect the two hour show, but I know what I like and we both enjoyed what we heard. To help us through the night we took a picnic and some plonk, and come the end we joined the thousands of others who gave a standing ovation as one of Tchicosky’s numbers’ was playing. (See what I mean about not being at the dissecting stage?)
My newly found sense of culture was shortly undone, however. For the past two Saturday nights I have stumbled out of the pub past 4am, what with either the football to keep me occupied or many of Sydney's pubs. The first Saturday (24th) I caught up with a few mates and we duly managed to get wasted. (One of my mates - who shall remain nameless - was already wasted as he had been on the biscuits. All of this occurred immediately after the opera so you can see why my culture intake had been erased).
The second of these two debauched Saturdays (31st) followed a meal I had with Lysey and her parents (it would be a bit weird of it was just me and them) as we celebrated her birthday. Even though it's not until the 3/2 - one day after our first year anniversary - we took advantage of the weekend. To celebrate we went to a Brazilian all-you-can-eat BBQ. I know very little about Brazilian culinary, but I certainly didn't leave that place feeling hungry (or sober). Round two of the night proceeded to take place in a nearby watering hole and the drinking continued at a fast pace, especially between her dad and myself. Come the end of the night he was a mess.
During the night, we were talking away and we got onto the subject about my non-existent ability to drive. On my first visit to the family home in Goulburn her dad, who is mad on cars, took me out for a spin in his Subaru. The streets of Goulburn, for those five minutes or so, were transformed from a leafy residential area to Silverstone. Prior to putting my seatbelt on he was telling me that he added a 'HFJ 56 to the carburetor' or a FGNF32 to the exhaust - basically stuff I know nothing about, but I assumed he wasn’t aware of this. (I am aware that none of the above actually exists. In fact, I don’t know that for sure, so if they do it’s nothing more than a sheer coincidence). Because I was attempting to please him I nodded and added to the conversation as best I could. However, on the Saturday night, and after he had a few beers he told me he knew I had no clue about cars. Clearly, my attempts to keep the conversation going were awful.
Nonetheless, it was a really good night, but I wasn’t ready for bed. Having walked Lysey home I went back into town to catch up with a mate of mine, who has had a desire to go to a proper nightclub in Sydney. Of course, he came to the right man, as I took him to a place that has been voted in the top 100 ‘clubs of the world (I think Dellers polled at 98 in that list, two spots behind Shout) – the Chinese Laundry. The place, a former laundry would you have guessed it, regularly hosts’ international acts and DJs and that weekend (31/1) was no exception: Paul Woolford, a bloody British legend, was headlining and all in attendance (that would be a lot of us) lapped it up.
I haven’t been in many laundries in my life, but the main room is known as the Cave, simply because of its appearance. The low ceilings and underground aura add something extra to a nightclub in my opinion, and I reckon not many laundries would be similar in appearance.
Besides, I was more than happy to go underground because on the surface it’s too hot here in Australia. I gather there has been some news coverage shown back home of the severe heats currently being experienced in Australia. We also take a fair share of news about the snow in Britain, and believe me, I would swap places with you tomorrow. I am over waking up sweating, or walking to work at 630am in blazing sunshine. Like I say to people here, if one is cold you can put a jumper on, but if that very person is hot there isn’t a lot one can do. To give you an indication of how hot it is, my hair product – Dax Wax, a tough putty – literally turned into liquid last weekend (24th) even though it is stored in the bathroom cupboard. This image, I am sure you’ll agree, is much more fitting than any bush fire the media reports.
Moving on, project New Zealand is most definitely a goer, but there is still many a hurdle to clear. To be honest, it's starting to stress me out. To start with, I required a chest x-ray in order to complete my visa application as prior to coming to Australia I spent three months in Asia. As I filled in my application I was tempted to lie about my travels, but if anyone from NZ immigration glanced at the various passport stamps inside I would have some explaining to do (and I'd probably be on the next plane home for lying to immigration). The only positive I can find in this rigmarole (I had to wait a week for the ray and a further week for my results, thus delaying my application further) is that I haven't got TB, the very thing they were searching for. As I collected my results on Wednesday (28th - directly after leaving the pub as I was watching the Tottenham Stoke game) I asked the lass behind the counter if I had passed, to which she said yes.
The actual x-ray itself set me back $84. I was nervous that morning, as I am with anything doctor related (I think I have a phobia. I don't like the way a stranger can dictate one's life with the simplest piece of information) so I was relieved that it only took two seconds to complete. All I had to do was take my top off, stand against a board and breathe in. In total I have paid $204 (about 90 quid) for my visa, which isn't too bad considering I paid over 100 quid for my Australian visa.
In hindsight, my application has proven to be the easiest part. Lysey, who let's face it, is only going to New Zealand because of me, is struggling to find work. Her current employer, IHG (a hotel brand) have invested time and money in her, so rightly they want to see a return on that. Therefore, she has been seeking a transfer from Sydney to any branch over the Tasman. However, because of the economic climate, jobs are sparse, and the only one available required her to fulfill an interview. That took over an hour and a half, and she is not guaranteed the job in the Auckland branch because there are strong internal candidates vying for the job of reservations manager. She should have been informed of an outcome last Thursday (29th), but they have been very slack; they failed to inform her that they are awaiting a final interviewee. Therefore, they are going to make a decision on Tuesday (3/2).
Understandably, it's clear to see the stress I am encountering. Furthermore, if Lysey does get the job she may be required to start on the 9/2. How can she prepare her life in such a short space of time? Moreover, I doubt I will have my visa through by then. On the flip side, if she doesn't get the job I don't know what she'll do over there. Her current contract ended at the start of February, but they have offered her a casual contract for a month. After that, if she doesn't get the job in NZ, who knows what will happen. Like I said, there are too many variables.
However, I recall, as a child (an impressionable one at that) watching Keanu and Swayze in the same film and thinking it was fantastic. So what's changed? Keanu has always been a bad actor, and the film hasn't deteriorated over time (it was as awful then as it is now), so that leads me to believe that I have changed. Here is where my incessant rambling comes to ahead, as last weekend, to highlight my change, I experienced something new - something as a child I could never envisage doing: I went to the Sydney Symphony Orchestra.
I have always told myself that, later in life, I'd like to attend the Last Night of the Proms. I annually tune into the Beeb's coverage, just to see and hear the patriotism oozing around the Royal Albert hall. Moreover, I actually enjoy the music, and last Saturday (24th) I couldn't let pass the symphony orchestra's appearance at the Domain, a massive stretch of green grass situated near the Opera House and Harbour Bridge. I am not going to lie, I am not at the stage yet of being able to dissect the two hour show, but I know what I like and we both enjoyed what we heard. To help us through the night we took a picnic and some plonk, and come the end we joined the thousands of others who gave a standing ovation as one of Tchicosky’s numbers’ was playing. (See what I mean about not being at the dissecting stage?)
My newly found sense of culture was shortly undone, however. For the past two Saturday nights I have stumbled out of the pub past 4am, what with either the football to keep me occupied or many of Sydney's pubs. The first Saturday (24th) I caught up with a few mates and we duly managed to get wasted. (One of my mates - who shall remain nameless - was already wasted as he had been on the biscuits. All of this occurred immediately after the opera so you can see why my culture intake had been erased).
The second of these two debauched Saturdays (31st) followed a meal I had with Lysey and her parents (it would be a bit weird of it was just me and them) as we celebrated her birthday. Even though it's not until the 3/2 - one day after our first year anniversary - we took advantage of the weekend. To celebrate we went to a Brazilian all-you-can-eat BBQ. I know very little about Brazilian culinary, but I certainly didn't leave that place feeling hungry (or sober). Round two of the night proceeded to take place in a nearby watering hole and the drinking continued at a fast pace, especially between her dad and myself. Come the end of the night he was a mess.
During the night, we were talking away and we got onto the subject about my non-existent ability to drive. On my first visit to the family home in Goulburn her dad, who is mad on cars, took me out for a spin in his Subaru. The streets of Goulburn, for those five minutes or so, were transformed from a leafy residential area to Silverstone. Prior to putting my seatbelt on he was telling me that he added a 'HFJ 56 to the carburetor' or a FGNF32 to the exhaust - basically stuff I know nothing about, but I assumed he wasn’t aware of this. (I am aware that none of the above actually exists. In fact, I don’t know that for sure, so if they do it’s nothing more than a sheer coincidence). Because I was attempting to please him I nodded and added to the conversation as best I could. However, on the Saturday night, and after he had a few beers he told me he knew I had no clue about cars. Clearly, my attempts to keep the conversation going were awful.
Nonetheless, it was a really good night, but I wasn’t ready for bed. Having walked Lysey home I went back into town to catch up with a mate of mine, who has had a desire to go to a proper nightclub in Sydney. Of course, he came to the right man, as I took him to a place that has been voted in the top 100 ‘clubs of the world (I think Dellers polled at 98 in that list, two spots behind Shout) – the Chinese Laundry. The place, a former laundry would you have guessed it, regularly hosts’ international acts and DJs and that weekend (31/1) was no exception: Paul Woolford, a bloody British legend, was headlining and all in attendance (that would be a lot of us) lapped it up.
I haven’t been in many laundries in my life, but the main room is known as the Cave, simply because of its appearance. The low ceilings and underground aura add something extra to a nightclub in my opinion, and I reckon not many laundries would be similar in appearance.
Besides, I was more than happy to go underground because on the surface it’s too hot here in Australia. I gather there has been some news coverage shown back home of the severe heats currently being experienced in Australia. We also take a fair share of news about the snow in Britain, and believe me, I would swap places with you tomorrow. I am over waking up sweating, or walking to work at 630am in blazing sunshine. Like I say to people here, if one is cold you can put a jumper on, but if that very person is hot there isn’t a lot one can do. To give you an indication of how hot it is, my hair product – Dax Wax, a tough putty – literally turned into liquid last weekend (24th) even though it is stored in the bathroom cupboard. This image, I am sure you’ll agree, is much more fitting than any bush fire the media reports.
Moving on, project New Zealand is most definitely a goer, but there is still many a hurdle to clear. To be honest, it's starting to stress me out. To start with, I required a chest x-ray in order to complete my visa application as prior to coming to Australia I spent three months in Asia. As I filled in my application I was tempted to lie about my travels, but if anyone from NZ immigration glanced at the various passport stamps inside I would have some explaining to do (and I'd probably be on the next plane home for lying to immigration). The only positive I can find in this rigmarole (I had to wait a week for the ray and a further week for my results, thus delaying my application further) is that I haven't got TB, the very thing they were searching for. As I collected my results on Wednesday (28th - directly after leaving the pub as I was watching the Tottenham Stoke game) I asked the lass behind the counter if I had passed, to which she said yes.
The actual x-ray itself set me back $84. I was nervous that morning, as I am with anything doctor related (I think I have a phobia. I don't like the way a stranger can dictate one's life with the simplest piece of information) so I was relieved that it only took two seconds to complete. All I had to do was take my top off, stand against a board and breathe in. In total I have paid $204 (about 90 quid) for my visa, which isn't too bad considering I paid over 100 quid for my Australian visa.
In hindsight, my application has proven to be the easiest part. Lysey, who let's face it, is only going to New Zealand because of me, is struggling to find work. Her current employer, IHG (a hotel brand) have invested time and money in her, so rightly they want to see a return on that. Therefore, she has been seeking a transfer from Sydney to any branch over the Tasman. However, because of the economic climate, jobs are sparse, and the only one available required her to fulfill an interview. That took over an hour and a half, and she is not guaranteed the job in the Auckland branch because there are strong internal candidates vying for the job of reservations manager. She should have been informed of an outcome last Thursday (29th), but they have been very slack; they failed to inform her that they are awaiting a final interviewee. Therefore, they are going to make a decision on Tuesday (3/2).
Understandably, it's clear to see the stress I am encountering. Furthermore, if Lysey does get the job she may be required to start on the 9/2. How can she prepare her life in such a short space of time? Moreover, I doubt I will have my visa through by then. On the flip side, if she doesn't get the job I don't know what she'll do over there. Her current contract ended at the start of February, but they have offered her a casual contract for a month. After that, if she doesn't get the job in NZ, who knows what will happen. Like I said, there are too many variables.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)