Shanghai

Is crazy. Imagine, a place with next to no road rules - who needs indicators when you can just turn? - and a dizzying and seemingly endless array of apartment blocks. I can't make head nor tail of it, as the people seem to be missing. There are plenty around, though not as many as you would expect. They are mostly on the road, riding bikes with no helmets and carrying oversized baggage on the back.

The locals are lovely and manage to be helpful even though I don't know a word of Chinese. I'm staying in Pudong for some reason; the financial capital. I dont usually take taxis unless drunk, but I have here. I've gotten lost already - I tried to remember my bearings but walked into a shopping mall and - understandably, so many bargains - walked out disorientated, and had to cab back. The sun and heat proved to be too much.

People stare at me wherever I go, probably thinking, "Who is that peculiar looking person with the yellow jandals?" And whoever said Europe is relaxed, they need to check Shanghai out. Although - thankfully - there's no public displays of nakedness, I've passed a couple of pot (actual pot) plants growing on the side of the road, and managed to haggle a ticket to Hong Kong down by 400 RNB. I didn't even know you could do that.

There's lots of salespeople, and I am their prey. Unfortunately I was born with an inability to say "no" and I'm charmed by their sweetness and persuasion. So is my rapidly dwindling wallet. But I found some great hair products. Deodorant and shavers are hard to find - so jealous of Chinese women - it seems they neither sweat or need to shave their legs. Right now there's a shopping festival going on, the theme for it is "Enjoy shopping, enjoy life" - I love the Chinese.

I haven't had a conversation with anyone for over 24 hours, an event that I don't believe has happened since I learned how to talk. I'm loving the amount of Green Tea everywhere and the best thing is - I can smoke wherever I want! And they cost next to nothing.

Food is a bit of a problem - given up completely on being vegetarian. Yesterday's lunch consisted of tofu and a plate of deep fried things. Could've been animal or vegetable - maybe even mineral.

There are locusts flying outside my hotel window. Forget Australian cockroaches - these things are freaky. And the cutest, skinniest kitten said hi to me in a fruit shop. I wanted to take it home and make it as fat as a Westerner.

When people talk about how fast China's economy is growing, they are so right. You can actually see it happening - unfinished skyscrapers are everywhere and I can constantly hear the wheels of new infrastructure being built. (Lots of banging and machinery) I sometimes wonder what the world would be like having China replace the U.S. as the world's economic superpower.

All in all I having a good time - by myself - but am looking forward to a country that speaks my language. The amount of time I spent on this post (20 mins) is an attribute to that. Who blogs when they're having fun? And previous generations of freckly English people have left me unequiped to deal with this weather - it is intense.

Hong Kong tomorrow, and if I can get my phone to work I'll be meeting up with one of my favourite bloggers - should be a blast.

xx L

The pursuit of happiness

Ah the fun times we have had in Sydney. This should be the bit when I tell you all that I'm actually a man (above). Joking.

Lè passport has arrived. Joy and relief.

Good news for Labour in New Zealand. I too shall be walking with a spring in my step. Bonne chance! (Whatever that means)

Never thinking about tommorow.

I've been asked to write a post but today is Sunday which meant two days ago; the weekend started and tomorrow is Monday. One word to describe today: bleak.

But not as bleak as the weather back home. Rumor has it that Auckland hasn't had a dry weekend since May. Someone tell me this is not so. Looks like the rest of the week is not looking that fine either.

Okay this is just all small talk. I miss home.


p.s: Infatuated with Cactus Kate at the moment. God I love her!

Nice suit... Do you want to come home with me?

Stressful days. Passport being unreachable due to a large bureaucratic, government organisation. However, this still didn't deter me from having a good weekend. Probably one of the best Saturday nights in a long time. And I'm not beating myself up about sending my passport through the post. (Never, ever, do this in a foreign country) I've been miss sensible two shoes in this country (ish) and have stuffed up, but am reminded that I'm only human. And what is the point in staying home all weekend, staring at the letterbox waiting for - literally - my passport out of here.

Ever the optimist...

I ticked all the boxes last night.

Crazy we-think-we're-gorgeous dancing? Yes. (And yes we are!)
Told by a stranger that he loves me? Yes.
Waking up in an unfamiliar house in Glebe? (No, didn't go home with that stranger) Tick.
Walking past cheery early rises on their morning walk? Yes. Moooooortifying.
Great, great DJs... Yes.
Bleakest hangover ever? YESS.

So bleak. Sundays really are the worst when you're not at home. You know those Telecom ads where people get in touch with one another? It's so like that in real life. And when a friend calls, you run out of things to say, because you live such a separate life now. I thought travelling was good for the soul, not emotionally wrenching. Sour with the sweet.

I think I'm in love with Acdc. It's a long way to the top if you want to rock and roll.

I miss miss miss home. More than ever, because I'm supposed to be there now. I hope home misses me too.

P.S. Great quote from Cactus Kate: "Fuck being boring when you can afford not to be." Might mean a different thing to me but I dig it.

Monday is List Day

Before you escape across the ditch there are a few things in the disclaimer that you need to be aware of. Some people say that Sydney is better than Auckland but it really is a matter of personal preferences. The following is a list of things that I will not miss about Australia.

Recruitment consultants

They are, essentially, people with little qualifications and too much power. They will be full of exaggerated promises of high pay, assurances that they want the best job for you; not just to fill a position. In Sydney most recruitment companies automatically get about forty percent of your pay - all for a very un-in depth hour interview and the fact that they process your salary and tax. Do not piss them off. Always remember that there is so much they don't tell you. The consultant I found is actually really good, in the fact that she has so many clients (at least 5 due to my referrals) and can find a job for you within hours. At one stage our whole flat was using this consultant. This was useful when the house 'flooded' and only one person had to call in sick. This was not so good when we had a particularly hard Tuesday night, resulting in not everyone telling her they wouldn't be in, leaving me to cop the explanations. And I have never been a good liar.

Roads

There is something about the roads here. Crossings are few and far between and gaps between traffic are rare. It has taken me a full ten minutes of waiting just to cross the road to my flat. And you can't stand between lanes. The cars whizz by so fast that you undo all the good blood pressure from eating extra virgin olive oil for several years.

Oxford Street

I have a love/hate relationship with Oxford Street. It is like tequila: fun but messy. I have been dragged there many times because of my propensity to attract good looking homosexual guys as friends. In some ways, Oxford Street is more misogynistic than going out to straight bars. Females are far more likely to get rejected for being 'drunk' and they certainly don't get served first at the bar. And I am not used to either.

Sheer magnanimity

This country is effing HUGE. I look out my window at work and see a stretch of land that never ends. It is less green than New Zealand and uncomfortably unfamiliar. This makes workloads bigger too, especially when dealing with statistics. It's just so much bigger here.

More places to see, more places to go

Ths can be good and bad. Every weekend there is a new bar to go to, a new landmark and a new activity. It gets better with time, but when you first arrive it's like being the new kid at school and not having a map to the playground.

Weirdos

As a matter of fact, Australia has recently closed a few of it's mental hospitals. As a result of this there a more people with mental illnesses in jail, or integrated into society. You can actually tell the difference when observing your experiences of people. But I could just be massively quick to judge so I'm not sure about this one. Andrew Fraser, famous convicted criminal lawyer, agrees with this and writes of his experiences in jail. Good read.

Watch your bag

Remember those stories you were told in school of the first Australian settlers? They were convicts. My phone has been stolen three times in six months (And let's not mention friends who have had things stolen) which makes me drawn to believe that this is a land of thieves. Don't forget what happened to Russell Crowe and Pavlova.

Note: The last two accounts are too presumptuous to be fully serious.

Sheep jokes

How many Kiwis does it take to change a lightbulb?

None, they were too busy

..... doing something else.

Conversations where everyone ends their sentences with a question?

But for some reason, when an Australian guy says the word 'here' or 'engineer' I just go weak at the knees. It is so hot.

Banks

Setting up a bank account is reserved only for people who have an address, and to enforce this your card is sent out in the mail. Several days later your pin number is sent out. Gee, why not write the pin number on the card. Banks also open at 9.30 am, only on weekdays. Frustration.

Being chucked in the deep end at work

To save money on paying staff to train staff, they test drive temps with vindictive pleasure until they find the right one. Thank God I am popular with my colleagues.

Cost of living in Sydney

-Exponential.

Anti-Terrorism Propaganda

Posters everywhere urging you to report suspicious activity. Cops with guns. Hi-tech security outside shopping malls. Puts me on edge. I went to this expo for work once and the rules were so strict - we all had to wear these funny vests. Not pleased. Boss not pleased either.

Lack of friendly faces

This is a dangerous city. Without sounding like my Mum, you really can't walk home alone at night. People are more apprehensive about talking to strangers and this is probably a good thing. I like to chat to people though and I haven't been able to do much of it here, without suspecting that they are just strange men hitting on me.

I miss home. Only three more days till home...

Blonde Moments

FYE - For your entertainment.

Like the fairy tale character, Little Red Riding Hood can display shocking moments of blondeness. I've never got as far as inside the wolf's stomach though and I think this is where we differ.

1. I was on a plane to London for the first time, having a conversation about the difference between Britain and England. Mistakenly I let out the fact that I thought the UK and Britain were the same thing.

2. Starting a new job in Sydney, the person 'training' (I use that word in it's loosest term) me kept going on about some acronym, EA. (Executive Assistant) I was going to ask her what an EA was, but some higher sense kept my mouth shut. I was an EA. I hate acronyms.

3. I still don't really know the difference between the words 'bringing' and 'taking' used in a sentence. And I don't care.

4. No matter how many times I drive through it, I always get lost when driving back to the city from South Auckland.

5. Walking into a glass revolving door on Friday night, in front of a male I was trying to impress.

6. In Parliament, never ask official-looking people if they work for Parliamentary Services. How am I supposed to recognise all 120 MPs..?

7. Walking into the CEO's office at work thinking that it's my bosses' office as they are right next door to each other and look identical.

In younger days...

8. Thinking that a ferry was a fairy; understandably I was very excited about my first trip on one.

9. Getting everyone in my class to sign a 'politician' (petition) against the teacher for keeping everyone in during morning tea every day.

10. Feeding little sister parsley (her first solid food) at six weeks old because I was told it was good for you.

We're back

Red Confectionery is a-changing. An election is looming in Kiwiland and we can't be complacent. We have to "raise standards," and "bring up the tone." And post more.

In my attempted revamp I accidentally got rid of well, everything, making this site look a bit lacking.

So, three things:

1. Little Red Riding Hood is not one but several people (which could be metaphorical or physical, you decide).
2. I have a great template in mind, Andrew Falloon where are you? Please leave comment with your email. We will return the favour in a non-sexual way.
3. I've forgotten what the third thing is. Monday morning. Too difficult. Jealous that New Zealand is two hours in front of Sydney, and therefore have two hours less left of their Monday. Now I remember what I was going to say: Booty Luv "Some kinda rush" is still in my head. From Friday night. Ugh.

Not so frivolous objections

As National’s true agenda comes out one can’t help but feel a little disdain for their so-called commitments to carbon trading and renewable energy investment. Surprise, no, disdain, yes. Not when they are pledging to spend $25 million on oil and gas exploration over the next three years. Oh, and overturn the ban on building new gas power stations. In this day and age? Oil is running out. Overwhelming scientific consensus says that the earth is heating up from anthropogenic carbon emissions. To say that National’s inability to think long-term is worrying is an understatement. I think I may actually get ulcers in my stomach from this…

No wonder Nandor quit politics; it’s hard enough to get Labour to take positive moves for the environment, and ultimately, for the rest of us. Thinking of extending my OE until Labour gets elected again.

Anyway, cynical greenie rant over. That includes the last one on the public sector as well– I’m withholding judgment on the issue, need more experience.

Does anyone else think this Chris Barton holds a certain hotness?

Public sector stories

Occasionally my very powerful bosses have meetings with the all-powerful and ever-elusive MPs that apparently run the show.

I was rather taken aback when I saw *the* state Minister for Health. The Hon Reba Meagher is an attractive 41 year old female - much below the age of most of the executives in the Public Health Sector. This is great - she is young, female and holds a very senior position in government. Rare.

What I don't get is why I find this disconcerting. I look up the Hon Nicola Roxon, Federal Health Minister, and find that she is the same age and level of attractiveness (depending on whether you prefer blondes or brunettes).

Yeah, like I said, I don’t know exactly why I find it disconcerting. Could it be because neither MP has a medical background? Or the fact that they’re obviously career politicians? Am I prejudiced against young females. (no)

In this web that is the public health system, I’m trying to figure out who really runs the show. Politicians, public servants, or doctors, nurses, ambos and the like.

Sure, so politicians get to decide how much money goes where. But public servants have a lot more discretion in how it is spent, who gets hired, and the precise nature of how things are run. Medical practitioners get the benefit of (supposedly) being listened to because of their frontline knowledge, plus the fulfilment that comes with administering care to patients and making them healthier people… blah blah. At the end of the day the Minister of Health has the power to sack the Director-General, but it can’t be done without grounds.

So why go into politics, apart from the obvious ego boost? In the public sector you can get paid just as much as the base salary for an MP (and more), you can fuel your interest in politics, you don’t have to stick photos of your gob up around the city every few years, you wouldn’t have to deal with endless phone calls from whinging, bigoted, misinformed constituents, and the newspapers wouldn’t care if you had a few drinks at the fashionable Ivy now and then. You wouldn’t be criticised for having no children (a personal decision which I find profoundly rude to comment on), you wouldn’t be accused of being a lesbian if you were a powerful woman. You could still make a difference in the job that you do, without the stress of the intense schedule of a profession that is severely underpaid for the hours that it demands.

The quality of work performed in a minister’s portfolio has almost nothing to do with how the minister performs; but how well their respective departments/ministries are run. Fact. There just isn’t much that they can do, and even if they did manage to revamp what is essentially a giant, giant company, their hard work wouldn’t be seen by the public. When an MP seeks leave to table something in Parliament during question time it is up to the meek civil servants to run around like headless chickens to find the figures. I have been in the midst of this and it makes for a fun afternoon.

With the media factoring heavily on how governments communicate these days, too much has come to depend on how things appear, rather than how they actually are.

I think what I am trying to say with this post is that I find it hard to take these two ministers seriously when I have worked for their portfolio and seen the bigger machine that is at work. And it is rather eye-opening.

More inadvertent quotes from National

Nitwit Nick Smith from National was quoted two years ago as saying that New Zealand should pull out of Kyoto.

I wonder if he would say the same now that Global Warming is a fashionable bandwagon. (So much that it almost puts me off)

A hidden agenda? An indication of what National would really do (because come on, we really want to know) if elected to lead the Government?

I think YES.

Lessons learned in the workplace

As many people know, on Wednesday nights I often revert to a de-stressing, more commonly known as mid-week tipples. I was a bit upset last night. Offended. We headed off to our local at around 9pm and proceeded to buy a drink. The barman (not the usual friendly has-a-crush-on-me one, I noted) would not serve us. It seems last week’s salt and pepper shaker stealing was not taken well. Note that it wasn’t me who did this, but a flatmate who moved to France on Tuesday.

Shock and shame reverberated through my system. People my age, sorry, my maturity level do not not get served in pubs. So, we went home and without further ado proceeded to drink the chardonnay in the fridge. Depression from being denied entry. After about 3 hours of talking crap I traipsed up to bed. Hence the reason why I’m tired, irritable and in possession of negative attention span.

Combined with the fact that I have the freedom of my own office (one thing they do not do to most people my age), this does not bode well at work.

Anyway, one of my tasks today (and I only did it because I love paramedics…uniforms….drool) was to locate hospitals with ED departments along a map route. Harder than it sounds. In a big organisation it can sometimes be damned near impossible to find the simplest things. And even harder to find competent people. At times I have groaned with frustration at the systems in place that make getting anything done very slow. And the bigger the department, the cloudier the water. I’m not talking about red tape, I’m talking about bad management at a local level, high staff turnover and lack of skills being passed on, inability to juggle the wider picture with small details, communication ineptness and all round INCOMPETENCE.

I'm not saying I work in a place like this but I have seen a bit here. And I can bag it because it's Australia, not New Zealand.

It is rampant everywhere. Some people are incompetent by choice, and some by nature. And some of them are actually smart enough to display much of the following:

1. They mask their incompetence by refusing to accept responsibility for any of their considerable mistakes – blaming them instead on temps, admin assistants, kiwis, and the young nice and vulnerable.
2. They carry themselves about with aplomb and a veneer of busy-ness and fluster, in order to delegate their more menial and mind-numbing tasks to you.
3. They are masters of subtle patronising, so that you always feel inadequate and incompetent around them. (And then leave their office feeling confused)
4. For some reason they have a close relationship with someone in charge, so that you have to endure your boss go on and on and on about how able this employee is. (You leave your bosses' office feeling even more baffled)
5. They are slow at responding to requests and they never seem to get anything done (especially if you're the one who asked for it).
6. In order to bitch their way up the work food-chain, they go mental when you make a tiny mistake. This once involved the ticking of a post-it (one that was a note to myself), when in fact it should have been half a tick. Long tedious story.
7. If someone is nasty to them like they deserve, they slowly start to slime the person off behind their back, and try to get you to do it too.
8. They are often late and take long, leisurely lunch breaks.

All this is done discreetly, though blindingly obvious if you observe for five minutes. Admittedly I only fully realised this with the benefit of hindsight.

These people are a pain in the friggin arse. I know that in the long run if I grit my teeth sometimes and take it up the ass from whoever pays my salary I'll be rewarded, as would anyone with a good bullshit threshold.

As for dealing with these characters, I think it's best to assert yourself early. Ignore the unsubstantiated side comments (be unaware: "sorry, did you just insult me/Sharon/Lorraine?") and just get the hell on with it. If you're so inclined, one day you'll be in charge (because complete idiots rarely become directors) and you can hire whoever the fuck you want.

Which could be a lot less with the right people. For these reasons I can understand why politicians like Phil Goff tend to do all their staff's work for them. The most able and noted directors I know rarely need a calendar; they prioritise and complete things without checklists and are bloody brilliant at it.

Fascinating thing, the workplace. Hell of a lot better than studying when in the right job.

Before you know it...

It is time. Time for a blog post. While I sit in my office typing up minutes, I think, why not type a post up instead. (Typing, any typing, gives the pretence of work) NB: I do work, very hard, but get through this stuff twice as fast as most people so am left with some to kill.

The end of my trip to Sydney is nigh. I suppose the obvious question would be – is the grass really greener on the other side? Not greener, just a different colour. If you like high wages, queues (this includes bizarrely inconvenient bureaucracy queues), bad employment laws (how can I say ‘bad’ when there isn’t many to begin with), an off-the-Richter scale night life and a horizon that seems to stretch onto infinity, then this is the place for you. But if you like beaches, good food and wine, very ‘localised’ political processes, nice people and a sense of belonging, then New Zealand is your place. But then it would be because you’re probably from there.

I can’t really describe the sense of disconnectedness I’ve felt because I’m used to it now. Six months is just long enough to get settled in – soon I will be disorientated again.

Our group of friends here are primarily British, and we have moved into a main street in central Sydney. The traffic outside my window has even stopped messing with my chi – in fact, I don’t think I could get to sleep without the constant sound of angry car engines. We have had parties, seen obscure places with strange names on the train line, and become close to our new friends in a scarily speedy process, probably knowing each other better than most of our friends back home do.

The flora and fauna are peculiar, some fantastic. There is a strange creature that wanders around – it may come from the same breed as “Male wearing board shorts and fluoro” but we’re not certain. This creature is good for dancing, snogging and poking fun of it’s accent. (Hint: sit in a train and tell them to read out all the Aboriginal place names – makes any long journey pass quickly) Bats are rampant, lizards hang around sunny patches of concrete (that’s right – I have kept away from the bush), and larger than average birds make war cries in the afternoon. Live and let live, I say.

TV shows are not even worth mentioning – except for that inexplicably addictive animal show by David Attenborough which we all seem to congregate together to watch. You’d think it would be awkward watching live mating seasons with your flatmates, but it’s not. Advertisements are punctured regularly with anti smoking ads, followed regularly by a trip to the front room for a smoke.

Another hint for Sydney tourists – ever wonder why Aussies never seem to swim at Bondi? There is a direct line of sewerage flow about 1km offshore – watch out.

It is a great life, one that I will be very sad to say goodbye to. I will never forget my time in Australia.

But on to more exciting things, I am seeing the Pope this weekend, and one month from now I will be in a train from Shanghai to Beijing, Volleyball Olympic tickets in hand. Then London and France, then settling down in Bath or Islington for another stint at working somewhere that isn’t quite home.

xx L

Tribute to Nandor

A sad day for New Zealand politics. Below is what I believe to be a very accurate and honest portrayal of life in Parliament.

I will always remember the times I have met Nandor. He has time for just about everyone, and remembers them all too.

His integrity and strong value system are rare for someone with his job, and rare for a person in general.

Among young people he has been the face of the Green Party, and has made politics real for us. Even, dare I say it, fashionable.

I doubt that he will disappear from the scene and hope to hear of his work in the future.

Peace brother!!

(plagiarised from the New Zealand Herald)

"Nandor Tanczos left Parliament yesterday, saying he was going away to cleanse his soul and wouldn't need to know the time any more.
So he took out a hammer and pounded his watch to pieces.
The Green Party MP came to Parliament with a bang in 1999, a dreadlocked Rastafarian who admitted smoking dope and campaigned for it to be legalised.
He said in his valedictory speech that being an MP had changed his life.
"I came to Parliament thinking you're all a bunch of bastards," he told his colleagues.
"And I was wrong. There are many good people here. The very notion that all politicians are dishonest is misconceived."
Mr Tanczos said he believed most MPs came to Parliament with honest intentions, but many were compromised by it.
"How many times have Green MPs spoken in this House and had other MPs sidle over and tell us quietly, 'We agree with you'?" he said.
"The danger is the system changes us as much as we change the system, if not more.
"And that's why I'm leaving. The problem isn't how many people enter this place with honest intentions, but how many leave with them intact."
Mr Tanczos revealed he had avoided question time whenever he could.
"It's a time when I'm most ashamed of being a member of Parliament," he said.
"You all know what I'm talking about."
That was a reference to the abusive shouting and bad behaviour that go on during question time.
"We should grow up," he said.
"This is our national legislature. We should treat it and the positions we hold with more respect."
Mr Tanczos said the media carried blame as well.
"The buzzards who sit watching us up there, waiting for the next political corpse to pick over ... They will always report a fight, but stand to talk about anything real and most of them flap their wings and fly away."
He said the first thing he did when he came to Parliament was buy a watch, and he had been "cuffed to the prison bars of time" ever since.
"So today I remove that shackle, because when I look at the state of our rivers, our atmosphere and our people I don't need a watch to tell me what time it is."
And with that he left the debating chamber, walking over the shattered remains of his time piece."

The 'flying' orange

Below are some pictures from our going away party. I was later informed that the orange actually ended up hitting a fellow blogger. Any guesses who it was?
Hmmm, what shall we do with the orange?

On a mission with the orange. Not at the westies.


Somewhere beyond the smoke, the orange fell on a target.
I thought this was hilarious for some reason.

The Best and the Worst....

Our time in Sydney is near its halfway way mark - the perfect time for reflection and prospective planning. Three months ago, with our rose colored glasses, unpreparedness, overzealous excitement, a stash of splendid farewell memories, and with the wise saying of the Great Explorer himself Christopher Columbus - "You can never cross the ocean unless you have the courage to lose sight of the shore.” We set sail and began our lives as temporary itinerants with Sydney being our first base.

Since then we've sprained ankles, laughed until we cried, gone on dates, shopped until we dropped, had confrontations with Irish girls, slept in bad hostels, hunted around for New Zealand wine and much more. So for reflective and work procrastination purposes, here is a list of our best and worst of Sydney.

The Worst (in no particular order):

1. The four flights of stairs in Boomerang Hostel - potential disaster zone when carrying heavy luggage.
2. Banking - opening hours and new account application processes; 5 working day waiting period for card and then on top of that another 3 working day period for pin to arrive and activated.
3. The Gaff - Sweaty, Drunken Sleaze
4. Bad taxi drivers - if you think Auckland is bad, come to Sydney. 1st incident - Denied taxi for hospital just because taxi driver couldn't be bothered detouring to hospital via his way back to the taxi base. 2nd incident- Taxi driver tries to attempt a kiss and grab. (Shudders)
5. Home base Backpackers - TRAVELLERS BEWARE! - I could write a whole blog about this horrible place. Only good thing is we have met some great people there.
6. Lack of public garbage cans
7. Ridiculous entry fees for most clubs that just play standard non spectacular club music. I don't mind paying entry fees if its worth it.
8. Aggressive Irish girls
9. Office Politics
10. Movie Cinemas - airport line type barriers and no info posts about movies showing.



The Best (in no particular order)

1. The Beaches - no doubt about that!
2. Eating in Chinatown
3. The colours, sounds and vibrations of the fruit and vegie section at Paddy's market
4. New friends
5. Having money to actually save
6. Shopping !!
7. The epiphany moment of realising that you're not living in New Zealand anymore
8. Particular nights out.
9. Transport System
10. Intellectual conversation with hot Americans

And you’ll find out tonight oh it’s a world of extreme

Blogging has been inspirationless. Fingers touch the keypad but all that comes out of alt tab flick backs between gmail, facebook and red confectionery is ........................complete..............fuck..............all.
One would think that two months of being abroad would have conjured something worthy to write. Lets face it, blogging must been inspirationless if the only blogpost in the past two months i've written is focussed on how blogging is extremely dull.

I miss home. Yes already. Though am not ready to come back. Not even for a short visit. I seriously don't know how kiwigirl does it. The thing i miss the most is having friends on call whenever for whatever reason.

K that is it for now. Salmonella Dub tommorow.
Im sure there will be more interesting blogs soon.

x

p.s: promise

Mildly Frightening Adventures

I am sitting at an internet cafe, a regular haunt, and am starting to become a bit paranoid.

They are right outside our front door, and I have been coming here everyday for a month.

At first we thought the guys that work here were funny. They sit behind their desk, so low so only their eyes peer above the counter. It is peculiar.

While we're paying they don't actually speak - they grunt and nod, and sometimes they're not even there at all...

A funny place.

I just went up to the counter and discovered to my horror that the owner was writing up a spam email. You know, the ones that start off with:

"Dear SIR

I have great business opportunity for you please consider investing in zebra banking we offer interest free loan just pay fee of $50 into our bank account at zebra bank

...That kind of crap.

And they are always on the phone - I always got the impression they ran some kind of business.

I am a little weary about the information they might have access to, preying on innocent tourists that leave their accounts logged in... Getting access to their blood type, home address, bra size, personal information, etcetera, etcetera.

It's not as scary as Wolf Creek, and I am definitely avoiding the outback, but it is a bit thrilling.

Such badasses on this patch of the globe.

xx L

Suggestion

Mmm it seems that the newness of Sydney is beginning to diminish and now little things are being to peeve us off.
One is the annoyance of having to carry our disposal coffee cups, wrappers and alike with us until we arrive back to the hostel.

Our Suggestion - Get more fuckin Rubbish bins. One bin per kilometre in the central CBD is not enough!!

On ya, Labour!

In an attempt to provide an unbiased approach to reporting, the Herald today has cut some slack to Labour.

The spokesperson for Labour makes a seriously good point:
"The National Party hasn't released any policy but has instead been saying different things to different groups. This will catch up with them when they eventually say what their programme is."

The positive poll results for National are largely a product of Key's sweet talking and I'm surprised, given the National Party's track record, that people fall so easily into that trap of believing leftie promises from evil right wing politicians. Political marketing theories also say that a sales (empty promises) based approach to vote grabbing is not effective in the long term. So even if National do get elected this year, can you actually imagine it lasting longer than one term?

Okay so I'm not very eloquent today, and I shouldn't call people 'evil' as it's not very nice. But I am going a little mad here. I miss intelligent conversation. No one in Sydney seems to do it, bar the guys that try to get into my pants. And sooner or later, they stop talking because I can totally out talk them on anything intelligent. So far. And it is so offputting, and transparent!

I can see why so many New Zealand travelling bloggers need to blog on this kind of stuff. Today Pearl and I had to secretly watch the news in the lounge. And when we strike up the occasional insightful comment: Eg. "Haha, that was just like such and such in the eighties."

We are given blank, unknowing stares. Sigh.

So how about that Britney?

Above is an example of what Sydney has to offer.


xx L

Starting anew,

I always knew leaving N.Z was never going to be easy. In fact it was going to be hard. Stressful nights, points of starvation, crap hostels, no proper toilet facilities ; all you expect in a third world country except this is Australia - which makes the the situation seem ten times worse. Admittingly I am exaggerating, it really isn't that bad. Yes we have experienced the shite hostel with a bathroom that represented the camping grounds shower facilities you visited, in your Year 9 camp: concrete steel with rust coming through the edges with no water pressure coming at the heat spectrum of freezing cold to mild lukewarm.
In the unnamed hostel located in Kings Cross, one must walk four flights of stairs to access their dorm room - no lifts. Walking four flights of stairs is fine, that is if you have no luggage. Carrying luggage down is worse; the whole mathematics and physics of establishing and balancing luggage weight distribution plus taking steps down plus height can equal potential disaster as experienced last Sunday resulting in a badly sprained ankle, new accommodation and the discover of more perks that New Zealanders are entitled to here : Free Hospital Care.
Before leaving New Zealand, many advised us to move to Melbourne or even Brisbane and to watch out for those Aussies. Sydney apparently had no culture and that Melbourne and Brisbane is better. To them I say Bah humbug. Sydney is a fucking fabulous city. It is brimming with life, overflowing with galoshes of colors, melodies and best of all, people from all walks of life. It is also a great city to walk in - architecturally, flora and fauna, people watching wise. I do have one thing to say about the Public Transport system - Efficiency.
Trains run regularly, on time and until late. Taxis are galore and seem to be reasonably priced and the bus drivers are friendly, courteous and are always willing to help. Something that perhaps Auckland bus drivers could learn.
The current hostel we are now staying is very central and definite improvement from the Kings Cross unnamed one. It is filled with Brits, Germans, Europeans and few Asians. It has a massive deck where a regular few congregate everyday to eat, drink, smoke and be merry. Life isn't that much different from New Zealand. Everyone is very sociable, much more than the previous hostel. Even the managers/staff get into the groove of things. One could say that every night is a tipple night. Thursdays is wine and cheese night though more wine is consumed. Friday night was supposedly a trip to Bondi Beach for drunken antics all canceled by the previous night antics.
It would be wrong of me to finish my first posting about Sydney and not mention the male counterparts. The hostel lifestyle naturally places you in a position of being exposed to other travellers. It also exposes you to the world that is perhaps Tara Reid travel show inspired, i.e: Am abroad, lets fuck anything with two legs. The best place to start this, is always the infamous, popular Travelers Bar where free Alcohol is served between the hour of 9.30pm to 10.30pm most night if not every night. A poorly ventilated basement filled with sweaty drunken ruled by their dicks guys who hit on any girl that gives them eye contact. Eye contact being anything from 0.5 second glance to a looking through them while you are trying to spot your friend. Not all are like this. Most are relaxed , sociable, act appropriately and pretty good looking. And the Aussie male, why oh why did I not make more trips earlier before. Most Aussie males I have encountered are hot. There is something about the weather here - it does people justice plus the Aussie male possess a sense of old fashioned chivalry which unfortunately from experience many Kiwi males seem to have lost or is well hidden.
One Aussie male stopped and paid a taxi for me when he saw me limping home from town in the day, no questions asked and no hidden agendas of getting numbers etc etc. Just old fashioned chivalry. This is common in Australia. Learn New Zealand, learn - old fashioned chivalry is hot.

p.s : hope all is well in New Zealand.