Was terribly impressed at the supermarket today, when I was browsing in the tea section, as one does, and discovered that you can get tea specifically for hard water. Well I never!
Have been here a week now and not a great deal has changed. Am still having a great deal of trouble getting to sleep before midnight, which means that I have a great deal of trouble getting up at a sensible hour, which means I have a great deal of trouble getting anything done. It's just an endless circle of difficulty.
Have managed to see Caro and Dom, Chook, Em and Dan and Conrad. The last three I haven't seen since Fi and I swanned off to South Korea, so there was a great deal of 'Well, haven't you not changed at all, then, in six years, how very disappointing'. Dan proved to be very useful in that he aided in the getting of information off my broken laptop, which has been nastily refusing to give up my CV, which it had hidden in its electronic depths. Yes, I could have rewritten it, but that would mean trying to remember what I've done since I left high school.
Today I actually tried to get to the bottom of bank accounts and tax numbers. It appears that I cannot get either for weeks, maybe months, just because this is how the English like to do things. With as many complications as possible. Have had some amusing/utterly infuriating conversations with people on telephones as they try to explain the nonsense that is banking systems and tax numbers and what I need to prove that I exist and am not merely pretending.
So have taken up baking again. And eating. Finally, something I am very, very good at.
And then I got bored so I read all my blogs and was revolted by all the spelling and grammatical errors and started to seriously question what it is that I obviously only pretend to do for a living. I think job-hunting might be starting to depress me.
Am not impressed by what comes out of one's nose after one has been on the tube.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
American psycho
The next time I have to share a room with an ex-marine who appears to be asleep I will actually check that he's asleep, and not faking, before I go ahead and change into my PJs, flashing my knickers in the process.
He did redeem himself by taking me to the airport, although even this was fraught with difficulty when we discovered that we didn't have enough money for the toll and he suggested that I flash my boobs at the toll booth officer and he drive through the barrier while the officer oogled my chest.
Farewell Florida and the nutters that live within. And thanks very much for letting me crash on your floor/foldout sofa, make a mess of your house and for putting up with the fact I quite often don't make any sense. Much appreciated.
And now, London. It is cold.
Managed to negotiate my way on the tube to meet Katie in the city. Then ran into Lauren. Was just like being at home. Got to Katie's house and with a great deal of excitement, opened the box of clothes that ma and pa had sent over. I fell on them with gusto. Having worn almost the same thing every day for the past two months, I was thrilled with the idea of not wearing cargo pants ever again. I pulled out my jeans and put them on. They didn't fit. I couldn't even do them up.
I don't want to talk about it.
Bollocks, of course I do. I'm going to whine. I blame America. And maybe South America. It's not my fault, at any rate.
I eventually managed to do them up, but it took a run in the park and another 24 hours before I could finally do the zip up. In a huff, I stormed off to see Ruthie and her mum, who are en route to Israel.
We were shameless tourists. The London Eye. A river tour. Walking around the Tower of London. Great fun. And then back to where they were staying and Ruthie and I stayed up watching DVDs and giggling until 4am. Was a bit like when we were eight except now we don't get told off for still being up at that hour.
But, to celebrate actually getting into my jeans (and ignoring the overflow that Katie has kindly described as 'curves'), we're eating truffles and chocolate cake. I am my own worst enemy.
Tomorrow has been set aside for the purpose of shoe shopping, finding a costume for the two parties my popular self has been invited to this weekend, and trying to find a job. But the latter only if I have time.
He did redeem himself by taking me to the airport, although even this was fraught with difficulty when we discovered that we didn't have enough money for the toll and he suggested that I flash my boobs at the toll booth officer and he drive through the barrier while the officer oogled my chest.
Farewell Florida and the nutters that live within. And thanks very much for letting me crash on your floor/foldout sofa, make a mess of your house and for putting up with the fact I quite often don't make any sense. Much appreciated.
And now, London. It is cold.
Managed to negotiate my way on the tube to meet Katie in the city. Then ran into Lauren. Was just like being at home. Got to Katie's house and with a great deal of excitement, opened the box of clothes that ma and pa had sent over. I fell on them with gusto. Having worn almost the same thing every day for the past two months, I was thrilled with the idea of not wearing cargo pants ever again. I pulled out my jeans and put them on. They didn't fit. I couldn't even do them up.
I don't want to talk about it.
Bollocks, of course I do. I'm going to whine. I blame America. And maybe South America. It's not my fault, at any rate.
I eventually managed to do them up, but it took a run in the park and another 24 hours before I could finally do the zip up. In a huff, I stormed off to see Ruthie and her mum, who are en route to Israel.
We were shameless tourists. The London Eye. A river tour. Walking around the Tower of London. Great fun. And then back to where they were staying and Ruthie and I stayed up watching DVDs and giggling until 4am. Was a bit like when we were eight except now we don't get told off for still being up at that hour.
But, to celebrate actually getting into my jeans (and ignoring the overflow that Katie has kindly described as 'curves'), we're eating truffles and chocolate cake. I am my own worst enemy.
Tomorrow has been set aside for the purpose of shoe shopping, finding a costume for the two parties my popular self has been invited to this weekend, and trying to find a job. But the latter only if I have time.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
They chew tobacco, like, for real, dude
Well, quite frankly I don't have to see anymore of America because I've met a 23-year-old tobacco chewer and my work here is done.
Liz, true to her word, picked me up from the airport with a cask of wine, labelled 'sunset blush', so I knew it was quality. She was accompanied by Evan and Tom and apparently we were off on a road trip. To some places that I had sort of even heard of. Like DC. However, about 90 minutes in, Evan started feeling unwell so it was decided that it would be better if we just got a hotel in Orlando (about an hour from where Liz lives) to hang out and do feck all for a bit. We were all agreeable to doing nothing so we did it immediately and with gusto. Nice resort hotel with spa bath and pool and hot tub and space travel and kitchen. Five days of cooked breakfasts consisting of bacon and sausages and eggs and waffles and maple syrup and now Penelope is pudgy. I even jumped on the scales at the supermarket and despite not knowing exactly how pounds translate into kilos, I knew the news was bad. Am now in denial and quaffing wine because it's, well it's not non-fattening but it certainly makes me feel better.
After five days we came back to Ormond beach where it is Biketober week. Thousands of motorcyclists with huge, shiny, glistening bikes roaring round, being, like, you know, bikers.
Liz's flatmate already had guests so we're all crashing at another friend's house. They are all very nice about the fact that often I don't make sense and have quite the potty mouth. I sucked up like no one's business and roasted some chooks for dinner.
Bizarre things keep giving me hysterics (such as the tobacco chewer who carved the chooks up for me - he called them turkeys, the fact that everything is prepackaged/pre-cooked, that so many of the bikers are so very, very large, and someone called me ma'am).
I've got fleas again. USA ROCKS.
Liz, true to her word, picked me up from the airport with a cask of wine, labelled 'sunset blush', so I knew it was quality. She was accompanied by Evan and Tom and apparently we were off on a road trip. To some places that I had sort of even heard of. Like DC. However, about 90 minutes in, Evan started feeling unwell so it was decided that it would be better if we just got a hotel in Orlando (about an hour from where Liz lives) to hang out and do feck all for a bit. We were all agreeable to doing nothing so we did it immediately and with gusto. Nice resort hotel with spa bath and pool and hot tub and space travel and kitchen. Five days of cooked breakfasts consisting of bacon and sausages and eggs and waffles and maple syrup and now Penelope is pudgy. I even jumped on the scales at the supermarket and despite not knowing exactly how pounds translate into kilos, I knew the news was bad. Am now in denial and quaffing wine because it's, well it's not non-fattening but it certainly makes me feel better.
After five days we came back to Ormond beach where it is Biketober week. Thousands of motorcyclists with huge, shiny, glistening bikes roaring round, being, like, you know, bikers.
Liz's flatmate already had guests so we're all crashing at another friend's house. They are all very nice about the fact that often I don't make sense and have quite the potty mouth. I sucked up like no one's business and roasted some chooks for dinner.
Bizarre things keep giving me hysterics (such as the tobacco chewer who carved the chooks up for me - he called them turkeys, the fact that everything is prepackaged/pre-cooked, that so many of the bikers are so very, very large, and someone called me ma'am).
I've got fleas again. USA ROCKS.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Minority rules
For the first time ever, I think, I'm the only non-smoker. Two Americans, one Canadian, and they all smoke. Like, heaps, dude.
Internet where we are is stupidly, foolishly expensive, so updates later in the week. But Florida is all good, weather is nice and shiny, the pool is large and the cask is cheap. Pretty good, really. Oh, and apparently Kruse had to bribe cops at the Colombian border because he was unknowingly carrying coca leaves we thought we had lost. Good fun all round.
Internet where we are is stupidly, foolishly expensive, so updates later in the week. But Florida is all good, weather is nice and shiny, the pool is large and the cask is cheap. Pretty good, really. Oh, and apparently Kruse had to bribe cops at the Colombian border because he was unknowingly carrying coca leaves we thought we had lost. Good fun all round.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Nuns on the minibus
NUNS! On the bus! Heaps of them. Laughing. Chortling, even. Eating yoghurt. All dressed in white. I do like my nuns. And they smiled at me! Despite my obvious inability to look pious! What a great day.
And now, to pack for Miami tomorrow. Oh, and mother, I´m staying with elizabeth feola. In Orlando. Will email her details when I find internet that isn´t a million pesos a minute.
And now, to pack for Miami tomorrow. Oh, and mother, I´m staying with elizabeth feola. In Orlando. Will email her details when I find internet that isn´t a million pesos a minute.
Friday, October 5, 2007
Even when you´re sleeping
We got robbed. Makes one a spot cross. Especially as insurance, strangely enough, demands proof of ownership and I don´t have any. Possibly, somewhere in a box, I have receipts, but I doubt it. My insurance company says photos are proof, but I don´t seem to have photos of what got stolen.
Lost my camera (about 200 photos that Kruse and Ben will hopefully have duplicates of), mp3 player (and some very bad headphones), my pencil case that sadly had my memory stick and a rather nice ring I´d just splashed out on in it, a box of wine and a mysterious sealed box I had stashed at the bottom of my bag and, this being Colombia, the nasty thieves no doubt thought it was drugs. Ha. HA! The box contained shot glasses that Kruse has been collecting from each country and a devil face balaclava. We´d tried to post it in La Paz but the astronomical price and the fact they wouldn´t let us post shot glasses put us off and I`ve been carting it around ever since. Take that, thieves, damn you. Kruse lost some warm clothes, mp3, torch and leatherman and, oddly, half the patches of each country`s flags that he´s also been collecting, but not the equivalent of NZ$100 in Bolivianos he had stashed. And they took our malaria tablets. Bastards.
However, it was done extremely well. We were on the bus, the lights had been turned off, we put our carry on bags under the seats, feeling reassured that the footrests made it almost impossible for anyone to grab them from the seat behind and we´d see or feel anyone reaching around the seats, and dozed off. Two hours later we realised our day packs were suspiciously light. And apparently our fellow travellers never saw a thing either. Not at all happy with the woman and child who had been sitting behind us only to suddenly disappear, especially as suspect that such a devious crime set in a tight spot could only have been carried out by a small child, egged on by evil excuse for mother. Feel particularly miffed that, if they were stealing clothes, they didn´t touch the spare pair of knickers I had carefully packed.
But, all replaceable, just irksome.
Colombia, though, is all good. Warm. Have been stopped by the police several times in order to show passports. Had all the excitement of walking over the border from Ecuador as there was a blockade (burning tyres and all) and cars blocking the road. Lots of people walking, a few people on motorbikes, which could slip through the parked cars. However, a band of youths took offence to these motorcyclists slipping though (it´s okay to walk but not to ride or drive though a blockade, apparently) and started hitting them with planks of wood as they went by. Saw one young man try to poke a stick through the spokes of one motorbike. Was feeling rather apprehensive about strolling past these chaps, but as we were walking they seemed to have no issues with us. Just as well, because the only weapon we had on us was a tripod.
Only five days left for me in South America and we´ve decided that as we´re behind schedule (hangovers, late buses and the blockade not helping) that we´re going to have miss Cartagena, which I am miffed about because it looked so super in Romancing the Stone. But the bus trip up and back would take at least 24 hours each way. So we´ll hang in Bogota, watch some rugby, forget and then recall that we got robbed, which will make me cross all over again, and then I´ll fly into the arms of Liz in Orlando, Florida. She´s making promises about having a cask waiting in the car. Such a nice girl.
Have decided that if one is going to get robbed in South America, having it done whilst one is sleeping, instead of being held up at knife or gun point, is probably the most preferable. And it´s all about the experience, man. Will blow it up, out of proportion, exaggerating with gusto, when telling other travellers about it.
Lost my camera (about 200 photos that Kruse and Ben will hopefully have duplicates of), mp3 player (and some very bad headphones), my pencil case that sadly had my memory stick and a rather nice ring I´d just splashed out on in it, a box of wine and a mysterious sealed box I had stashed at the bottom of my bag and, this being Colombia, the nasty thieves no doubt thought it was drugs. Ha. HA! The box contained shot glasses that Kruse has been collecting from each country and a devil face balaclava. We´d tried to post it in La Paz but the astronomical price and the fact they wouldn´t let us post shot glasses put us off and I`ve been carting it around ever since. Take that, thieves, damn you. Kruse lost some warm clothes, mp3, torch and leatherman and, oddly, half the patches of each country`s flags that he´s also been collecting, but not the equivalent of NZ$100 in Bolivianos he had stashed. And they took our malaria tablets. Bastards.
However, it was done extremely well. We were on the bus, the lights had been turned off, we put our carry on bags under the seats, feeling reassured that the footrests made it almost impossible for anyone to grab them from the seat behind and we´d see or feel anyone reaching around the seats, and dozed off. Two hours later we realised our day packs were suspiciously light. And apparently our fellow travellers never saw a thing either. Not at all happy with the woman and child who had been sitting behind us only to suddenly disappear, especially as suspect that such a devious crime set in a tight spot could only have been carried out by a small child, egged on by evil excuse for mother. Feel particularly miffed that, if they were stealing clothes, they didn´t touch the spare pair of knickers I had carefully packed.
But, all replaceable, just irksome.
Colombia, though, is all good. Warm. Have been stopped by the police several times in order to show passports. Had all the excitement of walking over the border from Ecuador as there was a blockade (burning tyres and all) and cars blocking the road. Lots of people walking, a few people on motorbikes, which could slip through the parked cars. However, a band of youths took offence to these motorcyclists slipping though (it´s okay to walk but not to ride or drive though a blockade, apparently) and started hitting them with planks of wood as they went by. Saw one young man try to poke a stick through the spokes of one motorbike. Was feeling rather apprehensive about strolling past these chaps, but as we were walking they seemed to have no issues with us. Just as well, because the only weapon we had on us was a tripod.
Only five days left for me in South America and we´ve decided that as we´re behind schedule (hangovers, late buses and the blockade not helping) that we´re going to have miss Cartagena, which I am miffed about because it looked so super in Romancing the Stone. But the bus trip up and back would take at least 24 hours each way. So we´ll hang in Bogota, watch some rugby, forget and then recall that we got robbed, which will make me cross all over again, and then I´ll fly into the arms of Liz in Orlando, Florida. She´s making promises about having a cask waiting in the car. Such a nice girl.
Have decided that if one is going to get robbed in South America, having it done whilst one is sleeping, instead of being held up at knife or gun point, is probably the most preferable. And it´s all about the experience, man. Will blow it up, out of proportion, exaggerating with gusto, when telling other travellers about it.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Worst equator ever
So we´re still in Quito. The bus, all 28 hours of no doubt utterly rocking fun, doesn´t leave until 5am tomorrow. Can´t wait.
Not being hungover today we went to the equator. There is indeed a line. We took some photos and made jokes as we jumped over it. Unfortunately, this is not actually the equator at all. Despite the very pretty monument. Someone made a small miscalculation and the actual equator is just up the road. There is another park you can go to, but by this time we were tired and cold. Cold? At the equator? Who would have thought. It was freezing. And windy. And then the rain came. We got wet so I attempted to cure it the only way I know how. I went shopping. I am really good at shopping. Didn´t make us any drier, though, and Kruse did not seem to be enjoying himself as much as I was (who in their right mind does not like shopping for trinkets? Madness.) so we went back to the hostel and got him a jersey so he wouldn´t catch cold. And then went next door to the Irish pub and got hot toddys. Nice sign on the wall asking if any foreigners can visit the two gringo girls in prison here. They appreciate old clothes and cigarettes. Ask for Anna or Angela. Sadly, we´d missed visiting time for today.
There are so many gringos here. So, so many. Too many. I don´t like it. And most of them will be at our hostel waiting for the free rum and coke in a bucket that Kruse and I are trying to avoid tonight.
Not being hungover today we went to the equator. There is indeed a line. We took some photos and made jokes as we jumped over it. Unfortunately, this is not actually the equator at all. Despite the very pretty monument. Someone made a small miscalculation and the actual equator is just up the road. There is another park you can go to, but by this time we were tired and cold. Cold? At the equator? Who would have thought. It was freezing. And windy. And then the rain came. We got wet so I attempted to cure it the only way I know how. I went shopping. I am really good at shopping. Didn´t make us any drier, though, and Kruse did not seem to be enjoying himself as much as I was (who in their right mind does not like shopping for trinkets? Madness.) so we went back to the hostel and got him a jersey so he wouldn´t catch cold. And then went next door to the Irish pub and got hot toddys. Nice sign on the wall asking if any foreigners can visit the two gringo girls in prison here. They appreciate old clothes and cigarettes. Ask for Anna or Angela. Sadly, we´d missed visiting time for today.
There are so many gringos here. So, so many. Too many. I don´t like it. And most of them will be at our hostel waiting for the free rum and coke in a bucket that Kruse and I are trying to avoid tonight.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Hungover. Again.
Stupid hostel with their free 12 litres of rum and coke in a bucket on Mondays.
Kruse and I are in Quito. The election is over. I think number 35 won. I wanted Dr Gilbert to win. He had a really good poster in which he was wearing his surgical scrubs so you could tell he was a real doctor.
It was decided that Kruse and Ben were looking decidedly shaggy so we got them shaved. Took them to a barber shop and watched a man hold a knife to their throats. Quite satisfying. The barber gave them both very nice manicured moustaches. And also cut Ben´s hair so that he now looks unpleasantly like Borat. I didn´t get a haircut because I look fine. Damn fine, actually. Although, I am covered with mosquito bites. Even on my bottom.
We abandoned Ben in Guayaquil and scarpered up to Banos, famous for its hot springs. They were indeed hot. But jam-packed with tourists so actually not as enjoyable as they could have been. Stupid tourists. They ruin everything.
Caught a bus with no toilet up to Quito yesterday. Two hours in and I was once again quite desperate to pee. Told the conductor who seemed remarkably uninterested in the fact that the gringo was about to soil herself. So I told the driver, stressing the urgency of my situation. I have only used the word urgent twice in South America, and both times it´s been because of my bladder. At any rate, five minutes later we stopped at a service station and I ran, ran like the wind, to save myself from the embarassment of wet trousers.
Quito seems all right. Haven´t exactly seen a great deal of it, what with the hangover and all, but tomorrow we shall go and visit the line marking the equator and get some boring photos of us standing with a foot on either side! The fun never stops.
Had to listen to some remarkably boring people last night, whilst swilling my free rum and coke. This is the problem with free booze in hostels. Everyone wants some. And then they want to talk. Talk utter bollocks. Can´t they just let a woman booze in peace?
Right. My bladder tells me that it´s about time to go. Heading up to the border tomorrow afternoon so should be in Colombia very soon. Think it might be about time to get Kruse a Panama hat. (Boring side note - Panama hats are actually Ecuadorian hats.)
Fanta is really good. How could I have forgotten this?
Kruse and I are in Quito. The election is over. I think number 35 won. I wanted Dr Gilbert to win. He had a really good poster in which he was wearing his surgical scrubs so you could tell he was a real doctor.
It was decided that Kruse and Ben were looking decidedly shaggy so we got them shaved. Took them to a barber shop and watched a man hold a knife to their throats. Quite satisfying. The barber gave them both very nice manicured moustaches. And also cut Ben´s hair so that he now looks unpleasantly like Borat. I didn´t get a haircut because I look fine. Damn fine, actually. Although, I am covered with mosquito bites. Even on my bottom.
We abandoned Ben in Guayaquil and scarpered up to Banos, famous for its hot springs. They were indeed hot. But jam-packed with tourists so actually not as enjoyable as they could have been. Stupid tourists. They ruin everything.
Caught a bus with no toilet up to Quito yesterday. Two hours in and I was once again quite desperate to pee. Told the conductor who seemed remarkably uninterested in the fact that the gringo was about to soil herself. So I told the driver, stressing the urgency of my situation. I have only used the word urgent twice in South America, and both times it´s been because of my bladder. At any rate, five minutes later we stopped at a service station and I ran, ran like the wind, to save myself from the embarassment of wet trousers.
Quito seems all right. Haven´t exactly seen a great deal of it, what with the hangover and all, but tomorrow we shall go and visit the line marking the equator and get some boring photos of us standing with a foot on either side! The fun never stops.
Had to listen to some remarkably boring people last night, whilst swilling my free rum and coke. This is the problem with free booze in hostels. Everyone wants some. And then they want to talk. Talk utter bollocks. Can´t they just let a woman booze in peace?
Right. My bladder tells me that it´s about time to go. Heading up to the border tomorrow afternoon so should be in Colombia very soon. Think it might be about time to get Kruse a Panama hat. (Boring side note - Panama hats are actually Ecuadorian hats.)
Fanta is really good. How could I have forgotten this?
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