We used to have a very nice house in New Zealand. It was in a very nice area, near a very nice road which had shops and cafés and it was all very nice and civilized. Which was nice. Near those cafés was a corner shop, just a few minutes walk from our house. Once I learnt they sold Dr Pepper, which wasn’t that common in NZ I was there on almost a daily basis.
I’m a naturally friendly person, so I guess I’m reasonably good at talking to people. Over time (and Dr Pepper purchases), the Indian owner of this shop and me formed a sort of quasi-friendship. Only quasi because he never knew my name, I never knew his, but in certain areas of our lives we knew each other intimately. I knew that he had two children, and uncle, a wife, and as it would become our de-facto conversation topic that – he hated his job.
‘”I’m here always working, morning to night, every day, seven days a week, always working” he would say in a dreary shoot me nowsort of tone.
“Oh dear, yeah that is tough” I’d respond thumbing the change in my pocket. “I have no-one to cover me, my uncle he has a shop but that makes nice money, this shop doesn’t.”
“Sorry to hear that I’d say” meekly rooting around for some positivity I could inject into the conversation – “but you’re your own boss, that’s got to count for something right? I mean you’re building something and if it successful 100% of that success if yours.” Okay, so while I’m not exactly a life coach of some note, I was proud of this uplifting response.
“100% hahaha try telling my wife that. And it’s not successful my friend.” Damn, shut down again.
“Have you thought about employing someone else to run the shop?” I’m clutching at straws here, of course he has.
“I could but it costs too much I wouldn’t make any money. Sometimes my wife she runs the shop or my uncle will cover me for a little while but if not it’s just me my friend, working day after day.“
I wasn’t really sure what I was supposed to do now. Can I help? Should I buy more or less Dr Pepper?
Then we’d talk about what I did, which I don’t think he ever understood, but then no-one does so I just left it as IT stuff and tried to make it sound about as much fun as a being an unwilling participant in a prison gangbang, so he didn’t get jealous. This was how it used to go when I came in the shop, first some light hearted banter about the weather, maybe the youth of today, how close the weekend was but then when I’d least expect it he’d skillfully dodge the conversation back to his being stuck in his shop, day after day.
“I think you want what I have, and I want what you have” he used to say sometimes. I’d smile and nod and say “yeah maybe, such is life, the grass is always greener” but I would be thinking – err yeah about as much as I want a grand piano to drop from the sky and smash on my head the next time I come out of the house to innocently buy Dr Pepper and Cadburys buttons. Although hang on, maybe I’m being hasty, you do have very commendable head hair growth…
After a while I started to avoid the shop, if we were walking by I’d send Annett in. I think people know not to go to Germans for sympathy, I always thought it was just one of those unwritten rules like don’t lick lightbulbs. German truths do not come sugar coated.
Eventually I found another shop about 3 or 4 minutes walk further on with a Chinese dude who judging by his body language also hated his life, but didn’t feel the need to verbalize it. I was sure to never make eye contact anymore than absolutely necessary just in case. He probably thought I was a mute. I was actually just a Dr Pepper fiend happy in my little optimist bubble where every day I’m the guest of honour at an earth sized carnival, that people keep trying to rain on.
I started this about a strange German man I met today when I buy a SIM card, but it reminded me of this man, so I’ll do the German man as part 2.
As we’ve a house full of stuff to get rid off, I’ve been pretty busy on Trademe (NZ eBay) this week. I thought it would be fun to do some experiments and see if I could drum up some interest based on interesting/entertaining texts for the items. I’d say the result was akin to being slapped repeatedly round the face with a wet kipper. Perhaps the texts were not entertaining enough, lets take a look
Vacuum Cleaner
This one was always going to be tricky, as vacuum cleaners are about as sexy as root canal dental operations. But then luckily Annett reminded me I used to call my old flatmate Arno the WG vacuum cleaner in account of him eating the leftovers off of my plate, or from the side of the sofa, or out of the bin, anywhere really. With the whole man/vacuum cleaner thing in mind the rest was pretty easy:
“Women, are you tiring of your current partner?
Has he proved to be ineffective at daily household tasks? A little thick? Distracted by anything shiny? Let us introduce you to the latest technology from Japan – Sheffields Vacuum Cleaner aka the Husband 2.0!
Don’t delay, upgrade today. Replace your old husband with this new improved Husband 2.0, which incorporates all the features that made Husband 1.0 such a success*:
- Eats anything
- Magnet for hair
- Good around the sofa
- Always ready to ‘go’
But with revolutionary new features for a superior cohabitation experience:
- No interest in football
- “Monogamy”
- An off switch
Caution – Men, buying this for your girlfriend will not make you popular, and will make you obsolete.
Price of divorce not included.
*By success, we of course mean figure for ridicule.”
How’d it go?
This was a really good price (we didn’t pay much more for it new), so I’ll call this experiment a success!
Footstall
Often when people came round they dissed my footstall. I’m not sure why, I wouldn’t go round there house and rudely remark at the low brow reading material in the bookcase, or philosophy fridge magnets. I’d have the decency to wait and talk about them behind their back in the car on the way home, like a decent person. The savage mocking of my dear footstall made the concept for this one pretty easy, I’d market its perceived (incorrectly) ugliness and write a lonely hearts ad, who can resist the desperateness of a lonely hearts ad:
“Desperately seeking careful owner to give me new loving home. Me 800, 1ft 0′, off mucus green, GSOH, sturdy like turtle, just 68 careful owners. You weary, two feet, a desire to rest, crap lying around you don’t want to see anymore (side note, I’m too small for comfortable storage of husbands) for safe stashing in my roomy interior. Must have good heart to overlook disappointing physical appearance, covering of face with paper bag or cloth acceptable, as are smokers, beggars can’t be choosers….
I live in St Marys Bay, you must pick me up by Sunday 5th April as my current owners are moving to moving oversees and I don’t like to travel.”
This one is probably a reasonable price, but I hoped for more, so this goes down as a failure.
Grandma’s Rocking Chair
Of all the things I’ve purchased in NZ, this is my favourite. I’d sit for hours rocking away on the deck, a cold can of Dr Pepper in one hand, gentle contemplation in the other. Happier times. It cost me $20, but I always felt it was worth closer to $24. Some people jokes about this as well, that it was old, that they hoped it was fumigated after Grandma was finished with it. I decided to go a little wild on this one and see how a slightly more extreme/obscene fictional back-story might go:
“Oh how she loved this chair, or at least that’s what we thought until it turned out her back had given way and she was stuck. Who would have known sounds of pain and happiness were so similar. Possibly shouldn’t have left her alone for another week. Still, I’m digressing and she didn’t have long left anyway, the smell came right out so there was no harm down. Now, where was I? Oh yes, she loved this chair. Now you and your sturdier back can too.
We would suggest you place it on your front porch and rock back and forth muttering like the crazy lady from the Stand. A shotgun is not required to complete this look but it is desirable.
The chair must be picked up from St Marys Bay before the 5th April, look for the house with over-grown bushes and lots of cats. The throw and cushion are not included.”
It went down like a lead balloon in the Grand Canyon.
$0.50! My treasured possession is worth $0.50! I’d rather set fire to it than have another human soil its majesty for the price of $0.50. The funnier part is when earlier in the day I received this comment
One of the real joys of living in New Zealand is the friendliness of the people here. Its like living in an big village, while you don’t know each other directly you know of each other, because you all live in the big village and you must be a nice person because all people in the village are nice and so we’ll assume you are and be nice to you anyway. On public transport, in the street, in shops, at work, when calling customer service of companies it reminds you of how things used to be me, a simple time.
I just called to cancel our telephone line, the conversation I had was a good example of what I’m talking about. Here it is:
Patricia: Hi thanks for calling Telecom, this is Patricia, I understand you would like to make a change to your account?
Me: Yes I’d like to cancel it please.
Patricia: Oh that’s a shame, why’s that?
Me: I’m going overseas.
Patricia: Oh! Not you too, every second call is someone going overseas. Headingback to the UK?
Me: No I’m moving to Germany
Patricia: Germany, wow, that’s a fantastic place I was there last summer. My son is just coming back from 6 years in the UK.
Me: So everyone’s leaving aye, can’t understand why?
Patricia: You being sarcastic?
Me: Absolutely not.
Patricia: Is it because of the financial crisis? A lot of people say they are leaving because of that.
Me: No not because of that, I think Europe is probably way worse affected than NZ anyway, so that probably wouldn’t be a good reason to leave
Patricia: When would you like your line canceled?
Me: How about Monday?
Patricia: The 6th?
Me: That’d be it.
Patricia: Okay no problem, can I text you to confirm?
Me: Can you mail me instead?
Patricia: Sure, what’s your email address?
Me: myname@gmail.com
Patricia: oh, I have a gmail as well, its fantastic isn’t it! And I have Picasa for my pictures and it lets me have my own website, but now its full and I’m not paying.
Me: Ah yeah, you’re very technologically literate, I’d never get my mum off hotmail.
Patricia: Oh but google is fantastic they are the biggest internet provider, so you know they must be good. With gmail you can keep all your mail so you never lose anything, and on my home machine I have igoogle.
Me: You’re restoring my faith in older generations.
Patricia: he he, thank you. Did you get my email?
Me: I haven’t looked, but I trust you.
Patricia: Oh okay, nice to hear someone does, I don’t trust myself half the time these days. Right well that’s all sorted then, have a fantastic time in Germany, all the best, nice talking to you!
Me: You too, bye!
When Annett called the electricity people to cancel they said, just call us up on your final day and they”ll pop straight over and read the meter straight away?!?! How mental, “we’re just going to pop round, put the kettle on and we’ll have a read of your meter before you go.”
UK Customer Service Representative: You’ll need to call our special account deactivation center on xxxxxxxxxx
Me: Can you just put me through?
UK Customer Service Representative: No.
(I call the special account deactivation center)
UK Customer Service Representative: Ah I can see you’re in Cambridge, you’ll need to your regional deactivation center on xxxxxxxx
(I finally get through to correct dept)
UK Customer Service Representative: Before I can talk to you I’ll need to just confirm some security questions
What was your imaginary friend called when you were 7?
What would you do with a drunken sailor early in the morning?
What did I have dinner last night?
What’s your next door neighbours maiden name?
(thanks for confirming those, that’ll certainly help when I become disgruntled at my job, quit and use this information to steal your identity)
Me: So how do I cancel my account?
UK Customer Service Representative: Please fill and post a E123g form, you can get it from the website
Me: Can I email it in?
UK Customer Service Representative: No.
Me: Fax?
UK Customer Service Representative: No.
Me: Is there any other way to cancel?
UK Customer Service Representative: No.
Me: How much notice do I have to give?
UK Customer Service Representative: 1 decade.
Me: When will you come and read the meter?
UK Customer Service Representative: We’ll send round an Albanian refugee in approx three weeks. He speaks no English and has had only 7 minutes training. Because we pay him only in peanuts its possible he’ll try and pilfer water from your outside tap, so you might want to stand guard over that. Good day!
I will greatly miss New Zealand customer service. Getting set up here was so simple, so easy when we went to open bank accounts it took just 45mins, we came out with the accounts open, our bank cards in our hand, a pin we’d selected and a personal walkthrough of how to use the ATM.
If it’s so simple here, why does it have to be such a pain in the ass everywhere else?
Only 6 days left in NZ, today the first official day of unemployment or self-employment if you prefer to view my glass as half full. More posts and updates to come in the next few days.
I’ve not blogged in a while. In fact I think I’ve not blogged for the longest period since I started this blog way back in August ‘06. August ‘06, has it been that long? How time has flown. So many new people, countries and experiences have whizzed passed and left their mark on little impressionable me. The zig still retains its purpose of keeping just close family and friends up to date, there are still no links pointing here, very few people reading and it still feels like a little sanctuary, my very own shrink’s couch.
I’ve been quiet because I went through one of my “I’m bored with the Internet” phases, they happen once a year or so when I’ve been overdosing. Usually they correlate with me being employed, and as I seem to be an Internet Marketer now, at least thats what people offer me jobs in, so I guess that’s what I am, I have plenty of Internet already in the day time. So I’m not always motivated to update the affiliate sites, or the t-shirt sites, or the personal ones in the evening.
I’ve also not been felt much like writing lately. My life is more routined now then it has been in years, possibly since school. I don’t think that’s a recipe for creativity. I’m settled now, working full-time again, working in an office, living in an English speaking country, living with Annett for the first time, in short, being quite adult which probably shouldn’t be news, as I am 25 now, but still.
It’s quite a scary experience being an adult. I don’t plan to stay one. I’m treating it like a spell, a temporary curse inflicted upon my person by home furnishings manufacturers, to make me excited about buying cushions, and towels. I do actually get excited now about decorating our beautiful new home. It’s quite in contrast with the old me, I’m not sure I’d have brought a bed the whole year in Leipzig if Mone hadn’t whisked me off to Ikea and built the damn thing for me. I had a 27sqm room, about 24sqm of which were empty most of the time.
The problem started a few months back when we became bored of renting the furnished shoe box apartment in the city center. Perfectly located as it was, it was only 63sqm and being fully furnished there was nothing we could do to it to stamp our personality on the place, obviously apart from trashing it, we did almost immediately. The summer, bringing with it the sun was looming on the horizon. So a tiny flat, with no outdoor space, in the middle of the city wasn’t appealing too much.
So we set forth to find some dilapidated shack we could inflict our own unique style upon. What we actually found wasn’t a shack, instead it was an incredibly nice house, with ocean views and large garden, and an outside deck area to die for. It came with only whiteware, so we had a whole house worth of furnishings to buy. We got pretty much everything off Trademe, which is the key version of eBay, so we’ve probably only spent $2k which is about £700 (880eur) and we’ve everything now.
The act of furnishing my first every house has caused a transformation in scruffy little pikey me. Now I say things like “perhaps we should get a circular dining table, I think that would better compliment the shape of the kitchen”, and “wow! Look theres a 20% off sale on cushions!, wow that one is really nice, that would go great on the sundeck next to the cream cushion we brought last week.”
In short, I’m become a little bitch…
You can see some photos of the new place on flickr
I’m a big believer in contrasts, in fact were I to write a book on my world-view that would be the main topic. I’ve been to 20 countries in the last three years, from watching incredibly poor people farming for a $ a day in Cambodia, to the wealth of the rich Americans in Boston it seemed amazing to me just how adaptable humans are. There never seemed to be much difference in the overall happiness of those people, despite the completely different opportunities and lives they led. We all adapt so well to our surroundings and situation that we very quickly desensitize ourselves from the good and bad. So we make the best of the bad, in a rush to make it normal in case we can’t escape from it, and the great will very quickly become just the good, then the norm. So what’s left? Contrasts.
I think in my case anyway, the best way to disrupt this inbuilt happiness default is to throw myself from one end to the other. Before I had nothing but a backpack, now my living room contains 94% of all the southern hemisphere’s cushions. Before I scratched out a meager income from affiliate sites, now I have a great 9-5 job that pays me well, and more importantly, reliably. Before I spent two years in countries I couldn’t speak the language in. Now I basically live back in the UK, just a nicer, prettier, more isolated version. But cultural almost identical. In Leipzig I lived alone, did whatever I wanted, eat out weeks in a row, and partied like it was going out of fashion. Now I’m co-habiting, thinking about how my actions and whims will affect Annett and trying to be a courteous and where possible, down right adorable boyfriend. I’m enjoying the swing towards adulthood even more, because I know at some point I’ll throw my hands up in the air and run screaming away from it towards its contrast. A little of something is never enough, a lot of something is too much, so I’ll take a lot, but restrict myself to just a little time to enjoy it so when it’s over, I’ll still want more.
To force me back into Blogging, I’m going to start a 30 days, 30 blog posts challenge. This was day one. It’ll be split across all my blogs, so I can cheat a little bit and do some posts for Tee-Junction if I’m very busy (I have Squash on Mondays, date night with Annett on Tuesdays with a strict no laptops rule, football Wednesdays and Thursdays, work drinks on Fridays and we’re away the next two weekends so I’m looking forward to the challenge and hoping it will get me writing again).
Not all that much happens in New Zealand. I guess this is why in years gone by England sent its criminals out this way. The assumption being that those who didn’t die on the 7 year boat trip just to arrive, were probably far enough away, and happy enough to have solid ground under their feet that they were unlikely to try and get back. For that reason no countries send things they like very much to visit NZ, I guess for the fear that the journey is so long that they might get tired and not bothered coming back. For this reason we only get to play with the toys you’re all already bored of, like Phil Collins, who was number 1 here recently and is thought of as a promising young up and coming musician. We mainly entertain ourselves mucking around in/on the sea, snow or mountains and try not to get offended when no-one wants to come over and play with us.
For this reason, when something does happen, when we do have an event it’s a pretty big deal, because as I said already, nothing really happens here. This week we had one of the cultural highpoints of the NZ arts calendar “Boobs on Bikes” came to Auckland.
If I said to you it involved a few topless women, a high street and leering men, you’d probably tell me you have that every Friday night in England. You’d be right. Have a guess how many people came to watch?
100? Nope, a few more.
1000? Again, a few more.
10,000? I told you nothing really happens here right?
100,000! Yep 100,000 people turned out to see about 20 topless strippers on bikes and a tank parading down the high street. About seven less than the whole population of New Zealand. Those seven were running late presumably, having been the last to leave and needing to lock up and turn off the lights.
Colleague: You want to come to Boobs on Bikes at lunchtime?
Me: What’s Boobs on bikes?
Colleague: It’s an event held by the Auckland porn baron in which strippers parade down the high street topless riding on Harley Davidson’s and Tanks and stuff.
Me: How many women?
Colleague: Usually about 4.
Me: How many people watch?
Colleague: Everyone.
Me: Why?
Colleague: No idea. But I heard some lesbians are planning to protest it and lie down in front of the tanks.
Me: Lesbian protesters? Sounds awesome. I’m in.
Colleague: Yeah there’s going to be some great heckling opportunities. No-one can spoil fun as well as lesbians.
This has been all over the press here and I believe it’s also be reported internationally. Probably the first time for NZ since securing a footnote in an Olympics Roundup article after a NZ athlete won a Bronze Medal in “hook the duck”, or Peter Jackson produced another 4hr long wooden puppet show that bizarrely get misclassified as a “movie”.
As a rookie kiwi, I approached this as a scientific researcher, looking to understand what it is to be kiwi. For me the fact that this research would involved topless women was completely irrelevant. I had on my lab coat, clipboard in hand, ready to dissect and diagnose the kiwi condition. What I saw surprised me.
What did I see? I saw was the whole of Auckland out supporting our local porn baron. Harking, I imagine, back to the days gone by when the whole town would come out to wave, unaware that they had other options, to the nobility of the town as they passed through on horses on their way to steal some more of the townsfolks’ land, or daughters.
Some said it was about women’s rights. Or about freedom of expression. Some called it a shameless promotional stunt to raise publicity for the Erotica convention taking place the next day, right here in Auckland. As far as I was concerned – unfair, unfounded accusations that this was anything but a commendable networking opportunity for young men and women to come together and share their mutual appreciations of the female form.
However links between the parade and erotica convention were there if you looked hard enough, such as the topless woman with the megaphone saying:
“Thanks everyone for coming we look forward to seeing you all tomorrow at the Erotica convention, at the asb raceground from 11am, tickets available on the door”.
But I guess it depends if you want to look that hard for links that are probably entirely co-incidental.
But the amount of press coverage has been really astounding. There is really nothing shocking about this parade, and if we all just looked the other way it would have blown past with little more than a few second glances and a couple of cat calls. We live in a world where we’re all only one google search away from finding a staggeringly large amount of breasts, or a whole plethora of far more outrage worthy things like a video of a midget dressed as michael jackson peeing on a donkey.
Which I haven’t checked, but I’m sure exists. Go ahead and look, but don’t tell me how it ends, I’m going to hold out for the DVD.
Yeah I know, but these women are real. Which must be better than the breasts of women on the internet right? Wrong. Real breasts come attached to real women and real women are a lot of work. Like plants they need to be fed, watered and talked to, they’re temperamental. Internet breasts on the other hand? They don’t even require a credit card anymore.
I guess I’ll skip next years, I’d advise the media to do the same. Well unless anyone mentions something about lesbian protesters lying in front of tanks, in which case step aside please my asian friends – scientist coming through.
I’m trying to write more, and read less. Here goes:
The one thing I value most about my relationship with Annett, as we are the least likely of pairings, a mere outlier on the compatibility scale, is her willingness to over-estimate her/my abilities with me. If I were to get up, open the curtains, see the birth of a fine day and declare “lets hike to the moon, I’ve heard its lovely this time of year!”. She’d be lacing her hiking boots before you could say “err, thats not actually possible”. Sure, its me that’s most likely to be picking the rollercoasters, but I never have to worry about riding them alone.
The rollercoaster we’re on now has just apexed from that boring suspenseful first uphill bit (is there a technical term for that?) and we we’re now tipping forward down the abyss towards a certain death….
When I decided to surprise Annett with a weekend away for her Birthday, hiring a car for what would turn out to be a 6hr drive to Lake Taupo, I overlooked certain facts
a) that I passed my test 3 years ago, and last drove three years ago.
b) Annett drives as infrequently, has never driven left hand drive vehicles, and finds the mere act of breathing a coordination challenge. Anything more complex descends her, and those around her, into utter chaos.
I’m sitting in the passenger seat of the little Japanese rental go-cart cart we’ve been issued. It’s the sort of thing estate agents paint pink to drive round city centers. On account of our total lack of driving ability I’ve purchased the most expensive insurance they had available. This means were we to crash they would pay us for inconvenience, and scramble a air force one to pick us up and fly us home. The downside being it costs more per day than the car.
The problem we’re having now is that coupled with our inexperience nature has added fuel to the fire, raising her middle finger squarely at us, delivering for the drive some of the heaviest rain I’ve ever seen down onto our windscreen. There’s no way I’d drive in this, so I’m glad Annett volunteered and together we’re trying to work out where the fuck the road went. Visibility? Well I’m pretty sure that directly ahead is the end of my nose, but I can’t see it.
I actually feel ill with worry, giving me a taste of what its like to not be a wall of indifference. It’s horrible. To top it off the stereo is now playing Andrew Birds “Fiery Crash” from my ill-thought out mixtape- chorus – “you know you’ve got to envision, the fiery crash”. Envision, Andrew? E N V I S I O N?!?! Shouldn’t be too hard, I’m been finding it hard to envision anything but fiery crashes for the past 200k’s!
Somehow after just a barbers convention full of close shaves our little rented go cart arrived in Taupo in one piece. Annett was a trooper, driving the whole way, but by the end I could see her concentration was waining. I suspect other drivers on the road noticed it as well as I grabbed the wheel to subtly remind her she was about to go round the roundabout the wrong way (which she’s now blocked from memory and refuses to believe).
Our hostel was pretty good, had a big kitchen, sitting area, movie room. I took the opportunity to barge into the movie room and interrupt the movie which questions like
“what movie is it?” Ah okay, I’ve seen it.
“can I buy beer anywhere round here?”
Suspecting we weren’t welcome anymore in the movie room we walked into “town”. Being a Friday night we expected…well actually after such a long trip I would say DEMANDED a place to consume hard, hard liquor amongst the company of interesting people. If Taupo center had bars they were closed, if Taupo has people, they were closed. Eventually we found a bottle shop, where the owner must have been as bored as we were as he sort of latched onto us and took the opportunity to share his well-over-the-border-line-racist-world-view. I forget exactly what it was, but I remember something about bashing the English, US, Maori’s etc etc. Ending with “why of all the places in NZ, did you pick to move to Auckland?”, which is a valid question from anyone who’s ever been there and the only valid answer is “jobs”, which I guess is not an issue in the liquor trade. Taupo was dead, a cheap paperback novel ghost town. So back to the hostel to consume our booze.
Usually I’m a big fan of backpackers, but whether it was a bad night, or just a too young crowd, our advanced age or all three but we lasted about 5 minutes drinking in the kitchen. After that the shouting, pointless drinking games, giggling and conversational gems of
“fuck you, i’m 21 and i’ve already been in rehab for two fucking years”, from the ‘we’re the first people to ever do this sort of traveling’ sort of backpackers began to grate.
The next morning we were up early for my surprise birthday gift, which was promptly canceled due to bad weather. Instead we visited a natural spa complex. For that to make any sense I’d better explain to you about Taupo. Taupo is a volcanic lake of unsurprisingly, being from volcanoes, hot water. All around it are spa’s which allow you to bathe in natural mineral water from the plumbing of mother earth. Our spa had a set of 4 pools at different temperatures ranging from “stew” to “scolder” which were a lovely way to pass some of a depressing overcast day. Then we discovered the private baths and got to shut the door to our own slice of volcanic 39.5′ bliss.
Meanwhile a few more calls to our secret activity revealed it was still canceled due to adverse weather
So instead, lunch, more driving round the sights (my driving day this time) before checking in early to my other birthday surprise gift – a five star apartment for the evening.
The place was the epitome of luxury, palatial even. I guess Annett has photos up, I’m running behind with the picture uploads at the moment. Our apartment boasted a master suite, a wide deck, open plan living room, dining room and kitchen equipped with two dishwashers (?!) two plasma TVs (again ?!), plus the best of all, an outdoor private hot tub from which to enjoy views of Lake Taupo.
Easily the nicest place I’ve ever stayed in, by about 4*’s. It was so nice you immediately wanted to defile it, to walk straight in and take a crap on the coffee table. Anything to assert your dominance on the place, to bring it down to your vastly more common level. To say, “hey, good looking. I’m still the boss here!”. I declined, and instead got into bed to watch my plasma, but the thought was there.
The evening was full of couple bonding as you might expect, cheekies in the hot tub, a stroll around the lake (it really was hot to touch) in which we narrowly avoiding a duck and swan attack. Then room service. The next day we waited patiently for confirmation we could do my special final surprise which I guess I need to give more detail about now, it was a tandem skydive, but gale strong winds ruled that out (yet again). So we watched the bungee-ers, then heading back to do the long drive in daylight this time.
The driving had been going well up until this point. In daylight the journey home was much better, with beautiful scenery the whole way. Bright sunshine, green everywhere, all good. The relative calm must have affected Annett who decided to open up the engine of our little clown car on a particularly pleasant stretch of the motorway. Getting up to a dizzying 160kms, on a 100km limit road, reminiscing back to her old autobahn days. Luckily I spotted the police car sitting in the hard shoulder, and rapid braking got her clocked at 121kms, enough for a hefty fine, and only 14kms/h short of a court hearing. I particularly enjoyed her
“do you think thats for me” after the police car waited for us to pass, immediately put on his siren then came out of the hard shoulder following us, flashing its lights
“yep, I think so” I replied.
“what should I do?”
“erm….floor it bonnie! How about, pull over?!”
And pull over we did, and ticket, plus giggles we got.
Getting home I felt a little aged by the trip, but reminded of the buzz of traveling again, after a few months of staying put. Once the weather improves they’ll be plenty more weekends away, spas, speeding tickets and duck invasions to look forward to. Though lets hope next time its less easy to envision the fiery crash.
Nearly a month without a post huh? Too long. How you all been? No concept to this post, no jokes, no germany nostalgia, I’m not going to bore you about the weather, the fun of interviews, mock my long suffering girlfriend further, nope nothing but updates.
For starters I’m still alive (not to tempt fate), thanks for the inquiries on that. I’ve been trying to spend less time online the past month. Sort of a mini experiment on the ratio between internet usage and overall happiness. Now I’m working online again, I’ve come to realize that 10hrs of internet access a day is probably enough. So in the evenings sometimes I don’t even turn the laptop on when I get in from work. All without the help of 12 step programs, witch doctors, personality replacements, I’m just getting a bit bored of always being online. Instead I read. Like the smoker who replaces smoking nasty cigarettes to chewing 100 nicorette tablets instead, I’ve swapped reading on a screen to reading from paper. My average is about a book every 2/3 days now, and I’m loving my new hobby. To think I never used libraries before. All those years spent never reading. Even with my non-existant long-term memory would have accumulated at least 12 extra facts by now, which would make me 37% more interesting at dinner parties, if I could convince anyone to invite me to one. What a fool I was to neglect the written word for so long.
Anway I guess we should cover the basics:
Job – Awesome. A great company. Smallest I’ve ever worked for and it would be hard to imagine going big again. Loads of freedom and responsibility. Basically this site is mine and my collegue steffens to optimise – Thats 50% of my time, the other 50% is creating a future world beating web application called Virtual Mobile, which does exactly what it sounds like it would do. We get to pick everything from business model, branding, even the name. I get to write loads – all the site content, help files and do all the strategy stuff. It’s a really fun, challenging project and I have no idea which leper I kissed, or small boy I rescued from a well to have been given such a nice job.
Annett – Still here, starts a new job on Monday (the first proper one after a million false starts and short-term temps). She’s ill in bed, but happy enough when employed.
Life in Auckland – Boring! But perfectly pleasant. A bit like being a guest at a never ending wake for a person you didn’t know, but that aside it’s nice enough I guess. More importantly there are jobs here, and that side of things is good so I can overlook the dull city for now. You don’t come to NZ for Auckland, and in winter every city is shit, lets be honest.
Friends – We’re getting there. It’s not easy to meet people here, especially interesting people. But we’re trying harder. Definitely work in progress, we have a social circle, but you’re not exactly so big you’re going to get out of breath running round it.
When are you leaving? – No idea, but no time soon.
What else have we been up to?
Well we did our first road trip to Taupo for Annetts birthday, I think maybe that deserves its own blog post. The film festival has been in town and its been fantastic. Not wanting to do things by halves, and excited by something I actually want to do in this city, I’ve spent $200 on tickets. I’ll see 6 movies this weekend alone, which will be 15 or so over the past two weeks. Seen some great stuff especially
Dear Zachary – If this doesn’t break your heart, you’re already dead. Best Doc since Capturing the Friedmans
Elite Squad – When the Brazilians get is right, they really get it right. Awesome street cop movie in same league as City of God
The Counterfeiters & The Wave – Two of the very best came from those lovely germans. Both show fresh spins on a very worn out chapter of history.
I think we’re alone now – Mental illness and stalkers. Fascinating if not a little exploitative.
The song of the sparrows - Lovely low key Iranian meldrama about the mishaps of a poor (in the financial sense) family.
And plenty more not worth writing up (including the Dark Knight which drowned under the hype for me,
SPOILERS COMING ONLY READ IF YOU’VE SEEN THE MOVIE ——>
and that two coins guy was just totally ridiculous. If you’re girlfriends killed and you’ve lost half your face “the only thing that makes sense” is therapy, facial re-constructive surgery, and alcoholism, not running a round finding bent cops and telling them some crap about how flipping a coin to decide if they should live or die is the only thing that makes sense. It makes absolutely no sense, just admit you’re not good with decisions.)
What else is there then? Hum, hum, erm, umm, arhhh. I guess nothing then.
“Look over there, those dark clouds, that’s the end of the world right? The apocalypse has reached south Auckland and now we’re mere miles from certain death?!”
“No it’s fine, look over to the north there’s bright streaks of sunshine up there.”
“How many different weathers can you count?” We both spin and count the weathers surrounding us from this elevated vantage point.
“233? 312?”
“Hum, could be.”
We’re standing on the rim of an extinct volcano, call Mt Eden. I had never stood on top of a Volcano before, so I was pleased to place another tick against this activity on my mental to do list. Like any hardened couch surfer, I had dressed appropriately for climbing a wet, grass covered extinct volcano by putting on my flip flops. This meant I wouldn’t actually be doing a great deal of standing, and that tick should really have been demoted to a half tick as I spent the rest of the time slipping down the volcano on my ass as this picture will testify:
It’s here that we first noticed just how amazingly versatile the weather is in Auckland. In front of us as far as the eye can see invisible deitys were hosting a gigantic weather battle. The elements are fighting for supremacy, “I’ll see your overcast and raise you hail.” “Hail? Ha! Bring forth the thunder.” “Thunder? That all you have?! Time for my trump card – the rainbow!”
Hang on a minute, rainbows? When was the last time I saw a rainbow? I thought only children could see rainbows. I thought it was a skill just they had, like not feeling self conscious when naked ie something we all grow out of. Rainbows are little more than weather unicorns aren’t they? Now I know that to be false. If I had a New Zealand dollar (worth about 3p) for every rainbow I’d seen since we moved here I wouldn’t have to go trying to locate their end to be in the possession of a pot of gold.
Surrounding us were Korean tourists, whose agendas must be packed tighter than my overdraft, as their tour bus drove them all the way up to the top of the mountain, delivering them to the knockout views which they had 3 minutes to enjoy before being herded back on to the bus. Watching it is a little reminiscent of a tourist sheepdip, albeit with a very pleasant volcanic backdrop. I felt like running round and stapling all their eyelids shut, for they had not earned the pleasure of these views by getting lost and walking several miles around, and around, and around the volcano before walking slowly up. Cheats!
When Crowded House sang about experiencing “four seasons in one day” I always thought they were talking about England, an observation they probably made on a wet monday, on a ringroad, in Wolverhampton. But it cannot have been that which inspired such a sweet slice of 90’s pop. Now I know better. It can only have been about New Zealand weather. The weather here changes its mind faster than a woman, no wait, faster than an army of women all attempting to navigate from one map.
One minute it’s beautifully clear, with bright sunshine then a blink or two later the heavens have not opened, they’ve erupted! But these rain eruptions, despite being some of the heaviest I’ve ever seen only last about 5 minutes and then it’s fine again, bright and sunny like nothing happened. I’m used to this from Asia, where it would last for 30 minutes or so a day and you got the feeling that if it didn’t people would probably die, so it was fine. Here, we can have 12 or more of these 5 minute torrents a day. At an absolute minimum 2, as there’s always one on my walk to work and one on my walk back. It’s as if we’re plumbed directly in the pipes of some higher power, and whenever he turns the taps on to wash his hands or prepare a caesar salad he unwittingly, temporarily, floods Auckland.
I’m used to rain, I’m English, I have an MA in rain. But in England you know where you are with rain. When it rains, it rains and then it rains, when it’s bored of raining, it breaks the tedium with – rain, like that non-stop for two weeks. You make a plan, you open the curtains, you see the rain, you close the curtains, you make a new plan starring the indoors this time. Here I don’t even know if you can let the weather stop you doing anything, as it’s not cold, and only rains for about one hour a day. But if you get caught in any of those five minute mini floods, you’ll be wet until the next one.
“It never rains, it pours” he says, “It never pours, it floods would be closer to the truth” I reply. I was talking to a guy at work, as we watched the latest downpour drown a few of the weaker swimming pedestrians who left home without their umbrellas lifejackets. He said that the best thing to do is prepare to go out whilst it’s raining, then by the time you’ve left it will have stopped and you have a good 15mins to do whatever you wanted to do before the next onslaught. Weather strategy huh, time to update that MA.
The other thing I find strange, is not how changeable the weather is, but how different all our experiences are of it, within such a small place. Because of Aucklandians backgrounds (it’s not actually that easy to find Kiwis here, almost everyone in CBD seems to be immigrants – Korean, Japanese, Spanish, Irish etc) Talk to a Kiwi and “oh, the winter’s here now, horrible and cold” they moan. But that’s about it, another jumper and they get on with their business. For our Singaporean friends, it’s a different story “you don’t want to do anything when the weather’s this freezing” they say. Geez, no wonder we can’t get them out of their house, this is a hibernation worthy winter to them. For us, its a perfectly pleasant but endlessly fascinating 17′c hourly lottery….
are we. Yep we’ve arrived after a gruelling three stage flight, and 48hrs without anything more than a stolen moment or two of sleep. Aucklands nice, very very clean or that could be just after Asia, the whole city feels like a dentists surgery.
Its strange to be back in civilization. The real worlds sobering after Asia. Asia is so absurd, so mental that its hard to summarize, you don’t have to go anywhere or do anything to be entertained, as Steve said last night “I like it ‘cos you don’t have to go anywhere to see a freak show, you can just sit outside and be entertained for hours and hours”. Now we’re doing normal people things like flat hunting (saw 6 or 7 today) and job hunting (applied to 6 or 7 today). The good news is that Steve and Bron (our hosts) have said that employment amongst skilled people is 0%, that employment agencies don’t even advertise jobs anymore as theres no-one to fill them, this place is suffering from serious brain drain as most people have run off to Australia or Europe. Neither of their jobs were ever advertised, the agencies just know people in the companies and when a good person comes along the CVs get sent in and hey presto, a job appears. So employment prospects look good, and hopefully a small or non-existent pay drop. Living wise its pretty cheap, more expensive than Leipzig, but some parts of Asia were more expensive than Leipzig, that place is in a special little bubble all of its own. Way cheaper than England though, and you can live on works doorstep in some real nice apartments with views out onto the harbour.
I guess thats about it, not much else to report because everything here is sort of like it is back in England, only nicer, so there isn’t that much to say about it. I guess I’ll be better at picker up the subtle differences in a few days when we get out of the whirl of flat and job hunting, can get down to enjoying our new home and I can get out of my overdraft
This is quite a serious post because I’m hungry and we’ve been running round the city all day. More interesting stuff to come later.
