Waffles, Chocolate, Beer

Let's be honest now, there's really only one country that you can legitimately prefix to each of the above mentioned indulgences to suggest quality and abundance. Add to this mussels, fries, The Smurfs and Tin Tin and it becomes glaringly obvious that Belgium would make an interesting holiday destination.


I could do my usual trip breakdown, but really, it's the end of the year and I can't really be bothered. Put simply, Belgium was all about consumption. The consumption of food, drinking and atmosphere. Majority of our time was spent in Brussels, with a day trip to Bruges and a 10 minute wander around the block in Antwerp.


The outstanding events from this trip are as follows:

• Fondest memory: Trudging in from the -2 degree weather into a warm Belgium Pub and spending the rest of the evening in front of a fire place sampling Belgian beer.

• Forgettable moment: Some guy tried to mug one of us.

• Regrettable decision: Exploring Antwerp.

Crisis Christmas 2008

Volunteer work during Christmas. It's something I've always wanted to do but have always had prior arrangements. This time, being in London, without family presented itself as the ideal time to help out the homeless on Christmas. It may not be a lot but I managed to help out at the homeless shelter on Commercial Road - tiring yet so rewarding. Merry Christmas!

London Abodes

It's probably safe to say that my time spent in London isn't entirely made up of traveling, partying, exploring, absorbing London. It should then come as no surprise that a large percentage of my time is spent confined in my private quarters. The place where I sleep, laze, pass time, eat, read and ponder the greater issues in this life; more commonly known as my room. My stint in London has had me living out of different accommodations in the various boroughs of London. Here are my lodgings from the past half a year.


Upon arrival in London I dossed (n: Temporary make-shift bedding) for 2 weeks on a friend's couch in Paddington.


After forfeiting his lease, thereby leaving himself and I homeless I found myself short-letting with another friend at a discounted rent of £200/PCM in Highbury and Islington.


Upon completion of that short-let I managed to pick up a 3 month short-let in the suburb of Royal Oak.


Which finally brings me to my current dwelling in Soho, Tottenham Court Road. I can quite confidently say that this will not be the last place of residence in London.

Halloween

Sombreros worn low as to shroud their identities. Three Mexicans wait outside my local supermarket. They stand abreast, hands in their pockets and shawls pulled across their chests huddling from the cold. It's not the time nor place to be dressed in traditional Mexican attire - 6:00 pm in the middle of Autumn in London. It initially strikes me as unusual but I soon remember that this is London. Eclectic London. A cultural melting pot of ethnicity and culture, Mexicans included.

Forgetting about the Hispanics I continue with my grocery shopping. Wandering through the supermarket isles I hear commotion over by the cold section. Peeking through the shelves in the direction of the ruckus I see 4 people grouped in a circle. I'm slightly taken back, standing there are the 3 Mexicans but they are not alone. The fourth party member is Batman. Thursday night 4 drunkards have dressed up and are playing drinking games near the alcohol section of the local supermarket.

It could only be Halloween. The annual event which excuses for you to dress up as anything or anybody you want. The restrictions that you have to be something ghoulish, hairy or brain dead no longer applies (quite common in society these days). Want to be a Marvel Super Hero? Want to be that trampy nurse? How about a pop star? Marilyn Mason? Amy Winehouse? The options are endless and the 31st of October makes it all acceptable.

So armed with a cut kit, plenty of makeup and a lot of fake blood I enjoyed my first halloween away from Sydney.

Absolutely ...

Exhausted. I'm always pressed for time, it's a habit that has been hard to shake, leaving things to the last minute. Wednesday evening was no exception I was late for check in. I sat at Paddington station waiting for the Heathrow Express to Terminal 3. I had a mammoth 19 hour flight to Bali en route to Seoul ahead of me. I bordered KE908 and slipped into a disconnected slumber. A couple of in-flight movies later and some Korean rice porridge I was walking around Incheon International Airport as I waited for my connecting flight to Denpasar, Bali. 2 days worth of traveling for 2 days in Bali. This was going to be an interesting next couple of days.


The 7 hours or so spent on the flight were probably one of the more memorable flights of recent times. The hostesses were gracious and polite even going out of their way for some small talk. I had the rare luxury of having an empty seat next to me allowing me to stretch out and relax; the calm before the storm if you will. Bali welcomed me with humidity and the slowest customs procedure known to man. There must have been 5 customs attendants servicing at least 400 passengers. At just after 1 am on the 3rd October I emerged from Denpasar airport.The next 48 hours in Bali would involve a surprise, a wedding, a feast and memorable times held together by plenty of alcohol and a blatant disregard for sleep.



Surprised. I received the informal Wedding Invitation towards the end of August. Prior to leaving Sydney I had penciled in a return trip to Bali to attend the ceremony. Unfortunately there are some things that you can't script. My RSVP: Not Attending. At the time my answer was influenced by two things: I had no Annual Leave and the costs of the flights to Bali were pushing £1200+. That was my story, at least up until last week. I had just been paid and disposable income to play with. This prompted some serious thinking, what is the cost of an attending a close mate's wedding? What is the cost of missing a close mate's wedding? I logged online for one desperate check of flights and prices. To my surprise Korean Air had available discounted flights, £630 return. I calculated that over my short stint of employment I had accumulated approximately 1.92 days of annual leave.

The following day I asked my boss if it would be possible to take a couple of days leave. I had only worked for 5 weeks but what did I have to lose? The minute he said yes I bought the tickets and emailed my friends back home letting them know that I was going to Bali! The only people I didn't tell were the bride and groom...

Memorable. It was just after 1:00 am I had my backpack slung over one shoulder. I peered down the road. Double checked the address of the hotel. This was it, but nobody was around. I had been given the details and been told to wait here. A cab pulled up and a blonde Paris Hilton-esque girl stepped out. She was followed by a smiling yet familiar face, it was my friend. "I had to tell him I was going back to the hotel room with the girl so he wouldn't get suspicious. This is going to be awesome I can't wait to see his reaction".


I dropped off my stuff and we headed back into town. Ocean Beach Club was where the groom was spending his last evening as a bachelor. It was almost 2 am and the rest of my high school friends and the groom's friends were there. The Bintang was flowing and most people were relaxed and merry. The surprise itself was best described as slow motion. I snuck up behind him and propped my arm around his shoulder as somebody took a photo. He peered over to see who he had just taken a photo with. A couple of seconds passed and then it registered. It was all captured on film and this pushed the festivities early into the morning.

The lads had let me crash their hotel for 2 nights which was fine by me. Due to overbooking they were forced to relocate to another hotel for one night. The sun was already mid sky by the time we left the hotel. We were taken to the new rooms at Kuta Seaview and hurriedly got ready for the ceremony. It was then we discovered that the hotel had no ironing service.

Traffic that passes along Kuta Beach can be best described as horrendous, we negotiated a cab fare to Nusa Dua Beach Hotel where the ceremony was due to start at 3:00 pm. At 3:05 we stepped out of the cab, we were frantically asked around looking for the Santi lounge. Not only were we late, we were sweaty and we were all dressed in un-ironed shirts with varying degrees of crinkles and creases. This was a catastrophe!

Relieved. We burst through the doors to find the groom sitting on the lounge in shorts and looking like he had just woken up. "You guys are early" he hoarsely mumbled. "What happened to your voice?". "Too much screaming last night, it hurts to speak". By the time 4 pm rolled by we had ironed our shirts and cooled down, we were ready for the ceremony.


Beautiful. The 25 or so attendees of the Wedding comprised of immediate family and close friends. The location was spectacular, a small pagoda stood nestled on a grassy knoll not more than 5 metres from the sand. It was a warm afternoon and those who had come appropriately dressed were perspiring. Back, armpit, brow sweat were common sight with even knee sweat making an appearance. In the background Balinese instruments filled the air with a therapeutic soundtrack. It was a nervous wait for all, none more anxious than the groom.


There was a scuffle of feet as people ran off with their cameras, the commotion had begun. The heads of hotel guests turned, smiles beamed and cameras became active as the bride made her way down the path. Escorted by women dressed in traditional Balinese attire and her two sisters she smiled all while being received by a smiling hushed crowd. None more happy than the groom himself. The Balinese percussion ceased as the wedding host began the ceremony.

The wedding was a spectacle and was quite entertaining. For those wedding purists this would have been considered a disaster. There was mispronunciation the groom's name until the Wedding Planner had a quiet word in his ear to rectify this. Guests were constantly moving in and out of their chairs trying to snap the 'perfect shot' (I included). Finally the money question: "Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?" and it was his answer that summed up the whole wedding. Without hesitation he replied with "Absolutely". The traditional "I do" had been replaced. The crowd chuckled but that was symbolic of the whole procession. It was enjoyable, entertaining and done for the right reasons. It was the public display of the union of two people. For them this union had happened long before the wedding arrangements, before the flights were booked, even probably before the proposal. This was merely a formality. An absolute.


The reception was a sumptuous banquet enjoyed in front of a Balinese Stage performance. Coming from London my dulled taste buds were treated to a wonderland of dishes. Dinner finished and we headed back to the hotel to get ready for the post-wedding celebrations. Showering for the 3rd time that day we changed into more appropriate gear: Boardies, t-shirt and flip-flops. We club hopped to the main tourist locations: M-Bar Go, Paddy's, Bounty that was until it started raining and a blackout fell upon Kuta. People were standing in pitch black venues, that was the sign for majority of the wedding group to call it a night (bride and groom included). We finished up the evening at Double 6 for some late night drinks.

Sunday morning, traditional Balinese/Indonesian food for breakfast, a nice well deserved massage and some strolling through the markets. We grabbed a couple of drinks and booked ourselves into Karaoke at Discovery Centro. The VVIP room, catering for up to 20 people, booked by 5 guys. It was like the old times, unnecessarily excessive. 2 hours worth of singing and we were done. My Bali experience had come to an abrupt but memorable end. Goodbyes were said and I was dropped off at the airport at 1:30 am Sunday morning. 20 hours later I was sitting at the Heathrow Connect platform waiting for the train to get back into London.

Worth it. This trip hands down has been my favourite adventure all year. Throughout my journeys I've immersed myself in new cultures, met new people and sampled new foods. This was all that and more, conversation, laughter, song and dance shared by familiar faces. It was an event, the coming together of friends for the celebration of love. Thanks to the guys and congratulations to the newly weds.

SMS

bro, no time 2 get on the net
but weather is beautiful,hot
and humid. can club in shorts
n thongs if u want. msg me
when u get 2 kuta seaview,
will meet u straight away
cause we will be next door.
dont let the airport guys pick
up any check in luggage u
have cause u'll have 2 give
them money. carry some cash
2 exchange at the airport, can
u pick up 1 litre of spirits, and
bring ur A game bro! if u need
2 know anything hit me up

Sent 11:27 on 1 Oct 08

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did so. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” - Mark Twain

Farewell W2 5TQ

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times" - A tale of Two Cities: Charles Dickens

Flat 91. With an air of certainty I can confidently say this will be the last time I walk these corridors of the Royal Oak Villas. The dimly lit hallway, littered with crayons, rubbish and temporarily parked prams has been an eyesore for the last 3 months. Majority of my London experience has taken place here at Royal Oak. My first rental property, my first European Holiday, my first visitor, my first job offer. I leave the house in similar conditions to how I arrived. With nobody around. My (ex) room-mates are all out, working or socialising. I pull the door close for the last time. The turgid air laden with subcontinental spices invades the nostrils as I push my way through the hallway doors to the lifts. It will be the last time I catch the lift down from the 14th floor.

The rhythmic sound of the suitcase wheels click behind me. It's 9 pm as I drag my belongings through the park en route to the Tube Station. As I pass three young girls, one of them yells "Oi!". A young male in front of me turns around, he pauses then without warning removes his belt and runs off into the middle of the park. I stare into the darkness he just disappeared into. Suddenly the tension in the park intensifies. Before I realise what is happening I see another youth being pursued by a group of young-uns. "Get him!" one of them yells. A group of young males are chasing a young black male through the park. He trips and they pounce on him like a pack of hyenas on a wounded animal.

The attackers reign down stomps and fists as those wielding belts unleash leather fury onto his body. Unfortunately for the victim, the darkness of the park shrouds majority of the viciousness. Bracing against the barrage of attacks he manages to get to his feet and fend off the would-be thugs. His flight leaves him disorientated losing his hat and a shoe. Bystanders (I included) are watching as he runs out of the park through and across the main road. Cars are the least of his worries as headlights flash and horns blare. The youths retreat back into the park, the chase is over. I cross the road moments later, passing the prey as I walk to the Tube Station. "Did you get my shoe?" he asks a one of the females from the beginning. Still breathing heavily, he feigns towards the park and with both hands in the air yelling with contempt "I'll f**k you up!" (sic).

I'm going to miss this place...

Work to Live

The sentiment that most London newcomers commonly share is the disdain for the weather. Today is slightly different. A deep blue sky has decided to make a rare cameo appearance providing an award winning supporting role to a glorious Friday morning. Suffice to say, only the naive would classify a day as glorious with the metric of a cloudless sky. The main reason is that after 176 days of a negative cash flow I have finally been paid. Cue the angelic horns!

I think my biggest disappointment is, once I got paid, only then, did life suddenly feel normal again.

"It's a lovely day, just got paid. Stack it up, be on my way." - Lovely Day: Written by Bill Withers.

Knock, knock ...

Rewind. When I first arrived in London I had one simple plan. Find a job. That was it. Should this plan backfire I had devised an equally simple contingent: If, come October I was still unemployed, I would simply return home with an empty bank account, a bruised ego and a multitude of stories. Given the uncertain nature of my London Nudie Run chapter you can understand my apprehension of signing into a long term lease. With this in mind I needed a sojourn for three months. My criteria would be as follows: Something short-term, something relatively cheap and something within central London.

After countless viewings I eventually came across an advertised flat share in the Westminster suburb of Royal Oak. The room was being advertised as a 3 month short let within an ex-council block of flats. The room would be vacant for 3 months and during this time I would be entitled to use the room at a reduced price of £480 per calendar month plus a £250 bond. The current tenant was heading back to Spain for three months and would return to London at the start of October. So at least I thought...

Fast forward. "Come in!" I shouted late yesterday evening in response to a knock on my door. The door eased open and standing in the hallway was the owner of the room. "Hey! You're back one month early" I tentatively queried. Turns out he came all the way back to London for an exam and would only be staying for a night or two before returning to Spain. Now this isn't the point of my post. The point is, I had just finished my laundry and had hung my laundry all about the room.



To the unknowing observer the room was a complete mess. It looked like the result of a washing machine that had been strapped with dynamite and placed in the middle of my room. It required closer inspection to see that my clothing was strategically placed around the room to dry. Shirts hanging off his blinds, socks stuffed his cupboard handles and underwear hanging off his desk lamp, his TV and his bed.


As we talked I couldn't help but notice his eyes stray around the room. Eyes darting backwards and forwards interrogated everything all while his mouth chatted away. I stood there trying to imagine what could be going through his mind. The best I could come up with was "Ay Caramba! His underwear is everywhere!". Imagine coming back home only to find some body's shit scattered all over your room. I just hope I get my bond back, otherwise I'm not going to wash my clothes before hanging them up...

I ♥ Paris (Kinda)

First weekend away during Autumn would be spent in the absorbing city of Paris. Despite having 2 whole days to explore I still managed to side step the more famous sites. What tour of Paris would be complete without a visit into the Louvre or a photo of the Eiffel Tower? Well, here it is. Paris without the star attractions!

Saturday
Notre Dame:

Du Louvre:
Place de Concorde:
Arc de Triomphe:
Basilique du Sacré-Coeur:

Sunday

Walt Disney Studios:
Euro Disneyland:

Food

I'll put more effort into the next post...

Long weekend: Madrid

There are particular words or phrases that transcend countries and cultures. Take for example, "Hot summer". For many Londoners this is regarded as any temperature that takes the mercury past 24 degrees Celsius. It should be noted that any sunshine is enough for a local to rip off their t-shirt and head to the park for some much needed vitamin D. Another example would be the phrase "Summer Bank Holiday Long Weekend". This on the other hand only means one thing in London: "Get out of London for 3 days!". So naturally we did that. The destination? Madrid, Spain.


I raced home after work, that's right folks, I'm employed and at this moment in time not enjoying it (but that's for another post). Did my laundry and turned in for an early night a couple of hours later I was up and out of the flat by 3:30 am. At 4:00 am I caught the Easybus 757 from Gloucester Place and was shuttled off to Luton airport.

The flight was bearable and allowed me to catch up on some much needed sleep for the weekend ahead. I awoke 30 minutes before landing to find my neighbour eagerly looking my way. "Sorry, I didn't want to wake you, do you mind if I go to the toilet?". Such manners, makes me wonder what would have happened if I had said "no" and gone back to sleep.


Disembarking from the plane we were greeted by our host at Madrid Barajas International Airport. It should be noted that the person we're staying with I have only met once in my life. Immediately we were whisked away back to her place in Getafe. Upon entering the house we were exposed to a beautiful house with modern decor and an adorable 1 year old baby with a knack of calling everybody "baba". Congee was served for lunch followed by a quick car wash and our afternoon spent absorbing European Art at Museo del Prado.



The 2 hour stroll through the museum with our lack of sleep had finally caught up to us. Taking it upon ourselves we indulged in a little afternoon Spanish ritual known as a siesta. At 10 pm we headed out for dinner (normal time apparently). On the menu tonight was Japanese/Chinese cuisine at the delightfully and delicious Jade Colonial. After many months living in London, the freshness of the food was welcomed by all. With all members sporting sizable bags underneath the eyes we sucked it up and hit the town for a spot of partying. We were driven to Buddha del mar which oddly reminded me a little of Tao in Vegas. The night ended in a blur: €200 for a bottle of vodka. Drinking games. Intoxication. Sleep.

Despite having little to no sleep the previous night we awoke scattered about the house wanting more sleep. In Spain "Hot summer" represents 35 degrees of unadulterated warmth framed by cloudless skies and 9:00 pm sunsets. Given the nature of our previous day we lazed about the pool for the majority of the day. Water tests had revealed that the pools PH levels were fine but the chlorine levels left much to be desired. Which meant a lot of water watching but that was fine by us. The next couple of hours we sat in the shaded area of the local Mc Donalds followed by more water watching and chatting until sunset. Traditional Spanish cuisine for dinner: Tapas and cerveza.

Without a doubt the underlying theme of the holiday has been relaxation and laziness. Monday was no different, I was awoken to the sound of Usher blasting through the hallways. I suspect this was no coincidence but more of a polite way of waking the guests. Given our previous days efforts (or lack there of) it was decided we take a train into Madrid downtown and walk about the shopping district. Urgency was required as we raced home, packed and headed back to the airport only to be advised that our flight be delayed. Work is going to be a struggle this week ...

Scotland

During the course of my adventures I've come to realise that new cities fall into one of two categories. The first are those places which are distinctly unique. These are the places which scream individuality and ooze a distinct culture. The other, are places which lack the redeeming feature that sets is apart from the rest. Descriptions of such places usually begin with "This kind of reminds me of...". Glasgow, is one of those cities. Of the 15 hours of so spent in Glasgow I couldn't help but make comparisons to other cities, more specifically Australian cities. It would be best to describe Glasgow as Melbourne populated with people from Penrith.


After an interesting night out in the town we awoke to gray skies and rain. Our Glasgow sightseeing was severely limited to indoor activities, more specifically the Museum of Modern Art or shopping. With those two options we jumped on the first train and headed east to Edinburgh.

Edinburgh falls into the latter category of destinations. Immediately stepping off the train you're greeted by cobbled streets and medieval architecture. The city of Edinburgh was bustling with tourists and locals, many of shops, pubs and restaurants were overflowing with festival go-getters. We dumped our luggage at the hostel and headed to a traditional Scottish pub for some local cuisine.

It would be decided that our afternoon agenda be spent with a leisurely trek up Arthur's Seat (Despite protest from the girls). The ascent was cardiovascular workout, the descent provided comical relief in the form of wrong-footed slips and falls accompanied by plenty of groaning (Again, the girls). Feeling extremely exhausted I headed back to the hostel to sneak in some shut eye before our evening ghost tour.

The ghost tour of Edinburgh would be better classified as entertaining as opposed to scary. Our over-exuberant tour guide took us through the underground vaults or Edinburgh, through the narrow alleyways and finally to the cemetery. One particular eerie moment occurred with the group huddled together in the underground room. We were told by our host that "Behind that wall bodies were buried. Visitors to this particular room have reported the sensation of warm breath with the lingering smell of stale rum against the back of their necks". Then somebody farted. It was then, I knew I would not be scared.

Feeling drained and uninspired we opted for a quiet Saturday night. Turns out we were sharing our hostel room with a one Natasha Lea Jones of Pooka fame. The following day we explored Edinburgh Castle and treated ourselves to some free Fringe Festival entertainment.

Oscar Nominations

It's an art. Part actor, part enthusiast, part luck. The interview stage is just that, a stage; an audition for your career. It's about learning the lines, knowing the body language and delivering a compelling enough performance. Compelling enough to convince a company that you are the right person for the job. Practice makes perfect, the answers roll off the tongue, I know when to nod, when to smile and when to laugh.

"So walk me through your career to date"
"Why did you leave your last job?"
"Why did you move to London?"
"What is it about this role that attracts you?"
"Why do you want to work for this company?"
"What is a static variable?"
"What is a virtual function?"
"What are the principles of Object Oriented Design?"
"When are copy constructors used in C++?"
"What is a Singleton Design Pattern?"
"Name a time you had conflict with a colleague?"
"Describe to me a time when you took initiative"
"How do you prioritise?"
"You're currently on a Working Holiday Visa, what are your plans?"
"Do you have any questions for me?"
"Congratulations, they want to offer you a job."

Monthly Update:

• 3 Job offers
• 1 decision

Amstel dam

The cold crisp breeze stirs through the park. A path of wavering grass and the rustle of leaves is left in its wake. Occasionally the sun will steal through the clouds, the rays warm the skin and the goosebumps subside. It's already quite late in the morning and the locals are awake. They are occupied with their usual Sunday morning park activities; exercising, walking the dog, strolling with kids or on their way to somewhere important. Then of course there's me. In a defiant protest I sit in the park for other reasons not so common to theirs. I've just woken up. In the middle of a park. In Amsterdam. I have stooped to a new level of homelessness.

In my defence, I was only asleep for 10 minutes but what a glorious 10 minutes it was. Rewind 24 hours. 3:30 am, my house mates are still out partying as I gather my backpack and head off to Baker Street to catch the National Express to Stansted Airport. One of the reasons for the relocation to London was having the luxury and opportunity to travel around Europe. This would be my first of (hopefully) many weekend adventures. This weekend's destination as you may have already figured out is Amsterdam.

The flight from London to Amsterdam took a little under 50 minutes. We were immediately greeted by a cooler than London climate, plenty of canals and the biggest collection of bicycles I have seen in my life. Our day was spent visiting the major tourist destinations each reached by tram: The Van Gough Museum, Anne Frank House, shopping around Kalverstraat and finally an early evening tour of the infamous Red Light District. The evening was capped off with the Sensation Black 2008 party held at Amsterdam Arena where we partied into the early morning.


Fast forward to 11 am Sunday, so having been awake for an unhealthy 31 hours I find myself sitting in Vondelpark. It should be noted that, some of us did not organise accommodation for this weekend adventure. Our lazy afternoon was spent in one of Amsterdam's traditional Coffee Houses before boarding our flight back home. I haven't quite got used to the fact that "home" is now London and have on many times re-corrected myself "I'm from Sydney, well London".