It's slightly worrying when a friend comes to visit from Sydney with the message: "Oh your mom told me to tell you to wash your jeans, and if you don't I'm supposed to wash them when you're not looking". Haha, I miss my parents.
Tuesday, 23 June 2009
Tuesday, 16 June 2009
Little Victory
This cursor has behaved more like a metronome on ecstasy. I type, the cursor flies across the page. I stop, it flashes back at me; blinking mockingly. I think, the cursor accelerates leaving a trail of text in its wake. It pauses and catches its breath, waiting for me. I read what has been typed, then without thinking the cursor moves from right to left undo-ing everything. This periodic movement has been an on going theme all night. Each time I type, I re-read and delete it. Re-word then delete it. Alas, sometimes the thoughts and words just don't sync up. So here I am, blogging about my anthropomorphic cursor.
When it comes down to complaint letters my emotions always trend the same. I'm generally the victim of some travesty which pisses me off. Self-righteous and all I pen this injustice to somebody who cares. This is where things get a little strange, these spiels serve no purpose other than to entertain. I get a certain satisfaction writing these letters and deep down I like to think people get some value out of reading them. Don't get me wrong, I don't go around complaining about anything. I start off angry and end up laughing.
All letters are signed with my full name, contact address and phone number. Generally, I don't get a reply. So it came as a surprise when I sent off a typical whinge to my bank and received this as a reply.
I'm glad to report it didn't tick and contained complimentary wine. I wonder if it's poisoned...
When it comes down to complaint letters my emotions always trend the same. I'm generally the victim of some travesty which pisses me off. Self-righteous and all I pen this injustice to somebody who cares. This is where things get a little strange, these spiels serve no purpose other than to entertain. I get a certain satisfaction writing these letters and deep down I like to think people get some value out of reading them. Don't get me wrong, I don't go around complaining about anything. I start off angry and end up laughing.
All letters are signed with my full name, contact address and phone number. Generally, I don't get a reply. So it came as a surprise when I sent off a typical whinge to my bank and received this as a reply.
I'm glad to report it didn't tick and contained complimentary wine. I wonder if it's poisoned...
Monday, 8 June 2009
June 2009
June. Our return Eurostar from Belgium to London was delayed by a meagre 30 minutes. As a nice gesture the kind people at Eurostar offered all patrons affected by the delay a free one-way journey on the Eurostar valid for the next year. Coupon in hand I headed to Paris for the first week in June. I had two goals this trip: Catch up with some Sydney-siders and attempt some "proper" Parisian sightseeing.
June. We are approaching the mid point of 2009. What a torrid start to the year. My trip to Paris marks the end of travel for an entire month. I long to sit down and do nothing this weekend. Not too sure if it has to do with being overseas or me getting older but time seems to be riffling by at a million miles an hour. There's always some birthday, some fare well, somebody visiting, some excuse to be doing something. The London week knows no bounds. Musicals, movies, exercise, shopping, social sport, dinner, drinks, partying. It can happen on any night!
June. Start of the month and we are still experiencing a sub-optimal Summer. Last I checked we were hovering on around a daily average of 14 degrees. Add to that overcast skies, scattered showers and Tube disruptions. It's been a pretty average start to the season. These reasons aren't enough to warrant my current state of disconnect. It possibly has to do with the mass exodus of expatriates packing up and leaving London. Visa issues and job redundancies appear to be the main culprit forcing people back home. Strangely enough this emptiness of having London friends leave has been offset by visiting friends from back home. This and the anticipation of seeing old friends in the not too distant future.
June. We are approaching the mid point of 2009. What a torrid start to the year. My trip to Paris marks the end of travel for an entire month. I long to sit down and do nothing this weekend. Not too sure if it has to do with being overseas or me getting older but time seems to be riffling by at a million miles an hour. There's always some birthday, some fare well, somebody visiting, some excuse to be doing something. The London week knows no bounds. Musicals, movies, exercise, shopping, social sport, dinner, drinks, partying. It can happen on any night!
June. Start of the month and we are still experiencing a sub-optimal Summer. Last I checked we were hovering on around a daily average of 14 degrees. Add to that overcast skies, scattered showers and Tube disruptions. It's been a pretty average start to the season. These reasons aren't enough to warrant my current state of disconnect. It possibly has to do with the mass exodus of expatriates packing up and leaving London. Visa issues and job redundancies appear to be the main culprit forcing people back home. Strangely enough this emptiness of having London friends leave has been offset by visiting friends from back home. This and the anticipation of seeing old friends in the not too distant future.
Saturday, 30 May 2009
BST (GMT + 1)
6 am early Sunday morning. After a busy day at work and an even more eventful night out at the Matter we headed over to nearby Greenwich for sunrise. I like to blame the next actions on lack of soberness but, stupidity and peer pressure are perfectly legitimate reasons. Being my first time at GMT I had convinced myself that I couldn't wait for the museum gates to open and that I would simple sneak in, take a photo and be on my way. In some countries it's called "break and enter". My term sounds less juvenile. As usual I had only thought as far as an entrance plan, I would jump onto the nearby ledge, up onto the barricade and the leap over the fence landing safely on the other side. I had (as usual) neglected to think through any form of exit plan and a 2 metre fence would have been quite the challenge. Halfway through the plan I was just about to leap over the final stage when I was rudely interrupted by a security guard. What proceeded was an ear bashing capable of humbling any grown man. "Don't you ever come here again, what do you think this is?" - I was instantly sober and I sheepishly retreated to back into the park.
We lay on the cool grass as the sun rose over East London. For the next hour or so we dozed in and out of sleep. Our bodies tired, but minds active as we lay remembering the night before. It was then two photographers approached us and told us that they were looking for subjects to shoot for their upcoming marketing advertisement. They were after Sunday morning models, we accepted and signed away permission for our faces to be used in the campaign. Unfortunately, the campaign was for the Museum, the very museum that I had tried to break into. I explained this to the photographers and they assured me that everything would be ok. We were escorted through the side gates like royalty. I could feel the stern look of the security guard eye-balling my every move. Photos were taken and soon enough we were lying back on the grass, the sun completely over the horizon as the park filled with Sunday morning strollers.
Ain't London great?
Wednesday, 27 May 2009
Saw us coming ...
'If you met two girls on this trip and they asked you to stay one more night in Berlin would you do it? OK, OK, how about if you met two girls and one of them was hot? What if, one of the girls was interested? What if I met a girl and I needed a wing man would you stay?' Suffice to say, I answered yes to all these hypothetical questions about the circumstances that would keep me in Berlin. Heineken in one hand, relaxing by the river as the mysterious Berlin fluff idles on a beautiful Monday afternoon. What better way to wind down another weekend trip. Monday 4:35 pm.
"Hey, I'm not going to be coming into work today. I missed my flight back to London. The next available flight is Wednesday morning". It so happened that we missed our flight home, by a lot. The S-Bahn arrived at Berlin-Schönefeld Airport at 6:30. Our flight was at 6:30. Standing disorientated and covered in sweat we stood dumbfounded staring at customs. How did we completely mismanage time? The next 2 hours was spent trying to find an alternative route home. We poured over the possibilities: Other flights to London, flights to adjacent cities, trains, buses. We even contemplated driving home, but at €1300-2000 to hire a car in Berlin and drop it off in London, this idea was quickly abandoned. Dejected and defeated we booked the next available Easyjet flight back to London (£52). Wednesday 7:25 am.
Up until now our Berlin trip had been amazing, glitch free. First two nights were spent at Hotel Berolina Kurfürstendamm (£29pn).
Diner at The Berlina Republik.
Partying at Fitz Club.
City Bike tour with Fat Tire.
Wall on the East Side Gallery.
The trip malfunction essentially split the holiday into two halves; almost like the old city of Berlin. Spent two nights in CityStay Hostel.
Dinner at KFC.
Bike riding and getting stuck in a storm. It was almost completely the opposite. Still, Berlin is not the worst city to be staying an extra night even if it's for the lousy reason of missing your flight.
"Hey, I'm not going to be coming into work today. I missed my flight back to London. The next available flight is Wednesday morning". It so happened that we missed our flight home, by a lot. The S-Bahn arrived at Berlin-Schönefeld Airport at 6:30. Our flight was at 6:30. Standing disorientated and covered in sweat we stood dumbfounded staring at customs. How did we completely mismanage time? The next 2 hours was spent trying to find an alternative route home. We poured over the possibilities: Other flights to London, flights to adjacent cities, trains, buses. We even contemplated driving home, but at €1300-2000 to hire a car in Berlin and drop it off in London, this idea was quickly abandoned. Dejected and defeated we booked the next available Easyjet flight back to London (£52). Wednesday 7:25 am.
Up until now our Berlin trip had been amazing, glitch free. First two nights were spent at Hotel Berolina Kurfürstendamm (£29pn).
Diner at The Berlina Republik.
Partying at Fitz Club.
City Bike tour with Fat Tire.
Wall on the East Side Gallery.
The trip malfunction essentially split the holiday into two halves; almost like the old city of Berlin. Spent two nights in CityStay Hostel.
Dinner at KFC.
Bike riding and getting stuck in a storm. It was almost completely the opposite. Still, Berlin is not the worst city to be staying an extra night even if it's for the lousy reason of missing your flight.
Monday, 18 May 2009
Sensation Yellow
Who in their right mind would fly 2 hours and 10 minutes to a completely foreign country with absolutely no intention to sightsee or experience the local offerings? In total 16 expatriates plus 1 local would make the arduous journey to Budapest. Including transit time we spent close to 8 hours on buses, taxis, trains only to party for 5 hours. The draw card? 28 degree heat, thermal baths and Sensation. I write this blog completely exhausted, drained and sick of weekend trips. Not looking forward to doing it all over again next weekend.
After countless weekend trips I have developed a pretty standard routine. Head home after work. Grab something to eat, pack my luggage, gym, laundry and then be in bed by 12. Wake up 3-4 hours later, have breakfast, catch a bus from Dean Street bus stop towards Victoria Station then find my way to the airport (Gatwick, Luton or Stansted).
Arrived in Budapest Ferihegy International Airport just after 10 pm local time. Caught the metro out to our apartment, dropped our luggage off and immediately headed to our lunch reservation at Cafe Kor. The cab ended up costing 200 Forint per person (£1) and we were convinced that the taxi would be our primary mode of transport.
Some were feeling the consequences of the early flight and headed back to their lodgings for some shuteye. The others (I included) pushed on for some light sightseeing.
Széchenyi Chain Bridge
Buda Castle
5 minutes later we were in a cab heading for the shopping District in Nyugati. Strolled around West End City Centre for an hour and decided we were all too tired to function. Tried to negotiate prices for a cab ride home (essentially 1 km down the road). The shady looking cab drivers offered 5000 Forints (approx. £15). Deciding this was daylight robbery we walked home and crashed.
Waking a couple of hours later we decked ourselves our in our White Gear and headed to Budapest Arena. 17 of us (majority of us Oriental looking) managed to turn heads as the group wandered around the streets of Budapest.
After 5 hours of partying we ended up with kebabs, strawberries and bananas and succumbed to sleep.
The following day, we checked our of the apartment and headed back towards West End City Centre to meet up with the rest of our travel compatriots. Unfortunately we headed in the wrong direction and ended up having KFC for lunch. Next stop would be Gellért Bath. The 9 of us jumped into two cabs paid 5000 Forint only to realise that we had been dropped off in the middle of nowhere in the opposite direction!
Another Cab ride and we eventually arrived at the destination and spent the afternoon lazying in the baths. Top way to unwind after a intense weekend. This trip marks two significant events: an entire year of being in the UK and the last time I'll be traveling around the EU with some close friends. Sigh. Good times...
After countless weekend trips I have developed a pretty standard routine. Head home after work. Grab something to eat, pack my luggage, gym, laundry and then be in bed by 12. Wake up 3-4 hours later, have breakfast, catch a bus from Dean Street bus stop towards Victoria Station then find my way to the airport (Gatwick, Luton or Stansted).
Arrived in Budapest Ferihegy International Airport just after 10 pm local time. Caught the metro out to our apartment, dropped our luggage off and immediately headed to our lunch reservation at Cafe Kor. The cab ended up costing 200 Forint per person (£1) and we were convinced that the taxi would be our primary mode of transport.
Some were feeling the consequences of the early flight and headed back to their lodgings for some shuteye. The others (I included) pushed on for some light sightseeing.
Széchenyi Chain Bridge
Buda Castle
5 minutes later we were in a cab heading for the shopping District in Nyugati. Strolled around West End City Centre for an hour and decided we were all too tired to function. Tried to negotiate prices for a cab ride home (essentially 1 km down the road). The shady looking cab drivers offered 5000 Forints (approx. £15). Deciding this was daylight robbery we walked home and crashed.
Waking a couple of hours later we decked ourselves our in our White Gear and headed to Budapest Arena. 17 of us (majority of us Oriental looking) managed to turn heads as the group wandered around the streets of Budapest.
After 5 hours of partying we ended up with kebabs, strawberries and bananas and succumbed to sleep.
The following day, we checked our of the apartment and headed back towards West End City Centre to meet up with the rest of our travel compatriots. Unfortunately we headed in the wrong direction and ended up having KFC for lunch. Next stop would be Gellért Bath. The 9 of us jumped into two cabs paid 5000 Forint only to realise that we had been dropped off in the middle of nowhere in the opposite direction!
Another Cab ride and we eventually arrived at the destination and spent the afternoon lazying in the baths. Top way to unwind after a intense weekend. This trip marks two significant events: an entire year of being in the UK and the last time I'll be traveling around the EU with some close friends. Sigh. Good times...
Tuesday, 5 May 2009
Why so grumpy?
Imagine a world where for each waking morning the first thing that would register would not be the sound of an alarm, the familiar smell of coffee nor the sun stealing through your window but a single numeric value. Let's say for example that this number ranges from between 0-10. Now imagine that this number would be deterministic of the day ahead of you. 0 being absolutely rubbish, conversely 10 being outstanding. Would you bother getting out of bed if one day you woke up to a 1?
Saturday 2nd May 2009, the beginning of the first May Bank long weekend. Another redeye flight. Departing from Stansted Airport at 7:20 am. Begin the sequence of unfortunate events. 4:20 am, the Dean St bus stop is closed due to road works. This unforeseen road closure has me searching for an alternative way to get to Victoria Station. After much aimless wandering I arrive at Victoria station late, great, I missed the 4:47 am coach to the Airport. In fact, tardiness is not the only reason for missing my bus, turns out I was waiting on the wrong side of the road. 3 coaches later I climb aboard the 5:35 am National Express and explain to the bus driver that I had missed my previous booking. 'I missed the earlier bus', He looks at my boarding pass and then looks at his watch: 'You missed it by a lot'. Smart ass.
If this chapter in my life has taught me anything it's that expectation management goes a long way. Brace yourself for the worst that way nothing surprises you. There was a realistic chance I could miss my flight, my boarding pass states that all gates close 30 minutes before take off. At 6:55 the coach pulls into Stansted Airport. I disembark like a madman, dashing off the bus, weaving through crowds, bounding up escalators only to regain composure, wipe the froth from my mouth and casually flash my boarding pass to security at the departures hall. I rush through customs/security in record time and find myself lining up to board at 7:10. Who says you need to be at the airport 2 hours before a flight? Currently reading Kazuo Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go.
BCN International Airport, it's a welcome sight to see my other travel companions. We invest in a 10-pass metro ticket and proceed to head into town. The train arrives at the platform and as we board somebody cuts across my left shoulder and barges his way onto the train. He smiles and politely excuses himself, I nod and try to get into the train. Despite my will to move I feel myself being herded into a particular direction by the crowd. At that moment in time I feel fingers reaching into my back pocket and pinching at my wallet. Slapping the hand away I spin around to shove the would-be pick pocketer away. "Hey!" (that's the monochrome version of what language was used). He looks at me, looks to the ground and walks off. The remainder of the train trip is spent being over cautious as we observe the thieves work their way through the train. I'm in a foul mood.
Check into the hotel and begin our tour of the city. I have around €2.60 on me, no problems, I'll just pop over to the hole in the wall and withdraw some Euro. Or will I? 3 card rejections later, I'm still broke. Overseas with no money. Thankfully my friends have been nice enough to offer me a daily allowance. What a start to the trip, almost didn't make it to Barcelona, almost got robbed and almost had no cash. I wonder if I'll almost have a good trip. They say, Bad things always happen in threes. Thankfully this proved true and the rest of the trip went without a hiccup.
Sagrada Familia Church
€13 entrance which include admission to the Gaudi House. Definitely not worth the entrance fee, the interior of the museum was under construction. €2.50 lift to the top was worth it however.
Guell park - Amazing park that lacked grass.
Picasso museum
Free entry on the first Sunday of each month!
Port/Beach
Columbus Monument
Parc de la Ciutadella - The Central park of Barcelona
St Joseph Market (Mercado an Jose)
Great selection of fruit, nuts and snacks.
Mare Magnum - Seaside shopping centre.
Food: Les Quinze Nit, La Gavina, La Xerinola, Tapas 24, KFC, Dunkin Coffee, Crepes Barcelona
Nightlife
Slightly unfortunate that we didn't get to party it up with the Catalans. The first evening we were there also happened to be the Local Derby El Gran Clasico. Real Madrid versus Barcelona with an end result of 6-2 in favour of the locals. The victory meant that locals were in a festive mood, although festive could also be mistaken for riot.
So to answer the question. I would most definitely get out of bed; even for a zero...
Saturday 2nd May 2009, the beginning of the first May Bank long weekend. Another redeye flight. Departing from Stansted Airport at 7:20 am. Begin the sequence of unfortunate events. 4:20 am, the Dean St bus stop is closed due to road works. This unforeseen road closure has me searching for an alternative way to get to Victoria Station. After much aimless wandering I arrive at Victoria station late, great, I missed the 4:47 am coach to the Airport. In fact, tardiness is not the only reason for missing my bus, turns out I was waiting on the wrong side of the road. 3 coaches later I climb aboard the 5:35 am National Express and explain to the bus driver that I had missed my previous booking. 'I missed the earlier bus', He looks at my boarding pass and then looks at his watch: 'You missed it by a lot'. Smart ass.
If this chapter in my life has taught me anything it's that expectation management goes a long way. Brace yourself for the worst that way nothing surprises you. There was a realistic chance I could miss my flight, my boarding pass states that all gates close 30 minutes before take off. At 6:55 the coach pulls into Stansted Airport. I disembark like a madman, dashing off the bus, weaving through crowds, bounding up escalators only to regain composure, wipe the froth from my mouth and casually flash my boarding pass to security at the departures hall. I rush through customs/security in record time and find myself lining up to board at 7:10. Who says you need to be at the airport 2 hours before a flight? Currently reading Kazuo Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go.
BCN International Airport, it's a welcome sight to see my other travel companions. We invest in a 10-pass metro ticket and proceed to head into town. The train arrives at the platform and as we board somebody cuts across my left shoulder and barges his way onto the train. He smiles and politely excuses himself, I nod and try to get into the train. Despite my will to move I feel myself being herded into a particular direction by the crowd. At that moment in time I feel fingers reaching into my back pocket and pinching at my wallet. Slapping the hand away I spin around to shove the would-be pick pocketer away. "Hey!" (that's the monochrome version of what language was used). He looks at me, looks to the ground and walks off. The remainder of the train trip is spent being over cautious as we observe the thieves work their way through the train. I'm in a foul mood.
Check into the hotel and begin our tour of the city. I have around €2.60 on me, no problems, I'll just pop over to the hole in the wall and withdraw some Euro. Or will I? 3 card rejections later, I'm still broke. Overseas with no money. Thankfully my friends have been nice enough to offer me a daily allowance. What a start to the trip, almost didn't make it to Barcelona, almost got robbed and almost had no cash. I wonder if I'll almost have a good trip. They say, Bad things always happen in threes. Thankfully this proved true and the rest of the trip went without a hiccup.
Sagrada Familia Church
€13 entrance which include admission to the Gaudi House. Definitely not worth the entrance fee, the interior of the museum was under construction. €2.50 lift to the top was worth it however.
Guell park - Amazing park that lacked grass.
Picasso museum
Free entry on the first Sunday of each month!
Port/Beach
Columbus Monument
Parc de la Ciutadella - The Central park of Barcelona
St Joseph Market (Mercado an Jose)
Great selection of fruit, nuts and snacks.
Mare Magnum - Seaside shopping centre.
Food: Les Quinze Nit, La Gavina, La Xerinola, Tapas 24, KFC, Dunkin Coffee, Crepes Barcelona
Nightlife
Slightly unfortunate that we didn't get to party it up with the Catalans. The first evening we were there also happened to be the Local Derby El Gran Clasico. Real Madrid versus Barcelona with an end result of 6-2 in favour of the locals. The victory meant that locals were in a festive mood, although festive could also be mistaken for riot.
So to answer the question. I would most definitely get out of bed; even for a zero...
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