I had a most pleasant evening last weekend. Dad was in town for work, and I managed to spend some quality time with him. The highlight of the evening was having a nice dinner with David and Dad, following which we moseyed our way to a performance of The Lion King.
I highly recommend The Lion King - it was a lot of fun. An incredible set, creative use of the stage and some rather nice moments, including the moment when the animals came down the aisles of the stalls. It's been a while since I saw the Lion King at the movies - but bits and pieces of it came back to me during the performance. There was the baboon character who was played by the most amazing singer - she absolutely brought the house down. Even dad was impressed.
Though, I was even more impressed with the past weekend's sunshine - having lived through the longest winter of my life, I appreciate now why Londoners seem to strip everything off in public places such as parks the moment it hits 25 degrees. In fact, one day when it got to about 27 degrees, I was wilting away in my flat. The flat was only 22 degrees inside, but inside we had the fans going, all the windows open and I was still moaning away. Clearly my heat tolerance has taken some adjusting.
A couple of weekends ago I also took the chance to head to Windsor Castle and Eton with Frances. Windsor Castle was a grand old building, although I'm not sure the 45 minute wait in line to get in made it worth it. I suppose it was something that I needed to do while in London - a visit to see where Lizzie lives. I don't think Lizzie in was that day, but we had a gawk at St George's chapel (where we saw where the Queen Mother was buried), someone's Doll Museum (bizarre), and some of the State Rooms. There was excess everywhere - from the swords to the bayonets covering the walls, to the opulence of royalty. Bring on the republic. Though maybe not Napolean.
We also took a stroll around Eton where I must say it was interesting to see where numerous British Prime Ministers were schooled. The courtyard was nothing short of horrendous - jagged rocks, grey concrete and weeds growing in the cracked concrete. I suppose it drags down one spirit so that the little rich kids can concentrate on becoming Britain's future elite.
Speaking of disparity. Heading eastwards from Windsor, our train stopped at several stations including Putney and Clapham - where rudely speaking, all the bogan Australians live in their ghetto. Frances and I noticed that in the "nice" West side of London, the trains were mostly full of caucasian people. Changing at Waterloo back to head to the south east, we found our train entirely full of Asians (i.e Indians) and Africans and assorted other ethnic groups and I felt right at home heading back east in the melting pot of faces. I've always wanted to move somewhere "nicer" in London (i.e. the West), but I wonder if the east holds the key to one of the most cosmopolitan cities in the world?
At this point in time, I suppose here is as good a place to tell everyone that I've decided to stay in London for just a little bit longer. At the start of June, I'll hit 1 year in London, and simply can't imagine packing up my life here to head back to Melbourne. As much as I miss home and my friends and family back in Melbourne, there's still a lot that I want to do in the UK. I've had a couple of sleepless nights thinking my long-term plans, but as I've gone about preparing my Highly Skilled Migrant Visa application, I know that this is the right decision for now.
Unfortunately, there's been a bit of stress with the new Home Office rule changes for my visa, and I'll need to head home for a little bit while the application goes through the British High Commission in Canberra. I'm looking forward to recharging the batteries, seeing you all again, and spending some time in my own bed.
Sunday, 18 May 2008
Thursday, 1 May 2008
the candidates
Today I had the privilege of fulfilling one of my duties as a Londoner (apart from complaining, paying taxes and lining up in a queue).
I have cast my vote in the London city elections for the London Assembly and the Mayor of London. The 3 main mayoral candidates (glibly speaking) are:
1. an experienced socialist mayor who is looking for to add to his 8 year term for a 12 year term (Labour)
2. a privileged former right-wing journalist clown who has never run anything in his life (Conservatives)
3. a respectable but gay (gasp!) tree-hugging, lily-livered pinko former senior police commissioner (Liberal Democrats).
There are of course the usual assortment of greens, racists and complete psychos, but hey, in a city the size of London you need to take the good with the bad.
I cast my vote at the polling station near my apartment, and I'll be eagerly waiting for the results and the analysis. For those of you who know me well, you'll know I aint joking about looking forward to reading election analysis.
I just think it's nice that Commonwealth citizens who are resident in London are allowed to vote in local elections. Make no mistake about how important these elections are - with the Mayor commanding an 11 billion pound sterling budget overseeing transport and the police, it's important that we have our say. Having said that, I also cast my vote for my local council too in Greenwich and Lewisham, though my care factor is not particularly high on that count. Well, if the freaks win, it'll be a different story altogether.
Has been an exhausting and stressful week trying to sort out my life here in London. Issues of my flat (trying to get the lease extended), trying to change credit cards with intransigent Australian banks needing me to call them at midnight, trying to sort out visa issues and trying to keep on top of work.
I musn't complain about work. For the first time in my life I asked for a pay rise and got it! I was really pleased as it will take some of the pressure off me. However, there were major caveats added - I have doubled my responsibilites. Part of my new and improved role is assessing counter fraud arrangements across 400 health organisations across England and Wales. Given the small size of our team, I have been allocated to assess 100 organisations. With each organisation declaring about 50 pages worth of documents as evidence, this is going to be bigger than Super Tuesday.
I am enjoying it though - I am learning a lot about fraud and audit functions which is interesting, and I'll be sad when my contract us up. I did however get to go to Leeds today which was bloody tiring - 3 hours up, a 2 hour meeting and then 3 hours back to London. I am about to drop dead.
On a fun note, I went to see "The Mousetrap" last Saturday with Frances. Being at a loose end, I decided that Saturday night was going to be a night of culture, and given that The Mousetrap (an Agatha Christie play) has been running non-stop for 55 years, I thought it would be worth going to. I must say I enjoyed myself - there is a great twist at the end, and the actors implored us to keep it a secret. I wonder if I would get sued if I told you the twist here...
What the hell. One of the mayoral candidates will probably sue me for the above descriptions anyway.
I have cast my vote in the London city elections for the London Assembly and the Mayor of London. The 3 main mayoral candidates (glibly speaking) are:
1. an experienced socialist mayor who is looking for to add to his 8 year term for a 12 year term (Labour)
2. a privileged former right-wing journalist clown who has never run anything in his life (Conservatives)
3. a respectable but gay (gasp!) tree-hugging, lily-livered pinko former senior police commissioner (Liberal Democrats).
There are of course the usual assortment of greens, racists and complete psychos, but hey, in a city the size of London you need to take the good with the bad.
I cast my vote at the polling station near my apartment, and I'll be eagerly waiting for the results and the analysis. For those of you who know me well, you'll know I aint joking about looking forward to reading election analysis.
I just think it's nice that Commonwealth citizens who are resident in London are allowed to vote in local elections. Make no mistake about how important these elections are - with the Mayor commanding an 11 billion pound sterling budget overseeing transport and the police, it's important that we have our say. Having said that, I also cast my vote for my local council too in Greenwich and Lewisham, though my care factor is not particularly high on that count. Well, if the freaks win, it'll be a different story altogether.
Has been an exhausting and stressful week trying to sort out my life here in London. Issues of my flat (trying to get the lease extended), trying to change credit cards with intransigent Australian banks needing me to call them at midnight, trying to sort out visa issues and trying to keep on top of work.
I musn't complain about work. For the first time in my life I asked for a pay rise and got it! I was really pleased as it will take some of the pressure off me. However, there were major caveats added - I have doubled my responsibilites. Part of my new and improved role is assessing counter fraud arrangements across 400 health organisations across England and Wales. Given the small size of our team, I have been allocated to assess 100 organisations. With each organisation declaring about 50 pages worth of documents as evidence, this is going to be bigger than Super Tuesday.
I am enjoying it though - I am learning a lot about fraud and audit functions which is interesting, and I'll be sad when my contract us up. I did however get to go to Leeds today which was bloody tiring - 3 hours up, a 2 hour meeting and then 3 hours back to London. I am about to drop dead.
On a fun note, I went to see "The Mousetrap" last Saturday with Frances. Being at a loose end, I decided that Saturday night was going to be a night of culture, and given that The Mousetrap (an Agatha Christie play) has been running non-stop for 55 years, I thought it would be worth going to. I must say I enjoyed myself - there is a great twist at the end, and the actors implored us to keep it a secret. I wonder if I would get sued if I told you the twist here...
What the hell. One of the mayoral candidates will probably sue me for the above descriptions anyway.
Sunday, 20 April 2008
the language barrier
I achieved a first last night which I thought would never happen. Not that I ever had intended it to happen, but it is something literally to write home about. My parents would be pleased.
I went out for a few drinks and a bite to eat with Rob last night. Rob was chomping at the bit to get some Chinese food in him, and I was happy to oblige. Wandering through Chinatown we were amazed that people would queue up to get into restaurants. I mean, it's Chinatown! There are so many eateries to choose from down that one strip - same same, but different. The one with the flashing neon pig outside it's window (now changed to a mouse) I do however, avoid.
Flicking through the menu I was a confident boy. I was going to order in Chinese to see if I could get away with doing an a la carte order - usually I cheat and order just for one, but doing a "normal" Chinese order is another thing altogether. I called over the waiter and proceeded to order in Cantonese. He looked at me in bewilderment. And then ran off.
I sat there, with my mouth opening and shutting like an ornamental carp. And then got rescued by another waitress who asked me sweetly in Chinese what I wanted to order.
The banana (white on the inside, yellow on the outside) had succeeded for the first time in his life, to actually necessitate a change in waiter so he could order in Chinese! By then I was feeling pretty smug, but then she threw in a curly one. The Sichuan beef I had ordered is a sweet spicy sauce - not the fiery one she thought I had wanted. I said in my best Cantonese "that's fine" and off we went. And rice for one? No, for two thank you.
Taffy scores!
Now that I've mastered the "noodles, roast duck, beef and rice" in Cantonese it's on to bigger challenges.
Let's see if those Mandarin lessons paid off after all Mum!
I went out for a few drinks and a bite to eat with Rob last night. Rob was chomping at the bit to get some Chinese food in him, and I was happy to oblige. Wandering through Chinatown we were amazed that people would queue up to get into restaurants. I mean, it's Chinatown! There are so many eateries to choose from down that one strip - same same, but different. The one with the flashing neon pig outside it's window (now changed to a mouse) I do however, avoid.
Flicking through the menu I was a confident boy. I was going to order in Chinese to see if I could get away with doing an a la carte order - usually I cheat and order just for one, but doing a "normal" Chinese order is another thing altogether. I called over the waiter and proceeded to order in Cantonese. He looked at me in bewilderment. And then ran off.
I sat there, with my mouth opening and shutting like an ornamental carp. And then got rescued by another waitress who asked me sweetly in Chinese what I wanted to order.
The banana (white on the inside, yellow on the outside) had succeeded for the first time in his life, to actually necessitate a change in waiter so he could order in Chinese! By then I was feeling pretty smug, but then she threw in a curly one. The Sichuan beef I had ordered is a sweet spicy sauce - not the fiery one she thought I had wanted. I said in my best Cantonese "that's fine" and off we went. And rice for one? No, for two thank you.
Taffy scores!
Now that I've mastered the "noodles, roast duck, beef and rice" in Cantonese it's on to bigger challenges.
Let's see if those Mandarin lessons paid off after all Mum!
Sunday, 6 April 2008
the green and the yellow and the blue, red and white
I feel like I've been hit with a dose of Melbourne weather. This morning, for the first time in my life, I've woken up from my own bed to find myself reaching outside my window to catch snow. It was quite an novel experience to draw the curtains and then to see snow carpeting the ground outside. In excitement, I quickly put on my clothes and using my need to do grocery shopping as an excuse, went out to feel snowflakes falling on my nose and accumulating on my glasses. While it was a bit chilly, I was secretly thrilled to be doing such a mundane task with such a beautiful fall of snow. Strangely, the snow stopped about lunch time and then cleared to full sunshine. In watching the sun set over dinner, I've marveled at how tonight I've had my window open and felt the warmth of the sun while making a chicken salad for dinner and listening to Kisstory on the radio. I feel in a way that I've been transported back in time to a Melbourne summer - music from a decade ago, and being warm and cold at the same time. Quite a nice combination really, like sweet and sour pork (don't you even think about touching that last bit of pineapple) or hot and sour soup which as a Chinese I must rabidly claim to loathe, but am instead quietly delighted when one of you caucasian people order it as an entree for dinner.
Though, this wasn't my first London snow. Last week when Nick was around, as Nick and I were walking along the Mall from Buckingham Palace in sunshine, there were a few flakes of snow falling, although it was more like light hail than anything else. Later that night as we looked for dinner, it snowed for real - it was funny walking into a restaurant, people staring at us covered in snow, completely unaware of the snow storm that was happening outside.
I said to Nick, who had only arrived that afternoon that he had brought in the snow with him. I was more happy however that he had remember to bring me Tim Tams from Australia! Nick had never been to London before, so I played tourist guide to him, discovering in the process things that I had never seen before. Giving him the original (and rather mediocre) Taffy's Tour of London, we visited Harrods (not my idea, mind you - I can't stand the uppity and touristy Harrods), and took a stroll through Green Park to Buckingham Palace. Green Park was ablaze with daffodils, and I couldn't resist getting a picture taken. It really was beautiful - pockets of yellow and white in a sea of green. To Nick's relief I refrained from skipping merrily through the daffodils.
Photos of main attractions completed, including an attempt by Nick to climb one of the lions at Trafalgar Square (a feat not attempted by myself yet), and a photo of us with a Guard near the Horse Guards, Nick declared it to be drinking time as we crossed Westminster Bridge. Nick found a famous pub in his guide, so we headed off to Waterloo to The George - a pub hundreds of years old. After sampling a few ales, we wandered back towards Chinatown for a cheap meal and headed back home - Nick snoring loudly on the train. Interestingly for him and not so much for me, Nick had what he termed his "second wind" and we proceeded to open a bottle of red and have a good chat into the early hours of the morning.
The next day I left Nick to his own devices after battling the peak hour crowds together. Later that evening, we went out for a drink in Holborn, with more ales to be sampled. After a few drinks I was getting decidedly cheery, and it was even more so after Nick's cousin, Molly arrived for the festivities. The drinks flowed and we were soon getting hungry, where we ended up somewhere in the West End for eats. By that stage I had hit exhaustion, and it was back home not for sleep but a rather boozy chat to Francis over the phone back in Melbourne, and the completion of a bottle of wine.
The next day I bid farewell to Nick who was heading to France, but I could not yet reclaim my apartment back. Back when my Mum was at University, she had a roommate called Ming who eventually moved to France while mum ended up in Australia. They kept in contact, and each had their own families. Clearly Mum has been talking about me behind my back, and Ming found out that I was living in London. Ming's daughter was coming to London for the first time for a Uni conference - would I mind putting her up for a couple of nights? I couldn't say no to something that had come full circle. Viviane and I had a good laugh over it later on, and I got a crash course in French. I learnt how to say Bouillabaise properly (something like boo-ya-beh) and how to say "La defence" (la dee-fonce). I also learnt what the French really thought of President Sarkozy, and we both agreed how charismatic President Chirac and Premier de Villepin were in the hey-day.
Viviane was very sweet to buy me cookies from "Ben's" - apparently a famous shop near St Pauls. Famous or not, the cookies were melt-in-your-mouth-buttery-smooth. Must go and search for them sometime because cookies like that need rescuing behind glass counters and eaten with a nice cup of tea.
Later that weekend I went to the Museum of Natural History to check out the Wildlife Photographer of the Year exhibition - a yearly competition of the most amazing photography of wildlife. Being a sunny Sunday afternoon, there were kids everywhere. Walking out of the Tube station, I came across dad and young son at the top of the stairs. Dad was having technical difficulties with stroller, while the little boy dressed in the cutest navy blue coat teetered at the top of the stairs, arms outstretched in balancing himself, tottering down the stairs with nervousness and triumph at every step. At the museum, I got stuck in a line to get in - 2 little Indian twin boys were in front of me, mum feeding them samosas from a blue lunchbox. One of the little boys whined about having to line up, and the mum shushed him up, explaining that "he wasn't allowed to go in until the lady in front of him had got in". I laughed and the mum looked at me and gave me a knowing grin - the inculcation of British values in one clean swoop!
The exhibition itself was very good. Incredible photos of wildlife and landscrapes took your breath away. As the lead caption explained, some photographers waited for hours and hours to get the perfect shot. Perfection indeed. There were a small number of landscape photos included - one of them of an Australian beach. Deliberately blurry, you could see the grainy but strong colours of the sand, surf and sky. I felt a ping of homesickness when someone behind me talked about how great it must be to live in Australia.
It is.
But of course, such opportunities to see exhibitions such as these are few and far between in Melbourne. As is the chance to drink really good ale - a habit that I am picking up slowly in London. I'm now starting to appreciate independent brewery ales every so often. One of my friends, Angus, is a bit of an ale enthusiast, so it's always good to have him choose ales for me to sample when I'm out catching up with him. We found a great tapas bar near Tavistock Square (yes, that square) and had a great meal of Spanish meats, prawns, lentils and artichokes. Although, I wasn't so game as Angus in having a glass of sherry with our food, I did try a pretty robust Spanish red.
As we've now hit daylight savings and spring, I'm looking forward to really enjoying twilight in my flat, watching the golden sunset withdrawing over the views of Canary Wharf. Having been sunshine deprived for the past 6 months, it's time to open the windows and really see what else London has to offer as I hurtle towards my first birthday in London.
Though, this wasn't my first London snow. Last week when Nick was around, as Nick and I were walking along the Mall from Buckingham Palace in sunshine, there were a few flakes of snow falling, although it was more like light hail than anything else. Later that night as we looked for dinner, it snowed for real - it was funny walking into a restaurant, people staring at us covered in snow, completely unaware of the snow storm that was happening outside.
I said to Nick, who had only arrived that afternoon that he had brought in the snow with him. I was more happy however that he had remember to bring me Tim Tams from Australia! Nick had never been to London before, so I played tourist guide to him, discovering in the process things that I had never seen before. Giving him the original (and rather mediocre) Taffy's Tour of London, we visited Harrods (not my idea, mind you - I can't stand the uppity and touristy Harrods), and took a stroll through Green Park to Buckingham Palace. Green Park was ablaze with daffodils, and I couldn't resist getting a picture taken. It really was beautiful - pockets of yellow and white in a sea of green. To Nick's relief I refrained from skipping merrily through the daffodils.
Photos of main attractions completed, including an attempt by Nick to climb one of the lions at Trafalgar Square (a feat not attempted by myself yet), and a photo of us with a Guard near the Horse Guards, Nick declared it to be drinking time as we crossed Westminster Bridge. Nick found a famous pub in his guide, so we headed off to Waterloo to The George - a pub hundreds of years old. After sampling a few ales, we wandered back towards Chinatown for a cheap meal and headed back home - Nick snoring loudly on the train. Interestingly for him and not so much for me, Nick had what he termed his "second wind" and we proceeded to open a bottle of red and have a good chat into the early hours of the morning.
The next day I left Nick to his own devices after battling the peak hour crowds together. Later that evening, we went out for a drink in Holborn, with more ales to be sampled. After a few drinks I was getting decidedly cheery, and it was even more so after Nick's cousin, Molly arrived for the festivities. The drinks flowed and we were soon getting hungry, where we ended up somewhere in the West End for eats. By that stage I had hit exhaustion, and it was back home not for sleep but a rather boozy chat to Francis over the phone back in Melbourne, and the completion of a bottle of wine.
The next day I bid farewell to Nick who was heading to France, but I could not yet reclaim my apartment back. Back when my Mum was at University, she had a roommate called Ming who eventually moved to France while mum ended up in Australia. They kept in contact, and each had their own families. Clearly Mum has been talking about me behind my back, and Ming found out that I was living in London. Ming's daughter was coming to London for the first time for a Uni conference - would I mind putting her up for a couple of nights? I couldn't say no to something that had come full circle. Viviane and I had a good laugh over it later on, and I got a crash course in French. I learnt how to say Bouillabaise properly (something like boo-ya-beh) and how to say "La defence" (la dee-fonce). I also learnt what the French really thought of President Sarkozy, and we both agreed how charismatic President Chirac and Premier de Villepin were in the hey-day.
Viviane was very sweet to buy me cookies from "Ben's" - apparently a famous shop near St Pauls. Famous or not, the cookies were melt-in-your-mouth-buttery-smooth. Must go and search for them sometime because cookies like that need rescuing behind glass counters and eaten with a nice cup of tea.
Later that weekend I went to the Museum of Natural History to check out the Wildlife Photographer of the Year exhibition - a yearly competition of the most amazing photography of wildlife. Being a sunny Sunday afternoon, there were kids everywhere. Walking out of the Tube station, I came across dad and young son at the top of the stairs. Dad was having technical difficulties with stroller, while the little boy dressed in the cutest navy blue coat teetered at the top of the stairs, arms outstretched in balancing himself, tottering down the stairs with nervousness and triumph at every step. At the museum, I got stuck in a line to get in - 2 little Indian twin boys were in front of me, mum feeding them samosas from a blue lunchbox. One of the little boys whined about having to line up, and the mum shushed him up, explaining that "he wasn't allowed to go in until the lady in front of him had got in". I laughed and the mum looked at me and gave me a knowing grin - the inculcation of British values in one clean swoop!
The exhibition itself was very good. Incredible photos of wildlife and landscrapes took your breath away. As the lead caption explained, some photographers waited for hours and hours to get the perfect shot. Perfection indeed. There were a small number of landscape photos included - one of them of an Australian beach. Deliberately blurry, you could see the grainy but strong colours of the sand, surf and sky. I felt a ping of homesickness when someone behind me talked about how great it must be to live in Australia.
It is.
But of course, such opportunities to see exhibitions such as these are few and far between in Melbourne. As is the chance to drink really good ale - a habit that I am picking up slowly in London. I'm now starting to appreciate independent brewery ales every so often. One of my friends, Angus, is a bit of an ale enthusiast, so it's always good to have him choose ales for me to sample when I'm out catching up with him. We found a great tapas bar near Tavistock Square (yes, that square) and had a great meal of Spanish meats, prawns, lentils and artichokes. Although, I wasn't so game as Angus in having a glass of sherry with our food, I did try a pretty robust Spanish red.
As we've now hit daylight savings and spring, I'm looking forward to really enjoying twilight in my flat, watching the golden sunset withdrawing over the views of Canary Wharf. Having been sunshine deprived for the past 6 months, it's time to open the windows and really see what else London has to offer as I hurtle towards my first birthday in London.
Sunday, 30 March 2008
the sound of music and the sounds of music
I must confess that I didn't realise that so many people read this blog. Given my penchant for using this blog as a vehicle for capturing every imaginable whinge, I'm somewhat embarrassed that people take the time to read my diatribes on trains and why I get annoyed at people who don't move fast enough getting on the Tube. But yes, I am pleased all the same.
Having said that, I am probably going to alienate even more people by saying that despite me living on the footstep of Europe, I was (a) too bored (b) too lazy and (c) too cheap to organise some traveling for over the Easter break. I'm finding that even long weekends away can be quite taxing on the ol' boy - the stresses of having to arrange everything, then shelling out money for it, then calculating how much money I lose by not working (I don't get paid for Bank holidays as a contractor), then wondering how I was going to fill in the days wandering around oh, Austria or France or what have you.
It was Frances however who goaded us in to action when we saw that cheap flights to any European destination was disappearing by the minute. By luck, we found some cheap flights to Salzburg in Austria. Salzburg wasn't a place which was high on my priority list, but browsing on the net, decided that it was worthwhile to have a look - though pretty much persuaded by the chance to go on The Sound of Music tour. As always, Taffy's over-active mind imagined him running down the mountains, twirling his outstretched arms, singing, a la Julie Andrews, but with a far more scratchy and pitiful voice.
The week before Easter was unexpectedly busy - and became ill again. Unfortunately my illness warranted a visit to the a NHS Walk-In centre where I spent a cumulative total of 3 hours of my life waiting to see a nurse in a very overstretched and busy centre. At one stage it looked like I would have had to bail out on the holiday, but I got a bit better and it was off to Salzburg. Fortunately our flight out of London was with British Airways - for the uninitiated, a full-service airline such as BA compared to the horrors of Ryanair is an absolute blessing with an enormous cloud hovering on top. Our flight was delayed for an hour, but as Frances is a Qantas gold frequent flyer, she was able to take me into the lounge where I drank wine, ate a full lunch and then proceeded to pilfer snacks and dinky little cans of drink from the fridge to enjoy from our train from Munich to Salzburg.
Unfortunately it was too expensive for us to fly direct to Salzburg airport, so the closest airport was Munich which had reasonable fares. I'm always impressed with the Germans and their efficiency - plenty of non-EU passport checkpoints (where the immigration officer asked me whether I was going skiing - I almost laughed in his face) and a beautifully clean and fast train to the main station in Munich. Although, a nice German man had to help us out with the train tickets, and when we were forced to make an unexpected change in the middle of nowhere, I impressed myself with my ability to navigate the (admittedly easy to understand) subway system. An even bigger bummer we missed the train by a few minutes, forcing us to shelter in the train station food court (where I again impressed myself by remembering my German to ask for Lebekas Semmel which I enjoyed eating the last time I was in Munich) to wait for a slow regional train. We got to Salzburg... eventually... where the only sound was the rain thundering around us.
Salzburg however, is a very picturesque city. Walking from the hotel along the river was really nice - the snow-capped mountains in the background and pretty little (and very expensive) houses lining the river. Of course, there were the usual annoyances such as not being able to find a decent place to eat which wasn't filled with cigarette smoke, and the ubiquitous Mozartklugen chocolate balls being advertised everywhere (and yes, I did succumb). Being my first day on holiday, I had a large breakfast of ham and eggs and then apfelstrudel with vanilla sauce and a coffee. I felt ill for hours afterwards.
Feeling rather bloated and over-indulged, we traipsed through various churches, ate an enormous donut pretzel for lunch (well, I lie, I shared half of it with Frances) and watched men play chess on a board painted on the ground. All in all, it was a lovely morning, but clearly we were waiting for the main event. The afternoon rolled around and it was off to the hills for the Sound of Music tour. I'm not someone who usually likes kitsch tours such as these (ok, I lie again, I love it), but I really must say that it was a lot of fun. We saw the back and front of the Von Trapp house (2 different locations), the pavilion where Liesel and Kurt sing "I am sixteen", the actual Abbey were Maria used to live (incidentally dating back to the year 700 or something like that) and the church where Maria and the Captain got married - yet again, not the actual church where they got married, but a church in a small town outside of Salzburg. The tour guide was hysterical, although towards the end I was thinking that it was more due to his mental state doing this twice a day, every day. Some funny titbits I learnt on the Sound of Music was that most Austrians hate the Sound of Music, that the Von Trapp family actually escaped Austria in a train to Italy and then moved to America, that had the family climbed the Austrian mountains at the end of the movie they would have found themselves in Germany and that Gretel nearly died in the boat scene when all the kids fell out of the boat into the water.
I was so disappointed when the tour ended that I hadn't managed to run down a mountain, singing (erm... screeching) "the hills are alive", so France and I resolved to continue the fun at the Mirabell Gardens where many scenes of Maria and the children on their big day out were filmed. I now have photos of me jumping up the steps (singing "do-re-me"), marching with outstretched hands on the fountain, and running through the big trellis. Frances and I had so much fun that the rest of our tour group (who had followed us to the gardens after the tour) started to copy us. It was very funny though, watching everyone else's interpretation of it. Save, perhaps, the American tourists - we overheard one lady say that she had been on the tour 4 times - it was enough to make Frances and I spit out our Mozartklugen chocolate balls in mirth. Then there was the quintessential American tourist dad - complete with baseball cap, Goretex jacket, bumbag, camera bag strapped to his belt, aviator sunglasses and he was dressed in a way which looked like a Ralph Lauren truck had backed into him. But enough of poking fun at innocent American tourists, I am sure that Australia would refuse to let me back in the country had they seen the antics I got up to in the Mirabell gardens. These memories of course, will become a few of my favourite things.
But how are we going to solve the problem of filling up the next day, with the ice caves closed?
Our first stop on Sunday morning was the birthplace of Mozart with the most aggressive ticket counter woman I have met for a long time. I shouldn't have been surprised at how monumentally sh1t the museum was. In one room, they had upside-down paintings to symbolise how "Mozart turned music upside down" (yes, really), a cot with an ashen white plastic baby (supposedly Mozart as a child), and a replica piano. Definitely worth our 6 euros and the 15 minutes we spent there. Later in the day we went to Mozart's residence located in the Neustadt which was far more interesting. They had old documents and music sheets, and a great audio guide. I usually skip through audio guides, but this one was great in that you got to sample a variety of Mozart's works through his life - including ones that I had never heard before. On one display there was a pile of books which reached the ceiling - it turned out to be the collection of every single one of Mozart's compositions. I guess it never fails to astound me the genius of Mozart - at the age of 4 he was already composing quite complex pieces of music! A far cry from my own experience at the age of 4 - throwing building blocks at Toby, demanding food and sleeping. Yes, I am genius.
Our next few stops was at the Residenz gallery which I thoroughly enjoyed - a collection of modern and renaissance art arranged according to the theme of colour. Frances was unimpressed, but I thought it was great. We also visited the Salzburg Museum. I quote an earlier email to Rob about it:
"...was horrendously boring and unstructured - a collection of crap put together in this new fangled postmodern building. Putting shit together in a nice building does not compensate for having a stupid collection. The toilets however, were very swish."
In adding to the number of museums and sights we visited to clock up maximum value on our touristy Salzburg Card, we breezed through the very strange Fortress with its incredibly boring exhibits, save for the display of torture instruments. They needn't have put out the torture instruments - the museum was boring enough as it was. Other non highlights included the Festival Hall tour which we did where the tour guide spoke for 30 minutes in German, and then a good 45 seconds in English (or so it felt that way). Annoyingly, the Hall where the Von Trapp family had won the singing competition was closed - which meant that our original reason for doing the tour was gone, and we were forced to listen to incomprehensible German about some random lighting system (from what I deduced from the hand gestures).
Finally, having finished everything we had wanted to see I dragged Frances to the Museum of Modern Art where I was a bit surprised how small the collection was. We did end up having an icecream at the restaurant there and got stubbed about 20 euros for 2 icecreams and some water. We were not impressed. Dinner however was a cheapy affair at some random pub - we got a mixed dish to share for 2 which ended up being this enormous pile of meat including 2 big schnitzels, so we were happy.
That final evening it started to snow. At first it was very beautiful in the snow, and then it got cold and miserable as my feet froze over and my coat started accumulating more and more snow. The next morning it was still snowing a blizzard and I was a bit worried about our flight being delayed while standing in the bus shelter, washing the bin in front of us accumulate snow. Fortunately, the Austrians were clearly used to being snowed in and there were no delays - just the usual mass confusion and pushing and shoving to board the Ryanair flight.
But it was back to London where joyfully, the trains weren't running on Easter Monday, leading to a 2.5 hour journey home. But the day wasn't to end with me collapsing into a pile on the couch - Nick was arriving that afternoon and I have been given my instructions, in that he "hadn't come to London to drink tea, old chap".
The sounds of my marching orders, clearly.
Having said that, I am probably going to alienate even more people by saying that despite me living on the footstep of Europe, I was (a) too bored (b) too lazy and (c) too cheap to organise some traveling for over the Easter break. I'm finding that even long weekends away can be quite taxing on the ol' boy - the stresses of having to arrange everything, then shelling out money for it, then calculating how much money I lose by not working (I don't get paid for Bank holidays as a contractor), then wondering how I was going to fill in the days wandering around oh, Austria or France or what have you.
It was Frances however who goaded us in to action when we saw that cheap flights to any European destination was disappearing by the minute. By luck, we found some cheap flights to Salzburg in Austria. Salzburg wasn't a place which was high on my priority list, but browsing on the net, decided that it was worthwhile to have a look - though pretty much persuaded by the chance to go on The Sound of Music tour. As always, Taffy's over-active mind imagined him running down the mountains, twirling his outstretched arms, singing, a la Julie Andrews, but with a far more scratchy and pitiful voice.
The week before Easter was unexpectedly busy - and became ill again. Unfortunately my illness warranted a visit to the a NHS Walk-In centre where I spent a cumulative total of 3 hours of my life waiting to see a nurse in a very overstretched and busy centre. At one stage it looked like I would have had to bail out on the holiday, but I got a bit better and it was off to Salzburg. Fortunately our flight out of London was with British Airways - for the uninitiated, a full-service airline such as BA compared to the horrors of Ryanair is an absolute blessing with an enormous cloud hovering on top. Our flight was delayed for an hour, but as Frances is a Qantas gold frequent flyer, she was able to take me into the lounge where I drank wine, ate a full lunch and then proceeded to pilfer snacks and dinky little cans of drink from the fridge to enjoy from our train from Munich to Salzburg.
Unfortunately it was too expensive for us to fly direct to Salzburg airport, so the closest airport was Munich which had reasonable fares. I'm always impressed with the Germans and their efficiency - plenty of non-EU passport checkpoints (where the immigration officer asked me whether I was going skiing - I almost laughed in his face) and a beautifully clean and fast train to the main station in Munich. Although, a nice German man had to help us out with the train tickets, and when we were forced to make an unexpected change in the middle of nowhere, I impressed myself with my ability to navigate the (admittedly easy to understand) subway system. An even bigger bummer we missed the train by a few minutes, forcing us to shelter in the train station food court (where I again impressed myself by remembering my German to ask for Lebekas Semmel which I enjoyed eating the last time I was in Munich) to wait for a slow regional train. We got to Salzburg... eventually... where the only sound was the rain thundering around us.
Salzburg however, is a very picturesque city. Walking from the hotel along the river was really nice - the snow-capped mountains in the background and pretty little (and very expensive) houses lining the river. Of course, there were the usual annoyances such as not being able to find a decent place to eat which wasn't filled with cigarette smoke, and the ubiquitous Mozartklugen chocolate balls being advertised everywhere (and yes, I did succumb). Being my first day on holiday, I had a large breakfast of ham and eggs and then apfelstrudel with vanilla sauce and a coffee. I felt ill for hours afterwards.
Feeling rather bloated and over-indulged, we traipsed through various churches, ate an enormous donut pretzel for lunch (well, I lie, I shared half of it with Frances) and watched men play chess on a board painted on the ground. All in all, it was a lovely morning, but clearly we were waiting for the main event. The afternoon rolled around and it was off to the hills for the Sound of Music tour. I'm not someone who usually likes kitsch tours such as these (ok, I lie again, I love it), but I really must say that it was a lot of fun. We saw the back and front of the Von Trapp house (2 different locations), the pavilion where Liesel and Kurt sing "I am sixteen", the actual Abbey were Maria used to live (incidentally dating back to the year 700 or something like that) and the church where Maria and the Captain got married - yet again, not the actual church where they got married, but a church in a small town outside of Salzburg. The tour guide was hysterical, although towards the end I was thinking that it was more due to his mental state doing this twice a day, every day. Some funny titbits I learnt on the Sound of Music was that most Austrians hate the Sound of Music, that the Von Trapp family actually escaped Austria in a train to Italy and then moved to America, that had the family climbed the Austrian mountains at the end of the movie they would have found themselves in Germany and that Gretel nearly died in the boat scene when all the kids fell out of the boat into the water.
I was so disappointed when the tour ended that I hadn't managed to run down a mountain, singing (erm... screeching) "the hills are alive", so France and I resolved to continue the fun at the Mirabell Gardens where many scenes of Maria and the children on their big day out were filmed. I now have photos of me jumping up the steps (singing "do-re-me"), marching with outstretched hands on the fountain, and running through the big trellis. Frances and I had so much fun that the rest of our tour group (who had followed us to the gardens after the tour) started to copy us. It was very funny though, watching everyone else's interpretation of it. Save, perhaps, the American tourists - we overheard one lady say that she had been on the tour 4 times - it was enough to make Frances and I spit out our Mozartklugen chocolate balls in mirth. Then there was the quintessential American tourist dad - complete with baseball cap, Goretex jacket, bumbag, camera bag strapped to his belt, aviator sunglasses and he was dressed in a way which looked like a Ralph Lauren truck had backed into him. But enough of poking fun at innocent American tourists, I am sure that Australia would refuse to let me back in the country had they seen the antics I got up to in the Mirabell gardens. These memories of course, will become a few of my favourite things.
But how are we going to solve the problem of filling up the next day, with the ice caves closed?
Our first stop on Sunday morning was the birthplace of Mozart with the most aggressive ticket counter woman I have met for a long time. I shouldn't have been surprised at how monumentally sh1t the museum was. In one room, they had upside-down paintings to symbolise how "Mozart turned music upside down" (yes, really), a cot with an ashen white plastic baby (supposedly Mozart as a child), and a replica piano. Definitely worth our 6 euros and the 15 minutes we spent there. Later in the day we went to Mozart's residence located in the Neustadt which was far more interesting. They had old documents and music sheets, and a great audio guide. I usually skip through audio guides, but this one was great in that you got to sample a variety of Mozart's works through his life - including ones that I had never heard before. On one display there was a pile of books which reached the ceiling - it turned out to be the collection of every single one of Mozart's compositions. I guess it never fails to astound me the genius of Mozart - at the age of 4 he was already composing quite complex pieces of music! A far cry from my own experience at the age of 4 - throwing building blocks at Toby, demanding food and sleeping. Yes, I am genius.
Our next few stops was at the Residenz gallery which I thoroughly enjoyed - a collection of modern and renaissance art arranged according to the theme of colour. Frances was unimpressed, but I thought it was great. We also visited the Salzburg Museum. I quote an earlier email to Rob about it:
"...was horrendously boring and unstructured - a collection of crap put together in this new fangled postmodern building. Putting shit together in a nice building does not compensate for having a stupid collection. The toilets however, were very swish."
In adding to the number of museums and sights we visited to clock up maximum value on our touristy Salzburg Card, we breezed through the very strange Fortress with its incredibly boring exhibits, save for the display of torture instruments. They needn't have put out the torture instruments - the museum was boring enough as it was. Other non highlights included the Festival Hall tour which we did where the tour guide spoke for 30 minutes in German, and then a good 45 seconds in English (or so it felt that way). Annoyingly, the Hall where the Von Trapp family had won the singing competition was closed - which meant that our original reason for doing the tour was gone, and we were forced to listen to incomprehensible German about some random lighting system (from what I deduced from the hand gestures).
Finally, having finished everything we had wanted to see I dragged Frances to the Museum of Modern Art where I was a bit surprised how small the collection was. We did end up having an icecream at the restaurant there and got stubbed about 20 euros for 2 icecreams and some water. We were not impressed. Dinner however was a cheapy affair at some random pub - we got a mixed dish to share for 2 which ended up being this enormous pile of meat including 2 big schnitzels, so we were happy.
That final evening it started to snow. At first it was very beautiful in the snow, and then it got cold and miserable as my feet froze over and my coat started accumulating more and more snow. The next morning it was still snowing a blizzard and I was a bit worried about our flight being delayed while standing in the bus shelter, washing the bin in front of us accumulate snow. Fortunately, the Austrians were clearly used to being snowed in and there were no delays - just the usual mass confusion and pushing and shoving to board the Ryanair flight.
But it was back to London where joyfully, the trains weren't running on Easter Monday, leading to a 2.5 hour journey home. But the day wasn't to end with me collapsing into a pile on the couch - Nick was arriving that afternoon and I have been given my instructions, in that he "hadn't come to London to drink tea, old chap".
The sounds of my marching orders, clearly.
Sunday, 16 March 2008
the spring in the step
The past few weeks have been quite a stress, but it's time to take stock of things as London warms up and more and more yellow daffodils pop up from the ground. It has been quite pretty with daffodils popping out in the middle of nowhere. Staring out the window on the train one day, I saw that daffodils had bloomed out along the tracks. It was certainly a sight for sore eyes. As some of you may know, daffodils are my favourite flower - they are so happy and bright (quite unlike my personality i know), and they are also the emblem for the Cancer Council, of which my mum has a lot of involvement in.
Another little cute thing which I enjoy in London is when I read thelondonpaper on the way home. thelondonpaper is a free newspaper which is given out all over London in the rush home, and it a vastly better newspaper than the London Lite which is also given out as well. In thelondonpaper there is a great little section where people send in pictures of their pets. There have been the cutest pictures sent in (as well as the usual array of horrendously ugly pets), and my favourites include a pair of baby bunny rabbits and this fluffy cat which was standing up on its hind legs - and dressed up in bow tie. It was so funny, and it was hilarious that the kitty cat looked so unhappy being dressed up in that way. There is also a "London picture of the day" where you send in pictures of London life. One memorable picture had a penguin and his keeper making writing on a clipboard - the penguin is looking at the clipboard and the caption is "that's not how you spell my name!".
I'm easily amused.
It's been a busy week - I was sent to Coventry (pun intended, but doesn't have quite the same impact given its factual accuracy) for work. I've now working my way up north, having now visited the east Midlands (Leicester) and the west Midlands (Coventry) on government business. I travelled up on the Virgin train service which was quite slick and very fast - indeed, the entire train was decked out in suits and my ticket price seemed to match. For the privilege of travelling on a peak hour service to Birmingham, I had to pay 109 pounds for a return ticket! Unbelievable! I felt bad, despite the fact that the NHS was paying for my ticket.
To add to it all, I've been having some fun as well. I managed to see another comedy show with Rob last Friday night. Unfortunately the gig we wanted to see had sold out so we went back to the same place. Rob and I again double parked ourselves with beers for the show - only to find that the ticket seller had dudded us and we found ourselves seeing the same comedian. We were getting annoyed when we heard the same jokes, but as the comedian was doing impro, the show got better as it went along. Rob and I looked at each other with relief, and then got pissed after the show. I may or may not have sent drunken messages to people or engaged in drunken calls on the last train home.
My bad.
That weekend Frances and I also went to see a movie in North Greenwich and had dinner out in North Greenwich. North Greenwich isn't that spectacular but it's the closest cinema complex to home. Nor was the food spectacular, and after dinner we had to wait in the cold for the bus home. I complained to Frances that in Melbourne that after dinner out I would get in the car and go home. Clearly, there is much suffering having to rely completely on public transport in London!
My fingers are getting tired talking about my social life which continues its annoyingly frustrating habit of being absolutely packed one weekend and then being miserably quiet the next. That weekend saw me in Greenwich with a colleague from my old job for a cup of Fairtrade tea, and then dinner later on in Brick Lane with Rox, Mel and Ben. I was so pressed for time that weekend that I rushed home from Greenwich, ironed my shirts, then ran out the door to get to Liverpool St. That night I missed the tube to get to London Bridge by seconds, then had to wait 10 minutes for the next northern line tube, only to miss my connection back to Woolwich. I calculated I could get home 5 minutes earlier than waiting 30 minutes for the next train by taking the Jubilee line to North Greenwich and then taking the bus and ended up home 3 minutes earlier than I would have had I waited for the train.
An easy ride home it was not.
Last night I went clubbing for the first time in a while and had a blast. Went with my friends Luc and Andrew and their mates to Soho and danced the night away to a countdown of the top 100 pop tracks. Walking to the nightclub, sheltering underneath umbrellas, I commented that despite the soaking rain (which ruined my hairstyle that evening) the weather was quite mild (it was about 8 degrees). My friends laughed and told me I had made it as an English person - a complaint and a non-complaint about the weather!
We arrived at the huge club at song 75 and danced away until song 30 where by then we were complaining of our sore feet. Not to mention that my lower back wanted to strangle me. By the time I staggered out at 4am, I still had to crawl to the night bus stop for a 50 minute ride home. I'm not a fan of the night bus given how long it takes, but that night I felt ok as I spent most of the time eavesdropping on the conversation. For some reason they started singing themes from TV shows and "Round the Twist" came up - I woke up in confusion hearing the lyrics from a kiddies TV show which I hadn't seen in excess of 15 years! Nevertheless, I got home safe and sound, having company on the walk home with 3 blokes who proceeded to urinate against a wall near home. Charming.
If they were thoughtful they should have done it against the chestnut tree for fertiliser - the chestnut tree is now sprouting new leaves and foliage. I'm looking forward to seeing it with all its foliage again - because then I will know that the chestnuts will come out and I would have come full circle in London.
Just like my bus ride home last night.
Another little cute thing which I enjoy in London is when I read thelondonpaper on the way home. thelondonpaper is a free newspaper which is given out all over London in the rush home, and it a vastly better newspaper than the London Lite which is also given out as well. In thelondonpaper there is a great little section where people send in pictures of their pets. There have been the cutest pictures sent in (as well as the usual array of horrendously ugly pets), and my favourites include a pair of baby bunny rabbits and this fluffy cat which was standing up on its hind legs - and dressed up in bow tie. It was so funny, and it was hilarious that the kitty cat looked so unhappy being dressed up in that way. There is also a "London picture of the day" where you send in pictures of London life. One memorable picture had a penguin and his keeper making writing on a clipboard - the penguin is looking at the clipboard and the caption is "that's not how you spell my name!".
I'm easily amused.
It's been a busy week - I was sent to Coventry (pun intended, but doesn't have quite the same impact given its factual accuracy) for work. I've now working my way up north, having now visited the east Midlands (Leicester) and the west Midlands (Coventry) on government business. I travelled up on the Virgin train service which was quite slick and very fast - indeed, the entire train was decked out in suits and my ticket price seemed to match. For the privilege of travelling on a peak hour service to Birmingham, I had to pay 109 pounds for a return ticket! Unbelievable! I felt bad, despite the fact that the NHS was paying for my ticket.
To add to it all, I've been having some fun as well. I managed to see another comedy show with Rob last Friday night. Unfortunately the gig we wanted to see had sold out so we went back to the same place. Rob and I again double parked ourselves with beers for the show - only to find that the ticket seller had dudded us and we found ourselves seeing the same comedian. We were getting annoyed when we heard the same jokes, but as the comedian was doing impro, the show got better as it went along. Rob and I looked at each other with relief, and then got pissed after the show. I may or may not have sent drunken messages to people or engaged in drunken calls on the last train home.
My bad.
That weekend Frances and I also went to see a movie in North Greenwich and had dinner out in North Greenwich. North Greenwich isn't that spectacular but it's the closest cinema complex to home. Nor was the food spectacular, and after dinner we had to wait in the cold for the bus home. I complained to Frances that in Melbourne that after dinner out I would get in the car and go home. Clearly, there is much suffering having to rely completely on public transport in London!
My fingers are getting tired talking about my social life which continues its annoyingly frustrating habit of being absolutely packed one weekend and then being miserably quiet the next. That weekend saw me in Greenwich with a colleague from my old job for a cup of Fairtrade tea, and then dinner later on in Brick Lane with Rox, Mel and Ben. I was so pressed for time that weekend that I rushed home from Greenwich, ironed my shirts, then ran out the door to get to Liverpool St. That night I missed the tube to get to London Bridge by seconds, then had to wait 10 minutes for the next northern line tube, only to miss my connection back to Woolwich. I calculated I could get home 5 minutes earlier than waiting 30 minutes for the next train by taking the Jubilee line to North Greenwich and then taking the bus and ended up home 3 minutes earlier than I would have had I waited for the train.
An easy ride home it was not.
Last night I went clubbing for the first time in a while and had a blast. Went with my friends Luc and Andrew and their mates to Soho and danced the night away to a countdown of the top 100 pop tracks. Walking to the nightclub, sheltering underneath umbrellas, I commented that despite the soaking rain (which ruined my hairstyle that evening) the weather was quite mild (it was about 8 degrees). My friends laughed and told me I had made it as an English person - a complaint and a non-complaint about the weather!
We arrived at the huge club at song 75 and danced away until song 30 where by then we were complaining of our sore feet. Not to mention that my lower back wanted to strangle me. By the time I staggered out at 4am, I still had to crawl to the night bus stop for a 50 minute ride home. I'm not a fan of the night bus given how long it takes, but that night I felt ok as I spent most of the time eavesdropping on the conversation. For some reason they started singing themes from TV shows and "Round the Twist" came up - I woke up in confusion hearing the lyrics from a kiddies TV show which I hadn't seen in excess of 15 years! Nevertheless, I got home safe and sound, having company on the walk home with 3 blokes who proceeded to urinate against a wall near home. Charming.
If they were thoughtful they should have done it against the chestnut tree for fertiliser - the chestnut tree is now sprouting new leaves and foliage. I'm looking forward to seeing it with all its foliage again - because then I will know that the chestnuts will come out and I would have come full circle in London.
Just like my bus ride home last night.
Thursday, 28 February 2008
the grump
I must admit that I’m becoming a bit of a Leicester Square junkie. The main attractions being the overwhelming number of tourists, the crowds and the congestion at Leicester Square tube station. But ever since Chinese New Year kicked in a few weeks ago, I’ve made every excuse to stop by to eat roast duck noodles (now a frequent patron of “China China” and “New World” restaurants) and buy my little Chinese bakery items, drink coffee while reading The Guardian in one of the myriad of Soho cafes, and browse the numerous bookstores in the area, my favourite being the enormous Waterstones near Piccadilly Circus with its thematic displays of books, and the rather hip non-struggling-independent bookshop Foyles.
I’ve had a good start to the Chinese New Year so far. Despite deliberately avoiding the masses for the actual celebrations, Chinatown looks absolutely splendid with the streets lined with criss-crossing lanterns. It’s a spectacular sight to behold, and certainly very pretty. I’ve had numerous dinners out with my relatives in Chinatown for the new year, although David was good enough to drag himself and a decent bottle of Australian red out to Woolwich for dinner at my flat.
But as a very auspicious first, I ordered in Chinese for the first time in my life. Usually when I eat Chinese in Melbourne I have one of my parents to do the ordering. While waiting for my uncle, and with my halfie-cousins sitting next to me (with apologies to David who can actually speak fluent Mandarin), I was left to fend for our table in ordering the fish, the crayfish (on noodles with ginger and spring onions), the beef hot-pot and the roast duck. I could feel the perspiration drip down my back as I bumbled along, the rather ungracious Chinese waitress repeating everything back to me in English to make sure that what I said I had actually meant. Success! The food came out as planned, and I was felt the need to call my parents to finally tell them that their son had survived in a Chinese restaurant – ordering Chinese food.
Pity the Caucasian or non-speaking Chinese person who wants the real Chinese food!
It’s been a few good weeks settling into my new role at the NHS Counter Fraud Service and I feel that I’ve managed to get a grip on what’s expected of me. It’s been a bit of a shift again for me to work on policy work which is really more of corporate services work than actual policy-wonk detail, but I’m keen to start travelling around England and Wales for the research for the project that I’m working on.
Outside work of course has been quite breezy as well. It’s starting to get somewhat warmer now, and the sun comes up earlier which means it’s not dark when I leave for work. The South Eastern trains are hell as always, and to illustrate, I have copied part of an email I sent to Rob one morning at work:
“I was in a grump this morning - me and this other girl were gunning for the last remaining seat on the train (luck would have it that someone got off at my stop today! unbelievable! never happens). She cut in front of me and got the seat. Not happy Jan. I spent the next 35 minutes silently criticising her hair (greasy), her skin (pale and clammy), her dress sense (a 30 year old chick in 80s clothing), her coat (hideously pink, lint-covered and very dirty - heard of a drycleaner?), her shoes (she's had sartorial advice from Margaret Thatcher, I suspect), her handbag (i can't believe a crocodile was sacrificed for that monstrous red thing on her lap) and her choice of newspaper (the Sun - says it all, really).
I felt better after all that and hoped she had a comfortable ride in.“
I have no qualms about being a bitter old bag about this. That girl was the deserving target of my acidic wit.
Speaking of Rob. Rob and I decided to go out to see some comedy one Sunday night and met in Leicester Square. My trains had been cancelled so I was forced to take a bus, and was late. Fortunately, eagle-eyed Rob had discovered that comedy tickets were selling for a fiver at some hotel near the Square. There was no argument when we discovered that there was a 2-for-1 deal as well on drinks. Needless to say, the beer deal was a bit too much for me – at one stage I was tripled parked with beers and getting decidedly cheery. Cheery enough to create another first – chipping in when the comedians asked for audience participation. A good night was had by all, until I missed the train home. Rob was home even before I got on the next train home.
Does anyone see a common theme here? I love trains.
I now use the Central Line to get to work which is ridiculously packed – not to mention the enormous gaps between the train and the platform. I do enjoy using the Central Line though – it’s a hell of a lot faster than the ulcer-inducing slow South Eastern Train service.
What was also fast was Alex's time in the UK. With his Uni holidays over, he was going back to Australia via London, and what better way to celebrate his last night in London with a cheapy dinner in Chinatown (yet another variation on a theme) and a night of culture. Being a Monday night, Alex had decided he had wanted to see the Phantom of the Opera. We decided that we would embark on the last-minute-cheap-ticket strategy - with success. We managed to get some £25 tickets which was great - up in the circles, but right in the centre. Unfortunately, a combination of it being a Monday night and sitting in the circle meant that we were beset upon by hordes of rude tourists who talked throughout the performance, opened packets of crisps in moments of quiet, took photos with flash illegally during the performance, and put their feet on the seats during interval. It was certainly an all class audience. I had seen The Phantom before (aged 11, in Melbourne) and had heard the music before, courtesy of parents who enjoy the music, but it was a very good performance indeed. At some points it was thoroughly creepy, but I suppose that was the intended effect. Bravo, you have made a culture-literate happy, and brought a manners-impoverished audience to its feet.
A standing ovation for all. Except for those heathen philistine neanderthals sitting behind and next to me.
I’ve had a good start to the Chinese New Year so far. Despite deliberately avoiding the masses for the actual celebrations, Chinatown looks absolutely splendid with the streets lined with criss-crossing lanterns. It’s a spectacular sight to behold, and certainly very pretty. I’ve had numerous dinners out with my relatives in Chinatown for the new year, although David was good enough to drag himself and a decent bottle of Australian red out to Woolwich for dinner at my flat.
But as a very auspicious first, I ordered in Chinese for the first time in my life. Usually when I eat Chinese in Melbourne I have one of my parents to do the ordering. While waiting for my uncle, and with my halfie-cousins sitting next to me (with apologies to David who can actually speak fluent Mandarin), I was left to fend for our table in ordering the fish, the crayfish (on noodles with ginger and spring onions), the beef hot-pot and the roast duck. I could feel the perspiration drip down my back as I bumbled along, the rather ungracious Chinese waitress repeating everything back to me in English to make sure that what I said I had actually meant. Success! The food came out as planned, and I was felt the need to call my parents to finally tell them that their son had survived in a Chinese restaurant – ordering Chinese food.
Pity the Caucasian or non-speaking Chinese person who wants the real Chinese food!
It’s been a few good weeks settling into my new role at the NHS Counter Fraud Service and I feel that I’ve managed to get a grip on what’s expected of me. It’s been a bit of a shift again for me to work on policy work which is really more of corporate services work than actual policy-wonk detail, but I’m keen to start travelling around England and Wales for the research for the project that I’m working on.
Outside work of course has been quite breezy as well. It’s starting to get somewhat warmer now, and the sun comes up earlier which means it’s not dark when I leave for work. The South Eastern trains are hell as always, and to illustrate, I have copied part of an email I sent to Rob one morning at work:
“I was in a grump this morning - me and this other girl were gunning for the last remaining seat on the train (luck would have it that someone got off at my stop today! unbelievable! never happens). She cut in front of me and got the seat. Not happy Jan. I spent the next 35 minutes silently criticising her hair (greasy), her skin (pale and clammy), her dress sense (a 30 year old chick in 80s clothing), her coat (hideously pink, lint-covered and very dirty - heard of a drycleaner?), her shoes (she's had sartorial advice from Margaret Thatcher, I suspect), her handbag (i can't believe a crocodile was sacrificed for that monstrous red thing on her lap) and her choice of newspaper (the Sun - says it all, really).
I felt better after all that and hoped she had a comfortable ride in.“
I have no qualms about being a bitter old bag about this. That girl was the deserving target of my acidic wit.
Speaking of Rob. Rob and I decided to go out to see some comedy one Sunday night and met in Leicester Square. My trains had been cancelled so I was forced to take a bus, and was late. Fortunately, eagle-eyed Rob had discovered that comedy tickets were selling for a fiver at some hotel near the Square. There was no argument when we discovered that there was a 2-for-1 deal as well on drinks. Needless to say, the beer deal was a bit too much for me – at one stage I was tripled parked with beers and getting decidedly cheery. Cheery enough to create another first – chipping in when the comedians asked for audience participation. A good night was had by all, until I missed the train home. Rob was home even before I got on the next train home.
Does anyone see a common theme here? I love trains.
I now use the Central Line to get to work which is ridiculously packed – not to mention the enormous gaps between the train and the platform. I do enjoy using the Central Line though – it’s a hell of a lot faster than the ulcer-inducing slow South Eastern Train service.
What was also fast was Alex's time in the UK. With his Uni holidays over, he was going back to Australia via London, and what better way to celebrate his last night in London with a cheapy dinner in Chinatown (yet another variation on a theme) and a night of culture. Being a Monday night, Alex had decided he had wanted to see the Phantom of the Opera. We decided that we would embark on the last-minute-cheap-ticket strategy - with success. We managed to get some £25 tickets which was great - up in the circles, but right in the centre. Unfortunately, a combination of it being a Monday night and sitting in the circle meant that we were beset upon by hordes of rude tourists who talked throughout the performance, opened packets of crisps in moments of quiet, took photos with flash illegally during the performance, and put their feet on the seats during interval. It was certainly an all class audience. I had seen The Phantom before (aged 11, in Melbourne) and had heard the music before, courtesy of parents who enjoy the music, but it was a very good performance indeed. At some points it was thoroughly creepy, but I suppose that was the intended effect. Bravo, you have made a culture-literate happy, and brought a manners-impoverished audience to its feet.
A standing ovation for all. Except for those heathen philistine neanderthals sitting behind and next to me.
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