Viet Seo

It's Bangkok, baby

2010-10-15T18:05:00.000-07:00

So Bangkok has been a wash out. So far at any rate. It’s been less than 24 hours so I don’t have any concrete perceptions of the place yet, but my first impressions are less than positive.

I’m beginning to think it is the London of SE Asia: A sprawling metropolis that is fairly devoid of both character and charm.

Other similarities listed as follows:

• Dour: The locals don’t appear to like it much either. They all seem fairly miserable. Smiling appears to be an uncommon action. And at any rate, they don't appear to be anywhere near as expressive as the Vietnamese. I was a bit silly with the bored looking shop assistant at the 7/11 (they have liptons...huzah!) and whilst he clearly found me quite humorous, I only managed to get him to just about crack a smile. A resounding failure in my books (not that I shall lose any sleep).
• Multicultural: t seems fairly multicultural; identifying a plethora of ethnicities in the faces of residents here.
• Anonymity. If I walked the same way again I doubt I would run into the same people, or in the event that I should, have there be any real degree of recognition from either party.
• Lack of city centre.

In all fairness though, i have yet to visit Khao San road: which several colleagues have informed me is pretty much bui vien, except bigger, modern and with less character. Basically a less appealing Bui Vien. Suffice to say that any experience beyond mediocre shall be a pleasant surprise.

The hotel (Lamphu Treehouse) seems, erm...a mixed bag really. Rooms are certainly aesthetically pleasing, and albeit small, extremely comfortable. And I quite enjoy the view of converging corrugated tin, although my sister doesn’t.

But some things don’t seem to fit. There is a giant plasma screen telly, but only 8 (rubbish) channels so what’s the point?. Not that I particularly want to sit in and watch the telly, but that money could have been spent on...
Soap. There appear to be no toiletries, not that I want cheap shampoo miniatures, but surely soap would be nice. You know, next to the sink. I know this seems like a trivial point, but I fail to understand why a hotel that offers you freshly squeezed orange juice upon your reception, doesn’t have what I would consider a pretty mandatory part of sanitary living (and a convenience which even grotty public toilets offer).

After a fruitless and badly timed exploration of the neighbourhood (amidst a downpour mid afternoon) I consoled myself to an over priced meal at the hotel. The waitress couldn’t speak a word of English, not that I particularly gave a shit, but she couldn’t even speak universal sign language (yknow, point & nod type fodder). I had to write my own order on her notepad (despite the menu containing a photographic depiction of what I wanted). All of this wouldn’t have bothered me in the slightest had the end result been remotely tasty. It wasn’t. It was the type of Thai food I would expect to receive in England. Not in fucking Thailand. It was like Thai food, with all the spices and flavour carefully removed so as not to offend any palette. It was carefully presented of course. Perhaps the food here isn’t meant to be eaten, but merely gazed upon.
Oh, that and the lemon juice tasted...clinical.

Dinner was equally as banal, but this time I can explain both the banality and the excessive cost on the non-regional cuisine. Italian (Cafe Primavera). Not my choice, but I do wish the lonely planet would have given it a more honest appraisal:
“Shit food, but hey...reminds you of home, eh?”

A cloud of doubt has entered my mind regarding the lonely planet. And due to its trivial assessment of violent crime in Saigon (being dragged behind a fucking motorbike IS violent thank you very much) i now have an element of distrust that made me insist on walking the 7 or so miserable blocks to the restaurant rather than go anywhere near the tuktuks circling nearby. And of course, like any city where guttering is nonexistent, you aren’t so much being rained on, but being hailed upon by varying torrents of filthy water. My shoes became tiny pools of mud which my feet got to squelch in.

Despite this distrust, I have circled all cheap Thai restaurants in the Banglamphu area in the hopes of tasting some decent authentic grub before returning to the land of Pho.

Oh well, even if Bangkok proves to be a disappointment I can spend the next couple days writing my students back. My new (and somewhat insubordinate) S5s (high level teenagers) wrote me letters about themselves prior to me leaving (upon my instruction of course).
“Yo teacher” starts one of them. I feel this is going to be an amusing endeavour.

some thoughts on baby transport

2010-08-16T11:31:00.000-07:00

So, I was coming out of Tokyo Deli the other night when I witnessed a baby (not a toddler) being wheeled by (IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD) on one of those metal carts that you use to carry crates - the type you would maybe see in an Asda.

So yeah, there was a baby, not strapped in, atop a pile of...carpeting? fuck knows really. Lying upsidedown no less. In the middle of a street with dozens of motorbikes zooming around.

I should point out that this scene isn't particularly uncommon, I doubt any local on the street would have found it unusual or bizarre. (I don't think any sight near Ben Thanh market could be deemed bizarre).

But this sight made me think...damn I need to blog more of this stuff.

So yeah, this is me fulfilling that resolution.

I have more thoughts on sex-pats and Lee Harvey Oswald but I shall save that for another blog.

Dalat blog

2010-07-19T07:22:00.000-07:00

Ok, it is 9:22 according to the clock in the foyer of the hotel I am staying in Dalat. I have approximately 38 minutes to write and post this blog before the internet service is cut off for the evening. Stream of consciousness it shall be.

I arrived at 3 in the bloody morning, and after a weekend of long hours and early starts i needed to sleep. The idea was that I was going to sleep on the bus, and although it was comfortable enough, the frequent stops ensured an infrequent sleep.

Everything was shut of course. Except for the dodgy looking hotel at the bus...station? (glorified bus stop is a probably a more apt title). I knew if I waited a few hours I would be staying at my proper hotel, but at that point, as far as I was concerned, sleeping was worth $7. So I slept in the grotty hotel until about 8:30 when i awoke and headed towards Dream hotel (my current whereabouts).

Dream hotel is worthy of it's title, I am firmly supporting Lonely planet on this one: comfortable (if not adorable) little rooms, fresh red roses (i even ripped a few petals off in my examination...the 2nd petal was just to confirm my disbelief), a beautiful and comfortable bed, a tiny little safe in the room, modern bathrooms (shower is flipping amazing, has these panels on the side that spray onto your body), polite staff and (this is the best bit) an AMAZING spread for breakfast.

How would you like your eggs? tea or coffee? Fresh milk or condensed? (the norm in Vietnam is condensed, which in coffee is sickly, but tolerable) Banh My with fresh bacon/ham, about 5 different types of fruit, including mango and dragon fruit (the lovely sweet kind, not the bland ones). Hell, you even had a choice between Marmite or vegemite!

Breakfast gets 2 thumbs up. Especially when you compare it with the typical B&B fodder over here, which doesn't really consist of much more than a baguette with wedge-o-cheese (laughing cow) and a banana.

anyway, enough of food.

Having not brought any of my giant tubes of damage exonerating conditioner my hair currently requires, i left in search of a salon. This of course won't surprise those of you that know me (hahahaha, as if anyone reads these fuckers). I found one and had an aggressive, but altogether thorough, hair washing followed by straightening for the wonderful price of 30,000 (1 pound...argh, bloody American keyboard).

I had been approached by Titi, one of the easy riders prior, but along with the hair, I was on a little shopping mission. A hat, cardigan and deodorant (also forgotten) must be bought first before contemplating further exploration. All were bought, and pleased with purchases (photos pending).

I decided at that point (midday) that the weather was too fantastic to not accept Titi's proposition to explore the neighbouring countryside. So I called him and half an hour later I was on my way. Ok, i only have 20 minutes left so I am going into note taking now.

Places visited:

Pagoda -
View of Dalat -
Flower greenhouse - Gerberas and roses
Coffee Plantation - inclusive of a later stop where they dried the
Basket making - 3 houses
Silk Factory - This was definitely the highlight for me.
rice wine makers - and magic mushroom growers??
Elephant Falls -
Accompanying Pagoda -

1 hour journey home in pelting rain, Which was actually fun. we drove through a few newly formed lakes. which seriously, i don't see how puddles this size are possible on roads with such steep inclines, but there ya have it. my trousers are absolutely soaked. But it's fine, i found my clothes that I had handed in that morning, cleaned and neatly folded for me upon my return. Seriously impressed, I handed over today's muddy garments for a similar treatment.

Got stopped and complimented on my eyes (of all things) at least on 4 separate occasions today. Normally it's the hair (I live in a continent where even a bottle won't get you this blonde) but today's theme was eyes. Your eyes are beautiful said several young to middle aged ladies. I am highly complimented.

Other notes:

- enjoying Grisham novel.
- made 5 year old cry yesterday. apparently my monster enactment is altogether too convincing. Must practice being not as terrifying.
- receiving pointless phonecall from Dung (seriously, why does he bother phoning me when he has bugger all to say).
- am extremely grateful for Guilliaume enduring my stressful departure from Saigon, it was commendable on his behalf. i personally, would have ditched myself. (i pretty much yelled at the taxi driver and several other people who hindered my journey to locate le autobus.
- missed sam today. Only english book (that isn't uTTER pap) in hotel is wilt. Sam would have smiled. :)
- miss fred. *sighs*

right, 9 minutes. i am posting this and sequestering the dvd player to my room. :)

end of an era of epic cuteness

2010-06-19T07:26:00.000-07:00

Shit, I've spent so long editing the pics for this blog that I am now to tired TO blog.

ugh.

nearly 11pm and I am shattered. Today has been draining. But really, the reason why I wanted to write this blog is because I had to say goodbye to my favourite class today. My wonderful J5bs. I am going to miss them so. Intelligent, creative, enthusiastic and cute. Wish kids could stay like that forever, but no...moodiness and hormone swings await them (more on that in another blog soon to come, but this blog is not about my seniors classes. It is about this bunch:

This is the class that spawned:
"They can hide in the snow because their feather is vanilla". Which is perhaps the most epic thing ever written about polar bears.

and the infamous "What do YOU know about crabs?" poster title (in reference to the crustaceans, but I shall of course be contacting the sexual health board to see if they would like to reuse the idea for their own campaign).

I have now had this class for 2 courses, and I am sad to see them go. I am reading through their past work now before I bin it. I feel the need to document some of this cuteness for later reflection.

Cam, an absolute character, wrote this:

I like a sloth in picture 1. It's cute and it looks friendly. And it is an exciting animal to watch. In 4 pictures here, I choose the sloth's picture because it is interesting. It's the most beautiful picture I ever see. If I met a sloth like this, I would stand and look it for a long time.

And Ruby (they only have english names if they want to) wrote:

"These are wolf. It look scary with sharp teeth which can hurt you. The hunter want their fur to make cloth and their meat. Wolf fur is soft, it warm, sometimes it brown but it grey. Wolf is scary usually but sometime it is friendly because they just like dog. If we love them, they love you.

Ruby is a smart girl, but I have recently been having a lot of problems with her. She doesn't try as hard, I feel her ability has led her to have some fairly lazy study habits. And despite being one of the smartest in the class, she got the lowest test result (in the written part anyway), it is highly frustrating. It's like she has stopped trying. She used to be so good, but that was in the bigger class, where her competitive nature was rewarded. In the smaller group she is ostracised for being competitive, especially as it sometime degenerates into overbearing smugness.

Despite all that, I found a little piece of paper rolled up in my guitar case after class.

Dear Miss Seo,

You're a very good teacher. I would like to study with you very much. I love you and Goodbye! See you again! ♥ Love you ♥, Ruby

Seriously, your heart just melts. I love teaching so much.

Oooo, this is from one of the games we play which I have termed "Go". You start by writing one word on the board, then the next team must write the next word, and so and so forth, until you can continue the sentence no longer. For the record: this is a bloody difficult game. If you fuck up (grammatically) you lose a life. This is what they came up with one time. Starting word: Once

"Once upon a time there was a pretty princess and a naughty cat with one bow on her head with a chicken that is beautiful and lovely as her head which is better than the monster head on the desk in the living room of her castle in Scotland where she lives."

rofl

On a side note: Duy (a student from another class i have had for 9 months) was wearing the cutest shorts today. World Cup 2010 was embroidered across them. He was so proud of them. He is such a character that boy; he told me his family think he is crazy but he thinks he is funny like mister Bean. He is so fecking cute. 8 years old, gave me a big hug today and told me "i love you teacher, miss seo".

God I wish I could have a kid.

*sighs*

Locked out

2010-06-03T19:51:00.000-07:00

So last night I was locked out of my bedroom by the guy I am seeing. I went to let him out, and before he left my room, he put the snib up and closed the door. NOW. I am sure he didn't mean to lock me out, but why the fuck would he do that?? Unless he KNEW that I had a key, plus...I was only leaving my bedroom to let him out. It's a wonder I had clothes on for god's sake! I could have been locked out in jammies...or worse *cringes*

So I see him off, and was quite looking forward to some alone time as I had spent all the evening being sociable, when BAM. No fucking way in. So obviously that meant i had to wake up cunt face and co. downstairs. Dan, in all fairness to him, made a valient effort to pick the lock. I wanted to thank him before abandoning ship, when abby piped up with "I better be on time to let the locksmith in tomorrow morning, as she isn't going to, because this isn't her issue."

It's like: don't you worry your little head dearie, I wouldn't rely on your charity unless all other hope had been lost.

So Pratik and Pulkit took in a tearie blonde nutcase at half one in the morn, much to the apparent amusement of her neighbours. They let me sleep in the wee room, and they were extremely supportive.

It's nice to have people support you, even when you make mistakes. Rather than the usual: SEO, YOU fucked up. YOU need to sort yourself out mate.

As if I can help being a twat.

:P

the dangers of unicycle riding during tropical rainfall

2010-06-03T07:20:00.000-07:00

erm.

Don't do it, you might fall.

i have never wanted rain so much

2010-05-27T01:44:00.000-07:00

So it is drought day. I have given it this title affectionately (hahaha. fuck off) as it is not unlike the "snow days" I used to have as a child ((actually it is entirely unlike them, the only similarity is that people stay off their work). Except, in this time, instead of volumes of snow, it is a dearth of power. Whole chunks of the city have no power. This means no traffic lights, no fans, no a/c, nothing, all because there has been NO BLOODY RAIN. It went off before 9am this morning (i am estimating just before 8am) and shan't be back on again until this evening.

I am now sitting in a cafe (because obviously the tourist area: pham ngu laos district and what not are all running...erm, ok). but i am SWEATING. in an air fucking conditioned cafe. I think because of the power shortages they have had to limit their air cond. Or I dunno.

Pratik and I are sitting here, sweating, trying to work out wtf to do next. The problem is that the heat has made us incredibly lethargic. A number of suggestions have been made and discarded:
• Another cafe: too expensive
• Another cafe that isn't expensive: might be the bloody same temperature
• why doesn't one of us scout for better place: lack of volunteers
• go bug Pulkit at work: she will be class soon and will yell at us
• go get food at NYDC: this is a rubbish idea, I have no idea how pratik remains hungry in this heat

and he has just knocked down my excellent suggestion of the cinema (which is (for the record, is the best one so far as it is always bloody freezing in there) because - wait for it - Pulkit and Pratik haven't been to the cinema yet in Saigon and they want to share that experience. Isn't that sweet? *vomits*

Or I could sit here killing the ants that now call my laptop home. I think that is the 17th one so far.

Stop. The. Bus,

Pratik has just suggested the pool! This could be a moment of greatness. This however DOES involve getting up off our asses. Thanks to my alarm call of nofuckingcoolingsystemand35degreeheat I got sweet eff all sleep last night which makes the entire thing worse. I see dark clouds. Please sky. Please fucking rain.

18th ant.

In a cafe on calmette

2010-02-11T22:37:00.000-08:00

(found this scribbled on a piece of paper whilst clearing up)

It's an odd sensation. Carrying in my bag right now what the average person makes in 2 months. To me, it's change. Need to buy my mother and sister birthday prezzies and last over tet. Need to perfect my shorthand.

It's a couple days before Tet and I am only starting to see a difference in sheer volume of people. A city centre that is populated by millions of bikes has deteriorated to thousands.

I am on Calmette Street having a sin to *can't read* at a place called Hello Boba. Because I had plans to see the boys over Tet, and despite this being my second journey to the orphanage, I am only now realising they have obviously gone away for the holidays. So much for the lucky money I had for them. Over Tet, people generally give each other lucky money.

The city is awash with buckets of marigolds. Yellow and gold flowers adorn doorways and windows.

Heh, i just ordered the oddest thing. Sinh To Ca Chua. I thought it would simply be a tomato smoothie. But no, they actually mixed the tomato with condensed milk. Tomato and condensed milk. Interesting.

So I crashed my (motor)bike

2010-01-13T07:47:00.000-08:00

on Monday night.

This would be the Honda Spacey I bought from Theresa for 4 million.

Thankfully the bike is alright, but I'll get it checked out for the pricey sum of 10,000 (like, 30p). Dan thought the steering might be off (he drove it home the next day)

I would like to say it was for a cool reason, like I swerved to avoid killing a puppy or was attempting to chase down a mugger.

But no, the sad reality is I took off too fast, had forgotten to put the kick stand up, and rather than stop (or even slow down) I tried to put it up whilst driving (which in all fairness I have managed before) but this time lost control of the bike and ended up sprawled in the middle of the road.

Thus attracting a gaggle of mildly retarded Vietnamese people (with the best intentions of course) who tried to drag me off the road with the arm I had just landed on.

Ended up going to one of the Vietnamese hospitals (as opposed to the foreign ones) which was an experience in itself. Shoved into a wheelchair and tossed through a depressing tiled sanctuary, with beds that had stained and torn linen and nursing staff that had clearly lost the will to live prior to their conversion into mechanical drones.

I got my x-rays taken which was pretty interesting. Wheeled into a room that looked like a set for a horror film (texas chainsaw massacre anyone?) an ancient metal table encrusted with bits of blood and hair. Was given no protection for the radiation, which was mildly disconcerting. But the coolest part is that I got to keep my xrays! Which I am still dead chuffed about (what can I say, I am easily amused).

So all in all, no broken bones, just bashed up a bit. mostly bruising and scrapes, but they are all heeling up nicely:

But my foot got a bit mangled in the bike, so it looks pretty gruesome right now. It's all fat and swollen, and i am slightly disconcerted that it isn't going to heal properly (because I have realised I either don't have the balls or strong enough pain killer to properly clean the wound) but here is hoping for the best.

Especially as I am getting ridiculously bored of being bed ridden. It's only been 2 days and I am nearly climbing the walls. Abby and Dan have been amazing, getting me meds and bringing me food and what not. I am lucky to have them here.

Haven't told my family yet, because i fear they may freak out. And I don't want them worrying about me and stuff. So if you know them (or are on my FB) I would greatly appreciate keeping any "OMG, THANK GOD YOU ARE ALIVE!11" comments to a minimum. Thank you muchy much, in advancy wance.

Things to do in viet nam when you're dead

2009-09-23T09:39:00.001-07:00

So I am supposed to be prepping for my class tomorrow, but my mind has temporarily taken me elsewhere. I have so many things to say. I’m going to skip all the basics and cut to right now. Because if I spend loads of time telling you what I have been doing, I will never get to now... Which is part of the reason why this blog hasn’t been updated in so bloody long.

So today I made a break through with my landlady. I managed to successfully communicate something to her. Now, before you get too excited, that statement was “thank you”, but I am still rather pleased with myself. Prior to this, neither of us could speak a word of each other’s language. Now I can say 2. She was very pleased. Just wait ‘til she finds out I can count to 3. *cue astonished gasp* For the record: It appears that it only takes “cảm ơn” 137 times to get it right. Note: Vietnamese is fucking difficult as all hell.

People on my street think I’m funny. I am a primary source of amusement. The way I look, the way I walk, everything I do seems to cause merriment or provoke comment. My street is cool though, it’s much better than the backpacker district (which is just full of touts and tourists). It turns into a (primarily meat) market in the mornings. Where you can see all sorts of things: snakes in a bucket, fish flapping about inside plastic bags as they are being sold, decapitated frogs still jumping around in a tray (seriously, I am going to have to take pictures).

No one speaks English where I live, or in the rare event they do, it does not extend further than greetings. But no English at all is fairly common. I was walking home last night and these guys were all sitting around drinking beers and urged me to come sit down with them. It was bizarre: an entire conversation played out in mime:

Them: Come sit down with us

Me: No, I couldn’t possibly really

Them: no, we insist

Me: Ok, but just for a bit

Them: Here, have a beer

Me: Erm...

Them: Go on! It’s good!

Me: *glugs*

Them: Yay! Now give us a thank you kiss

...and that was my cue to leave.

I am surprised by how many of the men find me attractive though. I thought...well I dunno. I am about twice the size of your average Vietnamese woman (both ways) and in the west femininity is valued in large by diminutive portions. In other words: Vietnamese women would be the ideal notion of femininity in the west. And then there is me: I’m big by western standards, over here i’m HUGE.

That has become a popular phrase for me. “in the west...” I’ve just realised that means I’m in the East. Heh, never thought about it like that. The far east. Hmmm. I’m babbling now. Ian (my tutor) says I do that too much. He even wrote “quit babbling” in my assessment. (lol)

I love my students. Vietnamese students are amazing. They are everything you want from a student. Enthusiastic, interested, studious, friendly, and NOT SHY! It’s great. In fact, lying next to me is a typed up invitation for an end of programme trip the students have organised for us. It starts off: “Dear all lovely trainee teachers”. Isn’t that the sweetest! And they applaud you when you have finished a lesson. In fact, in one of the classes Lucy (another trainee) was really nervous, so they all started clapping to make her feel better.

And in my last lesson, when I started and said hello to the class, one of the girls told me how nice I looked today, and they all nodded and another couple piped that I looked beautiful (!!!). I mean, they are so nice, it almost makes it DIFFICULT to teach.

Gah, and on that note. I’m going to get back to prepping for class. I’ll have to tell you all about the mugging later. The course finishes a week on Friday so after that I am going to have a LOT more time!

Dave is not available to chat

2009-08-27T09:33:00.000-07:00

Today was rather unproductive. Sporadic bursts of local explorations interspersed with confused journeys back to the inn to nap.

Had my first meal at a street vendor today. This colourful Malaysian lady served me a variety of unidentifiable noodle like edibles and although I had NO CLUE what i was eating (the most i got out of a series of manic hand gestures and broken english was the word "fish") it was exceedingly tasty, as was the sauce which was bubbling away in what i
can only describe as a cauldron. It was all accompanied with a nice cold glass of sweetened soya milk. All for 4 ringgits. I don't understand how I can have an entire meal that good for less than a pound, less than the cost of one shitty poke of chips. God I love food outside of Britain.

Later went shopping in the market. Bought a watch and a wallet...for the pricey sum of 10.80RM (less than £2). The cute little Hawall wallet is adorned with such classic engrish phrases as "Good!Yes!" and is rather perfect for their currency (which grossly consists of notes).

Met a nigerian man by the name of Henry, who I had a chat whilst picking through a spicy meal with prawns. Twas inferior to the street vendors despite being at least 3 times the price. Henry has invited to show me around tomorrow, but I think I may have to ditch him, because despite me spending much of the meal discussing how much I adored my boyfriend, he seemed unmoved by these declarations and somehow still managed to squeeze in a proposal (yes, that's right. less than 48 hours here and I have been proposed to). Normally I would never have entertained a person with such interests, but I was that desperate to have an actual conversation with someone (rather than just a series of unintelligible utterances, hand gesticulations and smiles - which all my communication has been up to this point) that I welcomed the chance to speak in English. The topics mainly consisted of government corruption, Malaysian people, his sister in Dublin, and why I don't believe in marriage.

He seems innocuous enough, but I really don't understand those guys that think that they have a chance when you are blatantly telling them, in very very plain language, that there is no chance in hell.

*sighs*

blargh, miss Dave. :(

Anywho, hopefully after a sleep now I will be more adventurous tomorrow and actually get to see the Petronas Towers.

Post Tuntuntan Bagasi

2009-08-26T12:45:00.000-07:00

Have arrived in Kuala Lumpur. It's raining hot sticky rain, more of a sweaty condensation than a shower. Have managed to locate both ticket stand and bus, and now waiting for departure to Puduraya station. Phoned Dave to inform him of mortal status and he seemed relieved to hear from me.

First Impressions

tuntuntan bagasi is the coolest name for baggage reclaim ever.
People here are incredibly friendly, they all smile at you in greeting, even when there is no requirement for them to do so (i.e. professional courtesy). What a contrast to London, lol.
The men here are striking looking. Very handsome, very tiny. Like beautiful dolls.
The above generalisation does not apply to touts and taxi drivers.
The sign in front of me on the bus uses text speak (pls mind your bagasi)
I have discovered where all the eligible western twenty something men disappear to: SE Asia! They all seem to be in uniform: straggly blonde hair, half open hawaii shirts, revealing fit tan bodies. They all look as if they have stepped out of Home and Away, and I half expect them to be ordering pizza to Mr. Hand's history class.
I am extremely perturbed by the bus driver who has just boarded the bus wearing a crash helmet! (oh thank god, he has removed it)
lots of people wear face masks (presumably for the pollution?)

Anyway, this is me typing this all out from my matchbox of a room, but it's clean, cool and has free wifi, so moo koo and I are happy. And off to bed I go, after a very very long day.

The Flight

2009-08-26T12:34:00.000-07:00

Well this is me embarking on my new life. Several thousand miles above what I presume to currently be India. Bright Eyes "First Day" playing on MP3 player. I have slept most of the flight, but we should be landing in 2.5 hours or so. Working on my shorthand which I will be implementing shortly so as to enable more candid observations without fear of literary eavesdropping.

To my left is Justin, an attractive tanned Australian man who has provided small talk and factual exchanges regarding the status of the flight. Nothing riveting.

Seem to be cycling through a ridiculous quantity of emotional extremities. Excitement, joy, fulfilment, loss, sadness, nervousness. To be expected i suppose. Still can't fully believe this is really happening. There is certainly an ethereal quality to this entire experience.

I have only realised during the course of this flight that I don't have a watch! I am so used to using my phone, but don't have any particular desire to constantly be pulling out my £400 mobile every time I wish to establish the time of day. Plus my battery is critically low at the moment. Predominantly expended on a lengthy phone call to Dave from the airport while the flight was delayed. Battery well spent. :)
God, I'm going to miss him.

The sky is currently amazing. A sea of defined lavender clouds gently swathed in a gentle mist with a rainbow of colours arising from this cumulus bed. Deep orange, to gold, to lime, to light blue and into a dark royal blue which concludes the aesthetic arrangement. As I write the rainbow wanes and the dark night usurps all colour. The clouds move from lavender to increasingly dark shades of grey. Soon it will vanish into black. It appears ominous, but I know this display is merely a precursor for the onset of our night descent.

drunken post-rambling ramblings

2009-08-10T01:30:00.000-07:00

Well I’m drunk tonight and feeling particularly fucking verbose, so you’re stuck with me. Eloquence perhaps being managed by the 2 pints of water currently coursing through my body in an effort to dilute the array of cocktails consumed tonight.

Went out for drinks with the lovely Greg tonight, and it really is starting to hit home what I am doing. 2 weeks today I will leave Scotland for...well, for an indeterminable amount of time, and depending on the unforeseen twists in my life, could potentially never return (although I shall hazard a guess that that probability isn’t particularly high).

I can’t believe that essentially, since the decision to “get the fuck out of here” I have actually managed to meet not one, but THREE people who I have grown to like tremendously, and actually mean a whole fucking lot to me (Greg being but one of those three). The chances are astronomically high, and dare I say...just fucking typical for me. In fact, all three have formed such an integral element of my current existence, my life would be rendered virtually unrecognisable in their absence.

Well no, that isn’t quite right. It would be recognisable as the blip on my record that was 2008. What a fucking AWFUL year. I hadn’t actually thought about it until there, and not because of any cataclysmically shitty events (that would be 2006) but through the sheer mediocrity of it. What exactly WAS that year, and why is the only event I can actually remember from it getting hit over the head by some asshole? Did he somehow manage to wipe all good memories from that year?

A lot of it had to do with my job, my shitty, awful, mind numbing job. Boredom reached new plateaus. Nice people, my colleagues...but that is about the only redeeming thing I can say.
Anywho, am derailing from the thoughts that were previously cluttering my mind and preventing me from sleep despite being awake for over 20 hours. I had to get up at 4am this morning for the car boot sale. It’s so odd selling my life. Sold pan flutes i got from a Peruvian concert when I was a kid. Sold plate set I had when Jordan and I had our own flat. I should have had a sign up: Memories for sale. Not that I am in any way complaining of being rid of such things. There is this freeing sensation about it all. Cathartic. Starting afresh. Same feeling I got when I moved over here from America.

I love moving.

I mean, obviously there are notably shitty things about it. You are always going to miss things. Heartbreakingly so. But you also get to leave all the shitty things behind.
Because ultimately that was the motivation for me getting the fuck out of here. Feel like Britain has nothing left for me. Have unanswered questions:

Are people such assholes everywhere? The cynical part of me already knows the answer to that. But the great thing about moving (especially if you KEEP on moving) is that for the first few months you are so enamoured with cultural oddities that you forget a lot of the shittiness of your own existence.

Because I do truly feel that existence is shitty. Not my existence per se, but in the generic sense.
Another shake of the etch a sketch, eh? Before the same old lines appear.
Talking pish, and I need to get up in 7 hours to begin an unbearably busy week.