That was subtle

Ten months since I left Europe

2011-06-08T16:35:00.000-07:00

Hello all!

I have a new blog. Well, it's not that new I've had it for a while now. It documents my life as a history student in Melbourne - far less exciting than my European wandering, but still me blabbing on nonetheless.

If you would like the new blog address please email me at thatwassubtle@gmail.com

2011-01-05T14:40:00.001-08:00

Hello. I am going to make this blog private soon. I won't be updating it but if you would like to be added to the readers list, just let me know!

2010-09-17T19:12:00.001-07:00

I'd really like to start a new blog, but I can't for the life of me think of a name for it.

Bye bye bye

2010-08-24T02:34:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm back in Melbourne. Thanks for reading my about my European adventures. The end.

(I will let you know if I start another blog by commenting on your blog)

I'm on the pursuit of happiness and I know...

2010-08-10T22:55:00.001-07:00

Photo:Peter Guenzel

It's my last week in Cambridge. I can't say I am sad to be leaving, but perhaps the reality that this is my last week in the UK, and in a few days - my last week in Europe, hasn't hit me yet. We (the teachers of my school) were evicted from our accommodation on Monday, about 20 of us. Mainly for acting like drunk American frat boys. I am going to do a Cambridge post as soon as I have enough photos without me in them; I'm such a screen hog. I may not miss the 'student style' living here but I will definitely miss the students. I don't hold out much hope that any of them will ever visit Australia, which is a shame because Aussie teenagers could do worse than to take a leaf out of the Europeans' epicly stylish and (usually) mature book. Okay, time to teach The English...

Have you been to Paris?

2010-08-08T08:26:00.001-07:00

Okay, I'm not going to Italy anymore. I am going to Paris though, for five days - soonish. Do you have any Paris tips? I want to see the cute laneways and cafes that tourists usually miss out on, and go shopping....oh shopping.

I'm more than just an option

2010-08-02T02:11:00.000-07:00

In one month I will be back in Melbourne. The adventure will be over, and a new one will begin - one that is probably not very interesting to the readers of this blog. So I think this will be my last month blogging, I did create this blog to document my travels afterall.

I'm still working in England. The routine of teach, drink, dance, write reports - repeat, hasn't really changed much in the past five weeks. I am here a bit longer and then I'm off to Paris for a few days and then Italy until I return home. I was planning on going to Greece, but I have backpacker's fatigue and the thought of lugging my beastly suitcase onto ferries and up hills etc. makes me feel more irritated than enthusiastic. I am looking forward to Italy though - I'll probably stay out of the larger cities and try to explore places I've never been between Florence and Rome.

Well, that was more a boring update than a decent blog post, but that's where I'm at, yo. Shake ya ass, watch ya self...sorry.

I shot for the sky, I'm stuck on the ground.

2010-07-18T14:20:00.000-07:00

I've just been reading my blog archives. I can't believe I'm going back to Australia. What the hell? Social bullshit doesn't go away as you get older, and neither does indecision/panic about choices. But I am returning. It is happening. Unless I meet Luca in Italy.

(Luca is the Italian boy with curly hair - I am yet to meet- who I am going to marry)

All I can do is just pour some tea for two, and speak my point of view, but it's not sane.

2010-07-18T12:06:00.000-07:00

Some of my recently uploaded photos.
Berlin: poor but sexy.

We're reeling through an endless fall

2010-07-17T14:11:00.001-07:00

Photo: Peter Guenzel

I have picked up Latin in preparation for going back to Uni. I have Latin for dummies, and Ovid (Ars Amatoria) to translate.

We had a 'Report Writing Party' in my room - complete with wine, nachos, and bitching. I think it will become a weekly event.

I am sad to have seen two groups of students leave already, some of them are such brilliant kids, they really make me love teaching.

I bought a new camera, Nikon Coolpix(I destroyed my three month old Canon by throwing it into my beach bag - sunscreen leaked onto it)

We went dancing last night. It was well spazzy.

I have confirmed my flight back to Australia, I'll be back in Melbourne early September.
Latin is hard, even with 'Latin for Dummies'. Is there 'Latin for Morons'?

2010-07-10T01:09:00.000-07:00

I haven't posted in a while, this is due to three main things - teaching, writing reports, and beer. I complain to my co-workers about the hectic nature of Summer Camp teaching, but I get a kick out of not having time to stop and think about anything other than my next class. The extreme awesomeness of my Italian students has convinced me to throw my Greece plans to the wind (I doubt I could have afforded it anyway) and spend my last couple of weeks in Europe in Italy, after my job here ends. It will be my third time in Italy, I really feel that I should venture to the South (I've never been below Naples) but I really want to visit Cinque Terre so......oh this post it shit. The end.

London calling (again? shut up London)

2010-06-26T03:49:00.001-07:00

I thought being back in an English speaking country would be nice. It's bloody annoying being able to understand the damn stupid conversations people are having around you.

I promise this isn't going to turn into a food blog, but I have been spending many hours eating, drinking, laughing, talking and reading in cafes.

Pintxos in San Sebastian. Snails. My friends ordered them, the guy scooped them into a bowl, heated them up in the microwave and then handed them over and said 'be careful, I think some are still alive'. It was a joke of course, well I think it was, I don't know since I refused to eat any. The process of ripping snail bodies out of their shell with a toothpick and then eating them doesn't really appeal.

This was also in San Sebastian, we went to a Japanese restaurant and I took a photo of this because it looked cool....and was also very expensive. So expensive that I wanted a solid memory of it once the few pieces of raw fish were gone.

Berlin is cute/alternative/freaking awesome cafe and bar central. I was begging people to go on a cafe crawl with me (like a pub crawl but no alcohol) but my idea wasn't met with enthusiasm. My German friend, Ninhousen - that's not her name, but I like putting housen at the end of everything German- took me around Berlin and humoured my constant need and desire for coffee.

This was a breakfast I had on my lonesome in Berlin. It was lovely. I had good food (coffee isn't very good in Germany) my book (The sun also rises) and nice weather (except for the pollen snow - damn hayfever) and bloody interesting-looking people to watch.

I have so many things to say, so many updates to post, pictures pictures pictures....

Oh, and those who wanted postcards - I have written them, I just need to buy stamps.

2010-06-25T02:15:00.000-07:00

...and I'm back in the UK. In London. Damn London. Updates coming soon, I promise.

2010-06-18T14:17:00.001-07:00

In Berlin. Poor but sexy.

Right is right, rules are rules, this is more like April fools'

2010-06-10T03:17:00.001-07:00

I went to Bilbao.
Visited the Guggenheim.
Ate great food.

Pintxos

Maybe I need some rehab, or maybe just need some sleep.

2010-06-06T12:29:00.000-07:00

I’m on the train. Galicia’s scenery is green and mountainous, there are cute villages with often-crumbling houses. It’s a big difference to Andalucia’s red, orange and yellow vastness, with the occasional imposing mountain or rock formation. Enough about the landscape. I spent yesterday in Vigo ;Except for the little over-friendly Moroccan hostel worker (who kept hinting that he wanted us to get married and live in Australia!) it was a perfect day by myself. I wandered down by the dock and then explored the park, which was beautiful. It seemed almost empty, odd for a Saturday;I felt a little apprehensive walking around, expecting to come across a group of violent winos . My curiosity got the better of me and I kept wandering down shady paths -cringing every time a lizard moved in the grass, expecting a highwayman to jump out- only to come across cute fountains, boys on a skate-ramp, people having car sex (that’s with each other in a car, not with a car), gorgeous viewing points, and a childrens' bicycle training area – complete with traffic lights. It made me feel like an explorer thinking they've come across a new land and finding it colonised...annnnywayyy.

I didn’t expect to like Vigo so much, I didn’t know anything about it before I arrived, it was just a stopover between destinations. At first it looks grand, and I’m sure it once was, but when you look at buildings and monuments more closely they’re often empty and uncared for. I’m not used to seeing beautiful buildings overgrown with weeds and falling apart, there’s something sad but a little romantic about it. They were once impressive but they’ve been let go, is that more natural than old buildings that are patched up so many times that they merely look old? Because things weren’t shiny and perfect I found them more endearing, and more interesting to photograph.

I didn’t say much about Porto. It is very rundown, or it seemed so after all the large Spanish historical cities I have visited. The buildings down by the port/river are collectively stunning, but a lot of the area looked like slums. On my second day there I went to the beach, it was windy and cooling down fast, but it had been such a bus drama-o-rama to get there that I forced myself to lie on the beach for an hour. I almost have a tan, or at the very least a whole lot of new freckles which may join together and form a real tan? That’s a joke.

Oh!Porto! On my last morning there I had to get up at 6.45, to be at the train station by 7.55 (there were only 2 a day). Taking ready took longer that I thought and in my rush to get out of the hostel I fell down the stairs. Anyway, I arrived at the train station at 7.56, but I couldn’t find the platform and when I asked in the train station the man yelled at me in Portuguese. Almost in tears I asked a security guy, who looked at his watch and pointed to a platform with no train. It was 8am, so I assumed I had missed it, but it was still showing up on the screen so I had hope it was late. I sat down…and waited… and looked at the train station clock – it said 7.05AM! WHAT? I had forgotten to change my phone alarm clock to Portuguese time and was an hour early. I had gotten up at 5.45 and RUSHED to the station. Fail. Being an hour early is much better than missing it though.

Now I am listening to Ke$ha (classy lady) on an eleven-hour train journey. Where to? Stay turned.

Highwaymen?

Baby there's a shark in the water

2010-06-03T12:41:00.000-07:00

Pervy man rant commences:

Scenario: You’re walking down the street, you notice a gorgeous man is walking towards you looking right at you. He gets closer and you debate whether to smile or not. Before you have made the decision he leans towards you, looks at your breasts, makes a strange groaning sound and a kissy face and then smacks his lips. Gorgeous man is suddenly creepy, sleazy, pervy asshole.

The thing that I really struggle to understand is that they do it when they’re alone. Not a group of guys egging each other on. Guess I was wrong about Portuguese being more polite than the Spanish.

Pervy man rant over.

Today I wandered Porto, had a long lunch and took photos. Very relaxing. I don't want to go back to the real world.

Hello. Hello?

2010-06-03T02:17:00.000-07:00

ATTN: If anyone wants a postcard from Portugal/Northern Spain/France comment this or email me!

Photo: Peter Guenzel

But when I'm in doubt I open my mouth, and words come out

2010-06-02T12:02:00.000-07:00

I was in Madrid last week. I think it was last week, it might have been this week. I have started forgetting what day it is, because it makes little difference - except to bus and train timetables. It's just one big long travelling day it seems. Anyhow, I was in Madrid. I met up with a friend who was telling me about Yes Man, the book by Danny Wallace (you probably know the Jim Carrey movie?). Danny Wallace said 'Yes' to everything for a year, my friend has been trying the 'yes' thing and he said it is working out well. I usually say 'no' before a question has even been formed. 'No' is safe, unless the question is- 'do you have travel insurance?' or 'do I really have to wear a condom?'.

So, I decided to try saying 'yes' more, and had my first opportunity to put it into practise when some guys staying at my hostel asked me to go for a drink with them 'in 5 minutes'. Normally I would have just said 'maybe'...and then not gone. They looked surprised when I said 'yes'. Then they stood outside my bedroom door while I got ready, counting down the five minutes and talking loudly -for my benefit- about how girls usually need a bit more persuasion to say yes to a date with two boys. Apparently there were some interesting results for Danny Wallace - but I doubt he ended up being massaged by two Dutch boys at 3am. So this 'yes' thing is working out fine. Just fine. Fine and dandy. Hey! It was totally innocent, they were pilgrams!

So, Santiago de Compostela was nice...although I did get tired of hearing the people who had done the camino going on and on about how far they had walked each day. It is impressive, but when you've heard 20 people say the same thing, well. It seems that the camino has become quite commercialised, especially seeing as it is a holy year. I saw some tourists (not pilgrams) buying the walking sticks the pilgrams use, it made the guys I was with very annoyed to see that after having walked every day for a month to get there. I spent a couple of days there, and also did a day trip to another town in Galicia called Pontevedra. It was pretty, but I walked around for two hours looking for a tourist information centre to get a map. When I decided to return to Santiago I went to the bus station and waited for my bus...and waited...and waited...and asked when the next bus to Santiago would be...and waited...and waited...and asked why the bus was so late...and waited. Turns out I made the idiot mistake of assuming that what it said on my ticket would be what it would say on the bus - duh! What a novice mistake. I was looking for the company who I had bought my ticket through. Wrong. So my bus had come and gone right in front of me and I had missed it three times. I hate buses.

Now I'm in Porto, Portugal. It's very pretty. Oh, and Portuguese men are more polite than the Spanish, I was wearing a dress today and was only meowed at twice. Perhaps they were Spanish.

Erm, is anyone still reading? It got a bit word-y there, here are some pretty pictures.

The Cathedral in Santiago de Compostela, the crowds are pilgrams and bus loads of old German tourists. The Cathedral is important because it is the final destination of the pilgramage..and St...James? is buried inside. I could google it, but honestly I don't care. I went there for the pretty, not the religious experience. I went into the Cathedral out of interest during a service, apparently they do something cool with incense, missed that. I did see people working themselves into religious fervor, crying and prostrating themselves on the floor. It was all a bit creepy for me, and so I left and had a hamburger, with egg in it. The egg makes the hamburger in my opinion. Oh shit, I'm getting word-y again.

Pontevedra

Dreams old men dream

2010-05-28T13:15:00.000-07:00

I'm in Valencia again. I'm happy again. Not much else to say really.

Valencia. Photo: Peter Guenzel

Okay, I thought of something to say. I have no commitments until the end of June. I have no solid plans. I'm as free as I'm probably ever going to be, and it feels really good. I'll just try not to think about money.

2010-05-25T16:32:00.001-07:00

I'm trying my best not to get excited about the prospect of being able to buy clothes whenever I feel like it (money permitting), without having to worry about fitting them in my suitcase (the beast)...but I can't, it's so shallow.

I want to annoy, and I'm going to enjoy it.

2010-05-24T04:14:00.000-07:00

Photos from the weekend in Málaga

And the silence surrounds you, and haunts you

2010-05-19T02:58:00.000-07:00

I have been here a year.

What can I say? I haven’t felt like blogging lately. I want my blog to remind me of happy times, so I avoid writing about the bad. Bad memories seem to stick in my head more than the good ones, it’d be great it it were the other way around. The bad memories are like little scars on my mind that won’t go away, no matter what. I have a large scar on my head. Not a metaphorical scar, an actual scar, from riding my bike headfirst into a wall when I was 3. Random interlude. Back on track....

I am always surprised when a students brings up something about my personal life I have told them, and then totally forgotten that I told them. They seem to have excellent memories for everything but English grammar. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, I can still remember the name of my High School Modern History teacher’s girlfriend, his stories about his dog and his travels in India….but anything about the World Wars? Errr, when were they again? I keep telling myself I need to be more careful about what I say. When I mentioned I am returning to Australia one of the boys piped up with ‘but then you’ll have to pay back your student loan, remember you said you won’t have to pay it back if you’re not earning Australian dollars’ ….oh shit. Oh, and the other day in class we somehow started talking about the Australian bushfires, and the same boy said ‘but you know, sometimes the fires are started by volunteer fire-fighters who want the hero status after they help put them out’ everyone nodded along and I said ‘hey, I was the one who told you that!’ he looked totally blank and said ‘no, I’m sure it was my father’. Dude, half these kids have never been out of their town and certainly don’t spend their free time discussing Victoria’s bushfires with their fathers.

The time is nearing when I will leave here. I actually get teary when I think about leaving my 16 year old class and my crazy class of 10 year old boys, who never fail to make me laugh. Even my 12 year old class....yesterday one boy told me that I should dye my hair back to black, since I look ‘less ugly’ with black hair than when it is red. Thanks mate. Teachers who have been at it for years must have so many funny student memories. Of course I have a few bad ones too, having a fake cockroach thrown at me wasn’t hilarious.

I am pretty organized for my leaving. Travel insurance again, trains, hostels, job…..now it’s just a question of willing away the days until then. I should be back soon with a little more positively and the old world adventuring Te.

Until then here are a couple of photos.

The view from the Castle, Segovia.Very Important Warning in Antequera

Help. I'm alive, my heart keeps beating like a hammer.

2010-05-14T05:02:00.000-07:00

On the bus to Granada

It sucks that that oh-so-teenager-ish feeling of 'nobody understands me' doesn't go away when you're no longer a teenager. Luckily though, public transport is always there for me (to over-think things).

2010-05-03T12:00:00.000-07:00

King Arthur is unwell.....again... no wonder Gwen strayed.

Why do you want to hurt me? I did nothing wrong

2010-04-22T03:20:00.001-07:00

Sometimes I really wish I could be a hermit.

They wanna push you off the path

2010-04-19T02:15:00.001-07:00

Photo: Timothy Barnes

Sorry about getting all philosophical, but I am pondering the 'wanderer'. Why do they wander? Is it because they are never satisfied, but they're optimistic that they can be? Are they forever looking for something? When a student asked me what a 'wanderer' was all I could think of was 'a traveller without a destination'. A traveller looking for a destination?

I have narrowed down my travel plans further.
- Scotland (again)
- France
- Italy
-Greece
...and then back to Melbourne.

If everybody knows how it's gonna end, why doesn't someone stop me?

2010-04-11T06:06:00.000-07:00

Things that have made me smile recently:

My friend telling me about how her three-year-old son ran around yelling ‘Easter Egg Hunt’ …he mispronounced ‘hunt’ and said the letter ‘C’ instead of ‘H’.

After dyeing (there is a lot on google about whether it's 'dying or dyeing') my hair red, a boy I met at uni, (who claims to hate gingers -much to my horror), told me that when he saw a photo of my new hair colour he wanted to vomit. I found it hilarious. Douchebag.

Practising subject pronouns with a class and getting them to point eg. I (point at yourself) He (point at a boy) It (point at an object in the class) etc. Yelling Elephant just to see what they do….a girl panicked and pointed to herself. Yeah, I guess you had to be there.

Watching Cougar Town. You’re ‘pursy-whipped’.

…oh oh oh, I forgot about the Pedestrian story. The other day in class I was dictating a sentence to my students: ‘There used to be more traffic in the city center until they made it pedestrians only’. They all laughed a bit, I asked them if they understood, they all nodded. Any teacher knows that when an entire classes of students say they understand something, most of the time at least one is LYING! So, I asked them to explain the sentence to me, someone said ‘well, there used to be more people going into the centre, until the law said that only men who like young children can go there’. The rest of the class nodded along like it was obvious this was the answer. I laughed until I had to sit down.

And lastly, doing handstands while walking up the Cathedral tower in Seville.

2010-04-09T12:06:00.000-07:00

Older men aren't sexy any more, now that I'M old.

In the afternoon, you’re out on the stone and grass, and I’m sleeping on the balcony after class.

2010-04-06T02:42:00.000-07:00

Listening to Vampire Weekend’s ‘Campus’ makes me even more excited to be going back to University. Lame-o. I am such a campus poser, I love walking around with library books and a coffee of epic proportions. I think ‘epic’ is my favourite word at the moment.

I can’t decide which of my favourite areas of study I want to look into further first. They are: sexuality politics in the Classical world (Ancient Greece and Rome, yo) and Arthurian myth and legend (King Arthur and his bitches, dude). How to solve this problem? Well, I’m going to have a travel showdown. I plan to visit as many places with Arthurian importance in the United Kingdom as I can, then head to Greece for a bit of Ancient sight-seeing. One is bound to get my academic panties in a twist more than the other. Urgh, god I hate the word ‘panties’, it’s almost as annoying as the term ‘make love’ (don’t get me started). If I choose Classics I’ll have to learn Latin (and my tendency to SUCK at languages marches on); if I choose Arthurian legend then I will have to study Medieval Christianity at some point (oh bite me religion). So both topics have their downsides. Oh shizzle, what if I don’t get accepted into honours? That’d certainly be embarrassing.

I picked this postcard up in Seville awhile ago, it has been the source of endless entertainment. Imagine a person walking down the street next to you speaking in a language you don’t understand…blah mushy kidkas jksajhk jkaljdkal blah blah skajlskdjfl SHIT LITTLE PARROT blah aslkdjhlkahd blah. They are all literal translations of Spanish sayings which mostly mean something different in context. For example where they have translated ‘Let’s go. Don’t fuck me’ doesn’t really mean ‘come on it’s time to leave, stop trying to hump me’, in Spanish it means something like ‘don’t pull my leg’ you’d say it when you thought someone was having you on. ‘To another thing, butterfly’ is just because it rhymes in Spanish, it’s like us saying ‘no way, Jose’ or ‘see you later, aligator’. ‘Sissy the last’ is just calling someone really camp. Spanish men can be pretty camp regardless of their sexuality. That could have a lot to do with the fact that their mothers still dress them until they’re thirty.

Can anyone recommend any good English bands? Vampire Weekend/Wombats/Bloc Party/ Arctic Monkeys-ish…

Letters that you never meant to send, get lost or thrown away

2010-04-04T02:57:00.000-07:00

Photo: Anna Rosa Krau

I am pretty damn pleased with myself right now. I have decided what to do. You’re not going to like it, blog readers. I’m heading back to Melbourne. There, I said it. Now I will start defending it. I have decided that I really want to do further study, Honours or Masters. I miss University, I miss Classics, History…getting really excited about the prefect wording of a hypothesis. I want to try my hand at academia, and eventually work for a uni. It’s not like I’m ditching Europe, if this works out I would have a career that would allow me to work in lots of different countries. I feel like I had to come here, to experience everything I have so far, to realise what I want for myself. That said, I’m not hopping on the next plane, I won’t be returning until the end of the year. First I want to finish my contract in Spain, teach in England for a couple of months over the Summer and then go on an epic two month travel adventure – well I hope it will be epic, it needs to smother my European wanderlust for a few years.

If you’d told me a year ago that I’d write this blog entry, after only a year in Spain, I would have said you were crazy. I always dream so BIG, but in reality the future is lots of little steps, not one grand idea.

2010-04-03T05:26:00.000-07:00

The other day a friend of mine sort of nailed what I want to be. It's what she wants to be: a University Lecturer/Author. Is this the dream of every Arts student? Now, how can I be special?

2010-04-03T04:37:00.000-07:00

I'm thinking about returning to Australia to do some study before the European winter hits. Crazy?

..but first I'd hit England, Northern Spain, Finland, Norway, Sweden, Greece, (not Turkey, I'm saving that to see with Mum), Italy, Hungary and Slovenia...

I'll sing it one last time for you, then we really have to go

2010-04-02T05:15:00.000-07:00

A perfect day in Cádiz - in photos.

I don't wanna hold hands and talk about our little plans.

2010-03-27T05:21:00.001-07:00

It seems all I ever do on here is complain that I don't know what to do with my life. I make the decision not to think about the future at least 10 times a day, but it doesn't work. I was miserable in High School and the only thing that got me through was thinking about how wonderful the future was going to be. I'm not miserable now, but I guess I got into the habit of always thinking forward and now that I can't it's a little frustrating. It's not that I don't have any choices, more that I have too many and no single one appeals more than the others. Wah wah wah. I don't think freedom really exists, there's only different degrees of being trapped. I am more free than most people I know, but I keep trapping myself. La la la la.

Okay, how about an interlude from all this soul-searching/over-analysing/shit-talking?

Right now I am in a café with wireless internet connection. There is a big screen television playing some sports game. There is an older man pouring a large beer for a customer (it's half past one), there's a semi-drunk man sitting at the counter watching the television and occasionally my breasts. The staff greet every woman with 'hola guapa' 'hello beautiful/gorgeous'. It is warm and sunny outside, a man is sitting a couple of tables away and his cigarette smoke is drifting into my recently washed hair. I am listening to We are Scientists and downloading the latest episodes of Vampire Diaries and Life Unexpected (don't judge me!). I'm looking out the large windows, I see lots of old people (Spain is good to the oldies) waddling along in their own little world, the women are wearing fur coats, the men are smoking cigars, carrying shopping bags and some are leering at young women. Young Spanish people are walking around, girls wearing the typical uniform here of high boots over tight dark blue jeans. I'm listening to Paolo Nutini. The staff are extending the canopy outside so that more people can sit in the shade. I can smell coffee, cigarette smoke and hayfever inducing pollen (maybe I can't smell the pollen, but it is affecting my nose nonetheless). I just accidentally made eye contact with the semi-drunk at the counter. A gypsy just came in to ask for a glass of water, they all wear skirts that sweep the floor as they walk. I am still amused by the fact that cafés here have vending machines selling little tins of stuffed olives. So, there's a little bit of my Spanish life for you.

Soon I am going to go shopping, to buy more clothes to add to my ever-increasing amount of things that will never fit into my case when I leave Andalucía in a few months.

Photo: Linus Ricard

But I was standing on a mountain top, looking over your homes.

2010-03-22T03:47:00.000-07:00

To be a little less vague:

When I was in Cambridge, one of the other teachers came up with the idea of going around a circle of people and saying the first thing that came to your head about them. This was usually done after quite a few beers at the pub, since the removal of sobriety kicks tactfulness in the balls…and if the person before you had just used what you had in mind for someone you’d have to speak on the fly ‘ Whore. Bald. Sexy. Selfish. Arrogant. Virgin. Chauvinistic. Accident. Tall. Woody Allen’ - basically this game was a whole lot of trouble, but significantly less dangerously than ‘I have never’. What was my point? Oh, if I were playing that game now (under only the influence of hot chocolate) I would easily label myself as indecisive. I’ve been in Europe for ten months now. I have come to the conclusion that I came over here looking for something, I have no idea exactly what it is, but I haven’t found it yet and I am unsure how to continue looking for something indescribable. The more I try to explain the more I sound like a tool. Shall we all hold hands in a circle and meditate on Te’s missing something-or-other? Someone burn some incense, would you?

So I guess I haven’t really explained anything. Here goes, in short: my job contract ends in June, I’m going over to the UK for a couple of months, then I have NO PLANS. I’ll be back to mopey ‘oh I have no direction now that I’m finally 'living the dream’’ Te. I was dancing around in my room today, in yet another pair of jeans I have hacked into hot pants as a result of boredom (hey atleast I don’t do it to my hair anymore!). I was listening to Justin Bieber on my ipod and making kissy faces into the mirror when I burst into tears at the realisation I am no longer a teenager, and I am no closer to knowing what I want from life than I did at 18. Well, I cried because of that and because I now have wrinkles under my eyes. I have been browsing though some of the 12,000,000 photos I have taken of myself ‘myspace style' over the years, trying to fathom when this wrinkle thing happened; it seems they appeared out of nowhere on my 23rd birthday, along with the (not so irrational) panic about my future.

What have I been doing since King Arthur had his spot of trouble?

Teaching the English .
‘Jose, number five please’
‘ Yes teacher, my father likes cock’
‘you mean: My father likes to cook. cooooook’
‘yes, that I said, my Father likes to cock’.
‘Oooohkay, everyone ‘cook’ ‘cook’ ‘cook’ 'Laura number six’
‘ My father has balls’
‘okay, good, what did you have, Jose?’
‘My father has golden balls’.

Reading awful books – The Vampire Diaries…really? Is it possible for something to be worse than Twilight? No no, it’s not, but it’s close.

Drinking. Then later lamenting the routine of ‘another free shot girls?’ ‘yes please sexy bar tender’ shot shot shot shot. ‘No, I couldn’t possibly do another’ shot shot shot.. Dancing…shot shot shot. Marking homework…shot shot (jusssst kidding). The other night we ordered shots and were asked ’something strong?’ we said yes not expecting to be given JACK DANIELS. Now, I love me some Jack, but not in a shot glass.

Checking the weather forecast three times a day waiting for the promise of sunshine.

Socialising with a hoard of Scottish girls. I am learning their language. They have ‘good chat’.

Photo: Anna Rosa Krau

Whatcha say? Oh, that you only meant well? Well, of course you did.

2010-03-21T06:10:00.000-07:00

You know when you’re in High School and you don’t know what you want to do with your life? It’s not a big deal, you’re still so young. You know when you’re at University and you don’t know what you want to do with your life after graduation? It’s not really that big a deal because you’ve got time to make up your mind....

...You know when you’ve graduated from University, and you’re living in a new country, you’re 23, and you still don’t know what you want to do with your life (let alone the next year)? Time to panic?

Geoffrey Barrenger

So what if it hurts me? So what if I break down?

2010-03-20T06:00:00.001-07:00

King Arthur has returned! There will be a post in the near future.

2010-02-23T02:53:00.001-08:00

Not only have I lost wireless, but King Arthur has fallen ill. He has been sent away to Avalon to be healed. Please do naked moon chants for him.

2010-02-05T03:34:00.000-08:00

Unsecured networks have left our flat therefore I'm taking a blogging holiday.

Also, I am neither doing nor thinking anything interesting.

Stay tonight, and fight the break of dawn. Come tomorrow, tomorrow I'll be gone.

2010-01-27T01:30:00.000-08:00

Photo: Geoffrey Barrenger

1. Australia Day was ace, I taught my students some Aussie slang, and drilled them on the correct pronunciation of 'No worries, mate'.Then I went to the Irish pub(where the bartenders only speak Spanish, of course) with my Scottish flatmate to drink Aussie beer (they only stock fosters).

2. Sometimes it's great when decisions you could have never made for yourself are made for you.

3. Dear English grammar, I enjoy inherently knowing you, I hate explaining you.

4. Dear neighbour, you secured your wireless network? Now I can't steal it from you, how unspanish of you!

See that woman, dressed in red, smile at the man when you wake up in his bed.

2010-01-24T04:32:00.000-08:00

I hate not knowing what I want to do with my life. No, I hate knowing what I want to do and struggling to think of ways to fund it. I am addicted to adventure now, addicted to having excitement in my life - constantly. I'd like a 'career', something I don't get bored of, but I'm just not good at anything - there is no obvious choice. Teaching English could be a career, but I'm so unsettled that I'd want to move countries at every turn.

My flatmate/work mate is quite content here, content to stay here for a couple more years, I was itching to go after six weeks. Don't get me wrong, I like my job, (most of) my students, my general lifestyle, but it's just, comfortable. Comfortable doesn't seem to satisfy me.

I am so contrary. When I'm out of my comfort zone I seek out things to calm me down, places I know, things I understand. It's some sort of balance between pleasure and pain. I don't like to be bored, so I make myself suffer to be amused. Blah blah, let's not get deep. What is the point of adventures? At the time you're not conscious that they're adventures, it's the person they make you, the person who reflects upon them later.

I could have written this post in seven words : What the hell am I looking for?

We are going to play badminton on the roof now.

Photo: Andreas Burz

You can tell by my attitude, that I'm most definitely...

2010-01-22T05:46:00.000-08:00

Three things: I am almost 23 (how did that happen),visiting Madrid next weekend (to try to forget I'm almost 23) and I'm planning a trip to Morocco.

Tell me who makes these rules. Obviously not you, who are you answering to?

2010-01-14T05:32:00.000-08:00

The first time I went to Madrid I was unsure and culture shocked. I felt vulnerable due to my inability to understand anything that was said. I was incredibly disapointed in myself for being so cowardly that I would end up eating in McDonalds because I was too afraid to try speaking Spanish. I started to think that maybe my dreams of moving to Spain had been just that, dreams. I thought I had romantised the whole thing and I had arrived to find I had been naive; in the worst moments I thought I would have to return to Australia and face all the people I had earbashed for months about my move. I was taking a course to give me some teaching English qualifications, it was intense and I didn't get to spend as much time enjoying Madrid as I would have liked. When I left Madrid it was as a city I liked, but I didn't feel the connection to it that I had anticipated I would.

When I went to England in the summer my initial emotion was relief, relief to be out of Spain. I felt comfortable, nothing really challenged me. It was different enough from my life in Australia to be interesting, but not as different as my life in Spain to stress me. I had decided to stay in the UK but then I re-read my blog posts from earlier in 2009 and remembered how passionate I had been about living in Spain and learning Spanish; on a whim booked a ticket back to Spain with no accommodation or job lined up. I spent only a week in Spain before I got the job I'm in now, I returned to Valencia because it was the place I had the happiest memories of in Spain, two days after being told I had the job here I was on a train down to Andalucía and that was that.

...the point of this post was to talk about my love for Madrid after my initial indifference towards it. The Spanish capital is so...alive. My time in Andalucía has made me much more comfortable with not understanding everything, and has helped me understand many things I didn't before. This time in Madrid I was the experienced one ( My friend snoop from Australia was with me) and I could really appreciate the differences between Madrid and my town in Andalucía. I think it would be almost impossible to be bored living in the capital.

Unfortunately I seem to have made my way into almost all my Madrid photos - a pro (or con when it comes to blogging photos) of travelling with anther person.

If I ever feel better, remind me to spend some good time with you

2010-01-11T13:05:00.000-08:00

Amsterdam was fun and all, but my inability to get stoned( I’m immune to weed, it's true) and my lack of enthusiasm towards the red light district/sex museum (traumatic experience)/museums in general and um...the snow, meant it could have been a less the fantastic trip. However, a little ray of holiday sunshine hit us (alas, not literally) when we discovered the Amsterdam Public Library.

Sure, it's not really 'cosy' or 'intimate' but dude, it's sylin'. We went in on a freezing Sunday to find dance mats and guitar hero, plenty of free internet-connected macs, dvds galore and a damn trippy elevator (as high as I got). The cafe was okay too. Our hostel host (we stayed on a houseboat!) joked that it had been so important for the library to look modern and chic that half the books wouldn't fit so they just shoved them all into storage; perhaps he wasn’t joking. Anyhow, it's a hooker…erm, I mean ‘a looker’.

That's right put in work, eat your salad, no dessert

2010-01-09T10:25:00.000-08:00

Along with every woman and her blog (rather than every man and his dog) I have made a 2010 resolution to be healthier, starting with my diet. Gone are the days of eating pasta for lunch and dinner, or eating popcorn while watching Jason Statham beat people. Now I will be watching Jason whilst sipping on apple tea, and eating salad for dinner. So far my resolution has lasted two salads. I am very proud of them, so here they are

Walnut, pear and parmesan.

Rocket, smoked salmon and burgos cheese. Both salads are great with balsamic vinegar.

More trip photos to come.

The exit sign is always on my mind

2010-01-07T00:45:00.000-08:00

I'm rather concerned that a pop singer with a dollar sign in her name seems to be singing about my attitude towards 'romance'...and it's catchy. Hmmm.

It's Disgusting - Ke$ha

[My heart goes at the speed of light/But the exit signs always on my mind, always in my sight/I can say that I really want to stay/But the devil inside always wins the fight, always gets his way/Jump out the window gotta get out on the highway/ Think things have getting too attached I need an escape/I'm seeing stars and there is nothing more that I hate, baby

There is something that I gotta say/It's disgusting, how I love you/God, I hate me/ I could kill you/Cause you're messing up my name/Gotta walk my talk my fame/ but I just want to touch your face/It's disgusting/It's disgusting, how you changed me/From a bandit to a baby/Thinking about gotta change my name, If I'm gonna walk this walk of shame/Look at what you do to me/It's disgusting

My mind blinks like a traffic light/It's green and red and stop and go/Changing all the time/And it makes me scared, that I haven't loved/That it's still right here, more or or or less/Stuck out in traffic, ya, I gotta go my own way/My head is slipping, too intense I need an escape/I'm seeing stars and there is nothing more than I hate, baby

Chapter by chapter, I'm falling faster and faster, Becoming manic and magic it's so romantic/ I panic, oh/Hit the eject button but it must be stuck, somethings up/What did you slip into my drink? Baby/It's disgusting, how I love you/God, I hate me. I could kill you/Cause you're messing up my name/Gotta walk my talk my fame, but I just want to touch your face/It's disgusting.]

Photo: Timothy Barnes

Are you working up to something? But you give me almost nothing.

2010-01-05T03:32:00.000-08:00

I'm extremely flattered to have been interviewed by the talented photographer/blogger of pinkapplecore -who has chosen me as her Blogger of the Month for January- especially since her first Blogger of the Month was one of my favourite blog authors - Bambola. You can read the interview Here: The Magical Chip Bag. Thank you :)

I am home (Spain home, don't freak out). I have so many thoughts I can't really put them into blog-text form right now. So, here are some Bruges photos.

2009-12-27T01:36:00.001-08:00

Heading to Amsterdam today...

The monsters are buried down deep inside, you never know when they're satisfied.

2009-12-18T12:21:00.000-08:00

Photo: Andreas Burz

Very soon I will set off on WTA2009 (Winter Train Adventure 2009) - although technically it's also 2010. I don't think I will take King Arthur, so I doubt I'll be blogging much over then next three weeks. I will be taking Ugo though (camera) so expect lots of photos; I'm hoping for my first white Christmas. I'd like to say that I'm extremely excited, but I'm not sure what it takes to make me excited anymore; Jason Statham perhaps. Jason and Spanish biscuits, there are some called Roscos de vino - heaven, and another kind which translate into English as 'Lardy cakes' - yes, literally, lard. Mmmm tasty.

You walked in, just like smoke, with a little come-on, come-on, come-on

2009-12-14T06:39:00.000-08:00

Córdoba/Mezquita/Salón de té

We had Tres Flores and Naranja tea. mmmm.

***Thoughts:

I love having the upper hand; he's going to suffer next time I see him.

If I'm cold now I'm going to be bloody freezing in Belgium.

I should have known better than to buy skinny leg jeans. Thighs, dude, thighs.

Damn, how did I become a secret 'romantic teen comedy' junkie? Need car chase movies, stat.

Please. Please. Please. Please. Be okay. I'd give up Europe forever for that one thing.

I didn't hear what you were saying, I live on raw emotion baby

2009-12-08T13:23:00.000-08:00

In a moment of weakness, I downloaded New Moon. All I can say is, I am now even more convinced of the hilarity of it all. Also, it is totally unrealistic, not just the whole vampires/wolves thing, but puh-lease bitch, who is going to choose a pasty, weedy, shiny dude over that gorgeous dog boy? Yeah, nobody. So case closed, storyline is unrealistic and the lead character is a twit. Oh, and Edward looks as if he's constantly constipated.

Now that I am feeling rather disturbed and a little pervy (who cares if he's a dog boy, being 16 is the problem) - time for my photos of today's trip to Antequera. Lessons learnt = the train station is miles from the actual town, buses don't run on puente and taxis are expensive; some happy taxi driver is 50 euros richer after our lack of research. The price of the taxis was worth it though, what a beautiful place.

You've kicked me around, you've wrapped me in cotton.

2009-12-06T07:46:00.000-08:00

To make up for all the textyness of the last post. Here are pictures of us making sushi! Just another puente in Spain, how will I ever leave the country of long weekends?

I would have met your friends, we would have had a drink or two, they would have liked me, because, sometimes I'm funny.

2009-12-02T12:12:00.000-08:00

Okay, let’s start with Paris, as requested by adreamer. Sorry, it's rather epic in length - if anyone needs to go to the toilet, I suggest you go now.

I was in Paris for almost a week in August of 2005 with my newly acquired friend, Flower. After researching obsessively from England I was terrified that these rude and shifty French were bound to tell us that we’d never booked, steal our credit card deposit and chuck our accommodation-less arses out onto the street. I had never particularly wanted to go to France; since childhood I had constantly heard the ‘French are rude’ stereotype and believed it without ever having experienced it. I had a week off from my job in England and Paris just seemed like the easiest place to visit outside of the UK.

We found our hostel and discovered we had been double booked – I was thinking 'Oh, now it begins'. I was wrong though, they apologized and said because they could no longer fit us in the eight bed dorm, they’d put us up in a double room – score. It didn’t matter that our bathroom didn’t have a curtain and could be looked into from an interior courtyard, because it was OUR bathroom, besides, it’s not so hard to shower without the lights on. We were staying in the good half of Montmarte, which is apparently about ten meters from the dodgy half.

On the first day we climbed the Eiffel tower – bad move. Our thighs continued to burn for the next four days. It was breathtaking though, the view, not the climb...well, the climb was but it wasn’t what I was originally referring to. Got it? We didn’t climb to get a more authentic experience, I’m sure the Parisians are intelligent enough to get the elevator, we just wanted to save money. After our climb and gape session we headed to the Sacre Coeur. A hot African guy approached me and asked me to stick out my finger. Never, I repeat, never stick out your finger without asking why. He could have had a machete and just chopped my finger off and then taken it home to add the finishing touches to a zombie made out of random tourists’ body parts, but I didn’t even THINK of that! He made a bracelet and tied it to my wrist, asked me if I had a boyfriend and cheerfully demanded ten euros. I glanced over at Flower who was being bracelet-accosted a meter away. I scraped together five euros and walked away feeling very bitter, Flower had only paid three.

Then we did some other stuff for a couple of days…and amazingly (pathetically) never ate French food for dinner once, we had Chinese, Italian and Pizza Hut…oh the shame.

One night we decided to get dressed up and head out on the town, we went to an Australian bar in which only the bartender was Australian, so it was off to an Irish Pub, where we met some Australians. We were soon befriended by two rather creepy men who informed us that they needed us to help them get into the nightclub next door as they wouldn’t let in men without girls due to sleaze/hot female ratio leaning on the sleaze side. Flower didn’t seem to be half as indignant about this as I was, but it turned out not to matter because try as we might we couldn’t remember their names when questioned by the security guards. So I took the initative, waved goodbye to the creeps and pulled Flower inside on our own. We met boys, we danced with boys, I had an argument with another boy. Boys start arguing with each other. We left.

Discovering the metro had closed we headed over to a city map to try and figure out how to get back to the hostel. Two drunk old men soon approached us and started chatting away in Spanish and throwing in the odd English phrase, such as ‘want sugar daddy?’, two guys on a motorbike then pulled up and began speaking to us urgently, urging us to go with them…on one motorbike I’m not sure how that would have been possible, anyhow, the drunk old men started yelling at the motorcycle men and it turned into this whole big thing. People watching from apartment windows and everything. We had no idea what was going on. Soon the bouncer from the club hears the commotion and comes over to see what’s going on. The sugardaddies start angrily gesturing towards the guys on the motorbike who look guilty and drive quickly away. The security guard all but forces us into a taxi and tells us to go away quickly. After watching that Liam Neelson movie ‘Taken’ last year I am now convinced motorcycle men were trying to kidnap us, but hey, my friends call me paranoid at my most chilled.

We got back to our hostel at 4am and began chatting about the evening when there was a knock at our door. A gorgeous, and I mean stunning boy was there; he asked us if his friends were with us, we looked at him like he was insane and gestured to our tiny room and two single beds, jammed together due to lack of space ‘errrr…no’. ‘Oh’ he just stood there. The manager began to yell at him from down the hall, that we were in a budget hotel not some party place, so we invited him in – the hottie, not the manager. We chatted for awhile, his name was Kenny- half English half African, he’d been living in New Orleans and had some crazy stories about prostitutes biting him and dragging him into bushes and so on, and so forth. His friends arrived and yelled up to us from the interior courtyard…you know, the one that looked into our bathroom; they’d probably all seen us naked. We invited them up and sat around talking. When we were so tired that Kenny’s good looks would no longer substitute for the pure lies he had been spinning all night, we kicked them out.

This was my first trip to Paris. When I discovered that stereotypes are wrong about the French, they’re not so rude, as long as you’re not American…and preferably not English- they genuinely do hate YOU. But, really, if you walk around obnoxiously addressing everyone in English and expecting them to speak your language without even saying ‘excuse me’ in theirs, well, you deserve some snark. Everyone we met was lovely and tried to help us, even when they didn’t speak a word of English. Well, except for one public transport worker who cracked the shits because we couldn’t understand him, and the creepy old guy who flicked a hair tie at flower on the metro – the latter was more amusing than annoying though.

Oh, I left out the Louvre. Well, we went. I enjoyed the cafeteria. When I’m there again at the end of the month I will appreciate it much more that I did when I was eighteen, now being a graduate of History and all….ha, who am I kidding? I’ll walk around for three hours, get bored and head to the café.

My first visit to Paris was so perfect, I am a little concerned the next one won't live up to it.

The smell of gasoline in the Summer heat

2009-11-30T12:20:00.001-08:00

Photo: Anna Rosa Krau

Well, I've been in Europe for more than half a year - still no desire to return to Australia, much to my relief. At the moment I am a little bored of living in the same Spanish town and working the same job every day (it has been three months, come on!). I like my job a lot, but....I like adventures more. If only money grew on trees. So, I could write about how Ly and I go out to drink, dance, and eye up sexy bartenders every. single. weekend... or I could re-live past travel experiences. I don't know where to start though, so I'd like you to choose for me.

Options are:

The Gold Coast (Australia)
Melbourne (Australia)
Norfolk (England)
Cambridge (England)
London (England)
Northern Ireland (UK)
Edinburgh (Scotland)
Fort William (Scotland)
Inverness/Loch Ness (Scotland)
Ullapool (Scotland)
Glasgow (Scotland)
Milan (Italy)
Rome (Italy)
Venice (Italy)
Florence (Italy)
Paris (France)
Krakow (Poland)
Warsaw (Poland)
Vienna (Austria)
Dresden (Germany)
Prague (Czech Republic)
Cesky Krumlov (Czech Republic)
Budapest (Hungary)
Barcelona (Spain)
Madrid (Spain)
Valencia (Spain)
Granada (Spain)
Sevilla (Spain)

2009-11-26T05:00:00.000-08:00

About me.

I've realised people have so many misconceptions about me. My friends were shocked when I got into childcare and teaching because they assumed I hated kids, which is totally not true, it's almost impossible to hate children (when you're being paid to like them). Joooking. Also, people have called me a feisty bitch who doesn't let anyone bother her, totally untrue - well the 'doesn't let anyone bother her' part anyway. I am a delicate flower; my Starbucks manager used to call me a 'Venus flytrap' whenever I told her that. Bitch. Also not sure why everyone thinks I hate men, nope don't hate em, why would I hate them? Just because every nice thing they say has an ulterior motive? That's the quality I love about them, they're reliable, preDICKtable. Ha! Gawd I'm funny. Yeah, I started writing an about me page...this isn't going to be it. Epic fail.

Well the stale chips are up and the hopes stakes are down; it's all these ignorant faces that bring this town down

2009-11-26T00:33:00.000-08:00

And here we are, another morning. This one is different to previous mornings however - the sky is gray. LIkE ** OmGZZZ. It's cold too. Winter has finally caught up with me in Southern Spain, after two Springs, two Summers...and I guess a couple of unnoticed Autumns.

So far the day has already been special, I had a coffee (heated up in the mircowave), wrote to my Dad, had a shower, and then made my flatmate stare at my breasts to check that nipple can't be seen through my top. The day will only get better from here, I'm positive.

Today I get to teach my 16 year olds about 'reported speech'; isn't it fantastic that schools in English speaking countries don't teach their students about how grammar works? Yeah, it's bloody fantastic that Spanish teenagers know more about ENGLISH grammar than I knew at their age...erm...well, more than I knew....last year. Oh but hey! My English lessons in High School and University were valuable, I know how to psychoanalyse the shit out of shit. This post, for example, is my literary representation of my traumatic journey through the birthing canal. Ew.

This time next month I'll be in the Netherlands. Toma!

Photo: Geoffrey Barrenger

All the same, I miss you. Today has been okay.

2009-11-24T00:33:00.001-08:00

Ohh-tayy. It's less than a month until I go on my Christmas Holidays Travel Extravaganza - Chte for short, pronounced 'chitea' which sounds quite smiliar to 'shitty' in a French accent, so perhaps we'll just scrap that. Hostels, flights and trains are booked. This will be my first Christmas away from home and I am determind to be distracted from this fact on Christmas. Perhaps I will just deny it is even Christmas. Baby Jesus, who? Yeah. I'll do that.

My updated journey includes Paris, Bruges, The Hague, Amsterdam and Madrid. Tips for any of these places are more than welcome. I have never been to Belgium or the Netherlands before. I have had space cakes before, I baked them with my Mum before a music festival back in Melbourne. Mum was concerned the neighbours could smell the 'butter' brewing, and then told me that the smell reminded her of most of the Melbourne cafes she frequents and had never realised what the scent was before. Oh Mum, I love you.

Time to work. No picture today. I'm feeling, texty.

It shouldn't hurt me to be free, it's what I really need - to pull myself together.

2009-11-22T05:58:00.000-08:00

But if it's so good being free, would you mind telling me, why I don't know what to do with myself - Emiliana Torrini, To be Free.

I'm aware that it has been awhile since I wrote a real, newsy, blog post. There's a reason, I haven't had the words, or the inspiration, or ..something. What have I been doing? Living. I work, I plan lessons, I eat, I have coffee at the local, I listen to music, I download terrible shows like 'Vampire Diaries ' to fill the spare hours, I drink and dance, and I sleep. My Spanish continues to suck, people continue to let me down and annoy me, for some reason the weather continues to be quite warm. I have been attempting to be less cynical, about everything, but really - it's just not me. Someone has to prove to me there's a reason to be less cynical before I can achieve it.

Work is both fantastic and awful - depending on the students. It would be lovely to say it is the teacher who sets the general tone of the class, but as of yet I am not experienced enough to choose the tone myself. The classes with the amazingly awesome kids are amazingly awesome. The classes with the bitchy, sulky and completely ignorant teenagers, run as such. I felt quite pleased with myself both as a teacher and an Australian when I walked into my class of 12 year olds last week, to a chorus of 'G'day mate'. Love em, just love em.

Planning my Christmas holiday should be filling me with excitement and optimism. In a way it is - something different might shake me up a bit, in a good way. I have become complacent here, with my easy Spanish life. My plans have changed a bit since I last posted about my holiday, now I will be visiting Paris, Bruges, The Hague and Amsterdam - back in Spain for NYE. I wish I could stop thinking about the future all the time. No matter where I am, or if I am doing something I have looked forward to for years, I am always thinking about what is next.

Last night we had a DVD night, we got The Transporter (purely for perving purposes) and Before Sunset and Before sunrise. Way, way, way too much dialogue in one night. We should have stuck to action. The scene in The Transporter where Frank beats up about 20 guys while wearing no shirt, pretty much made the night. We squealed like children at the fair and attempted to pause the scene in the best, ab flexing places. Yeah, I ain't no classy world traveller.

It's strange, I think I miss Cambridge and Edinburgh more than I miss Melbourne. I'm also wondering, is it possible to be nostalgic about moments which never happened? Of course it's not, but I am. Ha, this post is just, so stupid.

Without you here the seasons pass me by

2009-11-20T13:25:00.000-08:00

I want something. I just don't know what it is. Damn it.

Photo: Oliver Schwarzwald

Fly like a plane, drive like a car, hold out a hand...

2009-11-20T01:31:00.001-08:00

In Spain....

People leave their cars in the middle of the sidewalk with the hazard lights on, while they buy alochol/cigarettes/chocolate.

Walking to work is stressful due to the amount of dog shit on the footpaths.

Men make 'come here kitty cat' noises when girls walk by and don't get punched/any reaction.

There are condoms and lubricant in the vending machine outside the DVD store, right next to the chocolate bars and packets of chips. Confusing.

14/15 year olds have never heard of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Problem.

Whether cars stop for you at pedestrian crossings seems to depend on the mood of the driver.

The stores stock duvets but not duvet covers. WTF?

The Christmas decorations are up.

Peoples' watches run 15-60 minutes slower than the real time.

They think drinking coke with vanilla ice cream is weird.

Be running up that hill, with no problems.

2009-11-16T07:41:00.000-08:00

Not feeling The Happy today.

I miss you.

Photo: Andreas Burz

But I'm still tryin' to make my mind up, am I free? or am I tied up?

2009-11-13T03:51:00.000-08:00

There is this boy. I can see him from my window every weekday morning without fail. We don't know his name, we call him 'Swing Boy'. Swing Boy is about fifteen and rocks on the swing in the playground beneath our building for hours. Sometimes a small child will occupy the swing; Swing Boy will sit on the bench opposite the swing and stare that foolish child down until it moves. He is such a mystery.

Swing boy, are you skipping school? are you on crack? When I look out my window and you're not there, I always think about how lonely that bright yellow seat looks without you.

This is my 100th post. Happy blog milestone, me.

Photos: Timothy Barnes

I'm always where I need to be, I always thought that I would end up with you eventually

2009-11-12T01:33:00.000-08:00

I was always going to be addicted to Europe. Venice 1993. The outfit was so I didn't get lost in the crowds...and it probably contributed to my extreme hatred of pink.

I drink good coffee, every morning. Comes from a place that's far away. When I'm done, I feel like talking. Without you here, there is less to say.

2009-11-10T03:51:00.001-08:00

We're waiting for you call; we're against privacy

2009-11-06T02:18:00.000-08:00

Yesterday in one of my classes:

Students are doing an activity and three girls are chatting in Spanish.

Te: Girls! You know the rules, you can talk but it must be in English.
Girls: *All roll eyes* okay okay, teacher.
Girl 1: So what do you do on last weekend?
Girl 2: All day I was being with my boyfriend
Girl 1: How 'being'?
Girl 2: passing time
Girl 1: Oh i thought, the sex
Girl 3: How long you have dated your boyfriend?
Girl 2: six months
Girl 1: And you have....?
Girl 2: no! I am only 14, we are all the time kissing. I am not 18, or 16.
Te: * is silently impressed with student's maturity*
Girl 1 and 3: Only kissing? * laughter*
Te: Oooookayyyyyyyyyyy. Time for a silent activity.

Teenagers. For a second I thought I was back in 2002.

Flash flood. You got too comfortable so I showed you who's really in control

2009-11-03T06:08:00.000-08:00

Photo: Timothy Barnes

They asked me if I've ever been in love. No. I don't think so, and I'm sure that if you have to think about it then the answer is no. Right? It's perfectly normal for a 22 year old to never have been in love. Right? Well, there was that one time, when I was in love with Angel from Buffy. But that doesn't count. Right? I'm thinking I'd quite like to be in love. I wanted adventures afterall, and packing up and moving to Spain is all well and good as an adventure, but in love you have more to lose, so it's more exciting. No, can't do it. This is a screwed up way of thinking about love. .

Right?

People dancing should have never chose girlfriends

2009-11-01T07:44:00.000-08:00

On Friday morning I got home at 4am from Thursday night. On Saturday morning I got home at 5am from Friday night - three hours later I got up and packed to spend Saturday night in Granada. Never, ever, pack whilst drunk.
My camera has decided to screw with me in revenge for the many times I have dropped it whilst drunk. It is now set to landscape/no flash mode and therefore won't work at night; possibly trying to give me hint - less drinking. Therefore I have been put incharge of my flatmate's camera; she doesn't know how mine died.
Spanish Halloween is great, nobody dresses up as 'slut'.
I was a little 'girly girly' for awhile, but I have been cured.
Trying to get the spaces between my photos to be the same is really, bloody frustrating, and now these bullet points are messing with me.

Although he's nothing in the scheme of my years

2009-10-28T00:36:00.000-07:00

Okay I have fine-tuned my Christmas holiday route and here is it in all its glory:

Day one: train to Madrid and overnight train to Paris.

Day two/three: Paris

Day four: Paris to Brussels

Day five: Brussels

Day six: Brussels to Bruges

Day seven/eight: Bruges

Day nine: Bruges to Amsterdam

Day ten/eleven/twelve: Amsterdam

Day thirteen: fly to Madrid

Hells yeah! If you have been to any of these places and want to offer some advice about things to do/see...even if you haven't been there but would like me to go somewhere/do something and then blog about it...you can suggest it. I'm not sure how I feel about going to Paris, I was 18 the last time I was there and I had such a perfect week - the best company, weather and overall luck. I don't want to taint my memory of the city if it's not as pefect this time around. It will be very cold though and hopefully not very touristy at that time of year. Maybe I will even spot some of these glam Frenchies I see on style blogs. Very excited about Bruges (which I didn't know existed before In Bruges, I'm ashamed to admit) and staying in a houseboat in Amsterdam with my oldest friend; she's my oldest friend in terms of how long we've known eachother, rather than her personal age of course, is there a clearer way of saying 'oldest friend'? 'childhood friend'?

Now I'm going to plan my Easter holidays....shit, I just missed my chance to get in the shower. Better go run the hot tap and flush the toilet a few times until my flatmate gives up....kidding...coughcough.

Photo: Anna Rosa Krau

Love is a dress that you made, long to hide your knees.

2009-10-25T09:25:00.000-07:00

This weekend I have: listened to and downloaded lots of Iron and Wine ; Skyped with my parents; cleaned my room; put pink butterfly sheets and an ugly cover on the spare bed, then jumped on it with Ly; bought halloween stickers for my students; done cartwheels down the street; cried; drawn pointless pictures; taken photobooth pictures; created a 'kiss chart' with my flatmate for shits and giggles.

...oh, and eaten out both days. Today's lunch was expensive but so worth it:

By body won't tell my mind what I've been thinking, before it's out of my mouth

2009-10-23T04:57:00.000-07:00

My project is coming along nicely. I had marzipan for dinner AND breakfast. I only have to work for 3 hours today. If you're happy and you know it...

Now hang me up to dry, you wrung me out too many times

2009-10-22T13:49:00.001-07:00

Photo: Timothy Barnes

Dear douchebagjerkfacefucktardknobhead,

You no longer have an effect on me. I no longer over analyse. I am no longer mad when you don't email. Can't you just stay away? I would like to continue going through life believing I have a heart of stone. I'm rather proud of the fact that more than one person says that Jet's 'Cold Hard Bitch' reminds them of me. Don't ask me who these people are, you don't know them.

Please stop liking me (or whatever it is you're doing), it's pathetic and you do it really badly.

Te

PS: I despise you even more for inspiring this post. Twat.

Please remember me, at Halloween, making fools of all the neighbours

2009-10-20T05:17:00.000-07:00

Photo: Tim Barnes

I'm starting a project. The idea is that I mail something every single day. Postcards, letters, gifts...every day! I have been compiling friends' addresses like nobody's business. The project is to make sure each day differs from the one before, lately life seems like a groundhog day...with the exception of the occasions when a student says something hilarious or my flatmates scream at eachother. So if you'd like something from Spain in the mail you can email me your address. I'm not a stalker, but...I'm sure stalkers always say that so I wouldn't ask you to take my word for it, and let's face it...I'm not willing to give anyone my address, so...

On a different note, I've realised lately that the world would be a better place if there were some drug that would put all 14 year old girls in a coma until they reached 15. Where the hell do they get all their 'bitchy' from? Certainly not the same place that sells tact, consideration, respect or objectivity. You can't even say to them 'hey! you're acting like a douchebag, grow up' because they think they're fucking awesome and they won't realise you were right for another 6 years and in 6 years time they probably won't remeber the time when their teacher called them a douchebag. It makes me rather concerned about what I will think about my 22 year old self when I'm 30. Ah, it's all experience - let's get drunk.

I have a couple of friends coming to visit over the next few weeks. I plan on pretty-ing up the spare room with the frilly pink throw over and pretty pink flower sheets which were in the flat when we arrived. Boys love that stuff, right?

Let's make some music, make some money, find some models for wives

2009-10-18T04:55:00.000-07:00

I may be too busy living life to properly blog about it. I have a Spanish bank card and a DVD store membership. We have a local. We have a bar we can't go back to (free drinks + a Mexican). The Scottish and Australians drink like no others...well, maybe we just need an Irish friend. We're living for the weekends. Don't live to work. In two months I am heading on an awesome train adventure including Barcelona, Lyon, Brussels and Bruges and ending in a houseboat in Amsterdam. I can't wait for Winter. My jeans smell like cigarette smoke, yuck. We're meeting up with our first friends here today, American boys. We haven't worked out whether they're a couple yet though...

I miss my dog. Bloody hell. Oh and you can now stalk me via bloglovin' and for some reason my blog is registered twice and there are 2 followers on the one that I swear I didn't register for, I have tried every single email/password combination I can think of...

Photo: Tim Barnes

These are dreams old men dream

2009-10-13T05:57:00.000-07:00

Walking on a dream, how can I explain?

2009-10-11T09:29:00.000-07:00

Photo: Fergus Padel

So I've had a home, a job, and a town of residence for three weeks now. Dude, I'm bored. The world is calling. Life is mundane. As mundane as it can be living somewhere that you don't speak the language and front door handles are just for show. Don't feel too sorry for me stuck in Southern Spain working my curls off, though. There are still trips to Morocco and Portugal in the pipeline. Also, to keep myself sane I have started planning my Christmas/New Years holiday- hello Amsterdam! I'm going on a train adventure from Andalucía all the way up to the Netherlands and meeting a friend in Amsterdam. I will be back in Spain for New Years Eve though, wouldn't miss out on the chance of choking on grapes.

So, for my train adventure I'm thinking...a bit of Southern France, some Switzerland, un poco Germany, Belgium for Christmas and then the Netherlands.

It's so hot. It's October; it's 33 degrees. It's a long weekend.

Is there anything I can do for you dear, is there anyone I could call?

2009-10-06T13:13:00.000-07:00

I am currently feeling the downside to independence. I'm sick and I just want a cuddle from my mummy. My boss insists it is self-inflicted sun stroke. I'm not sure when phlem-tastic coughing became one of the symptoms of sun stroke, but there you have it. After having to cry at work to convince my boss I was genuinely sick I returned home and slept for 20 hours straight. Oh, guess what the Spanish miracle cure for everything is: Paracetamol. Tired? take a paracetamol. Fever? take a paracetamol. Sore throat? take a paracetamol. Headache? take a paracetamol. Depressed? take 10 packets of paracetamol...

So it is a vicious cycle: I can't be sick because I have to work, I have to work to pay the rent, I have to pay the rent because I have signed a contract, I signed a contract because I need somewhere to live. Welcome to the real world. I've realised that I haven't really been 'home sick' as such, more 'moment sick'. I miss listening to my ipod on the train on my way to uni; it was my favourite thinking time. Am I saying I miss Melbourne public transport? Wow, I really am sick.

Photo: Tim Barnes

That's right, put in work, eat your salad - no dessert.

2009-10-04T12:11:00.001-07:00

The day after, the day after, the night before (tequila is now banned from our house).

My photos of Málaga:

2009-10-02T13:49:00.000-07:00

Tequila shots!

I said "hey! What's going on?"

2009-09-28T11:37:00.000-07:00

Now that I have my own room, internet connection and a bit of free time, I have started getting link lost in blogs again. As much as I love fashion/style blogs, I'm keen to discover something different, so if you can recommend me a blog - your own maybe, or other non-fashion blogs you read, it'd be great!

Oh, and if you're one of my friends- stop being lazy and write me an email, douchebag. A-strizzle, Flower and Snoop are exempt, but the rest of you - just because you can blogstalk me doesn't mean I don't want to know all your gossip.

Aiight, here are some of my photos from Seville, it's the bomb-diggity.

WTF?!?!?! .....oh how...cute? 'Who's a cute little future dictator, then? YOU are, You are.'

This is yours to wear, you're the chosen one, there's no turning back now

2009-09-23T11:44:00.000-07:00

It's pretty much safe to say I am totally and utterly in love with Spain. And totally not in any way interested in or bothered by certain stupid boys.

Right now it's 8.45pm and there are hoards of little demons, I mean...children, running around screaming in the park nearby. It's 24 degrees. I have finished work for the evening. I'm going out soon for a tinto de verano (o cinco) because I don't have to be at work til 12 tomorrow. Most importantly, my room is looking less and less like the cutesy boudoir of a 60 year old Spanish woman.

I always feel a little uncomfortable when life is all rainbows and lollipops (despite bloody ugly curtains and chandeliers), because it means you have further to fall when the shit hits the fan..yikes, too many idioms. I'm wondering how long I can maintain the good life and when reality is going slap me on the arse and say 'yo t-dawg, what's crackin homie? Hahaha fo' shizzle? you thought you were gonna be happy for ever, bitch you trippin''. I'm not sure why reality is a douchebag gangsta', but there you go. Maybe reality is a posh English person, and it will be more like 'Hello madam, kindly leave your happiness at reception by no later than 10am, failure to do so will result in further misery at a later date. Thank you for your cooperation and have a lovely day'. Maybe reality is the nasty kids from school 'Oh look, it's the midget, frizzy-haired girl with glasses (laughter) What's up Jackson Five? (more laughter) She thinks she's going to be happy? Let's go call her fat, ay? See if she cries..I wonder if it makes her glasses steam up...'.
To wrap up: couldn't reality just be happiness for the rest of my life? Please and thank you.

I have twenty days off around Christmas and I am struggling to decide what to do. Ay ay ay.

Photo: Anna Rosa Krau

She's lost control again, she's lost control

2009-09-21T06:45:00.000-07:00

You said things would never change, but sometimes they get rearranged

2009-09-19T18:54:00.001-07:00

Photo: Anna Rosa Krau

I've been raiding my old blogs to remember what I was up to around this time of September in previous years. I have this from 2008:

All I have to do is write the essay plan. I don't even have to write the bloody essay yet. But why oh why is it so hard? Why am i so unmotivated this semester? There are three reasons that i am aware of:

1. It is my last semester, the end is in sight. In a couple of months I will be finished with undergrad forever.
2. I really miss classics, I should have just sucked it up and done my year of Latin because now that I've finished my minor and I'm not studying any more Ancient Greece I've lost the spark.
3. Spain! I know I'm moving and all I can think about is 'when I move to Spain blah dee blah dee blah'.

OH WOE! I am searching for articles for my essay and coming up with nothing. Why did I choose to write about Literary representations of Merlin as the Antichrist? It's not like someone offered me some crap topics and I choose that one, I decided upon it myself. Maybe I wanted to punish myself for being so lazy?

Just a question. Are people planning their NYE already? It's only September! I understand that the people going to festivals had to book early, but for everyone else...It's only September!!! Am I going to wake up one day in December and discover that everyone has planned their NYE and I am left out in the cold watching the fireworks all alone from my balcony? I don't think anything could top last NYE when Flower's house was robbed, I was kicked out of the Espy whilst trying to avoid a girl who was attempting to kiss me, POK tried to skinny dip in St Kilda Beach at 2am and I fell off a wall and landed face first in the sand in my heroic effort to prevent her from drowning.

Okay, I really must go and plan how I am going to enlighten my tutor with this essay.

This from 2007 (although it was the 13th and the only entry I wrote all month):

So, I have Bronchitis. It kind of sounds like the name of some hot, shirtless...masculine Trojan man who can do some serious damage with a sword. But unfortunatly it's not. I've been at home since last Wednesday. I managed to make it to uni on Tuesday this week, just to see the Doc and get some drugs. They're not even the fun kind. Well, I suppose not coughing up a lung is fun. So, who am I to complain?I'm so unenthused about everything at the moment. Mum says it's because I'm sick. I hope so. According to her medical book it could take three weeks for me to feel completely back to normal. Great. I'm so tired of University. I'm doing 5 subjects this semester and am only enjoying one of them. ..it's on King Arthur. Soothes my inner geek. I've missed two weeks of classes now though so I feel like it's slipping away from me a bit..as well as piled ontop. So this is me just having a whinge i guess. Waaaaaah, I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired. I want to be healthy, graduated, have money saved and be flying off to Europe. Waits..

And this from 2006:

I have decided that 'making love' is the most annoying term in the world. Not to mention incorrect, maybe making babies, or making semen, or making STDS (Thanks Em) would be more technically correct. When you have sex it doesn't create love. I'm sure it's a term invented by men so girls would go around having sex with them thinking they were 'creating' love.. I mean obviously these are dumb girls, but thats not the point. Having sex is not MAKING LOVE, for god's sake that is the stupidist thing I've ever heard. It doesn't even make sense if you're in love with the person either, seeing as your already in love you're not really making it. I think it is entirely misleading, implying that you should have sex with a person if you want to make them love you. It's such a stupid, stupid, so fucking stupid term. Ányone ever says this to me I will bash them. No joke, instant turn off. (I have had 12 coffees tonight at work, I am not in my right state of mind)Okay children. On a final note. DONT MAKE LOVE, HAVE SEX!

Only this from 2005:

Wake me up when September ends...

...Because this is like a dream!
I'm in PRAGUE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sometimes reputations outlive their applications. Sometimes fires don't go out, when you're done playing with them

2009-09-19T13:21:00.000-07:00

Photo: Fergus Padel

I'm all settled in. Apart from the fact my room has the most vomit inducing pink frilly curtains I have ever seen, I'm pretty happy. Moving in has been fun, we went on a sheets mission yesterday, who would have thought choosing a sheets/blanket/pillow colour scheme could be so demanding? I have decided to just pretend the pink curtains don't exist...or clash with my chosen brown and beige bedding. Screw you, curtains. Our clothes line is on the roof of our building, I can't be bothered walking up there so at the moment everything in the apartment is being used to dry my clothing.

We moved in yesterday and the landlady was there, with her husband and her mother. It was a flurry of double cheek kisses, with the six of us in rotation. They didn't speak a word of English, luckily my flatmates speak Spanish, I felt like one of those toy dogs that sit in the back of cars nodding their head repetitively. Nod and smile, right? I was the only one who hadn't already seen the flat so the landlady's mother insisted on draging me around, trying to speak to me in French, while showing me how to use these amazing machines called 'Microwaves'. She instructed us that we needn’t worry that the oven doesn't work, since microwaves work just as well. So, microwaved muffins, pizza and pot roast coming up. She was quite concerned when I exclaimed with surprise 'Oh!!! no es para los gatos?' when she explained what a washing machine is for. Being a smartarse never pays off -she thought I was serious and proceeded to show me how to turn every single tap on.

Now we are heading out to suss out our area. Systematic sampling of every bar within a one kilometre radius. Life is tough.

I was perched outside in the pouring rain, trying to make myself a sail

2009-09-16T08:56:00.000-07:00

I'm listening to Paolo Nutini's 'Candy' and feeling wistful. I'm packing. I'm looking through my photos of Valencia. I'm almost finished straightening my hair. I'm wishing it wasn't raining, but loving the cool air. I'm sorry, but I haven't sent the postcards yet (only bought stamps today). I'm remembering the boys I secretly admired in school. I'm a little hungry. I'm moody today. I'm trying to decide what to wear out tonight. I'm wondering, about..stuff. I'm about to scream at photobucket. I'm talking on the phone to the girls I will be living with, they might have found us a house - with a spare room for visitors. I am hopeful about the future. I'll miss Valencia. Yo soy así.

I'm screaming at the top of my lungs, pretending the echoes belong to someone

2009-09-15T10:01:00.000-07:00

I wish my flatmates would go out so I could have the kitchen to myself; I am too ashamed to cook pasta with instant pesto sauce in front of Italians.

I had my second 'homesick' day since I left Australia today, I just wanted a hug. I have friends here, but not the type I can just randomly demand a proper hug from- like, 'HUG ME, BITCH -PRONTO'. I have been surprised that I haven't been more homesick, the last time I lived in Europe I often wished I was somewhere other than where I was, maybe back home. I guess because this time I actually have a bit more freedom to choose what I do and where I go, it's different. In general I have been pretty happy in the last few months, my life is the adventure I wanted, and adventures can't always run perfectly. I think things have been falling into place, regardless of how much I stressed about what would happen.

It will be fantastic to finally have a place to settle in a bit in Andalucía. Unpack my clothes, have somewhere to put my toothbrush...have an address for my parents to send my contact lenses to.

Today I wrote a postcard to myself. It was addressed to 'Future Te'. I used my favourite Valencian postcard, of Barrio de Carmen, an area I love. I wrote it in Spanish and sent it off to my parents to safeguard for the future. Whenever I return to Australia, I will have a postcard from Past Te; Hmmm, can you tell I've been reading the Time Traveller's Wife?

When I was 13 I had the idea of writing a letter to myself in 10 years time. The envelope is back in Australia, I cannot for the life of me remember what I wrote, or put in there - it's quite big (and covered with Buffy pictures). I am very much looking forward to the day I can rip it open and see what treasures are inside from my tween self. It's not far off. Hesus, I can't believe that it has been almost 10 years since I was 13...

Photo: Anna Rosa Krau

Save some face, you know you've only got one. Change your ways while you're young.

2009-09-11T14:07:00.000-07:00

Photo: Fergus Padel

Hello. I live in Spain! Yeah, I got a job...

...in Andalucía. Moving again, luckily my life fits into one (rather large) case.

The other morning I woke up to the sound of lots of people talking and curiously looked out the front window to see a street market practically on my doorstep! I was so excited, it was brilliant. I took photos out of my window and dragged my friend down to have a look. Then we played the Russian Roulette comida game, which basically entails eating something even though you don't have a clue what it is. I got some fried cheesy, potato thing...I survived. My Spanish lessons have been going great. I am the class clown, it's a tough job but someone's gotta do it.

Gosh, I'll really miss the cojones off Valencia -yes, I am allowed to invent my own cojones sayings, feel free to do the same- but, I'm also excited about new Andalusian adventures to come. I've got no time to think about boys, that's for sure...

Oh, and I'm doing Te's Postcard Service again! So, email me an address if you'd like a postcard from Valencia: thatwassubtle@gmail.com

2009-09-10T12:09:00.000-07:00

Now that I have fallen in love...
...with Spain. The idea of having to leave because I can't get a job rather than choosing to leave as I did in June, is making me twitch and feel rather grumpy. All I hear is 'crisis, crisis, crisis' and it has hit the ESL teaching market hard in Spain. Typical. There seem to be lots of jobs in Italy....noooo, no hablo italiano.

2009-09-09T14:24:00.000-07:00

I want to stay in Valencia. I love it here. I need a job. Damn money and its tendency not to grow on trees.

Tried that good boy game but the dope boy is turning me on

2009-09-07T07:33:00.001-07:00

Oh, the post title is meant to be a bit of a joke. So true though, damn sexy bad boys.

I am living in a shared apartment with two young Italian men who seem to own very little clothing. Every time I walk into the lounge they are draped over the couch in their underwear, train smoking and watching television (with the radio on at the same time). They also speak very little English, so our very short conversations have been in muddled Spanish, until I get too flustered standing there trying to talk to a practically naked stranger and run off to my room.Oh I also suspect that they can't cook, they have been living here for two months already and when I arrived there was nothing in the fridge expect rum... So yeah, that's my news. Thrills.

You don't have to watch Dynasty, to have an attitude

2009-09-06T00:45:00.000-07:00

I’m having issues with prose today. So:

- My phone just told me I have less than 2 euros left of credit
- I just spent money on a Spanish course
- I am very sun burnt
- Erasmus students are crazy
- I love Valencia
- I have 20 pounds left of Summer work savings (shit)

Push my piano outside, I don't care, I don't care.

2009-09-02T06:59:00.000-07:00

I have officially left the land of non-flushing toilets. What is it with UK toilets? I mean, the British were world leaders once upon a time, you’d think they would be able to design a flush which you didn’t have to push a million times, to the point of the handle breaking and you almost cutting open your wrist. Every flush handle in the UK is unique, there are the ones you have to push down once…wait for 2 minutes and then push again, and the ones you have to frantically pump until you have RSI. The height of UK flush technology are the ones which are meant to have a sensor but really you have to wave your hand in front of them ten times before they actually register that, yes please, you’d like it to flush. UK toilets apparently have the Spanish manana mentality. Wow, I am ranting about toilets. Let’s leave it at that.

So, Valencia won the new banner voting, which is fitting since I’m back there. I really enjoyed Valenica the last time I was here, so I decided to return and get to know it better. The only downside is that all my friends already have postcards from Valencia, I’m such a boring traveller. I’m going to take a Spanish course so that in future I can catch the bus from Alicante airport to the train station without missing the stop and ending up miles away, with blisters on my hands from wheeling my case, in the hottest time of the day.

Oh, my taxi driver from the random place to the train station did ask me out though. I hadn’t slept for two days and hadn’t showered since the morning before, so really I think that was quite an achievement; in the zone, as snoop would say. My mother keeps subtly mentioning her desire for grandchildren; it’s freaking me out. There is no link between the taxi driver asking me out and thinking about my Mother’s grandchild mission, but I won’t create a new paragraph, for purely aesthetic purposes.

I just want to reiterate again what an awesome time I had in Scotland. Anyone with the chance to go really should, maybe not in winter, but for the Fringe festival next year. A girl I met in the hostel in Edinburgh is coming to Valencia for a few days, it’ll be great to have some company and she is like a friend-making, social machine.

I am glad to be back in Spain. I was reading over my old blog entries before and realising how, even though I gave up on the plan I had, things have still worked out that way naturally; I still ended up in Scotland for August and back in Spain for the beginning of the teaching year.

Photo: Timothy Barnes

I've heard it enough, I won't let your lousy reputation throw me off

2009-08-31T17:53:00.000-07:00

Waiting to go to Spain = making new blog banners. You guys choose:

Toledo

Cambridge

Valencia

They're breaking both my hands, they're telling me to take it like a man. Well, fuck that!

2009-08-29T05:54:00.000-07:00

Yes it's me, again. I am happy. I am in Edinburgh. I need to pee but don't want to leave my laptop. I changed my flight, no longer going to Asturias, still going to Spain though.

On a personal note, as personal as it will get on here: boys are fucking annoying.
I am working on the whole 'indifferent' attitude. Do you guys think that in every relationship one person is more powerful than the other? Any kind of relationship: family, friends, lovers...one person always has the upper hand and the other person either doesn't realise this, or has just accepted it. Just a thought from someone who is always aware when she doesn't have the upper hand and indifferent when she does.

I saw a traditional Scottish folk music group last night with some girls from the hostel, it was very small and intimate and we were the youngest there; during the chorus the men in the crowd would start singing along, and everyone was tapping to the beat of the jigs. Perfection.

Alright, I am starving and am going to venture out of the hostel to find some food. It's my last day in Edinburgh, I might go to Arthur's Seat one last time.

Oh, and to those of you who asked for postcards...they're on the way!

On top of Arthur's seat.

You know you would always run from here

2009-08-28T04:47:00.000-07:00

So the lost wandering continues. Next week I am flying to Northern Spain. I will be sad to leave Edinburgh, but I miss the busy Spanish streets at night, and I don’t fancy the idea of a Scottish winter. So my plan is…wait for it…. fly to Spain. Yes, that’s where the plan ends. Does anyone have any suggestions of what to see and do in Northern Spain? I definitely want to visit Galicia.

I didn’t even notice that there’s a guy in a straw hat, playing guitar in the kitchen where I’m writing this. I’m starting to like hostel living, it’s nice when you stay in one place for more than 3 days and you’re not in a room with a group of drunken Australians.

A few of the people I worked with in Cambridge have come to Edinburgh while I’ve been here and it has been great to have some company. Someone to take photos of me not acting my age. How does a 22-year-old act anyway? I’m sure it’s okay for them to climb rocks and do cartwheels on nice looking grass.

I slept past the free breakfast today, so I’m eating mints to abate my hunger until I get off the free wireless and head into town to find something to eat.

Why did I book a ticket to Spain? I don’t understand.

Photo: Timothy Barnes

He's got no time for you looking or breathing

2009-08-27T06:06:00.000-07:00

Okay, so this is what happens when I have no direction. I just booked a flight to Spain for next week. Not sure why. Apparently my completely insane implusive side decided I want to see Northern Spain. This stupid side has forgotten that I have no job and money is rapidly running out. I feel like laughing hysterically again, I tend to do that alot lately. Stay tuned..

I'll miss you, Arthur's seat.

2009-08-23T14:31:00.001-07:00

Oh my god. I don't like mixed dorm rooms.

Everybody says I oughta get over myself

2009-08-23T05:12:00.000-07:00

I think I may have gone insane.

Upon arrival in Ullapool, after a four-hour bus journey, I realised that in my haste to book accommodation and figure out where I was going to go next, I had read the ferry timetable wrong. I’d booked two nights in this tiny village and couldn’t do the day trip to the Isle of Lewis I had come especially to do; unless I wanted to go to the island for ONE HOUR. Oh bite me, Scotland. So I stood at the small ferry office looking forlorn and confused; a man working for the ferry company came over and asked if I was lost. ‘I know where my hostel is, I’m just lost in life in general’ was my automatic reply. Well done Te, freak out the locals. He looked at me like I was absolutely insane, that was all the prompting I needed to tell him all my woes in a muddled mumbled mess while randomly bursting into laughter at the uselessness of myself. He began slowly edging away from the insane Australian. Actually, he offered to store my backpack in the ferry office until my hostel opened in another 3 hours.

As it turns out I am glad I didn’t go to Lewis, I did a beautiful boat tour of the Summer Isles and got far too enthusiastic about taking photos. I’ve been looking over them thinking ‘why did I take 12 photos of that rock?’ I’m sure at the time it was the most beautiful and inspiring rock I’d ever seen.

Oh the quaintness of Ullapool, it is so charming, until the village runs out of water. Yesterday was day 2 without a shower, I hopped in and the water just never came. Grumbling about the crappiness of my hostel I went overboard with the deodorant and then went for breakfast. Sorry, Te, you can’t have coffee…there’s no water. Okay, I had orange juice and then went to use the public toilet, sorry, you can’t flush...there’s no water. How….charming. Happy to announce I was able to shower this morning. These small victories really make life worthwhile.
Today I’m on the road again. Back down to Edinburgh and then…well, I don’t know. After next week I officially have no plans. Someone choose a country for me, quick!

My Photos of Ullapool and the Summer Isles

...Okay, was just offered a job in an isolated Scottish village and turned it down. Guess I don't want to work in an isolated village, atleast I know that now.

2009-08-22T09:27:00.001-07:00

Welcome to Te's postcard service. If you'd like a postcard from somewhere Te ends up (could be anywhere) email her the address you want it sent to, to thatwassubtle@gmail.com

I don't know why I'm writing in third person...

Every man I fall for, drinks his coffee black

2009-08-19T09:40:00.000-07:00

Hello blog readers, I’m sorry I accused you of not existing. You’re lovely. I am on the train from Edinburgh to Fort William. The scenery is stunning, and once again I am thinking of staying in Scotland. It’s so rugged and diverse. So maybe I’ll stay here, but not in Edinburgh, although I’ll have to make at least monthly trips to Edin to climb Arthur’s seat. It’s magical, and I love the wind in my hair to the point it looks like the victim of electrocution.

I woke up with a fierce hangover this morning…holy crap I’m not going to talk about my hangover the view out of the window is…wow…I keep thinking I’ll see Catherine and Heathcliff running past. The man sitting in front of me has taken a photo of every. single. tree. since we left Edinburgh; killing the magic with each click.

A friend came to stay for a couple of days and it has cheered me up. It was nice to have someone to talk to and go to a comedy show with, someone to push me down a hill and to watch rabbits running around at 3am with. Yeah, we’re normal. Wait, who wants to be described as normal, really? I’d rather be described as a bit strange than ‘normal’. A normal person would probably know where she’s going to sleep tomorrow night.

So of the ideas I was playing with, the pub one is the most appealing right now; I’m imaginging myself in a tiny, isolated Scottish village working in a quaint inn serving pints. In an hour or so I might be thinking of Spain, tomorrow it’ll probably be the gypsy thing. Well, to be fair I feel like I’m practically there; take away my laptop and ipod and I’m pretty much gypsyfied, actually gypsies probably have cleaner clothes than me. Wow….wowww..okay I’m going to go and gape out the window now.

Yeah...that's me. Arthur's seat in the background!