Travel

Egypt

Kruse Leave a comment

Went to Egypt a couple of weeks back.

And I realised I have become incredibly blase about travelling.  I have an international flight in the early afternoon – and I don’t start packing, or thinking about packing, or anything at all – until several hours before.  And when I got there, there was absolutely no sense of anticipation, trepidation, wonder, or anything.  The hawkers, taxi drivers, etc – became accepted and normal as soon as I stepped off the plane.  All of which made me think I definitely need to go somewhere completely different – and that is why I’m definitely going to North Korea next year.  In fact, I might book a trip this afternoon – to force me into it.  And by jeebers, I’ll be crossing fingers that the leadership changes hands while I’m there.

Anyway – Egypt.  Regardless of my suddenly realising I had a stupid blase attitude towards the general process of travelling – Egypt was still cool, and definitely worth a visit.  It’s got these big things made of rock – in a pyramid shape.  And statues and temples and tombs and what-not, all over the shop.  Plenty of them.  Oh – and I read a book which reckons it was the centre of the last human civilisation, set up by Noah.  Or something like that.

So – how did the whole trip happen…  Well, managed to pack a couple of backpacks with enough technology and clothing for such a trip – watched some ‘Arry Potter – and then headed off to Heathrow.  Ate some terrible, terrible airport food, bought some more technology – Ben bought 1.5W of portable speaker power, while I opted for a mammoth 5W.  My choice got mad propz from the store clerk.  Ben’s did not.  And then we got on the plane, where my personal entertainment system worked pretty well, allowing me to watch a selection of movies and television shows.  Ben’s did not.

We arrived in Cairo at about midnight, and accepted one of the first taxi drivers to offer his services.  This was the first point where I realised I’d been so blase about this trip that I hadn’t bothered to do any research whatsoever.  I had no idea of what was an exorbitant taxi fare, or if there were alternatives to taxis.  But – I earn the mighty British pound – which is 8 times the strength of the weak Egyptian pound – so let’s act like careless tourists!  We got to the hotel – a nice sanitary soulless Holiday Inn, booked with my loyalty points, for convenience for our first night.  Of course – I hadn’t actually booked it for this night, but the next.  But went to the counter, just to let them know we were there, and that could they please let us know at what time we could check-in for the following night (hoping against hope that they would let us effectively check-in a day early).  “Yes sir, we’re fully booked out currently – but as you’re a Platinum member (I’m a Platinum member, you see) – I’ll make sure that as soon as somebody checks out, we’ll make the room and let you know.  And – here’s a complimentary bottle of water each, and follow me to the bar, would you like a complimentary drink?”  Sometimes, I love being a “Platinum member” more than I realise that it makes me a dick.  Mostly just watching my friends’ faces as I’m being treated like some executive wanker.  Anyway – we accepted this free drink – and had our first taste of egyptian beer.  Not good.  Our first experience of Stella raised fears for the following two weeks.  But, I struggled through mine – and then we wondered what to do for the following 10 or so hours.  I came up with the bright idea of leaving our stuff, and heading to the pyramids to watch sunrise, seeing as we were up anyway.  That was a grand plan – so we proceeded to sit around waiting for an appropriate time to go do this.  And got more and more tired, and started to realise that age may have caught up with us.  It was no longer quite so easy to stay up all night.  And eventually, we found a couple of couches hidden away somewhere, and lay down for a quick short kip before we needed to head to the pyramids.  And then the time rolled around when we should really start moving.  And we did not.  And then it was about 9 or 10 am – and the hotel manager came and found us – and told us he had a room for us.  Sweet.  A bit of form filling, etc – and then we had a nice big room with 2 big beds – and we did some more sleeping.

And then, realising that we were completely useless, it was pretty much assured that nothing was going to happen that day – other than recuperating after only 1 day of our trip.  Yes – pathetic.  But – it turned out alright – we dithered about eating – eventually doing some of the internet research we should have really done before we left – and then had a swim and food at the hotel pool.  And organised a tour through the hotel for the next day – thereby removing any impetus for action or decisions from ourselves.  This proved to be a recurring theme for the rest of the trip.

So – the next day, we arose – I had breakfast in the executive lounge (yes – wanker) – and then checked out, and met Muhammed – our tour guide for the day.  The plan was to see the Cairo Museum, pyramids, sphinx, and then go to train station and head up to Alexandria.  A good plan – making the most of the day, after completely wasting the previous one.  And the plan was executed well.  We headed to the museum, where we saw lots of stuff.  Mummified crocodiles, mummified bulls, statues, boats, etc.  And then the one airconditioned room which held all of the stuff that Tutankhamen was wearing in his tomb.  And yeah – that guy liked to accesorise.  And his death mask – pretty sweet.  The museum is definitely worth visiting – just for that one room.  After the museum – it was decided that this would actually be the best time to head to the train station, and buy some tickets.  So – did that, and got my first look of Cairo train station (named Ramses) – currently under renovation.  I’m sure named after such a guy as Ramses, the station will be great when it’s finished – but at present, one walks over, under, and around construction materials and rubbish.  And later on, it was another time where I thought – “Why didn’t I find that strange?”    But – we got our tickets anyway.  And then drove out to the pyramids.  And driving on the ring road, was probably the first time we got a proper view of how vast Cairo is.  It’s just this big sprawling concrete mess – with ridiculously tall minarets popping up all over the place.  And then – I happened to look out through the windscreen to see the tops of the pyramids towering over a hill.  Sweet.  We bought all necessary tickets, including those to go inside the two larger pyramids – and entered the site.  And yeah, the pyramids are big.  My favourite fact about them used to be that the largest one, Khufu’s, was the tallest man-made structure in the world right up until the Eiffel Tower.  Built in around 2500 BC – and stayed the tallest right up until only 120 years ago.  The architect’s gotta be pretty happy with that.  Correction – that was my favourite pyramid fact.  Until I read Pyramid, by Tom Martin.  Which taught me that they were actually built by the previous iteration of human civilisation – possibly by Noah? – and that they are actually part of a giant power plant, which harnesses the power of Earth’s rotation.  All powered by the Benben stone.  Fact.

So yeah – they’re big.  But not particularly roomy.  We went inside the two larger ones – Khufu’s & Khafre’s – and there wasn’t really much interior design going on.  The tunnel to get to the main living (appropriate term?) area in each was rather narrow and low – making the constant 2-way traffic rather difficult.  And then one reaches the end – and you figure out this huge pile of rock is actually a studio/bedsit.  With no kitchen or bathroom – presumably communal facilities outside.  But – lovely high ceiling, and well insulated.  To test out how much room there really was – and whether one could have a party there – I performed the standard test.  A woop-woop-woop.  Successful.  And then I tried out the bed.  A single, and not particularly comfy.  Still – <insert joke about sleeping like the dead, or some-such>.  Ha!  Anyway – altogether, rather claustrophobic – and very hot when dressed up nice with suit and tie.  So – we exited, did a spot of break-dancing, and went for a nice relaxing camel ride.  The ships of the desert, but with no onboard bar.  Our camel man forced us into several hackneyed poses in front of the pyramids, making it look like we’re picking them up, or some such.  Why?  Why do people do that?

Anyway – off to the sphinx.  Not as big as I expected – but still, bigger than anything I own.  Yes – even the ego.  So – we took some clever trick photographs – looking like I was giving it a hongi.  Why?  Why do people do that?  And then – off to lunch.  ‘Authentic egyptian food’, apparently – with our guide and driver.  And yep – pretty good.  My soup was better than Ben’s – but they were all pretty good.  And after lunch – we headed back to the train station, feeling sorry for our guide who had constantly been helpful and chatty, but visibly confused by these two tourists who seemed to find absolutely nothing interesting.  We both did feel rather guilty.  We were interested.  And I loved the pyramids.  I’m just too lazy to show any reaction.  Sorry.  So, I think he was quite relieved to be rid of us.  And we were at the under-construction train station.  We took the oppurtunity of having plenty of free time to buy tickets for the sleeper train from Cairo->Aswan in about a week’s time – having drawn up an itinerary for ourselves by this point.  And were lucky that there was a cabin available – as most people book these a month in advance.

And then we were in Alexandria.  With a little sleazy kid that had befriended me on the train (not reciprocal) – by talking about the bunces, and how a russian prostitute told him he was good in bed.  (From the context of the conversation monologue – a ‘bunce’ is a girl of loose morals.  A girl you could find at a bar, and dance with – perhaps more – but not a prostitute.  I think.)  Anyway – this chap followed us, constantly talking – trying to make me promise that we would meet him the next day, and have lunch at his place – maybe go to a party with some bunces afterwards.  Seemed rather upset that I wouldn’t promise, and kept mumbling “maybe”.  “But you can trust me Kruse!  You trust me don’t you?  I trust you Kruse.  You’ll call me tomorrow yes, and we have lunch at my place – then maybe a party, or go to your hotel room and drink champagne?  I trust you Kruse.”  I didn’t betray his trust.  In that I never made the promise.  But eventually he gave us directions for the street we needed to walk down – and he headed off, fully expecting that he would be hosting us for lunch the next day.  I hope he didn’t brag too much to his bunces about his whitey friends coming around.  Anyway – his directions were good.  Unfortunately, we were not so good at understanding/following them – and we spent quite some time walking in the wrong direction – lost in Alexandria at about 11pm.  But eventually asked for help, and had a posse of guys trying to understand where we wanted to go.  Once again – got good directions, followed them for a while, then nearly got lost again – when a car came screeching up, and some of the chaps who had been giving us directions turned up to put us back on track.  And we got to our hotel.  Checked in, got the 2nd to last room – 5 minutes before a group of 3 turned up.  But the owner asked them if they were American.  They were.  And then suddenly the owner remembered that the other room had been booked out by internet booking.  Brilliant.  And even more brilliant – a booze store on the very corner of our street.  Having been nearly 24 hours since the last alcohol – we bought up some beers, deciding to try some brands other than Stella – and sat on the seafront having a few quiet bevvies and deciding that we liked Alexandria.

Alexandria was indeed good.  The next day, we walked back to the train station – in a straight line this time.  A 15 minute walk, rather than the 1.5 hours we’d taken the previous night.  Bought some train tickets for the next day back to Cairo – and then headed off to see tourist stuff.  Wandered through some alleys and what-not, as I remembered reading this was a very poor and dirty part of town.  But – all good, and we found Pompey’s Pillar.  Had a look at that (good pillar by the way), and then wandered off to find the Catacombs of Kom es-Shouqafa.  Which are only about 2 blocks away.  But, we got lost – and walked back and forth several times, attaching a similarly lost american girl to our group, then down some very small dusty alleys – before a local chap told his son to lead us there.  And it turned out to be exactly where I thought it was.  Honestly.  So – the catacombs.  Pretty sweet, I guess.  Not to the same extent as those in Lima – but not bad.  Bribed a guard to show us into a different tomb which wasn’t open to the public – but not really worth it.  The main catacombs were definitely the best, although the bottom level is flooded.

And then – we decided to walk back into town, to maybe get some food, and head to the library.  After a few blocks though, the american seemed to get a little edgy, and said goodbye, while hopping onto a tram.  Not sure why.  Anyway – we kept wandering down random streets and alleys, assuming we would at some point hit the coast, which we could then follow along to wherever we wanted to go.  Except, we eventually figured out that – exactly like the previous night – there was a 90 degree difference between the direction we thought we were heading, and we were actually heading.  But – walking’s good for you.  And we eventually found the corniche – and did indeed follow this along.  Stopped for a beer – and then headed onto the library.  Alexandria used to have a rather large library, you see – until Julius Caesar accidentally burnt it down.  A version of events I find highly unlikely.  I suspect that Julius was actually frustrated that the library didn’t have a copy of the Millenium trilogy by Stieg Larsson translated into roman for his Apple Tablet – and in a fit of pique burnt it down with his Zippo brand lighter.  But – it burnt down one way or the other – and Alexandria has decided, finally, to have another go at having a library.  And they seem to have not lost the knack.  Quite a nice library, although we just checked it out from the outside.  But lots of crazy zany architecture, little quirks such as sundials – which are a lot more complicated than I ever suspected; and a swimming pool – which is guarded, unfortunately.

And eventually – it was evening.  And starving.  So – started wandering around town again – looking for food.  We did rather well at not finding any – until a delicious smell found us.  We followed this into a small, very local-type restaurant – and ordered whatever they had.  And eventually it arrived.  One very large plate of liver each.  I’m not sure you’ve ever seen two more downcast people than Ben & I realising we’d just ordered a huge plate of liver each.  Not cool.  I ate one piece – and then rearranged the rest to look like I’d eaten a decent chunk.  I think Ben managed two pieces, and rearranged his plate also.  Then we left, before anybody could offer a doggy-bag.

The next morning – we left Alexandria.  Train back down to Cairo – a taxi to the airport, and checked in for a flight to Sharm el Sheikh.  Being whitey, we were automatically upgraded, and given tickets to the executive lounge.  Arrived in Sharm a little while later, and haggled a van to take us up to Dahab.  Our driver seemed to be drunk and/or stoned – but drove us up there quickly, while singing along to the radio.  And then bragged that it was a 1.5 hour trip, but we’d just done it in under 40 minutes.  He also took us to a hostel, which we didn’t want him to do – looking for a kickback.  Fortunately, the place he took us to was actually really good, and we took it.  We also booked a diving course through the hostel – mostly so that we wouldn’t have to think or decide on what/when to do each day.  We then went for dinner – and ordered a selection of seafood.  Which came out presented on a massive tinfoil sailing ship structure.  With candles in tomatoes and onions, and all manner of madness.  Beer was the only thing that allowed us to comprehend what we were seeing.

And then we spent the next three days learning to be divers, and battling our way through the restaurant hawkers each night when looking for dinner.  During, and after, the first day of diving – I really didn’t think I would make it through.  But by about halfway through the next day, I was fooling around 15 metres under the water – making jokes, and accidentally spitting out my precious oxygen by laughing – but not even dying.  And at the end of it, I was amazed and confused my the fact that I actually enjoy it.  And might do some more – now that I am a certified open water scuba diver.  I’m positive that any of you who have ever seen me around water would not have expected that, yeah?  I sure as hell didn’t.

After our last day, we proceeded to get our instructor really rather drunk.  Along with a few of the other instructors and general other hangers-on around the hostel.  And felt a little sad that we had to leave the next day.  When we first turned up, the hostel manager obviously thought we were a waste of time.  Turning up one afternoon, booking a diving course – not having enough cash for anything – getting drunk while watching the instructional video, sleeping in, etc, etc.  And as we left, I think he hadn’t changed his mind that much – except he won’t underestimate our ability to get stuff done, despite being ridiculous layabouts, again.  And our ability to pay – I think he was genuinely surprised when halfway through our drinking binge, I actually managed to present enough cash to cover everything.

And the next day, managed to get up fairly early.  Had breakfast, juices, smoothies, milkshakes, etc – and then hired some snorkel kit – to go out for some poor-man’s-diving, and finally make the most of my waterproof camera.  Took some nice boring photos of fishies, coral, etc – and generally just spent a couple of hours swimming about – before packing our stuff, and heading back to Sharm airport.  Once again – whitey automatically gets upgraded, and entry to the executive lounge (which actually consists of a voucher for a cup of coffee at the cafe).  And eventually, back on a plane to Cairo.  Get to Cairo – find a taxi driver, head to the train station – and then get on our sleeper train.  Very different to the sleeper trains in China – this was our own little cabin, with two bunk beds which fold away.  Very Agatha Christie, and nice enough – until I went exploring, and discovered that the restaurant/bar/lounge car did not sell booze.

Over the last couple of days, we had also been corresponding with Petra from Aswan Individual – which is “not a travel agency” – but a “network, founded by a tourist”.  Pretty much – a group of tourist type services, which Petra has met over the years – and created a network with a website to help people do stuff.  Quite a good idea – especially for two guys who will go to extraordinary lengths to avoid making decisions or organising things.  So – we’d given Petra a rough idea of what we wanted to do, and left everything else up to her friends.  And they came through.  We were met right outside our train carriage by Waleed – who then took us straight to a hotel.  Checked into that – and then Waleed took us to introduce us to Mustafa.  Mustafa took us on a little boat ride (not a felucca as we’d expected – but we were too tired to really care) – and then for a walk around Elephantine island.  His mother had also cooked us a meal – which was very very good.  The soup seemed to be Fish-Fins(Newtown) salt-lemon-pepper flavour, somehow.  If you’ve never had Fish Fins from Newtown – trust me, this is delicious.  And then came the mistake.  Trying to force Ben into something new, I insisted that he deal with giving some money to Mustafa’s mother.  This went terribly wrong.  We thought we were giving a tip – so Ben tried slipping her 40 pounds.  In fact, we needed to pay for the meal – and the “normal price” was apparently 50 pounds each.  So – some embarassment there.  And sure enough, our little trip was suddenly cut short – and Mustafa delivered us back to Waleed.  And we discovered that we also needed to pay Mustafa, but didn’t have enough money.  Embarassment again, but we borrowed some cash of Waleed, and all good.  We were now due to go see some little dam, and maybe a temple – but we’d been falling asleep throughout the boat trip – and it was generally agreed that we just go back to the hotel and rest.  So – spent the afternoon resting, a couple of wanders around Aswan – and then I had a cheeky half at the Black Horse, before picking up some takeaways on the way home.  Just like a proper London geezer, innit?

And then it was midnight.  Which was the start of the next day.  So – we got up – and went downstairs, where Waleed was once again waiting.  I don’t know if that little guy sleeps, or what – but he was always the same little smooth Teflon guy at all hours.  We had ourselves a car and driver – in order to join the military convoy out to Abu Simbel.  Slept most of the way, instead of singing Convoy – which will probably remain one of my biggest regrets.  But – we got to Abu Simbel in the wee hours of the morning, along with thousands of other people.  For today was one of only two days in the year when the sunrise would shine right inside the Great Temple and illuminate the sculptures on the back wall.  Ramses’ birthday, in fact.  So – there were a lot of people – most of whom had organised this more than one day previously.  After getting our tickets, and not joining in the considerable niggle which was occurring in the ‘queues’ – we quickly made our way to the actual temples, hoping to not miss the actual moment.  But – there were already a thousand or so people there – in what may or may not have been a queue.  We joined this, but nothing was happening – so walked around taking photos instead.  And some of the photos we took necessitated us joining the small group of people who seemed to be milling around the entrance.  Which, in hindsight, may have actually been the start of the queue.  In any case – soon the sun rose, and the people started filing into the temple.  The officials there were hustling everybody through – as the ‘solar phenomenon’ would not be in effect for very long.  We got caught up in this group of people at the front of the queue – and obediently filed through the temple.  And as we left – we saw a television set-up outside to display the event for people outside.  The sun had already moved on, such that only about one half of one statue was illuminated any more.  I reckon the full effect was only present for about 10 minutes – and that we were 2 of about 100 people who had actually seen it.  So – approximately an hour after we had been vehemently cursing “queue-jumpers”, we had effectively become queue-jumpers ourselves, and reaped full benefits.  So… children – don’t jump queues.  But – regardless of the occasion, and the dancers and festivities and whatever – the temple itself would have been worth visiting any day of the year.  In other words – you don’t need to wait for Ramses’ birthday to go visit him.  And how many chances do you get to be part of a military convoy?  Speaking of which – the said convoy then reformed – and we sped our way back to Aswan, without being attacked by any fighter jets or anything (Ben had a dream on the way down that the convoy was attacked by fighter jets.  It turns out that my dreams are premonitions.  Ben’s are not.)  Back in Aswan, Waleed once again met us, and took us to our boat.  Waleed had organised a cruise up the Nile to Luxor for us – and had apparently managed a last-minute cabin on one of the “finest cruise ships on the Nile”.  Not really sure how much of this to believe – we arrived.  And, yeah – it was actually a mighty fine ship.  And looking it up afterwards – was indeed a 5-star boat – and we had a cabin on the top deck, which is usually the most expensive.  And we were paying a fraction of what everybody else on the boat was.  Ha – suckers.  So – we enjoyed a buffet lunch, and then I went for another wander around Aswan.  I had ripped my only pair of trousers at the pyramid when breakdancing – so needed something to wear to dinner.  My first foray was unsuccessful – instead buying a nice white dress and some books.  But – I went back for Ben, and we went for another walk – including a cheeky half at the Horse.  And then – we discovered a bazaar.  And there, I was able to replace my suit – while also buying matching shirts for myself & Ben.  And with that, we were able to return to the boat, via buying some beer&wine under-the-counter from a convenience store, and dress appropriately for dinner, where we were in fact remarked upon by a fellow passenger.

Suddenly, a relatively relaxed day.  Slept in, so missed the first stop – but did go ashore to see the temple at Edfu.  While all the other passengers filed off and onto a bus, we were left alone to go haggle ourselves a horse and carriage.  And off to the temple we went.  And a very fine temple it was.  Big.  I spent a fair bit of time just walking around some of the rooms running my hands over the hieroglyphics.  Not sure if I was allowed to do that.  But – there’s a helluva lot of them.  Ben & I had started thinking at this point that maybe the Egyptians were a little crazy.  In the head.  Rode our horse-and-carriage back to the boat – in time for a quick swim before lunch.  And in the evening – nicely dressed for dinner once more (showing up everybody else on the boat, to be honest) – and then I tried the local wine.  Not as good as their temples and stuff.

So now we were in Luxor.  Checked out of the boat – but left our stuff there.  Went to look at the Temple of Luxor – where one old man whispered at us tonelessly “How are you.” – followed later by another, or perhaps the same, elderly gentleman pointing at me, curling one arm up in a bicep-showing muscle-man gesture – and stating “Ramses”.  All of which had us rather confused – on top of the ridiculous number of shinxes which apparently line the old road between two temples – for several kilometres.  And then we went to the Temple of Karnak.  And then I was totally and absolutely convinced that the Nile was tainted with some kind of drugs several thousands of years ago.  There is just no need to buld this stuff.  No need.  Maybe the pyramids and Edfu I can understand.  Or Karnak & Abu Simbel.  But – the whole lot?  Who builds this stuff?  Stark.  Raving.  Mad.  So – once we got sick of this last proof of insanity – we headed back into the middle of town.  And had some beer.  But didn’t order food, because of the loud cockney woman.  Instead, went to next restaurant – Sindbad.  A pub crawl was in the making – but an elderly chap somehow managed to talk us into a romantic evening on a felucca, watching the sunset.  With some beers.  Back on land – things became very hazy very quickly.  There was an objective-less meandering which turned into a mission to find an Irish pub – because that’s what you do in foreign countries; there was talking in irish accents while pushing through crowds of whitey – thereby creating false impressions of other nationalities; then a wandering back to Sindbad; and then ordering food, but asking for it to wait until we went back to the boat to pick up our stuff; and then managing to pick our stuff up from the boat, and somehow refraining from one last swim for old time’s sake; then I think there was a return to Sindbad, with some eating, some drinking, some taking and giving of offense, and some howling at the moon.  And then there was a taxi to the airport – which we had somehow pre-organised.  And at the airport we checked in.  But drunken whitey doesn’t get upgrades.

Soon, or not so soon, one can’t be sure – somehow we were back in Cairo – but it was midnight, and our flight was at 7am.  So we finished the trip in the same style we started it – absolutely exhausted, sneaking a nap in inappropriate places – in this case, the small cafe in the airport.  The very same airport, I must add, which constantly wins the Worst Airport on the website sleepinginairports.com

Then we were back in London.  I can also add that during this trip – we each read the entire Millenium trilogy by Stieg Larsson.  The Girl Who Played With Fire – and that lot.  If you haven’t read it yet – you probably should.  Only so that you understand one or more in-jokes in the above narrative which I typed out on my HP Compaq desktop.  Not because it’s any good.  Because it’s not.  As alluded to previously, I also read Pyramid by Tom Martin.  Tom Martin lives in Oxford.  And I also read C by Tom McCarthy.  C is nominated for the Man Booker prize.  The others are not.  And finally, I read some short stories by Naguib Mahfouz.  He wrote much better stories than the two Tom’s or Stieg.

That was my holiday in Egypt.

Amsterdam

Kruse Leave a comment

So – I get a phone call on a Thursday, suggesting I join Justin in watching the football World Cup final.  Using the logic that english football fans are idiots – the idea of watching it in a bar in London is unpleasant.  So – logically speaking – we should fly to Amsterdam to watch it.  Unfortunately – I’ve got some rather important work scheduled for the weekend.  So – I say maybe.

Friday afternoon, I start some processes at work.  Then go to leaving drinks for a workmate.  Get home rather late – check on my work, do some more work – and fall asleep on the couch.  Wake up a few hours later – check on work, do some more work, and try to watch the rugby on my other laptop.  Fall asleep again.  Wake up again, catch most of the second half of the rugby – while continuing to work.  And decide that rather than trying to fit in a flight to Amsterdam around my work – I should probably instead try to fit my work around a flight to Amsterdam.  So – book a flight (last one on the flight), and continue working.  Then – when I’ve essentially finished most of my work – I let the project manager know that I’ll be unavailable for an hour – even by phone, as I’ll be on the underground.  And I head towards Heathrow.  Forgetting, of course, that the Northern Line is nearly always down for maintenance recently.  But – I manage to get to Heathrow – and then logon to work again.  Check on a few things – and everything’s looking good.   Call the project manager, and discuss how everything’s looking good – pretty much done.  Oh – and I’ll be unavailable again for the next hour.  And – get on a plane.

Arrive in Amsterdam – predisposed to dislike the dutch.  I’ve always had a thing about them – related to the genetic engineering of carrots.  Ethnic vegetable cleansing.  Not cool.  And it’s an entire country which by rights should be underwater!  It’s not a nation – it’s a lake!  What up with that?  But – almost immediately I find it rather difficult to dislike anybody.  Friendly, smiling, helpful.  And it just doesn’t stop.  I nearly start to dislike them for destroying my prejudices.  But – anyway, we head to the hotel.  The nice man tells me there is only one super-deluxe room for special ‘Platinum’ club members like myself – but it is just the one king-size bed.  Justin & I agree that the standard room with 2 doubles would be fine, thank you.  We get vouchers for free drinks at the bar.  Check in with work again – and everything’s still looking good.  Nothing for me to do at the moment – but there probably will be either later tonight, or early tomorrow morning.  So – that’s the cue for Justin & I to head to the bar.  Drink a few delicious dutch beers – and then head into town to try and find some food and delicious dutch beer.  We find delicious dutch beer, and drink it while discussing how much prettier the girls are in Europe compared to England.  Because they most definitely are.

And then a taxi back to the hotel, where I do a quick check for work-related emails.  Nothing – so time to sleep.  First proper sleep in a rather long time.  Wake up in the morning – and just manage to catch breakfast.  And then head towards town in order to sit in a cafe, drinking delicious dutch beer and watching pretty girls on bicycles.  But – I get a phone call.  So – I head back to the hotel, where a quick check confirms that the issue has nothing to do with me.  Then – I head back out, and catch up with Justin.  And we walk onwards, discussing how much prettier the girls are in Europe compared to England.  And we reach Museum Square.  This is where the dutch people have set up several giant screens in order to allow people to watch football.  Dutch people are renowned for being frugal – and therefore none of them buy television sets, instead waiting for people to set up giant screens in public places where they can watch the ‘moving pictures’ for free.  We sit around for a while, until Justin catches up with his friends in Amsterdam.  They are apparently at a different park/square.  So we start walking towards them.  And I get another phone call from work.  Which went something like “Hi Micheal, are you at home?”  “No – I wouldn’t say that.”  “Oh – are you quite far away from home?”  “Ummm… yeah.  I’m in Amsterdam.”  “…”  “…”  “Have you got some time off?”  “No – I’m working.  Just from Amsterdam.”  “Oh.  … Okay.  Well, we’ve got some serious issues – and we’ll probably need to rollback the whole weekend’s work”  “…  Okay.”  “Okay.  Well – somebody will get hold of you later when we need you to do your stuff.”  “Okay.”

And then Justin & I kept walking.  Me inwardly cursing the timing of this ‘issue’.  But – we kept walking, until Justin went to consult his map again.  Muttering about the street signs being wrong.  I consulted my map, and asked where we were going.  And looked at the street signs.  And pointed at my map – and asked “So – we’re here right?”  And Justin suddenly realised that the street signs weren’t actually wrong – it was just that we had been walking in the wrong direction for the last 15 minutes or so.  But – no problem, we just started walking in the right direction.  Kept walking, until Justin called his friend to arrange a rendezvous point.  Which was 5 minutes walk behind us.  We’d walked right past the people we’d come to meet.  But – again, easily resolved – and we met up with Nicole and Peet (sp?) at the pancake carousel.  We then walked to find some bar – where we stood outside the bar and drank our very very warm and not so delicious dutch beers which we’d been walking around with for an hour or so – and discussed how much prettier the girls are in Europe when compared to those in England.  They really are.

And then – walked back to the pancake carousel to pick up the magnum of champagne which Peet had stashed in the fridge there.  Pick that up – and then walk to Museum Square – where Justin & I had been originally.   By this point, there are a lot more people than there were earlier.  It was a sea of 180,000 orange clothing, flags, football-themed novelty headwear, etc etc.  Oh – and those godawful little trumpets which make that horrible noise.  So – just the kind of environment I love.  We fight our way to the top of a little hill to the side – and wait for the silly little game to start.  Justin keeps telling me to “get into it” – and jump and chant and sing, or whatever.  Which of course just reinforced my steely calm impassive demeanour.  Although – I was kinda impressed at watching such a huge mass of humanity gathered together just to take advantage of free television.  It really was kinda cool.

Anyway – everybody watched the game, and a couple of hours later, there was 180,000 sad little orange faces.  Which surprised me, because I’d missed the goal – owing to the fact that I wasn’t really fussed about the game – so nominated myself as the guy to fight through the crowd to buy beers every so often.  And then I was impressed by how fast 180,000 people stormed out of the square back to their windmill houses.  And we found a bar – where the dutchies drank their sorrows away, and I just drank.  And then back to the hotel – where I suddenly realised I hadn’t heard from work – so checked my email.  I think the next 20 minutes or so was of me sitting in the darkness at my laptop, muttering obscenities.  But – the upside was that it seemed people had figured out they could do everything required without my intervention – and the weekend’s work was essentially complete.

But – of course – when I next woke up, it was Monday.  I had already warned the manager that I would probably be working remotely on Monday (his assumption was due to the workload over the weekend).  So – I got up, logged on – and trawled through the emails again – confirming there was nothing urgent for me to do, and I hadn’t missed anything when I’d read them blurry-eyed the previous night.  Forgetting that reading them blurry-eyed in the morning probably isn’t the best ‘double-check’ – but better than none.  And then realised that I probably needed a ticket to fly back to London.  Managed to book the last ticket on the same flight as Justin back to London – and then Justin headed out to find some breakfast while I continued to do work-type stuff.  Fixed a couple of problems, arranged for another one to be fixed first thing the next day – and generally did all the stuff I would normally do on a Monday morning at work.

And then – it was time to return to dirty London.  So – taxi to the airport, and a delicious dutch beer at the airport while playing backgammon and discussing how much prettier the girls are in Europe than England.  And how they all ride bicycles.  Pretty girls on bikes.  It is the first thing I now think of when somebody mentions Amsterdam.  The racial crimes against carrots having been consigned to the past.

And back to London, where Chook & Chris ask me how the drugs and red-light district were.  At which I point out I’m not an English stag-party – and that I went to Amsterdam for the museums.  Which is kinda true.  I think the closest I saw to drugs was detecting a rather distinct smell as I walked past one bar; and the closest to the red light district I saw was a shop window which sold orange football-themed paraphenalia – including a BBQ apron with plastic breasts attached.  And for the rest of the evening I mumble about pretty girls on bicycles, over and over again.

And for the rest of the week – reminisce on how much pretty the girls are in Europe than England.

Work, drink, work, drink, wrink, dork

Kruse Leave a comment

Apologies to the few of you who still logon once in a while to see if I’ve been doing anything interesting.  Firstly – for not writing anything for a while, and secondly – for not doing anything terrible exciting recently.

Yep – since the last time I blathered on about stuff – I worked a couple of weeks in India, and drank at night.  I believe I made a few phone calls from the hotel one night – taking advantage of the fact that I was still awake at what should be a reasonable hour in New Zealand.  Forgetting that despite being awake, I probably wasn’t in any state to make sensible conversation.

Then – back to England (for good – I don’t think I have to go to India again.  Figured I’ve spent about 20% of this year living in the Crowne Plaza Today Gurgaon).  Anyway – back to Ingerlund, where the pattern continued.  Ben is still in the area – so there has been a fair bit of the old binge-drink.  Mine old nemesis.  So – the last few weeks has been a rollercoaster of excessive drinking, excessive working, repeated ad nauseum.

Highlights include:

  • Setal & Mark’s wedding.  Congratulations to them.  Good wedding, and good craic afterwards.
  • The day after Setal’s wedding.  To the best of my knowledge, I bought 18 bottles of champagne that day – although one of them was only a mini-bottle.
  • Last Friday.  Drinks with workmates.  Well – bosses.  A very overpriced bottle of champagne which I couldn’t finish, so took back to my local.
  • Saturday.  John’n’Mel’s leaving drinks.  Drinks in a park, followed by being far far too noisy at Caro’n’Dom’s place.
  • Sunday.  Woke up with bodies strewn throughout my bedroom.  Accidentally left very long message on my boss’ voicemail.  He reckons he couldn’t hear much except bad guitar, and me yelling at somebody about my horse.  Then – went to the local – and treated Caitlin, Chook & Slab to that particular experience.  Slab stuck with me to the end. I spent most of the time working, getting progressively ‘slurrier’ on my conference calls with management-types.
  • Last night – drinks with workmates.  Supposed to be my boss’ leaving drinks – but he’s been coerced into staying a while longer too.  (I was supposed to finish last week – no such luck.)
  • Tonight – supposed to be attending some black-tie function.  It’s kind of like the Oscars, but for computer nerds.  And I’ve been invited!  (Yes – the self-disgust is nearly unbearable.)  Methinks it’s time to get boozed up and try to snatch an award off of somebody, and make a drunken speech.

Bon jour Madame, s’il vous plait, bon appetit, bon soir

Kruse Leave a comment

Well – after nearly two weeks in India, it was time for a long weekend.  And where better for a quick relaxing getaway from Gurgaon, India – then Champagne, France?  So – I flew to gay Paree.  Ben picked me up – and we headed to Champagne.

Checked into a cheap dodgy hotel in Epernay, and then started drinking champagne.  Well – not strictly in that order, but close enough.  I had a bottle at the airport waiting for him.  We had a bottle at lunch in Rheims.  And then I think we checked in.  And went exploring.  Bought some supplies.  Cheese, foie gras, bread, a couple of electric champagne coolers, champagne.  And then decided that the ledge outside our hotel window could quite conceivably function as a balcony.  And that pretty much set-up the template for the weekend.  Cheese, foie gras, pate, champange & music on the balcony.

But then – we decided to fly in extra company.  Caitlin Osborne celebrated her birthday recently – so Ben & I decided to buy her a gift.  Flights for her & her friend from London.  And then – suddenly there were four of us in a small dodgy hotel room.  We did actually try to reserve the room next door – but when we picked up the key, and Ben opened the door to check whether we should steal that room if it was better – it turns out some poor girl had also checked into that room.  So – we were stuck with small room, and balcony.  (I did try sleeping on the balcony one night, but really rather cold.)

But – no matter.  We had everything we needed.  We were worried that two champagne coolers wouldn’t cope with the extra consumers – but good ol’ Rudy at the hotel bar kept us supplied with an ice bucket and a supply of ice.  Put to very good use.

Sunday, we actually ventured out of town – and headed to a nearby lake.  A little swim, and little sun, and a little Flunch.  I don’t like Flunch.  But – it seemed to be the only place open in the entire province on a Sunday.  Except the A&P show – which was weird.

There was a lot of champagne drunk at restaurants.  Our method was to go through the list alphabetically.  I got two email addresses from an aussie girl and a french girl on the first night.  The aussie girl was an air stewardess with Qantas – was with her co-pilot boyfriend – and held both my & Ben’s hands (and eye contact) for far too long during the goodbye handshake.  Far, far too long.  I bought a stop-bouchon.  The best in the world.  Don’t bother trying to look up what that is, because I think mine is the best in the world, because it’s the only one in the world.  And did I mention we drank champagne?  Our balcony had quite an impressive collection of bottles on it when we left.  The huge bag of uneaten food delicacies had been moved into an airtight bag in the bathroom – but the staff refused to take it away.

  • Favourite champagne: Kristal
  • Least favourite food: Flunch
  • Favourite person: Rudy
  • Least favourite person: Little irishman who bragged about buying his girlfriend an expensive watch.  While staying at the Ibis. Notable mentions: Ben, myself.
  • Favourite purchase: stop-bouchon.  Notable mentions: champagne cooler.

And now I’m back in India.  With a couple of good solid 16 hour days to help me recover from the weekend.

Back To Inja

Kruse Leave a comment

Here I am, back in the subcontinent.  And – writing that, I realised for the first time how amusing it is that they call it that.  Because – when you visit here, you’re not necessary incontinent – but usually somewhere close.

Anyway – I realised when I visited family, that when people asked me about India – I didn’t have much to say.  I’d got so used to some of the weirdness, that I couldn’t think of anything interesting.  So – this time, I’m going to try and describe some of the weird and wacky things that go on around here – while I’m still getting reaccustomed to it.  Before seeing a family of 5 travelling on a motorbike becomes ho-hum.

So – the trip here was as usual.  Get to the airport, eat some horrible airport food (I’m sure airport food is worse than airplane food – and you have to pay for it), buy some duty-free – and get on a plane.  Well – in mighty Terminal 5, one of the most modern terminals in the world – get onto a bus, drive across the tarmac, and get onto a plane.  Watched some terrible movies, drank some average wine – and only managed to fall asleep during take-off and landing.   7 hours later, or so – get toNew Delhi, and start to remember the oppressive heat, the pseudo-english on all signs and official paperwork, and filing cabinets packed full of paper, falling apart, in the middle of the luggage pick-up hall.  People wandering around in uniform – presumably doing their job.  Which seems to be wandering around wearing a uniform.  All with a kind of “Oh – what was I going to do?  Hmmm… maybe wipe down some 10-foot high invisible surface for dust.  Now… where did I leave my cloth?”

Got to the hotel, and immediately remembered how mixed one’s feelings are when hotel staff – who haven’t seen you for months, welcome you back with a “Welcome back sir”.  It’s nice to be recognised – but then you think about the reason they actually recognise you.  You’ve 10% of the year staying in a hotel in an industrial city in India.  And about to double that percentage.  And that was before I even got to the bar.  Before I’d come, my workmates had joked that the bar staff would have a ‘Kruse-beer’ waiting for me when I arrived.  I walked in – the barman had just poured what did indeed look to be a ‘Kruse-beer’.  It was obvious he’d poured it for somebody else – but when he saw me he really did exclaim out rather loudly “Mr Kruse!  Would you like a Mr-Kruse-beer Mr Kruse?”.  And handed me the beer.  And thence ensued much shaking of hands with all the bar-staff on that night – welcoming me back and asking how long I was here for this time, etc.  Its depressingly nice to be appreciated.  And – of course, this pattern has continued since I’ve been here, as I continue to see staff for the first time – at the bar, restaurant, exec lounge, drivers, etc.  I think I’ve nearly convinced myself I’m some kind of travelling businessman.

And then – then, I came to work.  Not quite the same reception here.  Well – a  pretence of it, but fairly easily seen through.  Much like my own statements that it was good to be back, I guess.  But – my first day was cheered up a lot when the following happened.  I’d spent most of the morning doing absolutely nothing – waiting for the guy to arrive who was bringing me my laptop.  Turns out he doesn’t start until noon – so I could have had the sleep-in that I desperately needed.  He eventually arrived – and I set myself up in a meeting room which had been turned into a cramped little office with about 8 desktops.  A small group of people turn up at the door – and ask me if we’re using the projector.  Yep – that one, attached to the ceiling.  “No” – I say, because I wasn’t.  They look at each other, and nod that it would suffice.  I didn’t think too much about it – but assumed they’d come in soon and ask if they could borrow the room.  But no – two chaps walk in 10 minutes later – climb on the desk, and start unplugging the cords that go into it.  At which point – my interest is definitely piqued.  This projector is mounted onto the roof.  With a steel bracket.  It also has one of those steel cords used to secure laptops, and projectors.  And – all the cords are wired into the ceiling.  But – they set about their work.  They unplug all the cords – assuming, I guess, that they can find replacement cords somewhere else where they want to plug it in.  They succeed at unplugging the cords – but then, suddenly, look at the next bridge to cross.  Hmmm…. screwed onto a steel bracket which looks to extend well into the ceiling.  And a security cable which is designed to stop this very thing happening.  But – at least that has a key to open it.  So – they do some thinking, and then disappear.  One guy returns 20 minutes later with a pair of pliers, and a loose hacksaw blade.  And sets about it.  At this point, I really was a happy chap again.  I sat there working, stifling laughter, watching this guy attack a top-brand laptop security cable with a hacksaw blade.  No hacksaw – just the blade.  And – full credit to the guy – he stayed there until he did it.  I’ve just had to look the product up – and he sawed through a “Super-strong, steel composite cable with carbon tempered steel core” with a hacksaw blade.  After that – it was a simple matter to unscrew the project from it’s mounting – and off they go.

But, of course, there is also the irritating stuff to go with the comedy.  Walk outside at anytime there are a lot of people leaving work (which seems to be every half-hour) – and the little dirt-road outside is packed full of cars and people-movers – all waiting for people, or full of people and trying to leave – honking their horns at each other.  Absolute chaos.  But – I’m not sure if making this loud obnoxious noise is actually trying to let one of the 12 cars in front of them know that they’re trying to get through.  Because – nearly every truck you see is painted in bright colours – with “Horn Please” painted on the back.  Maybe truck-drivers here are just all gay?

Other things are just different.  I was here at 3am last night – and discovered that one guy’s job is to walk around the building at 3am – giving out snacks to everybody working at that hour, and getting them to write their name in the accompanying book.  I guess this is fair – because the daystaff get free lunch and/or dinner at the cafeteria (which seems to have completely stopped serving food I recognise.  I used to be able to at least hope I could recognise some chicken or lamb… not thus far this time).  And I don’t know how many security guards the office building employs – but it would easily be enough to stand shoulder-to-shoulder around the external perimeter.  And the one time I saw one seem to actually try to secure something – was my first morning.  There is a little card reader which you’re supposed to swipe your card past when you enter.  And – another one when you leave, for some reason.  All this reader seems to do is beep – and flash green if you’re a good guy.  It still beeps if you swipe an expired card, or a cellphone, or anything.  But – it doesn’t flash green.  The guys sitting at this desk can’t actually see the light.  But – my first morning – one of the guards was standing up in the passageway.  And – he seemed to actually lean around to see what colour the light went for my card.  Probably new on the job.  In any case – my card was expired, the light didn’t go green, and I walked on in.  He’d already gone beyond the call of duty, I guess.  Oh – to be fair – there is another of these machines which is treated much more seriously.  In the cafeteria – you have to swipe your card before getting your food.  And if you don’t have a card – you have to sign the book, and then get your food.  There are two stations – with one security guard each – and these guys take their job seriously.  Governments of the world – take note… unemployment could be a thing of the past.

And… the hotel.  I have a King room this time.  Which has an extra metre of space than the Superior.  Exactly the same in all other respects.  Including as to ‘which way around’ it is.  ie: some rooms are mirror images of others.  I have had the same orientation every time now.  I wonder if it’s in their records – they don’t want to confuse me.  And I haev discovered the wonders of a long-handled shoehorn.  I never respected shoehorns until last year – when I decided to buy one, with the intention of it being the first of a collection.  But it was a short-handled one.  Never again.  Not after tasting the delights of the long-handle.

There have been a few changes around the hotel since I’ve been away – not sure I agree with them all.  I now need to insert my keycard in the lift to get to my floor.  They’ve removed the tables and chairs from the grassy plaza – which means no place to sit, but now there is actually healthy grass across the entire thing.  The cigar case has been replaced with a champagne case.  Mixed feelings about that one.  The security guards have been expanding their borders – and now stop cars 50 metres further away from the hotel – to check for bombs and what-not in the boot or engine compartment.  And apparently there’s some awful musician who plays in the bar on Fridays&Saturdays.

Unfortunately – neither the movies nor menu have changed.

But – all-in-all, I’m back in India.  It’s pretty hot.  There’s only one other work guy here at the moment, and I haven’t seen him since my first night.  At least I’ve got my work to keep me company – otherwise I’d be one of those sad guys who drinks alone.  So – I’m about to have a meeting, and then see if I can sneak off back to the hotel before the restaurant closes.

Whanau

Kruse Leave a comment

And so – I managed to escape Brisbane.  Did I mention I threw up in the airport toilet in the process?  I hope not.  Had one or two last not-so-delicious australian beers (at least they didn’t have razor blades in them) – and got myself on a plane.  To Auckland.  So – need to buy some duty-free before I get on the domestic flight to Wellington.  I’d forgotten how absolutely ridiculous New Zealand’s duty-free allowance is.  6 bottles of wine PLUS two bottles of spirits.  For a man with my condition (can’t remember what the doctor called it – but the main symptom is feeling it necessary to make the ABSOLUTE most of any duty-free allowance) – this is dangerous.  So – I walk through customs with my suitcase, a backpack, 6 bottles of champagne, and two bottles of spirits.  And then remember that Auckland’s international & domestic terminals are not in the same building.  And are, in fact, quite a distance apart.  And it’s raining.  And – I’m running very low on time to catch my flight to Wellington.  So – walk through the rain to the domestic terminal, laden with baggage and booze.  Get there pretty much right on time – and discover Air New Zealand’s new domestic self-check-in process.  Awesome.  Except I’ve got no brain anymore, so let the nice lady do it for me.  The nice lady doesn’t seem to concerned that despite the fact I’m about to get on a fairly small plane, with a carry-on limit of one bag – I am carrying a backpack plus several large bags of duty-free.  Nice lady.  Anyway – eventually get to Wellington, and get myself a delicious NZ beer.  Pen picks me up – and it’s back to her flat.  Which is stupid.  Stupidly cool – with a view which would cost about a million pounds if it was in England.  I assume there was polite chit-chat.  Can’t really remember – brain had shut-down by that point.  Had a shower – I know that much.  Was pretty much compulsory – otherwise I think Pen & Ruth would have very much regretted my sharing a room with them.

Next morning – went a-drivin’.  Dropped Pen off at some appointment for testing at a temp agency.  Then figured I wasn’t really sure how to get back to her place – so instead went to Real Groovy.  Bought quite a few NZ CDs.  Then – out to Newtown for nostalgia.  New hospital, you know?  And back to town – just in time for Pen not to realise I never received her SMS message – and pick her up.  Met Matt for lunch.  He talked about weddings and stuff.  Not a good subject for me, after the week I’d just been subjected to.   And then supermarket – to buy ingredients for a dinner which apparently I was cooking for everybody.  Which I did, and did damned well.  Of course.  And drank champagne.  And there was a few people there – not going to try to list them, because it would be highly embarassing if I missed somebody.  It was good to see you all though.  Bob’n’Jo’s little girl was there – so I’ll mention her.  Nice little girl.  Sensibly scared of the crazy champagne-man initially.  Very sensible.  And eventually people drifted off home.  Until there was only myself & Pen left – drinking champagne.   So – we drank champagne.  It was for a good cause – as the next day I was to get on a very very small plane, and I had very little room for all this booze.

So – the next day, I believe I arrived at the airport with two bottles of champagne, and one bottle of whiskey.  Caught a little aeroplane up to Rotorua – and then the Family Circuit began.  Hadn’t seen anybody since March 2007 – so it was good.  Started with the Little Sister, the Not-So-Little Niece, and Mum for a quick lunch at the airport.  Back to Angela’s place – and met Meiken’s father.  Didn’t have enough time to get him drunk and the customary grilling – so that’ll have to wait.  Anyway – down to Hawke’s Bay – and a quick visit to Grandmother, Aunt, and some Cousins.  Then – a quick visit to Hayden, and his new son.  Who’d better keep his dirty eyes off of my niece.  And – a couple of nights in Reporoa with Mum&Basil.  A lunch on Saturday for Mum’s birthday.  Drank some champagne, of course.

And, finally, my suitcase was empty.  No more gifts.  So – time to start buying clothes to wear.  Bought some stuff in Taupo.  Line 7 was going out of business – so instead of going to their store in Rotorua where everything was cheap-as-chups, I went to Taupo and bought some jeans full-price from some horrible store which didn’t seem to be at all ashamed that they sold Airtex, RM Williams, and other similar ‘menswear’.  And then – up to Hamilton.  Got a little lost, as they’ve completely redone SH1 through the area I was looking to go.  So – my proper prior preparation (a search on Google Maps) – was useless.  The upside, however, was that I found myself near a liquor store.  So – bought some beer, a stubby holder, and – of course – champagne.  Eventually found the house I was looking for – and outside, on rollerblades, were two young girls.  So – I drove up onto the footpath, and got ready to run them over.  Unluckily, one of them turned around and saw me.  Seemed rather startled and scared.  The other turned around also – and then shrieked “Uncle Kruse!”.  So – had dinner with Lyn&MrLyn, Heather&MrHeather, Shainee & Tylah.  Drank some champagne.  And – some of NZ’s own Daniel Le Brut Methode Traditionelle, as from memory it is pretty much as good as champagne – but I’d never tried it side-by-side an actual champagne.  And – I wanted to see if it had razor blades in it.  From memory – it is pretty much as good as champagne.  And I don’t think it had razor blades.  Great news.  Anyway – stayed up for a while, and didn’t make the same mistake twice.  This new chap of Heather’s wasn’t going to get away as easy as Angela’s chap.  Got myself and him good and drunk, and had chit-chat.  He seems nice enough.  Dealt with my drunken ramblings well enough anyway.

Next day – took the girls shopping.  I’d missed a couple of birthdays and a couple of christmases – so Shainee, Tylah & I got in the car and drove into town.  I’d explained the concept to them – that they pretty much had free rein.  But – they still insisted on going to the $2 Store first.  Fine – I thought, this will be cheaper than I thought.  So – we found a $2 store, I gave them a basket – and told them they had ten minutes to fill it.  I was lying – they could stay as long as they wanted, really.  At first – they kept finding something, and asking me if they could have it.  After a couple of times where I said “of course – have what you want” – they finally got the idea.  And then lost the plot.  Mostly – good sensible ridiculous $2 Store purchases.  But when Shainee held something up, and asked if she could have it – I looked at it as it seemed to be a shower cap.  Indeed – it was.  “Why do you want that?  It’s a shower cap.”  “Because it says ‘Beauty’ on the packaging.”  “It’s a shower cap!”  …  “Sure – if you want it.  Up to you.  nutter.”  So – they eventually got bored – and I took the basket up to the counter.  We had carnival masks, wigs, pom-poms, stickers, rubber sticky hands, crossword books, pens, nail polish, bubble-blowers, and plenty of stuff I’ve forgotten about.  And a shower-cap.  So – dropped that lot off in the car, and went looking for more shops.  Lo-and-behold, the first thing we come across which piques interest is another $2 shop.  So – the madness starts again.  This store seemed to be more homely crap though – not toys and cool stuff.  But that didn’t stop the girls.  They decided they were going to buy little ornament things of all descriptions.  And some empty boxes.  Not sure why they wanted empty boxes.  The ornament things came in boxes anyway – so they were getting boxes for free.  But – to be fair, the empty boxes were pretty boxes.  Just empty.  Then – we walked past an ice-cream joint.  So – icecreams.  And then we found a little store which seemed to sell nothing but faux-jewellery.  I guess there probably is quite a market for that kind of thing in Hamilton.  Seeing as my original plan was to buy them some actual jewellery – I figured it would be dumb to refuse their request to buy the pretty sparkling plastic stuff instead.  By now – I think they’d really figured out what was going on.  And after arguments about who was to decide the next store – I got led to a clothing store.  Now – I usually refuse to buy sensible stuff as gifts for children – and I consider clothing to be horribly sensible.  But – it was their choice.  And – to make me feel better, they certainly didn’t buy sensible stuff.  In the middle of winter, they headed towards the swimsuit section.  And so – they got a little swimsuit each, and I believe Tylah got a pair of very summery shoes, and Shainee a very summery dress.  Or the other way around.  Something like that.  And the store girl refused to stop giving me the eye.  Which is odd – as I must have looked like a runaway father who comes back once or twice a year to spoil his girls and pretend to be a good father.  But – I guess, once again, there’s probably quite a market for that kind of thing in Hamilton.  By this time, I’d found out that Shainee seemed to think she needed a new stereo.  So – to get away from the soulless bland nasty piece of work which is a shopping mall – we headed back to the car – and I found a big electronics store.  Found a portable CD player, which is apparently the same as the one their teacher has at school.  So – we’ll have one of those for each of the girls please.  And one of those new-fangled nerd-game things where you can pretend you’re not a nerd playing it because you have to move around.  Yeah – that’s it, a Wii.  And some games for that please.  And, while waiting for the nice man to pretend to make up some kind of deal for me – little MP3 players are spotted.  Shainee & Tylah reckon they used to have MP3 players, but they got lost.  So – we’ll throw those into the bundle.

And then – off to meet Heather&MrHeather & Lyn&MrLyn for lunch.  The girls, of course, did babble a bit about what they’d bought.  But – they did manage to do it remarkably well.  Started off raving about the little cheap things they had.  Then, after ten minutes or so – they’d casually mention new clothes.  Ten minutes later, it would somehow come up that they had new stereos.  And then when Heather jokingly says “I thought I told you to get a Nintendo Wii” – they casually respond as if she’s crazy – “Yeah, we got one of them” – with an expression stating “of course!”  And I eventually find 0ut that their MP3 players aren’t really lost – but they’ve just forgotten where they are.  Oh well.  After lunch – I drop into one of those touristy “New Zealand Store” type places.  Looking for clothing (as I’ve spotted a niche market in London.  What if, as a New Zealander, I was to wear t-shirts/clothing which make it blindingly obvious that I’m a New Zealander?  Nobody’s thought of that, I reckon.)  Anyway, the girls of course spot some things that they’d like.  So – I fail at buying anything for myself (or maybe I found my “Sweet As” shirt there?) – but the girls get a few final things.  Back to Heather’s place – and when I unload the car, the lounge floor is an absolute mess.  I stick around long enough to help pack all the crap away (most of the stuff is never going to be seen or thought of again, I realise immediately) – and then watch them play the Wii for a short time.  And then – into the car, and drive back to Rotorua.

And then – off to Taranaki.  Got to Stratford – and let Dad&Maria go gaa-gaa over Meiken for an evening.  Fair enough.  The next day – went up to New Plymouth to see Grandma&Grandad.  Had lunch with them, and they also went crazy over Meiken.  Again – fair enough.  Eventually we left, to return to Stratford.  Dropped off in Stratford, and I bought some beers.  And champagne, of course.  I hadn’t realised how amusing it can be to buy a bottle of champagne.  In Stratford – it is amusing.  I walk up to the counter with a single bottle of wine, and a six-pack of beer.  The nice man rings it through – looks at the total to read out to me, and does a double-take.  Quickly looks at what he’s rung through – double-checks the price in the computer, and then reads the total price to me nonchalantly as if he had always known it would be that much.  Excellent.  Back to Dad’s place – and had dinner with Dad&Maria & Nikki&Daniel.

Next day – I held Meiken for the first time.  I realise I haven’t described Meiken until this point, and that was deliberate.  Also – it was kind of deliberate that I hadn’t held Meiken until now.  She’d held my hand, and laughed at me a few times (who hasn’t?) – but I’m not one to go pushing for a chance to hold a baby.  The mother will usually offer at an appropriate time.  (It was kind of amusing to watch Angela continuously try to drop hints at people “Yes, you’re tired now aren’t you little girl?  It’s time to sleep isn’t it?”, etc.)  So – in the morning before we left Stratford, I held the little bundle of joy.  Well – not so little.  Meiken is huge.  I got in trouble for referring to her as a monster.  Which I guess is fair enough, because not all monsters are big.  But lots of them are.  And so is Meiken.  And she doesn’t know how to cry – which is pretty sweet.  She does, however, seem pretty smart.  Is quite good at following a moving object around with her eyes – even if she wasn’t quite strong enough yet to completely turn her head as well.  Nearly though.  She takes after her uncle in quite a few ways, actually.  Sunday child.  Well behaved.  A big strong bear.  Smart (despite appearance & behaviour).  Eldest child, grandchild, and great-grandchild.  (Well – she didn’t quite meet this criteria on all sides of the family.  But – pretty much so.)  And, as the saying goes, ‘cute as a button’.

But – anyway, back to the boring chronological narrative.  Mount Taranaki refused to get rid of it’s cloud shroud, so Angela’s planned photo oppurtunity of Uncle Kruse & Neice Meiken in front of the mountain didn’t quite pan out as well as hoped.  Still – one day we’ll get a photo of us together on the top of it instead.  So – we left Stratford in enough time to get to New Plymouth for another lunch with Grandma&Grandad.  And then – drove back to Reporoa.  Dinner in Reporoa, and then back to Rotorua.  So that I could get about three hours worth of sleep – before waking up at 2 am – in order to catch a shuttle-van to Auckland Airport.  Good plan.  Got to the airport, and bought up on t-shirts to wear in London that state I’m a New Zealander.  Because, as stated previously, there certainly isn’t enough people already doing that.

And then I got to Melbourne.  Time for duty-free shopping.  So – again, more champagne.  Including an impulse purchase of a very very nice bottle of Krug.  And then a taxi to some dairy (or milk bar, or corner store) – near Elise’s house.  She reckoned she’d left her house key with the nice man behind the counter.  So – I gave the password (“champagne”) – and then found my way to Elise’s place.  Had a quick meal of some packet nonsense – put the champagne in the fridge to chill, and then fell asleep.  Woke up in enough time to have a shower, and then read some teenage fantasy while waiting for the allocated time to meet Nathan, Dave, and other miscreants at a local bar.  So – I was sitting quite comfortably, reading ‘young adult fantasy’ (which sounds much more interesting than it really is) – and sipping upon champagne when Nathan turned up.  Somehow he’d smelt champagne, and therefore instead of going to the bar where we were to meet – he instead followed his nose like the dog he is.  He was just in time to have some of the last of the bottle of Krug.  Which, we both agreed, was possibly the most delicious bottle of champagne we’d ever tasted.  So much so, in fact, that when we moved onto the lesser stuff – it really was quite the disappointment.  But – it was necessary, so we moved onto the lesser stuff.  I should have known better, to be fair, than listen to an arsetralian duty-free worker give me suggestions on champagne.  Anyway – we polished off another bottle – and then went to the bar/restaurant for dinner.  And champagne.  And we drank, and we were merry.  Most things are a little fuzzy – but I know that at some point we went to another bar.  And this second bar had more champagne – and for some reason I bought the most expensive bottle, despite it being at that time of night where a bottle of Bernadino would probably have tasted the same.  Instead – some vintage Veuve, I believe.  Or something.  It was a vintage anyway, and expensive.  And not as delicious as the Krug.  I think I bought some wasabi peas also – to be a responsible host.  And then we got kicked out.  And because I was wearing a hoodie – and that’s what people wearing hoodies do – I believe I took my half-empty bottle of expensive champagne with me.  But – this really is all assumption.  All I know is that I woke up the next morning, in Elise’s bed with Elise – while Jess & Dave were on an airbed in the lounge.  There was an empty bottle of champagne on the table – and not a bottle I’d bought duty-free.  So – we headed off for breakfast.  Elise, Jess & I met up with Caroline somewhere.  The somewhere unfortunately sold champagne.  I think.  Or maybe it was just aussie stuff.  In any case, I bought a bottle – mostly to scare Nathan if he turned up.  He didn’t.  So – I had a glass or two and then left the bottle.  And we went next door to wear little Caroline Jones designs, makes and sells jewellery.  And it’s pretty awesome.  Initially – I thought it was all cool, but there was nothing that I’d really wear myself.  Then – looking through a folder of photos of her work – I came across a photo of the same cufflinks I’d already seen but decided I didn’t really like.  After seeing the photo, though, somehow I changed my mind.  Had another look at them ‘in the flesh’ – and decided I’d have ‘em.  Which was a wise decision – as they go very well with some ridiculous shirt I bought from a NZ designer at Auckland airport.  Also – got myself a ring.  And decided I’d made a wise purchase when I got back to London – and two different people gave me shit about it.  Because it was those two specific people – I decided it must be a very nice ring if they didn’t like it.  Anyway – if you haven’t seen Cazz’s stuff – you should.  It made me really quite humbled to see how talented she is.  And she’s making actual stuff – very cool stuff.  Thought up from in her own head.  And then I turn up to work and bang away on a keyboard all day – with nothing concrete to show for it.  Dumb.  Anyway – go see Cazz’s stuff.  While I try to think up some ideas to get her to make for me.  I promised I’d hire her on commission – but forgot that my weakness isn’t just not being able to make stuff – but I’m awful at the ideas part as well.

But – that was the end of my time in Melbourne.  Went to the airport, and got myself on a jet plane.  Which, it turns out, was heading to Singapore.  Luckily – it then went from Singapore to Dubai – but I’d never realised it stopped at Singapore.  And – on the plane, I plugged my very nice expensive earplugs into my seat.  Then, felt rather ill.  Went to find something to drink, and try not to faint.  Went to the toilet – where I discovered about a dozen wasabi peas down my pants.  Very strange.  Then – found some empty seats and lay down.  Returned to my seat for landing – and my nice expensive earphones were gone.  Dumb.  Landing in Singapore, which I didn’t expect – and lost my earphones.  Asked the cabin staff about it – but they reckoned they hadn’t taken them.  Stayed on the plane – watched the people come and replace blankets, etc.  Finally took off again.  Got to Dubai – and did some quick duty-free shopping.  No champagne this time – just whiskey.  I have discovered that champagne doesn’t last very long – whereas whiskey, well – my collection is slowly growing.

Eventually got to London.  And straight onto the tubes.  Within 2 minutes, I felt like I’d never left.  Got to Oval – and dropped in at the Greyhound for a couple of pints.  Stayed there as long as possible – but I quickly realised that I was very very tired, and very very smelly.  Eventually headed home – and stayed awake for as long as possible.  Not long.  And thus – I was ‘home’ again.  With work tomorrow.  And – of course – at least several days of screwed up sleep patterns.  (That first week back at work – I was early every day – usually by about an hour.  So – employers, take note.  Want to see me in the office early?  Send me on holiday to the other side of the world.)