Apparenetly I'll pick it all up in no time at all... Did anyone order a tripple shot venti skinny gingerbread latte with no whip, for here in a paper cup? Gosh i hope not, because that means i have to make it. Worse than that i have to slam it down on the end of the bar and shout all that rubbish at the top of my voice. It was all going pretty well until i realised i kept on shouting GingerNut Latte, and one of my co-baristas warned me i may offend some ginger haired folk.
Also my initial excitment at clearing tables was quickly dulled by doing it for eight hours in a row. It's rediculous how much my feet sweat and ache. As i was cleaning the toilets the other night too i decide there must be more to life. I had similar thoughts as my head was deep inside a massive fridge removing a couple of litres of whole milk from the bottom, using little more than an oversized toilet roll. Oh well there's no point crying over spilt milk....or latte for that matter.
I'm still trying to find my feet. When i do i'm sure they'll stink of sweat and spilt milk.
The job hunt continues.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Memoirs of a Barista
When all you can smell is coffee and serenity. When the music is bland, but familiar. The colours contemporary and the art mediocre, where are you but Starbucks? I slid my green apron of the day over my H&M black shirt (£14.99, bought yesterday) armed myself with a clearing tray that just about exactly the wrong size, pressed my buttocks against the door and faced a hoard of sneering dirty tables.
It was my OJE today. Not half as exciting as the OE the Kiwis always talked about, which involved them going overseas for a year. OJE is On the Job Experience, the final round as it were in the interview process for my first real world job, since travelling – Barista, Starbucks, Morningside, Edinburgh. I was being assessed in a few different areas, most of which I can’t remember now, as they were overshadowed somewhat by one massive area. Which at best could be called peer assessment and at worst gang initiation: the opinion of the other staff.
I coasted around from table to table, perfecting my technique. Being a rooky I went for the empty tables first. Remembering to replace the chairs as I went. A top tip from the bleached-blonde spiked-hair, punk-chick who was my shift supervisor. There was a mute understanding that she was ultimately the one I had to impress. So I listened and did exactly as she said. The battle was a short one, the sneering dirty tables quickly became shining examples of decorum. They were IKEA clean. I made a good job of them, slowly sliding the last chair home, partially delay the second battle.
The second battle involved a lot of leaning over and interrupting. I loved it. There are worlds in Starbucks, floating above tables in conversations. Him and her, students. Him and her and the daughter, Family. “Sorry, can I take these?” Of course of course. Yes. “Sorry are you finished with that?” Thanks mate. I’m a privileged interplanetary traveller, leaning my head in through the atmosphere, into his divorce, her essay, his school play. Then out again and they barely notice at all.
I do a stock take. Of course I get it all wrong and quickly admit it, which is what you’re supposed to do. I introduce myself a lot, shake some hands etc. Ask questions about where stuff goes. Use the dishwasher, forget some peoples names and pretty much I’m done.
Apparently it went well. During the first half of my interview, yesterday, the manager had nonchalantly admitted that he liked me. I made him laugh a couple of times, so I figured I was on to a winner anyway. We shall see…
It was my OJE today. Not half as exciting as the OE the Kiwis always talked about, which involved them going overseas for a year. OJE is On the Job Experience, the final round as it were in the interview process for my first real world job, since travelling – Barista, Starbucks, Morningside, Edinburgh. I was being assessed in a few different areas, most of which I can’t remember now, as they were overshadowed somewhat by one massive area. Which at best could be called peer assessment and at worst gang initiation: the opinion of the other staff.
I coasted around from table to table, perfecting my technique. Being a rooky I went for the empty tables first. Remembering to replace the chairs as I went. A top tip from the bleached-blonde spiked-hair, punk-chick who was my shift supervisor. There was a mute understanding that she was ultimately the one I had to impress. So I listened and did exactly as she said. The battle was a short one, the sneering dirty tables quickly became shining examples of decorum. They were IKEA clean. I made a good job of them, slowly sliding the last chair home, partially delay the second battle.
The second battle involved a lot of leaning over and interrupting. I loved it. There are worlds in Starbucks, floating above tables in conversations. Him and her, students. Him and her and the daughter, Family. “Sorry, can I take these?” Of course of course. Yes. “Sorry are you finished with that?” Thanks mate. I’m a privileged interplanetary traveller, leaning my head in through the atmosphere, into his divorce, her essay, his school play. Then out again and they barely notice at all.
I do a stock take. Of course I get it all wrong and quickly admit it, which is what you’re supposed to do. I introduce myself a lot, shake some hands etc. Ask questions about where stuff goes. Use the dishwasher, forget some peoples names and pretty much I’m done.
Apparently it went well. During the first half of my interview, yesterday, the manager had nonchalantly admitted that he liked me. I made him laugh a couple of times, so I figured I was on to a winner anyway. We shall see…
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Parklife additional
Two men one approximately 20m in front of the other, dressing identically, walking backwards, with a morose look upon there faces. There skill at not bumping into anyone (rare in China) and the severity of their faces leads me to believe this was not a one off venture.
Speaking of bumping into people Lucia and i played a game today where we tried to get the subway somewhere, without touching a single human being. It lasted barely a minute, we didn't make it anywhere near the subway. And we were leaping left and right with the agility of elves or monkeys.
Monkeys. I saw about five hundred (not really) monkeys in the zoo the other day. There was a sign that said, "Please don't feed the monkeys, it makes them sick." I can only assume that the Chinese translation went something along the lines of, "Please feed the monkeys, it's funny," judging, that is, by the amount of people feeding them with glee. Or maybe even "Please feed the monkeys, it's funny, especially shoes." Because there were at least three shoes in there (really- and they didn't match), being chewed on by the monkeys.
Monkeys and Pandas. I saw Giant Pandas for the first time in my life. It was vaguely satisfying, but i couldn't escape the uncomfortable thought that this was not a Panda at all. But in fact a fat man in a Panda suit, in a cage, through some kind of perversion.
Got my hair cut the other day for 80p. Can't complain. That was my second ever time in a hairdressers, my friend recommended a place. There are some very very dodgy hairdressers, with suspiciously under used equipment and supeciously over dressed hairdressers - we're not talking evening wear here. Maybe i should say underdressed. I don't know. Very dodgy anyway.
Ran over a cyclist today in a car; he was alright, mostly they are. Nearly got run over by a van too. It had to skid, that was new.
Speaking of bumping into people Lucia and i played a game today where we tried to get the subway somewhere, without touching a single human being. It lasted barely a minute, we didn't make it anywhere near the subway. And we were leaping left and right with the agility of elves or monkeys.
Monkeys. I saw about five hundred (not really) monkeys in the zoo the other day. There was a sign that said, "Please don't feed the monkeys, it makes them sick." I can only assume that the Chinese translation went something along the lines of, "Please feed the monkeys, it's funny," judging, that is, by the amount of people feeding them with glee. Or maybe even "Please feed the monkeys, it's funny, especially shoes." Because there were at least three shoes in there (really- and they didn't match), being chewed on by the monkeys.
Monkeys and Pandas. I saw Giant Pandas for the first time in my life. It was vaguely satisfying, but i couldn't escape the uncomfortable thought that this was not a Panda at all. But in fact a fat man in a Panda suit, in a cage, through some kind of perversion.
Got my hair cut the other day for 80p. Can't complain. That was my second ever time in a hairdressers, my friend recommended a place. There are some very very dodgy hairdressers, with suspiciously under used equipment and supeciously over dressed hairdressers - we're not talking evening wear here. Maybe i should say underdressed. I don't know. Very dodgy anyway.
Ran over a cyclist today in a car; he was alright, mostly they are. Nearly got run over by a van too. It had to skid, that was new.
Friday, March 03, 2006
Parklife
It's all about your joggers who go round and round and round.
And lots of old people doing very odd things.
There are loads of parks in Beijing. They all cost less than fifty pence to get into and house a veritable menagerie of oriental delights. For example the Pagoda, the Rockery and the Outdoor Gymnasium. What, Outdoor Gym? That's right. At first glance an unsuspecting westerner would suppose the apparatus to be some kind of children's play park, brightly coloured as it is, surrounded by rubber flooring for all those little fumbles, falls and trips. However momentarily you will notice that these are not children at all (or very ugly, wrinkely children), but full grown adults.
Now your average frequenter of a British park would not be given to labourious exercise. Aside from the joggers, most care to do little more than the odd stretch to feed that poor little duck at the back who doesn't seem to be getting any. Not so in China. Elderly men and women, all be it quite half assed with a fag hanging out of their mouths, are truly exercising. It does hold the gaze (which in China also isn't rude. If i wanted too i could march right up to some old man, stand over him and shout "ji se te" all i wanted, it still wouldn't be rude. Like the man beside me slurpping his noodles - not rude or the man in the park farting very very loudly, but thankfully not so close to me - still still not rude) .
But your gaze will quickly be diverted by some loud, consistent and multiple chanting. Forty or so women and two men, one seemingly quite drunk, doing some form of Aerobics. No not Aerobics, dance. No that's not right, Ti Chi. No, way too militant for Ti Chi. They're doing something anyway, involving shouting and digging your thumbs into your back as if you were a doctor making some kind of incision. The drunk guy could do it all with his eyes closed. He didn't need to look at the intense young lady with loads of makeup on, and i suspect though i was nowhere near close enough, lipstick on her teeth, who was leading the whole affair. I walked off, suddenly suspecting it was purely something they do for kicks when an unsuspecting white guy walks by.
Parks are where Chinese people come to get away with doing whatever the heck they want. Middle aged men fly kites for hours, couples kiss, people drink a lot of tea from large flasks. Today a lady, without provocation sreamed, or rather shrieked at a tree she was passing. It didn't reply, as it appeared she was expecting. Her husband didn't bat an eyelid. I saw a man delight himself by swinging his arms around like he was being attacked by a swarm of bees that only he could see. Frequently men break into song, operatic song. There's the odd tree caressing. A man today appeared to be impersonating a bull with an itch against a tree trunk. (The trees are all carefully labelled and photos are taken which are displayed in "foyer" of the park. Presumably it's for those who want to see the trees, but don't have the time to actually have a walk around.)
And of course there are the joggers who go round and round and round....
...wearing suits. The Chinese it seems don't change for exercise. On the way home from work, pop into the park, couple of dashes round in the style of British-man-trying-to-catch-bus and your're good.
And lots of old people doing very odd things.
There are loads of parks in Beijing. They all cost less than fifty pence to get into and house a veritable menagerie of oriental delights. For example the Pagoda, the Rockery and the Outdoor Gymnasium. What, Outdoor Gym? That's right. At first glance an unsuspecting westerner would suppose the apparatus to be some kind of children's play park, brightly coloured as it is, surrounded by rubber flooring for all those little fumbles, falls and trips. However momentarily you will notice that these are not children at all (or very ugly, wrinkely children), but full grown adults.
Now your average frequenter of a British park would not be given to labourious exercise. Aside from the joggers, most care to do little more than the odd stretch to feed that poor little duck at the back who doesn't seem to be getting any. Not so in China. Elderly men and women, all be it quite half assed with a fag hanging out of their mouths, are truly exercising. It does hold the gaze (which in China also isn't rude. If i wanted too i could march right up to some old man, stand over him and shout "ji se te" all i wanted, it still wouldn't be rude. Like the man beside me slurpping his noodles - not rude or the man in the park farting very very loudly, but thankfully not so close to me - still still not rude) .
But your gaze will quickly be diverted by some loud, consistent and multiple chanting. Forty or so women and two men, one seemingly quite drunk, doing some form of Aerobics. No not Aerobics, dance. No that's not right, Ti Chi. No, way too militant for Ti Chi. They're doing something anyway, involving shouting and digging your thumbs into your back as if you were a doctor making some kind of incision. The drunk guy could do it all with his eyes closed. He didn't need to look at the intense young lady with loads of makeup on, and i suspect though i was nowhere near close enough, lipstick on her teeth, who was leading the whole affair. I walked off, suddenly suspecting it was purely something they do for kicks when an unsuspecting white guy walks by.
Parks are where Chinese people come to get away with doing whatever the heck they want. Middle aged men fly kites for hours, couples kiss, people drink a lot of tea from large flasks. Today a lady, without provocation sreamed, or rather shrieked at a tree she was passing. It didn't reply, as it appeared she was expecting. Her husband didn't bat an eyelid. I saw a man delight himself by swinging his arms around like he was being attacked by a swarm of bees that only he could see. Frequently men break into song, operatic song. There's the odd tree caressing. A man today appeared to be impersonating a bull with an itch against a tree trunk. (The trees are all carefully labelled and photos are taken which are displayed in "foyer" of the park. Presumably it's for those who want to see the trees, but don't have the time to actually have a walk around.)
And of course there are the joggers who go round and round and round....
...wearing suits. The Chinese it seems don't change for exercise. On the way home from work, pop into the park, couple of dashes round in the style of British-man-trying-to-catch-bus and your're good.
more info
Copy of the email lucia sent:
The yellow thing, on the right, well something very like it, something pretty much identical, has been living under my skin, on that little red area I asked you to inspect, for the last 6 weeks or more.?It 'popped out' after the doctor squeezed and prodded the area a lot today.?How unbelievably gross is that.?If he hadn't got it out, evenutally it would have come out itself, as a fly!?Yes a fly would have flown out of my skin.?This is possibly the most disgusting experience of my爀ntire life.?And I am very very grateful to the doctor for squeezing and poking my skin and not just prescribing me more antibiotics.?So it wasn't just a sting, no, not just an infected bite, not even an abcess, it was this botfly larvae, growing inside my flesh.
The yellow thing, on the right, well something very like it, something pretty much identical, has been living under my skin, on that little red area I asked you to inspect, for the last 6 weeks or more.?It 'popped out' after the doctor squeezed and prodded the area a lot today.?How unbelievably gross is that.?If he hadn't got it out, evenutally it would have come out itself, as a fly!?Yes a fly would have flown out of my skin.?This is possibly the most disgusting experience of my爀ntire life.?And I am very very grateful to the doctor for squeezing and poking my skin and not just prescribing me more antibiotics.?So it wasn't just a sting, no, not just an infected bite, not even an abcess, it was this botfly larvae, growing inside my flesh.
Halmiltonian
Robert, a whole entry dedicated to the hamiltonian....
...i believe it's merely an operator which when applied to a wave function provides the energy eigenvalues.
Though i do believe with more surety that i got a nine out of twenty in that module. Which to you less mathematically minded is less than half. So i wouldn't listen to anything i say.
...i believe it's merely an operator which when applied to a wave function provides the energy eigenvalues.
Though i do believe with more surety that i got a nine out of twenty in that module. Which to you less mathematically minded is less than half. So i wouldn't listen to anything i say.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Made in China
So all my possessions have come home. I feel sad i didn't bring more of them with me for this pilgrimage to the home land.
Seven years in Tibet
Not really, more like two weeks in Beijing. Yesterday i realised something rather profound. I really don't hate this place.
There are so many many reasons why i should hate this place. I'll give you but i few, because then maybe you'll still come.
It has a smell...not a good one. I can't read anything. I can't speak to anyone. It's freezing, all the lakes are frozen. People push you all day long and your preceived personal space (the amount of room a person needs to breathe, respire, exist etc) is somewhere between minimal and negligible. You can't go fifteen seconds with out hearing someone clearing their throat into their mouth and spitting. You can't walk fifteen feeteen feet without stepping in the same. People smoke everywhere, especially in confined spaces. The concept of a queue is a little more than a utpoian ideal. Everywhere beautiful old buildings are being torn down and sacrificed to the progress god, in anticipation of THE games, 2008.
But i love it. I love the food, i love the energy, i love the noise. There are certain liberties i really value here. The pushing is actually relaxing. There's none of this akward British tension of no one knowing what to do. Or what they should do. I was standing on the tube, completely in the way of a lot of people, because i hadn't noticed, but it was fine. No one scorned me, or even thought bad of me. You can muck up and it doesn't matter. It's relaxing. Also people think i look like David Beckham.
There are so many many reasons why i should hate this place. I'll give you but i few, because then maybe you'll still come.
It has a smell...not a good one. I can't read anything. I can't speak to anyone. It's freezing, all the lakes are frozen. People push you all day long and your preceived personal space (the amount of room a person needs to breathe, respire, exist etc) is somewhere between minimal and negligible. You can't go fifteen seconds with out hearing someone clearing their throat into their mouth and spitting. You can't walk fifteen feeteen feet without stepping in the same. People smoke everywhere, especially in confined spaces. The concept of a queue is a little more than a utpoian ideal. Everywhere beautiful old buildings are being torn down and sacrificed to the progress god, in anticipation of THE games, 2008.
But i love it. I love the food, i love the energy, i love the noise. There are certain liberties i really value here. The pushing is actually relaxing. There's none of this akward British tension of no one knowing what to do. Or what they should do. I was standing on the tube, completely in the way of a lot of people, because i hadn't noticed, but it was fine. No one scorned me, or even thought bad of me. You can muck up and it doesn't matter. It's relaxing. Also people think i look like David Beckham.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
From Tracey's
Tracey had taken the best photographs i have ever seen. I include galleries and art students in that. Seriously the best. In the right hands she would be a millionaire....
... but probably quite stressed out too.
From Tracey's we went lots more places. Because now I'm in China.
In between Tracey's house and China is lots of other strange people. Including Pam and Paddy, who we stayed with at their place in NZ. Paddy kept saying, "how about that," and "how's that sound." Also he had a pig slaughtered and gave Lucia and i two chops. That was the day our wedding venue changed dramatically and we were in the middle of nowhere. All worked out though.
As i saw when i went to London. In London there's a few great sights. There's Rob and Yusanne. It was rob's birthday which made it all the better. And Yusanne is going to cook up a storm at out wedding. She's a scientist too, which i appreciate deeply. Science is much like cooking. We investigated the venue
Northern Ireland is in between London and China too. Our family upgraded our TV and our cat. We got a puppy. Every boy's dream. We still have the cat and the old TV.
Then i came here.
... but probably quite stressed out too.
From Tracey's we went lots more places. Because now I'm in China.
In between Tracey's house and China is lots of other strange people. Including Pam and Paddy, who we stayed with at their place in NZ. Paddy kept saying, "how about that," and "how's that sound." Also he had a pig slaughtered and gave Lucia and i two chops. That was the day our wedding venue changed dramatically and we were in the middle of nowhere. All worked out though.
As i saw when i went to London. In London there's a few great sights. There's Rob and Yusanne. It was rob's birthday which made it all the better. And Yusanne is going to cook up a storm at out wedding. She's a scientist too, which i appreciate deeply. Science is much like cooking. We investigated the venue
Northern Ireland is in between London and China too. Our family upgraded our TV and our cat. We got a puppy. Every boy's dream. We still have the cat and the old TV.
Then i came here.
Friday, February 10, 2006
Around the South Island in Eight (easy) Days
Hitchiking.
Douglas Adams wrote a book called The Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy. Pretty funny. Real hitchhiking, pretty funny too.
It was so good to be on the road again. Aside from spits and spats across the globe i hadn't done any hitchiking proper since last Easter when myself, the lovely Hwai-Jiin (from Singapore) and the wonderful Anna (who i just travelled with) set off for a week of faith on $30NZ. I wrote about it one time, check it out. This time we had a bit more money and a bit more vision. Oh and signs....this time we made signs.
We headed South. Lucia has a friend who has a Batch in Wanaka. A Batch is like a holiday home and Wanaka is a like a town. We made it as far as Tracey's house. Tracey picked us up in Twizel (great for a town, my Mum used to call me Twizel, because my hair stuck up in all different directions. The causal relationship between the hair and the name never became apparent to me.) To be continued....
Douglas Adams wrote a book called The Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy. Pretty funny. Real hitchhiking, pretty funny too.
It was so good to be on the road again. Aside from spits and spats across the globe i hadn't done any hitchiking proper since last Easter when myself, the lovely Hwai-Jiin (from Singapore) and the wonderful Anna (who i just travelled with) set off for a week of faith on $30NZ. I wrote about it one time, check it out. This time we had a bit more money and a bit more vision. Oh and signs....this time we made signs.
We headed South. Lucia has a friend who has a Batch in Wanaka. A Batch is like a holiday home and Wanaka is a like a town. We made it as far as Tracey's house. Tracey picked us up in Twizel (great for a town, my Mum used to call me Twizel, because my hair stuck up in all different directions. The causal relationship between the hair and the name never became apparent to me.) To be continued....
Friday, February 03, 2006
home?
Being back in New Zealand is like coming home. Partially because there are a lot of Irish people and a lot of sheep, but mostly because this was home for me for three months. The YWAM base smells the same. And lots of the people are the same, if a little new and improved by their world travels.
It's odd that a wooden house in a village in New Zealand could feel like home to me and a host of Americans. It's good, though, amazing even. (It's almost as if God exists, invites us all to be his children, people from all over the world and unites us with bonds that are as strong and sometimes stronger than family ties.)
www.ywamoxford.com
Had ice cream today at the ice cream shop, spent some time in the tree house and in the hammock. Walked up to the look out. Everywhere is a hundred good memories. It's even better now though, because Lucia can see it all too.
It's odd that a wooden house in a village in New Zealand could feel like home to me and a host of Americans. It's good, though, amazing even. (It's almost as if God exists, invites us all to be his children, people from all over the world and unites us with bonds that are as strong and sometimes stronger than family ties.)
www.ywamoxford.com
Had ice cream today at the ice cream shop, spent some time in the tree house and in the hammock. Walked up to the look out. Everywhere is a hundred good memories. It's even better now though, because Lucia can see it all too.
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Vanette (our van)
Dear Ben, (co-owner)
So, there's no easy way to tell you this..
....but she didn't pull through. We did everything we could. Death was pronounced at approximately 11.20am. The doctors were working on her from approximately 11.15am. She passed quickly. In fact, truth is she was probably already dead. DOA.
She was too old really to donate any of her organs, her body was simply falling apart by the end. She had deteriorated a lot since we last saw her. The tears are still fresh in my eyes. Thankfully there are some undertakers who will do the funeral for free. I guess I'm writing for your permission as co-owner (as of approximately 10.15am) to finally lay her to rest.
On the plus side I did take the time, energy and finance (approximately NZ$ 9) to get her registered in our names. So now at least we OWN the piece of crap.
I'm sorry I shouldn't talk about her that way. I think the emotion is getting to me. I'm assured though by the memories we will always have of her. At least those will never rust and be taken away for scrap.
Love conor.
So, there's no easy way to tell you this..
....but she didn't pull through. We did everything we could. Death was pronounced at approximately 11.20am. The doctors were working on her from approximately 11.15am. She passed quickly. In fact, truth is she was probably already dead. DOA.
She was too old really to donate any of her organs, her body was simply falling apart by the end. She had deteriorated a lot since we last saw her. The tears are still fresh in my eyes. Thankfully there are some undertakers who will do the funeral for free. I guess I'm writing for your permission as co-owner (as of approximately 10.15am) to finally lay her to rest.
On the plus side I did take the time, energy and finance (approximately NZ$ 9) to get her registered in our names. So now at least we OWN the piece of crap.
I'm sorry I shouldn't talk about her that way. I think the emotion is getting to me. I'm assured though by the memories we will always have of her. At least those will never rust and be taken away for scrap.
Love conor.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
santiago airport
Six times.
can you believe it. It's a nice airport, but six times. check out www.sleepinginairports.com .
can you believe it. It's a nice airport, but six times. check out www.sleepinginairports.com .
Peru
Two essential things to know before you go:
- Paddington bear was from Peru (deepest darkest Peru).
- All those hippy looking people with odd hats and really big wooly jumpers, they've been to Peru.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Being thirty
Is it okay forme to love Scrabble and tea so much?
Lucia and i are in the pumpingest hostel in Santiago. It's like beng in first year at university again. Or maybe even at a gig in Belfast somewhere. Everyone is very young and drunk and there's a lot of kissing. It's like being at someone else's house party.
It is in stark contrast to the idealic little paradise called Rapa Nui, or Easter Island in the middle of the Pacific ocean, which we just left. There we also left James and Anna and all these wonderful older couple friends we made. Completely the wine drinking, dinner party and Scrabble generation. My generation.
Our flights all got messed up around Mexico and now Lucia and i are in Chile and James and Anna are in Papette. If you don't know where that is don't worry, needless to say it's very far from here. We'll meet them again in New Zealand. Then they go home and we go to China, to get some nice food.
Chinese takeaways....being thirty?
Lucia and i are in the pumpingest hostel in Santiago. It's like beng in first year at university again. Or maybe even at a gig in Belfast somewhere. Everyone is very young and drunk and there's a lot of kissing. It's like being at someone else's house party.
It is in stark contrast to the idealic little paradise called Rapa Nui, or Easter Island in the middle of the Pacific ocean, which we just left. There we also left James and Anna and all these wonderful older couple friends we made. Completely the wine drinking, dinner party and Scrabble generation. My generation.
Our flights all got messed up around Mexico and now Lucia and i are in Chile and James and Anna are in Papette. If you don't know where that is don't worry, needless to say it's very far from here. We'll meet them again in New Zealand. Then they go home and we go to China, to get some nice food.
Chinese takeaways....being thirty?
Christmas...
...feels and felt a million miles away.
Miles away now because we are in Chile, having spent seventeen days on Easter Island, and we had Christmas in Brazil which is about a million miles away from home.
It was great though. A Scottish-Brazilian Christmas on the farm. Ted cooked a very suculent turkey on Christmas eve, as is the local custom and i got a chance to wear my tie. Along with the volunteers, Morven and Fabio, who run the farm had over the two kids they are trying to adopt and two other kids from a local orphanage who didn't have anywhere else to go.
These guys were so cool. One is 14, Nilo, who has had try outs for some great under 18 football team and Matias, who is 9 but built like Mike Tyson. Matias had a serious case of ADHD, but he was helpful in his own way. He drank a lot of coffee. One day full of pride he came up to the farm house riding bareback on a semi-wild horse he'd managed to lassoo with some rope. It was premeditated. He was wearing a cycling helmet. I truly believe he thought this would make it okay in the eyes of Fabio to go horse whispering like this.
He was a good laugh, but the laugh turned sour in your mouth; his story is a bit too tradgic for much humour. Apprently he'd been a lot worse, when the people at the ophanage met him he was frequently professing Satan was his father and he wouldn't let anyone touch him. His legs and arms are marred with scarring that looked to me like burns.
He knows Jesus now and was delighted to read to me from his Bible for a long time. It is hard to fairly judge the passage of time when listening to Bible stories in Portuguese. But for a kid like him it definately was a long time. It didn't seem to phase him, knowing i couldn't understand anything. He even contented himself to ask me how to say some of the words. It suprised me how encouraging you can be even when you don't speak the language.
Besides the various dramas we managed to squeeze in the mandatory couple of terrible films about Christmas ('Christmas with the Cranks' and 'Skipping Christmas') and the not so mandatory, but delightful game of Scrabble.
Miles away now because we are in Chile, having spent seventeen days on Easter Island, and we had Christmas in Brazil which is about a million miles away from home.
It was great though. A Scottish-Brazilian Christmas on the farm. Ted cooked a very suculent turkey on Christmas eve, as is the local custom and i got a chance to wear my tie. Along with the volunteers, Morven and Fabio, who run the farm had over the two kids they are trying to adopt and two other kids from a local orphanage who didn't have anywhere else to go.
These guys were so cool. One is 14, Nilo, who has had try outs for some great under 18 football team and Matias, who is 9 but built like Mike Tyson. Matias had a serious case of ADHD, but he was helpful in his own way. He drank a lot of coffee. One day full of pride he came up to the farm house riding bareback on a semi-wild horse he'd managed to lassoo with some rope. It was premeditated. He was wearing a cycling helmet. I truly believe he thought this would make it okay in the eyes of Fabio to go horse whispering like this.
He was a good laugh, but the laugh turned sour in your mouth; his story is a bit too tradgic for much humour. Apprently he'd been a lot worse, when the people at the ophanage met him he was frequently professing Satan was his father and he wouldn't let anyone touch him. His legs and arms are marred with scarring that looked to me like burns.
He knows Jesus now and was delighted to read to me from his Bible for a long time. It is hard to fairly judge the passage of time when listening to Bible stories in Portuguese. But for a kid like him it definately was a long time. It didn't seem to phase him, knowing i couldn't understand anything. He even contented himself to ask me how to say some of the words. It suprised me how encouraging you can be even when you don't speak the language.
Besides the various dramas we managed to squeeze in the mandatory couple of terrible films about Christmas ('Christmas with the Cranks' and 'Skipping Christmas') and the not so mandatory, but delightful game of Scrabble.
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