Parolled from temping hell
Ok, it's official. I am a bad daughter, sister and blogger.
I got a text from my parents during the week, with that 'trying not to be worried' parental tone that parents do so well, as they'd not heard from me for a week or so, and were concerned I'd either been abducted or joined a cult. When I left Sydney I had a vague travel plan. I knew which direction I'd be travelling and sort of had an idea how long I'd spend in cities/countries but hadn't booked anything at all, so had an unspoken agreement with my parents that I would contact them when I reached a new country/city. This agreement was forged largely because when I was in Cambodia a few years ago and travelling up the Tonle Lake to Siem Reap to see the Angkor temples and they didn't hear from me for about five days they genuinely considered calling the embassy to find out if I was dead.
So, the text from my parents - "call us when you get a chance". Clearly the situation had yet to escalate to the "are you dead" SMS which would shortly follow if I didn't attend to the matter urgently.
I'd been in Cambridge for the weekend, and just hadn't gotten around to emailing people the critique, which concerned them. There had also been a fair amount of talk about me amongst my family during that week, as I'd sent my eldest brother a FANTASTIC 40th birthday gift, only to find out that he's only 39. I am actually quite close to my family, I'm just not that bright clearly.
And so to Cambridge - lovely, lovely town. Gorgeous to wander around in. Harvard Square looks very similar to it as (if what I was told by a bostonian a few years ago is correct) Harvard Square was modelled on it. However, it's a weirdly quiet town.
There seemed to be bucket loads of tourists and an enormous number of cafes/confectionary outlets but no locals. Just a lot of fat tourists wandering around eating fudge. I appreciate that I'm clearly not British, so calling tourists "tourists" is kind of ironic, but I prefer to see myself as a traveller. I do try to make some effort to get to know local languages and customs and would much prefer a conversation with a local about pretty much anything. It's not always possible obviously, but knowing locals allows you access to more than the high street/postcard life of a tourist. In Cambridge this was simply not possible, as I couldn't find a local!
This is a fairly muddy segue to the fact that I have just been parolled from my latest temping gig and will be on the road again for six weeks from tomorrow (I'm writing this to procrastinate about my packing for just a bit longer...). The temping gig was as much like community service served in advance as you can imagine. I did get to meet some fantastic people and had some great laughs, so not a complete washout, but on the whole two of the people I worked with defied Darwinian law.
I have no idea how they got their jobs, or kept them, as by my reckoning other than turning up and making a lot of noise they did absolutely nothing. Honestly if I don't get a gig with the UN after that experience there is something wrong with the world, as never once did I voice my internal monologue, mostly because it would have been something like this:
"WOULDYOUJUSTSHUTTHEFARKUPYOU FARKINGIDIOTNOONEGIVESATOSSAB OUTYOURFARKINGSHOESORDRESSESO RTHATYOUUSEDOHAVEANOSERINGJUS TFARKINGSITDOWNANDDOSOMETHING THATDOESN'TANNOYME"
Anyway, I have survived and will reward myself by flying to Frankfurt tomorrow for a few nights - mostly to see the Cat Empire and be able to tick off that life goal of saying I flew into a country for a gig, then to Berlin, then to Egypt for a Nile Cruise, then to south of Spain, then to Morocco then to Prague. I'll be back in London after Easter when I'll start this working for a living business again, and where hopefully I'll get a job with people I don't want to harm constantly. Here's hoping!
I got a text from my parents during the week, with that 'trying not to be worried' parental tone that parents do so well, as they'd not heard from me for a week or so, and were concerned I'd either been abducted or joined a cult. When I left Sydney I had a vague travel plan. I knew which direction I'd be travelling and sort of had an idea how long I'd spend in cities/countries but hadn't booked anything at all, so had an unspoken agreement with my parents that I would contact them when I reached a new country/city. This agreement was forged largely because when I was in Cambodia a few years ago and travelling up the Tonle Lake to Siem Reap to see the Angkor temples and they didn't hear from me for about five days they genuinely considered calling the embassy to find out if I was dead.
Angkor Watt, Siem Reap Cambodia, photo from Wikipedia
So, the text from my parents - "call us when you get a chance". Clearly the situation had yet to escalate to the "are you dead" SMS which would shortly follow if I didn't attend to the matter urgently.
I'd been in Cambridge for the weekend, and just hadn't gotten around to emailing people the critique, which concerned them. There had also been a fair amount of talk about me amongst my family during that week, as I'd sent my eldest brother a FANTASTIC 40th birthday gift, only to find out that he's only 39. I am actually quite close to my family, I'm just not that bright clearly.
And so to Cambridge - lovely, lovely town. Gorgeous to wander around in. Harvard Square looks very similar to it as (if what I was told by a bostonian a few years ago is correct) Harvard Square was modelled on it. However, it's a weirdly quiet town.
Bridge of Sighs, St John's College, Cambridge
There seemed to be bucket loads of tourists and an enormous number of cafes/confectionary outlets but no locals. Just a lot of fat tourists wandering around eating fudge. I appreciate that I'm clearly not British, so calling tourists "tourists" is kind of ironic, but I prefer to see myself as a traveller. I do try to make some effort to get to know local languages and customs and would much prefer a conversation with a local about pretty much anything. It's not always possible obviously, but knowing locals allows you access to more than the high street/postcard life of a tourist. In Cambridge this was simply not possible, as I couldn't find a local!
St John's College Abbey, Cambridge - note the blue sky!
This is a fairly muddy segue to the fact that I have just been parolled from my latest temping gig and will be on the road again for six weeks from tomorrow (I'm writing this to procrastinate about my packing for just a bit longer...). The temping gig was as much like community service served in advance as you can imagine. I did get to meet some fantastic people and had some great laughs, so not a complete washout, but on the whole two of the people I worked with defied Darwinian law.
I have no idea how they got their jobs, or kept them, as by my reckoning other than turning up and making a lot of noise they did absolutely nothing. Honestly if I don't get a gig with the UN after that experience there is something wrong with the world, as never once did I voice my internal monologue, mostly because it would have been something like this:
"WOULDYOUJUSTSHUTTHEFARKUPYOU FARKINGIDIOTNOONEGIVESATOSSAB OUTYOURFARKINGSHOESORDRESSESO RTHATYOUUSEDOHAVEANOSERINGJUS TFARKINGSITDOWNANDDOSOMETHING THATDOESN'TANNOYME"
Anyway, I have survived and will reward myself by flying to Frankfurt tomorrow for a few nights - mostly to see the Cat Empire and be able to tick off that life goal of saying I flew into a country for a gig, then to Berlin, then to Egypt for a Nile Cruise, then to south of Spain, then to Morocco then to Prague. I'll be back in London after Easter when I'll start this working for a living business again, and where hopefully I'll get a job with people I don't want to harm constantly. Here's hoping!
