The whore of Babylon
I have given out my name and cell number approximately 9,346 times today. To complete strangers. Awesome.
And I'm so popular, not one has called me back. That's okay, though, because I
'cause I ain't too proud to beg and I just keep calling. Ahh, the desperation of a homeless grad student.
And DC Apartment Hunt: Day 1 comes to a close...
Starting the homeless mooching early...
LISA: Do you have everything you need?
me: Is all your shower stuff in the shower?
LISA: Yeah.
me: Then yes, I have everything I need.
Happy Birthday, Lisa!
I wish you a day dipped in chocolate.
You or the day to be dipped in chocolate. I'll let you decide what modifies what in that sentence. It
is your birthday, after all.
And mine, too.
Okay, fine. It's just
your birthday.
There. Happy now?
Quote of the day
"You know, I think they have a speed limit here, Hal."
-Nonny to me, as I drove down the highway
Do you know...
...how strange it is to walk around and see only late 20th century homes and shops, uninterrupted by Victorian, Edwardian, or Art Nouveau architecture?
Quite strange.
Luckily, we've been downtown a few times in the past week so I haven't had to go cold turkey in my withdrawal. I have a building patch with all the famed Chicago architecture - especially at the Palmer House where we spent much of Friday (wedding stuff).
Between the statues and decorations and all the people camped out on couches as arrivals for the Gay Games, I believe that lobby was the gayest place in the city that day. It was fabulous.
You know what's weird?
All you N. Hemisphere people are awake when I am.
I can call you in the middle of my aftertoon. And not get yelled at for waking you up.
When we went silent and just gave him blank stares, Alae knew he'd found another phrase to teach us...
I was considering doing a 'word of the day'... for as long as I would remember to keep it up... which'd probably have been about twice.
Instead, I'm just going to give you one of Alae's favourites:
Mutton dressed as lamb: An older person dressing too young for their age, usually intentionally, usually used in reference to women.
See Gretel Killeen, Big Brother '05.(More slang for you to learn if you're afraid we just won't be able to communicate anymore in the mother tongue)Note - I would hate to give the impression that I have forsaken my dear Gretel. I love Gretel. I think she's great and really sharp. And she's dressing very well...this year. For the most part.
Reverse culture shock is alive and kicking. Kicking me, that is.
I don't know how I stood it before. Everyone is so mean to each other here. I mean people you don't know. The tone is nasty and no 'please' or 'thank you'. I know, just roll me over into the nursing home before I start cursing about 'kids these days'.
(I've been bugging everyone around me with endless sentences that start out with "In Australia..." so I'm going to share the love here, as well.)
In Australia, you just don't talk down to people (shop clerks, waiters, your valet) you don't know. (To people you do know: Listen, bucko! Get me my sammich! Now! ...oh wait, no. No one does that either.) At first I was annoyed by the extent to which you practically apologise for asking any service person to do anything for you at any time. But I like that shift of tone now. It doesn't seem so extreme. American 'mateship': dead.
It makes the transition easier that my family (in addition to being nice to service people) enjoys taking the piss out of people.* In fact, when, well anyone, really, will have a chat to you while you're waiting for your short black (coffee) or whatever, you generally end up joking around. Quite a bit. I had one bartender say to me that a lot of Americans he gets in there didn't know what to make of it, and one guy thought he was just being an ass. And while that may have been true also, good on me for going along with it.
Well, thanks, mate, but I've been practicing my whole life for that. My dad likes to play with people, too. Usually (eventually) they play back. A few, though, just never get that he's kidding and we have to step in and end the "fun". So, good on me, indeed.
And to be honest, no, I don't say "mate" now. It comes naturally enough in sentences in my head and on paper, but it still sounds idiotic when I say it aloud. No, I don't have an Aussie accent now. If I hear it, I can parrot it back pretty well. One of the favourite unofficial games of Team TV was mocking the commercials and dialogue we were watching. And with some of the crap we watched, it was easy. I had a love/hate relationship with the Lube Mobile commercial, in particular. It had this obnoxious kid at the end who was trying to seem cute, but looked like he went around stealing all the other kids' lunch money. "Lube Mobile will come to you! That's Firteen! Firty! Firty-two!" That is on a list of Oz things I will not miss.
In other news, driving my grandmother to an appointment yesterday, i had to keep repeating in my head "stay on the right, stay on the right". A few days ago, with my dad driving, a had a brief moment of panic when he turned left at a light
into the wrong lane. Oh wait, no. He turned into the right lane. But for a moment, in my head, we were about to go into oncoming traffic. That is, if we were in Australia. Luckily, there was no rift in the time-space continuum at that intersection and we remained in Chicago. Where the right side is the right side.
A convenient link
Two thumbs up
"This is the song that does not end..."
Wring out those hankies, take a deep cleansing breath, and quit yer bitchin':
The blog is staying put.
And yes, the name is staying the same.
Because I said so.
It's a different world than where you came from...
They charged me tax on my smoothie. They do that here.
They also have sunlight until really late and manymanymany tv channels and they eat inside when it's really hot or really cold.
I'm in Chicago for two weeks.
Living out of the side pocket.
Sounds like a song. But it's just my momentary reality. We have moved out of our apartment into Ali's for the next couple days and with all my crap (one large suitcase, one enormous suitcase, one really big duffle bag, two carry-on bags, not to mention the box of books I'll ship off tomorrow by post) I'm just living out of the side pocket of the duffle bag. 'Fashion plate' is not what I'm going for these few days.
Today, after a lovely, late-morning lie-in, I spent the day at
ACMI (Australian Centre for the Moving Image) and the Ian Potter Gallery (which is the part of the National Gallery Victoria for Australian art). 50 Years of tv in Australia. Some of it crap. But this and the other areas were neat. Lots of kiosks with animation and shorts and people singing theme songs and cows in the Sudan and Pong and the largest wall of tvs. Ever. The length of a football field and stacked 15 high.
I saw it and it was like an addict's rush. Like a warm fuzzy. Like a kid in a (free) candy store. Like a banker in a (free) money store. I swear I felt the buzz of endorphins.
I'm getting probably my last (awwww) student rush ticket (woohoo!) here in Melbourne tonight. I'm going to see
I am my Own Wife, put on by the MTC (Melbourne Theatre Co.) at the Malthouse, performed by the same one guy who made it so huge in NYC.
Somewhat of a full-circle moment, I'm sitting at a computer in the main library of Melbourne Uni, scamming free internet, like in the first days here, before we had an apartment or our internet hooked up. This might be a moment for a song cue, but if I sit here to think of what that song might be, I'm going to miss my tram to Southbank for the show. So I will leave you with the song that is in my head for some unknown reason: "There are worse things" from
Sunday in the Park with George.
Quote of the day (a few days ago)
"Your wrath inspires me."
-Dude in
La Clemenza di TitoSydney was great. One of my highlights was seeing Mozart at the Opera House. He looked good. Shaved, corseted, in drag.
In fact, a couple of the tenor parts were played by women (changed to alto). I thought it sounded especially good in duet. (Sarah was mildly appalled. "You need tenors! How can they not have tenors?!") The glory of Titus's Rome was ours for the price of a student rush ticket ($50 Aussie, sitting in the row directly behind the most expensive seats.
"Psst! Hey, Halley!"
"Yes, Christine?"
"Those people (
pointing to the backs of heads six inches away) paid 200 bucks more than we did!"
"We're awesome."
The city definitely felt different to Melbourne. Had a "biggest city in the nation" feel to it. Fun and cute and interesting; and I'm glad we live in Melbourne. Happy to be there for a long weekend. Happy to get back home, too.
We stayed in Glebe, which I think sounds dorky, but in fact we were on the main drag of a street with lots of fun cafes and shops and parks. I had
yummy french toast at a darling cafe with a black, iron-work fireplace next to the table. Also, gnocci at an Italian place called Bogarts with the appropriate iconography (and a waiter who looked like Vic Pap).
Lots of walking, beautiful weather. And then we got back to Melbourne. Away from all of that awful sunshine, we knew we were home.
Off to Sydney
Leaving for the airport shortly to meet up with Christine and Sarah in Sydney.
Sarah is arriving from Bali. Christine took the scenic route this morning on the all-day bus from here to there. And I'm catching a flight in a couple hours.
I'm going late because I had to be here today for a photo shoot for the postgrad prospectus brochure thingermahoosie. In it, I'm all international and exotic and shit. "From the wilds of America...Oooh, ahhh!"
I saw a couple of the shots and looked alternately like a buck-toothed moron, cross-eyed, or awesome. I hope they use the latter.
I also needed some time to pack. After 10 days in NZ and then going to Sydney for the weekend and then moving out of the apt the next day, I was going to need some packign time. As you may know (or guess), I'm a slow packer. I like to look at stuff. And then look at other stuff. And then come across the first stuff I put down half and hour ago and forgot about. So I stayed up until 5:30 this morning and was pretty much finished. Got up 3 hours later for the photo shoot. Came home and finished putting things together.
Oh gawd, my suitcases feel like I have packed rocks. In fact, they are not rocks. They are some books and papers and clothes and assorted Australiana I have acquired over the course of a year. Oy. I am going to be paying "over weight limit fees". For United, it's only $25 per bag. That's fine. My concern is that they let them on at all. This is in addition to the 40 lb. box of books I'm shipping to DC (Lees and Rob, heads up!) and the big "homeless person's"* giant, plastic, square bag I will be putting the majority of my clothes into and paying the "extra bag" charge for.
I don't know where all this stuff comes from....
NOTE: If I was supposed to call you when I got back from New Zealand, sorry! I caught a cold my last day there, and the next day and a half my throat hurt too much to really talk. I'm fine today, though. So all of you who were about to make some snarky comment about me being quiet, the opportunity has passed...
*As Christine calls these bags. "Because you see all the homeless people with 'em when they need a bag to bring their stuff into shelters." Because they are big and strong and cheap. Exactly what I need.
Sister cities
Chicago teaches many lessons that aren't apparent until years later.
Case in point: on Tuesday, I was at the International Antarctic Centre in Christchurch. 70% of all Antarctic trips depart from there and there's a whole big information centre/ attraction complex there for visitors. So on another freezing (but at least it was raining) morning, I learned all about Antarctic voyages and the locale. Particularly interesting was the storm that you can experience.
You get a extra cold-weather gear and go into a room that is veddy, veddy cold. It has snow on the ground, ice blocks, and a "wind chill" machine (which I skipped, thanks). It's a neat simulation, they do a radio transmission, like two stations are communicating, about the approaching storm and then the "sunlight" goes dark, the winds pick up, the temp drops, and it's really noisy.
And as all this is going on, I'm thinking to myself: Wow, I thought it'd be worse. It's definitely cold, but it just just feels like Chicago during a bad winter cold snap. I've been in worse.... Dude, I should just get out of here. This is crazy to keep standing here when it just feels like "winter"...
Seriously.
Granted, they can't do a storm as bad as all the Antarctic "worst" records because we would all die. And, while authentic, I'm sure very few people would've paid money for that. (As it is, they could only keep us in there for so long before they start getting sued by blue-lipped, no-fingered people.)
Chicago and Antarctica. We suspected all along that there was some kind of black hole vortex so they could share the same weather. And now, experiential proof. Sort of.
It turns out that the Kiwis, the Americans, and the Italians all have their stations near each other in Antarctica, so they all have their Christchurch bases together, too. I can only imagine what some of those drinking sessions are like down there...
Oh! And I took the ride on the Hagglund, a vehicle that they drive around in down there. Up and down STEEP hills, on 45 degree angles, semi-submersible. I'm thinking of getting one for all of my off-roading needs.
All of this coldness was in addition to the skiing I did the day before in the Southern Alps, at Mt. Hutt. We had to drive way the heck up the mountain to get to the base. Very beautiful and very scary. It'd been 10 years since I'd skied, so it was like starting over. Starting over, very high up. I spent the day with the goal of not missing a turn and flying off the side of the mountain to a painful death. Good times, good times.
I woke up the next day with sore arms. Yes, sore arms, not legs. I suppose I may have been clutching the poles a bit. But just clutching them, not really using them. I just like to hold onto something. Even if that something is moving, too. Somehow, I don't think skiing the famous slopes of Wisconsin prepared me...
Christchuch. Not the one in England. Though similar...
Love Christchurch. Wrapped up in a scarf I just found/bought.
New Zealand is shockingly beautiful.
There are also a surprising number of Mexican restaurants. No seriously, there are a ton of 'em.
Yours in knits and meanderings...
Luckily, we've been downtown a few times in the past week so I haven't had to go cold turkey in my withdrawal. I have a building patch with all the famed Chicago architecture - especially at the Palmer House where we spent much of Friday (wedding stuff).
Mutton dressed as lamb: An older person dressing too young for their age, usually intentionally, usually used in reference to women. See Gretel Killeen, Big Brother '05.
