Useless

How is it possible for the New Zealand Postal Service to be so fucking incompetent?!
Last year I sent half a dozen cards to Singapore which never made it.
I posted a bunch of Christmas cards locally and I have no idea how many of them made it.
Recently a doctors note took 7 days to reach me.
Now I've posted another letter locally and it hasn't reached 3 days later.

Never going to use these shit birds again, I'll travel 2 hours to deliver postage myself if I have to.

"There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self." - Ernest Hemingway

Organised Chaos (A Trip To Thailand): Part Two

Over the next few days we hung out with my friend’s Thai acquaintances. With their ability to speak Thai, and navigate the city, we were able to cover much more ground than before. We went to many a museum and cultural site, making that easy small talk that occurs among travellers, even when none of you can communicate well in one particular language. The time we spent together was certainly valuable, we saw many sites a day, but these Thais were…quite Asian. It was a quiet and studious affair. I did very much appreciate their help, and would wonder how I could repay their kindness when they had selflessly acted as our guides and asked for nothing in return.

My mission to try a wide variety of fantastic Thai food wasn't going well either. Not being a local, I had no idea where to eat good Thai food, neither did my friend nor apparently the Thais. Right outside our hotel where some food stalls, serving dishes such as chicken rice and congee. Now these dishes were extremely tasty, fresh and cheap. However, they were Thai appropriations of established Chinese dishes. So while I would have enjoyed eating Thai style chicken rice any day of the year, it wasn't exactly special. In the entire week in Bangkok, I think I only ate two meals that really excited me.

Congee, Thai style

Organised Chaos (A Trip To Thailand): Part One

Thailand is a country I’d heard colleagues and friends rave about, and a country I'd desperately wanted to visit for years. I’d been to South East Asia before, it represented a bare element of humanity; dirty and chaotic, yet passionate and beautiful. I'd treasured those past trips to Asia, and I expected something similar in Thailand. I’d also had a love for Muay Thai for a while, so Thailand was on my 'bucket list' of countries to visit. 
My attitude to travelling was to do as little planning as possible, and go with the flow. My travelling companion had also visited Bangkok before, so I figured it would be a winning formula.
In hindsight it wasn't a winning formula, but I don't regret the attitude I employed.

I arrived to a busy, small and run down airport. After standing in a long taxi queue, I was ushered into a car with a driver who barely spoke English. He told me it would cost 500 Baht (around $20 NZD/SGD) to go to my hotel. I had been warned about unmetered taxis, and the scamming of tourists, so I told him 400 Baht. I figured fixed sums are smarter, since the drivers incentive is then to get you as fast as possible to your destination. This opposed to a meter, were his incentive is to take the longest route possible.

The driver agreed to my price, but not without much (what I took to be) cursing. He then starting talking on his phone in an angry voice. As I was driven passed signs written only in Thai, dark and unlit streets and with my ignorance of the city, I realised how vulnerable I was. If the driver decided to drive me down a deserted alley and introduce me to some 'friends', I would have had no forewarning or defence. “Shit” I thought to myself, “I may be about to start my Thai holiday passport less, moneyless and perhaps dead.”.

Luckily my fears  never came to fruition and with much relief, we arrived at my hotel.

Blog Posts In 2015

It’s been a while!

I went on a three week vacation in South East Asia. Was a great trip, ate lots of amazing food. Seem to have come back in superior health.

So over the next few weeks I’ll be writing brief summations of the different parts of my journey, a few of which will be focused solely on the food I ate in South East Asia.

At some point I will get back to writing regular food reviews in my current home city, Auckland!

Adieu

Today, yet again I lost one of my best friends.

The first time it happened was when I left Glasgow for Singapore, leaving behind my Swedish best buddy. Now my French friend is leaving New Zealand, his journey here unfilled. It's the right decision for him, he lost his enthusiasm for life here, especially after falling in love with a girl who didn't reciprocate that love. That doesn't stop me from feeling very sad.

Over the last few months my best friends have been two French guys. We hung out at least once a week, were comfortable in each others company. We had the same sense of humour and outlook on life. We could talk shit for hours. We would meet up, just me and him and have good conversation. Now he's gone.

I most likely will see him again, but not for years and not for any length of time. Life in New Zealand isn't going to be the same without him. I've lost a great companion. Ultimately its going to encourage me to widen my social net, so that I can find a friend as good as him.

There is another part of my life which is melancholic (and won't describe here), and these elements together are dragging me down just now. I've come to realise that life is not static nor simple, and that I have to fight for my happiness.

People and events come and go. They are ever changing and I can't take life for granted. The happiness I have now, I may not have in a week. And this happiness I have to fight for. Nothing in my life has been easy, and if I was to give up and relax, it would all come crumbling down. I always have to be on, so that I can get what I want from life. If I stop, I die.

I'll miss you Alix.

Da Bestest Meal Ever

Went to The French Cafe last Friday. Easily one of the best meals I've ever eaten. A couple of dishes were so so, most were good, a few were great and a couple were amazing. Company was fantastic as well, which made the experience all the more enjoyable. Will post a review later in the week!

An End To Drinking? An End To Drinking!

It was a typical Saturday night. Had dinner with friends, came back to mine to drink. The night ended with me hurting some people close to me. Going forward it’s really simple; no more drinking in the flat. This has been a long time coming but I need to give up drinking before I end up hurting others again.

The Flatmate Dilemma

I'd like to think of myself as a decisive person, one who doesn't dabble in mediocrity. I'd like to think that if I have a problem, I sort it and fast. However ever since I moved to Auckland I've faced a dilemma I haven't yet solved. I'm living in a three bedroom, two bathroom flat with two male flat mates. It’s liveable but it’s not perfect, nor are my flat mates. On one hand the rent is fantastic; $180 per week for 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms in Auckland city. I know people who are sharing with 7 people who are paying similar rent. One of my flat mates is really cool, the other one is all right. The location is reasonable; half an hour walk to Britomart and 5 minutes from Ponsonby. On the down side the flat is incredibly drab and borderline ugly. My flat mates, while pleasant enough, still retain an adolescent male mentality were dirt and grime accumulation is okay.

For instance this morning I found the bathroom sink filled with burned fatty flakes from a frying pan. Often the stove tops and wall are covered in grease splatters. So far they've done their part when I ask them to help clean, but rarely do they do it of their own accord. I hate the idea of having to mother people, especially grown men. I'm pretty anal about cleanliness (thanks to my mum and sisters), which I actually really appreciate because it means my space is usually very presentable, hygienic and tidy. The other problem I've found is my flat mates also seem quite happy to living in dilapidation. The living room is essentially bare with only broken chairs, a mouldy sofa and one ironing board. There is no colour, vibrancy or life. One of my friends has also encouraged me to move out, saying I can do better in terms of location and flat mates. Further fuelling my desire for change is recent exposure to what our place could look like. The other day I visited neighbours who live in the same apartment complex, and saw a much more welcoming and impressive living space. They actually had a dining table!

The dilemma is this: Do I stay in mediocre accommodation, with dirty flat mates and good rent or do I move to nicer accommodation, take the risk with new flat mates and ultimately pay more?

For now I'm encouraging my flat mates to be cleaner and to spruce up the accommodation, so we’ll see how that goes. Either way for now I am staying put until my work visa comes through. If I get a work visa then I can re-examine this issue. If I don't then I'll stay put, since there is no point in paying significantly more rent when I will be leaving within a year.

Always Look...Smell Your Best

Recently my eczema has been really bad, to the point that my entire body is dry and itchy. Last night I had a particularly bad spell, where I scratched all over. As a result I decided not to shower, wanting to avoid the physical pain that the water would bring to my wounds and to stop my skin drying out further.

So the next morning I gave myself a wet wipe clean around the major areas, to make sure I didn't smell too bad, ultimately not worried since I'm mainly surrounded by guys and rarely in close proximity to them. I figured I could get away with not showering for two days. Then the day took an unusual turn. 

First I had a meeting in a crowded room. Then I had to leave that meeting in close proximity to other people. Then one of the only two attractive girls in the office, came and talked to me for the first time.

At least I would have made a strong first impression on her.

FML.

Missing Pieces

I'm reading Haruki Murakami’s book Kafka On The Shore. It’s a captivating and bloody weird book. One part in particular draws my attention. In it our 15 year old antagonist (Kafka) sees the ‘ghost’ of a 15 year old girl and falls in love. He finds the spirit of this girl in a 50 year old lady. The ‘ghost’ is in fact the 15 year old version of this older woman. Kafka is able to form a short, intense, messed up relationship with this lady. Whatever it is, it’s love. Why does this series of events captivate me?

Kafka is able to find ‘true’ love, find a girl whom he treasures, a girl who makes him both nervous and joyous at the sight of her. Although this is a novel, and fiction often idealises various concepts and themes, I find my life lacking in ‘love’ and Kafka On The Shore only illuminated this fact. You see while I have no problem finding dates, or women to talk to, I've never felt any real connection to them. In a woman I implicitly want a sense of humour, good looks, intelligence, a love of food, is physically active, travelled, passionate and is emotionally stable. The majority of women don’t have these traits. The majority of women are complete bores. Despite my apparent high standards, there was one exception, my ex from Singapore who I dated for about a year.

She met many of my implicit criteria, but she had noticeable flaws. For instance she was deeply religious, yet ignorant of many religious themes. She couldn't accept that her job was making her miserable, and that she should move on to something that made her happy. I broke up with her because I was in New Zealand, and her Singapore, and long distance relationships don’t work. Despite these incompatibilities, and the uncertainty of our suitability long term, I loved her with all my heart. It didn't make sense to me on any level, yet there it was, she was the only girl I've ever loved. I still think of her a lot, and until recently made a concerted effort to regularly talk to her and try to be part of her life. For now I've given up on communicating with her, because it was a one sided exchange.

New Zealand: Home Of The Mutts

Just a interesting observation I've made. In countries like the US and UK, the population is predominantly mono race, with under 5% (in some cases under 2%) of the population identifying as mixed race. In other words it's rare to meet somebody who is of mixed ethnicity. The same can't be said of New Zealand.

The indigenous population, the Maori's, are now almost exclusively mixed with Europeans. There are apparently no pure blood Maori's any more. It's also extremely common to meet phenotypically (i.e. they look) white Kiwis who are part Moari. The other day I met a tall, blue eyed, white, blonde haired Kiwi who I assumed was Nordic. He grandfather was Maori.

I didn't really notice it at first, but nobody here seems particularly surprised when they find out I'm Euroasian. This is in contrast to most other countries where being mixed makes me somewhat of an odd curiosity. I just realised the centuries of racial intermixing in New Zealand is probably why nobody bats an eyelid at me. I also haven't seen any real racism here, it's perhaps the least racist country I've ever been in. Yay for a country that's not racist, without being a bunch of over-sensitive twats!

All Bark, No Bite

It started out like any drinking night. Clean the flat, buy booze, welcome people and socialise. We played drinking games; Ring of Fire (called Kings Cup or Circle of Death elsewhere in the world). I couldn’t recall all the rules, so I had to ad lib. We drew cards, we got drunk, then I lost. I drunk a mug full of soju, wine, whiskey and coke as the penalty for losing. After that I remember nothing.

I woke up in the morning, my teeth felt strange. I got up, and winced at the pain in my knee. I hobbled to the bathroom mirror and opened my mouth. A gap tooth monster started back at me. My central incisor was half gone, and the other one chipped. My mouth was bloody and my lip swollen.  I couldn’t remember a thing. I Skyped my parents and swore profusely about my lack of teeth.

When my flat mate woke up I ran to him and asked what happen. He didn’t know. Apparently I got into a fight. I could believe that, I’d been in fights before, but my wounds didn’t add up. I concluded that I must have face planted the payment and destroyed my teeth.

I arranged a dentist appointment for that afternoon. I arrived and chatted with the friendly dentist and technician. I was still partially drunk, so was extremely talkative and had the ladies cooing. 2 hours later and $200 poorer my teeth were fixed, and looked fantastic. Who knew that cosmetic dentistry was so easy and cheap?

I still feel slightly sentimental at the loss of my own beautiful teeth, but I can’t turn back time and get them back. So I might as well get on with life.

Maybe next time I won’t drink as much.

Maybe next time I won’t drink on an empty stomach.

Maybe next time I won’t lose Ring of Fire.

Just Dance

I remember back when I was in Glasgow, hanging out at a bar and being handed a flier for salsa classes. I used to find dancing an uncomfortable and awkward experience, in clubs I would simply head bop. Here was an opportunity to test the limits of my comfort, try something new and get better at dancing. That's how I ended up at my first salsa class.

I felt very uncomfortable in my first lesson, with me being so reserved at the time. Touching girls was a bit weird, the moves were hard and I felt like I was being judged. Despite this, after the first class I realised I was hooked. Dancing was surprisingly fun! So I went back, and even took lessons twice a week. After a few months I was somewhat competent at salsa and would enjoy myself immensely. Part of the charm was undoubtedly talking to the girls, many of whom were cute. I also found that salsa would dispel a sour mood and leave me over flowing with positive energy. If you had told me that I would enjoy, and become an okay salsa dancer, I would have thought you crazy. Salsa also helped me to become less self concious, to the point I really started to enjoy dancing in clubs. Then things changed. I graduated, left Glasgow and didn't continue with salsa in Singapore. Now, more than a year later, I started salsa in New Zealand.

There are several options in the city but calling out to me was a Latin American dancing school, literally, opposite home. So I signed up for a class and went for the first time last week.

I forgot how fucking amazing dancing is.

It felt like I rediscovered something I had lost. I was actually terrible at the dancing since the class was teaching LA salsa (as opposed to Cuban which I learnt in Glasgow), but it didn't matter. Even when I was screwing up the moves I still had a great time and was so happy for hours afterwards. I'm definitely going to make salsa part of my life. I just need to find the right school now!

I'll Be There For You, When The Rain Starts To Pour

I've only been in New Zealand a short while, but I can say I've been very lucky in one regard; the amount of friends I've made. Perhaps it's because I've done my best to be proactive and friendly, I always try to be a genuine person, but in a way I've been taken by surprise in how fortunate I am. So far I've made enough friends that I could see one a day, or even groups, and still not have time enough for all of them. More importantly these are all people I sincerely like and enjoy spending time with. Sadly some of them will be leaving the country soon, but I still feel blessed for these relationships.

A Rolling Stone Gathers No Moss

Being unemployed sucks. It’s been around two months now and I'm starting to feel the unpleasantness. I arrived in New Zealand in January, travelled until April, found a place to stay and I've been looking for work since. The first couple of months were fine. Many a time I was bored, but I somewhat enjoyed the freedom and time. Unlimited video games and movies? Yes please. Now things have changed.

The lack of day to day goals, challenges, team work and the feeling that you are contributing nothing of value to society is straining. Over the last few days I've felt afflicted by a feeling of malaise. To combat these feelings I'm pushing myself to keep occupied and challenged in the following ways:

• Get out of the house every morning/afternoon, if only for a walk
• Get out of the house during the evening
• Socialise with existing friends
• Embrace any opportunity to get out of the house and meet new people
• Write blog posts more frequently to give me a sense of achievement and progression
• Take up a sport or activity

For instance today my schedule looked like this:

• Do laundry
• Apply for jobs
• Plan activities during the week
• Arrange with friends to hang out
• Go for a walk and get a snack and shopping supplies
• Hang out with friends during the evening for an arts exhibition
• Go to a bar to meet other friends

I still have far too much down time, but it’s keeping me sane just now. I’m afraid that if I stop, I will die.

State Of Flux

Today was a weird day. I woke up at 4 am, for some indeterminable reason my sleeping cycle has gone to shit. I'll go to sleep at the usual time, between 10 pm to 12 am, and wake up at 4 am. This has never happened before, but okay, I can deal with it by napping. So I stayed awake until around 10 am, took about 45 minutes to nap, then went out to meet friends for lunch.

I met them and hanging out I felt a degree of awkwardness, or to put it more precisely; I felt disconnected from them. I don't know if it was in my head or it was due to the fact that the three of them know each other well, yet I've only met them recently. Either way the feeling of disconnect persisted and I wasn't as outgoing as I usually am. I did notice feeling especially full after eating lunch, and then sick after a combination of hot rock melon milk tea with lychee jelly and cookies. After spending a good six hours hanging out with them, I rushed home hoping to join some dancing classes. I've finally decided to take up partner dancing classes such as salsa, bachata and ballroom which are offered by a school opposite my flat. Yet I found that the school is closed the rest of the week, argh! So suffering defeat, I hung out at home for a bit before heading to meet friends at a bar.

There, yet again, I ran into trouble. That disconnect was there, worse than before, and my interactions were very mechanical and forced. People didn't react well to my presence and conversation would die. I started to feel shit. My energy and passion weren't there. Then over an hour after arriving, around the time I wanted to leave and go home, my energy returned. Suddenly I was lively, talkative and enjoying myself. I noticed people responding and enjoying my company a lot more. But I have to ask myself; why?

Why was my social interactions stunted for most of the day? Why did I feel disconnected and mechanical? Why did it suddenly change so late in the day? Was it because I was tired from my fucked up sleeping? Was it because I felt queasy from what I ate? I don't know. Its worrying that my social skills can fluctuate so much.

I hope this doesn't happen again.

No Touching!

One thing I learned while at uni was to introduce more physical touching with friends. Prior to that I would only physically interact with my family, play fighting, hugging, high fiving etc. I struggled to translate that physical closeness to outside my family. At uni I started to change and incorporate more physical contact with people. A simple, but important part of that was greetings. Shake hands with guy friends, hug female friends. Pats and high fives also work. It's something I've always tried to incorporate since then, to physical greet those I care about.

Recently however, I've found myself greeting people insincerely. I've met several girls through Couch Surfing who expect you to hug them, even if they have displayed no interest in talking to you. I've met guys who did the same. At first I played along with it, to fit in with the social veneer; 'Wow, look at me, I'm so friendly and open just like the rest of you!'. But no more.

When I hug a girl, or shake your hand I mean it as a sincere gesture. It means I like you and your company, that I consider you a friend. However if you are somebody that clearly has no interest in being my friend, or talking to me, why the fuck would I sully and degrade my own standards? Bugger you and your attempts to appear friendly. So from now on, if I don't like you, then no physical greeting, you'll get a "Hey" and that's it. 

Too Good To Be True

Over the last couple of weeks I've been interviewing for a promising job. The position: product executive for mobile (e.g. apps). The work place was literally five minutes walk from my flat and it was a global company, with a cool work space and fun employees.
I had three interviews; two of which were with a HR lady and my would be boss (product manager), the third with the global product manager. On Friday, after meeting with the global product manager, I left my final interview being told I was on the "short, short list". I was hopeful and optimistic that I would be employed and the changes it would bring to my life.
Unfortunately I was called today and told I wasn't what they were looking for. Apparently the global product manager wanted somebody who had mobile experience (I have none). To soften the blow I was told I presented well.

To say I am disappointed would be an understatement. I had high hopes of finally getting my life started in New Zealand. I guess I've already managed to move past this stumbling block and I'm looking forwards, to what I need to do. To keep myself happy, fulfilled and find employment I need to:

• Send electronic heartfelt cards to friends in Singapore, after the physical ones I posted never arrived
• Arrange meet ups with friends for later in the week
• Check out MeetUp.com and see if there are any cool groups I can socialise with
• Apply for jobs (though at this point I only see one suitable position)
• Write up a couple of blog posts on good eating experiences I've had

Lost In Transit

Over a month ago I sent several letters to friends and loved ones in Singapore. I had carefully picked each card to send, linking the art to a quirk of that person or experience we shared. I took the time to compose heart felt words, first writing drafts so my words would read fluently. I sent them away anticipating the replies from those people.

It was meant to take two weeks at most for the cards to arrive, now its been six. Chances are the post men, somewhere along the chain, fucked things up. I'm pissed off and there is nothing I can do about it. I'm also disappointed after putting in so much effort, that nobody will get to read what I wrote. 

For some of these people I’ll end up typing and sending them my thoughts. It’s not quite as romantic, but at least I can guarantee they will read them this time.