Tales of a Travelling Librarian

Pompeii is poop.

2007-07-19T05:51:00.001Z

First off let me say I am exhausted. I have had less than 2 hours sleep. Not for want of trying mind you, I lay in bed for like... way more hours than that. I don't know if it's the heat, the stuffyness in my room, or just the fact that for some inexplicable reason Italy and sleep do not come together, like, EVER, but I have barely slept since I arrived in this country. Unless I manage to get to sleep and then not wake up. In which case I can sleep all day. Which kind of keeps that crazy cycle going... grrr.

Anyhoo, that's why I'm both grumpy and headachy and why this post may be less than belissimo. And kind of skewed to the side of hate. So apologies in advance.

Pompeii. Yeah, so, you know the story right? There was a town that was taken over by the Ancient Romans back in like, I don't know. Something-or-other BC. So then they were Roman, I guess, although not from Rome. My audio guide thought that was important. Whatever. So then there was an earthquake, in like 60AD or something? Then they rebuilt the city, and in the midst of that a volcano explodes and they're covered in ash. Then some guy discovers it back in the C19th or something and is all like "You know what would be cool and not at all creepy and disrespectful of the dead? If I pour plaster all over these poor dead people's bodies so people from all over the world can come and gawk at their tortured last moments, forever captured in creepy white plaster. Awesome. I'll make a million lire", or whatever currency was here before the Euro made everything expensive.

So now the world has the ruins at Pompeii. Apart from a bar somewhere in the middle, it's pretty much a big town of ruins, half of which was incomplete due to the earthquake anyways. Over half of which is inaccessible. The maps of which appear to be really well laid out until you try to use them. Also, they never explain why there are no roofs left. They explain the administration system though, which is WAY more interesting. The audio guides are a total rip off and should be destroyed for the good of humankind.

It's hot, it's incredibly dirty/dusty - whatever, my feet were black. AND it's full of tourists just as annoyed by the ridiculous heat, expense, crappyness of guides and lack of actual objects. Coz, see, instead of leaving things where they were found so they'd actually make sense and be worth the €11 you pay to get in, they go and cart off anything vaguely interesting to Naples where they can charge ANOTHER €11 so that you can look at the treasures completely out of context, probably in dimly lit room and in no particular order. Needless to say Archealogica de Romany whatsit won't be getting another €11 from me anytime soon. Bastardos that they are with their crappy maps and crappy audio guides that don't take account of the fact that they randomly close buildings, parts of buildings, or entire streets without bothering to change any of the instructions/signs.

Okay, so I guess you're getting the message that I think Pompeii is over rated. Or at least a very patchy experience. I think if you had a decent tour guide who spoke comprehensible English and took you to the places where there is something INTERESTING (i.e. not just "this was a take away joint. It has bowls. Wow, look at the bowls") then you might enjoy it. Also, if you didn't go when it's hot and filled with other tourists. So, like, maybe the middle of January would work? I don't know. All I know is don't buy the audio guide from the main entrance and go in the crappy entrance somewhere in between where the audio guide map begins and ends, and then spend a half hour trying to find the start and the "black boards" (signs in black, not chalk boards that give a number of every house) that tell you which number to press.

Apparently there is a brothel, which is not to be missed, and lots of other male genitalia lying around that the audio guide fails to mention. Or at least tells you is in the wrong spot. "See the male member next to the pot on the left counter." Well I would, poncy English dude, if it was still there. But obviously it got carted away to Naples along with the rest of the interesting bits of this city.

So, um, yeah. As my good friend recently accused me of being, I guess I'm a bit biley. I got sunburnt, a glass of icy stuff was like €3 and I needed about 4, I got lost a lot (have I mentioned how crap I am with maps?) and managed to walk for ages without seeing anything with a black board or whatever. My feet got really dirty, which is like one of my pet hates, and the pretty gardens were off limits, so you couldn't even sit under a tree to imagine what it might have been like to live there. And I like to imagine. I would have been Esmeneia, a pretty servant of the great... um, dude... see, that's all I got to because I didn't get to sit under a tree.

The camping ground I stayed in was really good though - Spartacus or something? It's right outside the main entrance and I got a bungalow all to myself for the cost of a shit hostel in Rome - €22. If you have 2 people it's €14 each or something, and of course if you deign to camp it's cheap as pizza. Speaking of, the pizza at the campground was really good and only €4. Internet was expensive, but not monitored so you could pay your €2.50 for half an hour and stay on it for way longer. No gelato nearby though, unless you pay exorbitant ruins prices, which I did not.
Hmm, so there you go. It's totally doable from Naples, but I'd recommend staying at the campground so you have somewhere to wash your feet and get a beer once you're done.

Grumpy Librarian Out.

The friendliness of Humans

2007-07-18T10:54:00.000Z

I noticed when I lived in Canada ten years ago (oh my, make that eleven. When did I get old?) that although a wonderful people, the Canadians are generally a lot colder, or initially standoffish, than Australians. This is of course a generalisation, but I believe it generally holds true.

My very good Canadian friend was not a hugger when I met her - she got all tetchy if you touched her. This was of course slightly amusing, and after force-hugging her for a few months she came around to the hugging way of being, and is now more of a hugger than I am (hugging in warm climates is of course often sticky and gross, and therefore I believe Canada is much more suited climatically to hugging).

We had a few discussions about the friendliness (or not) of Kanucks v. Aussies, and she was firmly of the mind that it has to do with external temperatures. Canada, being of a frigid clime, creates a colder race of people, in terms of friendliness. Australia, being warm bordering on boiling, breeds a warmer, or at least outwardly more friendly, race. This is of course a simplistic definition. However, as the histories and cultures of our countries are relatively similar, I believe it's a relatively sound, albeit basic, theory.

This thesis has really come back to me after spending the last year-plus in England. At first I met a lot of Aussies, through my Australian friends, but once I joined choir I started to meet Brits. A greater bunch of people I couldn't have dreamed up, as my choir is the best in the universe and I won't hear anything bad about any member of it's angelic crew. What really struck me when I joined, however, was that these Londoners, who generally wouldn't talk to you on the street, suddenly would talk to you on the street - because they recognised you from choir. This phenomenon strikes me as very Jane Austen - you cannot converse until you've been introduced, i.e. until it's been established that you are in the same circle, have the right connections etc. This is not to say that any of my fellow choirsters are snobs (despite their Tory-voting, Cambridge-attending ways I won't hear anything bad said about them!) - it's just the way English society is. I know you, therefore I can speak to you. You're a stranger, you'll stay that way. Italy couldn't be more different.

The number of people I have met in Italy is astounding. I know I'm generally a relatively friendly person, but after a year of living in the UK I tend to plug in my Naom-iPod and sit on public transport like any seasoned Undergrounder, avoiding eye contact and waiting for this interminable hell to be over. Despite my new English demeanor, I have made friends everywhere I've gone on buses, trains and metros in Italy. Whether it's to tell me how beautiful I am (Italian men), to advise me to watch my belongings like a hawk (older Italian men), or to engage me in in-depth discussion regarding my plans for Italy, life and children (Italian women), I have been pushed out of my UG zone into a public-transport-is-for-making-friends zone (okay, so I couldn't think of a snappy description).

Concern for my well being has been the overall emotion I have detected from these people (except the horny blokes, of course, whose concern is only for... well, you know). This is not completely different from London, where if you are a tourist looking extremely lost someone might offer you some assistance - of course they are likely to be an expat themselves (I'm forever offering bemused tourists assistance, unless of course I'm in a hurry, in which case these bloody tourists better move out of my bloody way quick smart), but on the odd occasion they will be a native. English people often state this unfriendliness is a London phenomenon, which I can understand as it's such a big, hard city. However, my experience yesterday may point to it being more widespread.

The difference between this English (note: cold climate) and Italian (Southern Italy, at any rate: very hot) way of being really struck me yesterday when I came to Pompeii. On the train from Rome I sat next to a lovely Italian woman (from Rome, so not a country bumpkin by any means) who motioned that I should unplug my ears so we could converse for the two hour train journey. She apologised profusely any time she had to halt our conversation to answer her phone, and she offered me her number in case I had any trouble in Naples. The Marias of the world truly are wonderful.

Once I got to Pompeii I asked a group of people in front of me if they knew where the ruins are, and they turned out to be English tourists. One of the girls (somewhat reluctantly) allowed me to engage her in stilted conversation, but they made several pointed attempts to get rid of me - even when we were standing in the tourist office awaiting maps. Now perhaps this attitude - that seriously bordered on rudeness - was because they were an established group, which some people may find understandable. I found it offensive, however, because I didn't want to attach myself to them, I simply wanted to find my way to the ruins and I didn't have a map. I was making conversation because that is what people do when they're tourists together in a strange land. It is worth noting they were not from London: they were from near Bristol. Perhaps I will now be told Bristolians (?) are an unfriendly bunch too, however it makes me wonder about that simple cold/hot theory.

Being of a contrary nature I have to point out the inconsistencies in this theory, primarily being that I found Ireland (cold) to be full of extremely friendly natives, and I met a fellow Aussie yesterday who was a total jerk, which may be put down to the fact that he's a cocky young jock from Sydney, but somewhat disproves my warm=friendly thesis.

Librarian Out.

You know you're not on the UnderGround any more when:

2007-07-16T15:04:00.000Z

standing on the left on a travellator just seems wrong
if a space opens up on said travellator, you can't help yourself from running on the left, even though you have nowhere to be but lazing in a park with a lemon gelato
you're totally disoriented by the lack of a logical, stylised representation of the totally illogical train lines, and end up getting off the A line, walking around the platforms like an idiot, until someone tells you you need to be on the A line going in the same direction you originally were travelling in
there's no gap to mind
the "next train" timer goes from 4 minutes to 1 in the space of 30 seconds, not the other way around
you don't need your ticket to get out of the metro. Or, sometimes, in.
it's less economical to buy a weekly ticket than to buy individual trips. Because instead of £4, a one way trip costs €1. Genius, really.

~~Librarian~~ Traveller Out.

Only in Rome...

2007-07-16T14:39:00.000Z

So I've been in Italy's capital for 5 days now. A quick snapshot:

salesman changing his shirt behind the counter of an upmarket store. Totally bizarre.
girls in short skirts and high heels on Vespers with designer bags at their feet
Italian men stopping you on the street to tell you how beautiful you are, despite the fact your face resembles a pizza (or perhaps because of???)
gelato. So, so, good. I recommend the raspberry. I have an Italian phrasebook, but it's easier just to point to the pink one.
megaphones appear to be the order of the week in Rome. Thursday night at 4am a guy started braodcasting through one on the street. At first I thought it was a police action, but once he started crooning "Carolina, Carolina, oh Caroline", I realised it was just a drunk yobbo.
subsequent admonishing tones by his mates silenced him - for a while. He finally stopped, or I managed to make it to sleep, about 5am.
another megaphone came out on Friday night at a bar I was at. I haven't seen megaphones hanging alongside the fake designer bags at the Indian/Bangladeshi stalls/blankets that line the streets, so I don't know where they're getting them from.
free water! Everywhere! Cold, delicious, gift of the Water Spout Gods!
warnings from every man and his dog to keep your valuables close to you - apparently there are thieves everywhere. Personally I think there are people warning you there are thieves everywhere, and the thieves are on holiday in Spain.
as Bill Bryson said, there are more ancient ruins here than dog shit. I can definitely confirm that. You can't walk for five minutes without running into a Roman ruin or a crazy Baroque fountain (unless of course you're actually looking for a Baroque fountain, in which case you'll walk around for ages, somehow missing the numerous signs to Fontana di Trevi)
queue jumping. As I'm relaxed on holiday I can't be bothered snarling and pinching and doing whatever it is you need to do to ensure your place in an Italian line.
constantly being told you look like a tourist. No! Really??? I'm wearing thongs (the flip flop kind, I'm on holiday, okay?), a backpack, I don't have makeup as thick as my finger on, I'm not teetering around on high heels, I don't have bleached hair, my skin is a patchwork of white and pink, and you're telling me I don't blend in?
did I mention the Italian men? "Hello, where you from, you are soooo beautiful."

Librarian Out.

A woman who can just get down and bowl!

2007-06-12T22:50:00.000Z

Because really, isn't that what we are all after?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AC5BIuhQBy0

Watching this three times just isn't enough. I'm going to have to go for a fourth.

Getting the groove on is also my life. I too don't need to date everything that moves, and I would be happy to shove an iceblock in Barbeque Louie's pants.

Does the guy with the bowtie remind anyone else of the crazy little "incon-ceiv-able" dude from The Princess Bride? Perhaps the love child of inconceivable and Mr Kellerman from Dirty Dancing. Now there's a thought I never expected to have.

Bana to be Henry? NOOOOO!

2007-06-05T11:53:00.000Z

Okay, so I'm out of the loop. This is old news according to the fact this is dated April and we're now in June, but BANA IS GOING TO BE HENRY? Why didn't somebody tell me so I could get upset?

I'm not saying he's not a great actor who can play any role, as long as that role requires a broad Australian accent. Since when did he get great reviews for Troy? Did the yanks not pick up on the "Then every son of Troy will die" line? In my mind it's comparable to "That's not a knife" in its ockerness. Which, in my mind, cuts him out of the running for playing a sensitive American librarian who can travel through time. Not sure I would have bought Brad Pitt either. I like the suggestion of Kate Winslet, though I do love Rachel McAdams.

Just another thing to fallout from the Aniston-Pitt marriage I suppose. Though I'm glad it hasn't become a Pitt-Jolie adventure. As much as I am for Team Jolie, I can't see her waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting... Rachel will do that beautifully, and I may cry for four days once again. Unless Bana stuffs it up by saying "G'day love, waiting long?"

Librarian Out.

Éire

2007-06-05T11:32:00.000Z

Dia daoibh from the Old Country. Just a quick note to let you all know how I'm going. Which is: awesome.

Love the people, the scenery, the constantly being fed.

Maria's 30th was a riot and a hilarious demonstration that Lord of the Flies still applies today (take one Pinata, 10 children, and mix. Watch the carnage ensue.) I've decided I'm having a huge 30th so I can get as many cool presents as she did. Handbags always welcome.

Westport is gorgeous - if you haven't been to the west of Ireland, you should come with me when I come back for the wedding (not that he's asked her yet - running joke of the weekend). I'm now in Maynooth, which is just north-south-east or west of Dublin (I'm gonna guess west but I couldn't be bothered tracking it down on the net - though that would have taken less time than writing this sentence - give me a break I'm on holiday and don't feel like being a researcher /fact checker/anally retentive librarian today). I'm gonna head into Dublin this arvo and will report back with what I think of it in time.

So far, I've decided I might have to look into the Irish visa. Anyone wanna tell me all about it so I can continue to be lazy?

~~Librarian~~ Traveller Out.

Next stop, Ireland

2007-06-01T23:48:00.000Z

So Berlin is awesome. Go there. Just trust me on this. I don't have a lot of time to tell you why it's so magnificent - highlights are history, culture, the way they deal with their history and culture, the blatant outness of their red light district (I saw real prostitutes! They looked better than Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman!) and the New Berlin walking tours. (Guides who work for tips are AWESOME.)

Next up I'm in Ireland for about a week - I don't have my return flight back yet but it's looking like either Thursday or Saturday I'll come back to merry ole London. Leaning towards Saturday as that will give me more time in Dublin (in Westport for the first few days), but shall see. It's my infamous girl date friend's 30th Birthday Par-tay so I'll be living large in County Mayo for a few days, then crashing with her in (or near - whatever) Dublin.

On my return to the suddenly brisk capital of England I'll be working for a few more weeks, just till the end of June. Those of you in or around the London area on the 30th please ensure you contact me for details of the massive par-tay that will be had... when I figure out what those details are. Stay tuned to this station, or more likely to your inbox or my Facebook page. That is sooo much easier to update than a blog. Anyhoo, the extra weeks at my illustrious German employer should allow me that extra bit of cash that will be required to stretch my travel into August. So I probably won't be back in the Land of Oz much before mid August... possibly Sept. I dunno, I'm totally going with the flow and unconcerned with details. Which is SO UNLIKE ME it's like totally refreshing. I feel like a new person! With a heavy head cold! Ah well, you can't have everything.

Librarian Out.

PS If you're a fan of celebrity gossip and general trivial nonsense written up in a snarky yet grammatically correct and generally intelligent way, check out Defamer Australia. They're streaming all of the best bits from the Defamer site in the States, but leaving out the irrelevant crap (industry stuff, what's on in LA this week etc etc), and adding in Aussie content on everything from Big Brother to Paul Keating (who knew he was back? I'm so out of the loop!) Oh, and Neighbours. No Aussie site would be complete without it. Go. Read. Enjoy.

Travels and stuff

2007-05-23T20:43:00.000Z

I know, I know, it's been ages. Partly because Lappy and I have been reuniting privately, partly because I've been busy, sick and lazy, and partly because I discovered Facebook. It's a social networking site, but more private than some of the others, and more populated by adults than teenagers (at least from what I can tell). I wasn't too keen at first, just joined it as a friend from work said it was a good way to keep in touch when he was leaving. Just in the last week or so I've realised I know heaps of people on it, and that it could be a good way to keep in contact when I travel back home. Also I managed to upload photos pain free, and you know how important that is to me (being technically a tiny bit slow).

If you want to join and I haven't already invited you leave me a comment or send me an email.

Back on topic:

I'm getting lots of emails asking what my travel plans are. So I don't have to repeat it 50 times, I've written a short rundown of my current plans, also on Facebook.

I have a pretty fluid attitude to travel at the moment. My current thinking - subject to change at the slightest shift in my moods and whims - is as follows:

1 June - last day at work @ DB (that's definite)
2 June - Ireland for Maria's 30th (also definite)
8th June-ish - Paris?
11th June - back in London by this date (choir, therefore definite)
14th June - Choir Concert - will be awesome, come if you're in London!
rest of June - pack, possibly work if I can get some, sightseeing etc in London
June 30th - BIRTHDAY BABY YEAH! Also Leaving Do concurrently so plan for a big night out if you're in London or can get here! (definite)
July 5th - Lease ends... at the moment so does my London life :-(
July 7th and 8th - Band Camp! AKA Singing Weekend (definite)
9th July - Leave the UK
Following 3 weeks - trek around Italy and probably Turkey (at least Istanbul)
27th July - meet Katherine in Prague (definite but my flight is not yet booked as I'm not sure where I'll be coming from, see previous line)
late July/early August - Amsterdam?
slightly later August - Bath?
Mid August - Brisbane via Singapore
Late August - Trish's wedding planning weekend in Sydney
September and October - do nothing but starve and go to the gym
Late October - be a bridesmaid in My Best Friend's Wedding! (definite)

alternatively... everything up to and including choir after Ireland, and then...

Get a job for a few more months and not leave UK until late August
Late August - Sian and Alex's wedding in Wales.
Travel as above in July but in Sept.
Go home by late Sept when my return ticket is valid until.
October: Starve, Gym, Wedding (DEFINITE)

So there you go! More than you ever wanted to know about the workings of my time management *skills*

Anything not marked (definite) is subject to change without prior notice. Refunds will not be given on time missed if I change my plans. Katherine is the exception as she's booked her ticket ;-)

Librarian Out.

Paddles! Clear!

2007-04-21T22:40:00.000Z

After some Kovac-like heroics my friendly neighbourhood computer doctor has brought Lappy back from the brink. Yay!!! The motherboard is now connected to the CPU in glorious harmony, and the virus is gone. YAY!!!

Highlights since we've been gone:

A parental and step parental visited, which was awesome. Spent most of the week with them, highlights were Winchester (they have the best Cathedral choir in the country - who knew? They are truly incredible, however, and could whip the St Paul's Evensong in a fight any day), the ferry ride to and from Greenwich, and eating a ridiculously tiny meal in a ludicrously expensive restaurant in the swanky hotel they were staying at. Seriously, they were Barbie-portions. No wonder there are so many skinny rich women.
I got a payrise. Yay!!! Possibly enough to get me to the Highly Skilled Migrant level, but since the Home Office doubled visa fees that decided me on my course of going home, which I was pretty set on due to pretty much everyone I love living on the other side of the world. Work, travel, home. Get skinny, be pretty bridesmaid. We all need goals.
Wonderful wonderful Copenhagen. I visited a friend from Uni and we had awesome Danish breakfasts, went on a Canal tour, had a drink at a wacky 60s hotel designed by Arne Jacobsen, then spent the rest of the weekend watching Sex and the City, consuming Toblerone, wine and lasagne in vast quantities (and in that order). Overall the perfect Easter weekend.
I bought a pretty green summer dress today. It matches my glasses. Hey, often it's the small things that make us happy.

Lappy is back. The world is a good place.

Librarian Out.

PS Sanjaya is gone. Yay!!!

Computer Troubles

2007-03-25T14:22:00.000Z

Well the Unthinkable has occurred and Lappy has gone to computer heaven. I'm hoping the guys at the local PuterHospital can bring him back from the brink with some overly dramatic shouting of "CLEAR!" followed by some healing jolts of electricity to his poor little sockets, but until then I'll be a bit incommunicado a la the blogging and emailing.

The troubles couldn't have occurred at a worse, time, really, as Lappy has been bravely and steadfastly storing for me all my good deeds and sterling words regarding my brilliant career, and I now have a job application to write without any of said work history in written form. So I'll be starting pretty much from scratch - having managed to retrieve an old CV from my sent emails I'm at least partly there - in order to do my best to obtain an awesome job in Australia's Faux Capital (no offence to Melbourne, or indeed Canberra, but I'm yet to meet someone who hasn't been to Australia who is aware of any city other than Sydney).

So depending on how this job application goes, and if they are indeed willing to wait for me to return to the sun soaked shores of Oz in August, I may be Sydney-bound, and sooner than expected. But as my work visa is fast running out here it is likely that after a bit of travel to my have-have-have-have-have-have-have-have-have-have-have-have-have-have-have to destinations (cut down from my have-have-have-have-have to list of 20 to a list of about 5) I will be coming back to Oz in the next few months regardless. With or *hiccup* without Lappy. May the computer angels lull him gently to sleep every night to erase the pain of his tragic illness and sudden death.

Librarian (sadly and reluctantly because I'm being charged by the minute here) out.

Sooo exhausted, must sleep...

2007-03-11T22:19:00.000Z

BIG weekend. All girl dates, all the time. Something about being sick for weeks makes people keen to see you - not to mention the amazing weather has chased me out of the house into the glorious, glorious sunshine. It's possible I overdid it, though not so much with the sunshine. You be the judge.

So Friday was drinks with my flatmates at my favourite cocktail bar, (2-for-1 happy hour - for three hours!), followed by chips & Magners at a local pub, followed by crazy dancing till 2am at the nearest bar/club to home. I was so *ahem* happy by that stage that I forgot why I stopped dancing years ago: I'm a decrepit old lady whose body can't keep up with her groove thang. My neck is now so stiff I can barely move it, my hip hurts and my thighs are killing me. Oh for my zimmer frame! Thank goodness I was wearing my Sketchers for dress down day, or I'd have destroyed my feet as well. Fell into bed without even considering the possibility of turning the computer on to blog. Thank the alcohol fairy for that one!

Saturday was all girl dates, all the time. The Kylie exhibition - totally tarted up for London compared to the Brisbane showing, with costumes from the latest tour, a massive room playing footage of one of the Homecoming concerts, a recreation of her dressing room (the woman likes her teddy bears, something I can totally respect), and the biggest skirt in the existence of the world - with Irish Librarian. Followed by a girl's night out at this over the top restaurant in Covent Garden - terrible service (being a tourist trap with little repeat service I suppose) but amazing decor and the mains and ice cream are great. Stay away from the "chocolate cake", it's actually mousse and makes Tesco's Finest look gourmet. I was ready for bed by the time dessert was finished, but as one of the girl's was in town just for the weekend we needed to paint it a suitably rockin' colour. The lack of bars open past 11pm in the area led us to a dodge-a-rama club where Irish Librarian and I amused ourselves watching people dance, played "I found you a boyfriend" to great amusement, and discussed ad nauseum every funny thing Chandler has ever done or said. It was GRAND.

Sunday was as much of a sleep-in as possible, followed by the heart-attack-a-special. Breakfast is the best meal of the day, I should really eat it more often. Some American Idol to fill in the karaoke void in my life - all I can say is thank Simon the tone-deaf one is finally gone! Coffee with another girl friend for a catch-up at the best Aussie-esque cafe in London. Mmm, coffee. From there to the local Library for travel books, then to the grocery store to fulfil my new month's resolution of buying and preparing food in a frugal and healthy manner - otherwise entitled Ready Meals Are Bad, M'kay? My next activity was also related to working towards my resolution to Not Be A Porker at My Best Friend's Wedding. Apart from cutting down on the Not Really That Good For You But You'll Believe Anything With A Tick Next To It meals, I also plan to occasionally exercise more than my typing fingers. To that end, I called my physio to see if I could take her dog out for a walk. She was out gallivanting, but her husband offered me £5 to lose the pooch on our walk. I declined and he upped the offer to £10. He was happy for me to take her out for a walk, but less happy when I brought her back an hour later! Once the sun set at 6.30pm (so late! so glorious!) I turned my attention to the preparation and cooking of the food for the week, cleaned my room and did some washing and then determined to be asleep by 11pm. Foiled by the lure of the blog again.

Librarian Out.

Four Things you may not have known about me....

2007-03-09T00:16:00.000Z

Another one of those emails that I'd prefer to answer on my blog than send to everyone. Plus it means I don't have to think of a new topic today. Yay laziness!

Four jobs I have had in my life:
Bed seller
Christmas Caroller
Myer chick
Librarian (you would hope so!)

Four films I ~~would~~ do watch over and over:
Space Balls
Dirty Dancing
~~When Harry Met Sally~~ The Notebook
Pirates of Penzance (Broadway stage version on video, with Kevin Kline as The Pirate King. It's classic.)

Four places I have lived:
Brisbane, Queensland, Australia
Kenora, Ontario, Canada
London, England, UK
That's it, actually.
Oh no,wait, as a baby I lived in Bath, England. Wonder why that slipped my mind...

4 television programmes I watch:
Only four? Seriously? How am I sposed to pick? Okay, fine, I'll be controversial
Friends - it's on ALL THE TIME here. No such thing as a "on a break" for E4!
Studio 60 - Chandler + Josh = I heart talk'n'walk 4EVA.
South Park - only gets better the wronger it gets. Speaking of wrong, Little Britain.
And when I was sick with flu I got a hankering for the Aussie coast-line and became addicted to Home & Away. Don't judge me until you've walked a mile in the grey grey winter.

[ABC Kids isn't a TV programme Cath! Isn't it just the programming slot/division/whatever?]

Four places I have visited on holiday:
Start spreading the news... yeah baby. You know it. It's... Vancouver.
Oh, and New York.
French Alps. WORST. HOLIDAY. EVER.
Noosa. BEST. HOLIDAYS. EVER.

Four of my favourite foods:
Only four? First TV, now food? Is this Anorexics Dust-time or something?
Fresh white bread. Mmmmm. Yeasty goodness.
Chips. Lots and lots of Chips.
Dark dark chocolate. With bits in it.
Lasagne...
Can't stop, must go on... Roast lamb. Chicken pesto pasta and chicken pesto pizza with goat's cheese from ASK. Falafel and hummos. Salmon and cucumber sandwiches. Sue Kermeen's One Bowl Chocolate Cake. M&S carmelised onion and goats cheese tarts. Bacon, with CARBS CARBS CARBS.

Four places I would rather be right now:
On holiday. Getting paid to do nothing. Bliss.
Having a never ending massage.
Somewhere sunny but not too hot. So this time of year... Maleny.
Next to a bottle of wine. Okay, you can open it. But I'll just have ten.

Four of you I think will respond
I refuse to answer on the grounds that it might incriminate my friends as regards their lack of interest in my blog. So that limits it to... Kate, Paul... THE REST OF YOU ARE BAD BAD FRIENDS. Not that you can hear me, seeing as you don't read my blog!

Four things that make me smile
Babies. Yes, I'm clucky. You wanna make something of it, punk?
Puppies. They keep the cluckiness at bay. And they're SO CUTE!!!
See entry: girl dates.
I wish I could think of something that would make me seem deep, but I can't even make that up. So I'm gonna go with: Chandler. He cracks me up. Even when he's not Chandler.

My four greatest regrets
That my metabolism doesn't allow me to eat all of the above and stay a size 10.
That it's hard to walk quickly in heels and not look like you're about to tip over.
That they don't make boots/coats/men like they used to.
Handing the razor to Britney.

Librarian out.

Celebrity Love Letters Day!

2007-03-07T00:32:00.000Z

I was madly in love with Alan Alda when I was a tween and then teen. I used to tape M*A*S*H reruns every night at 6'o'clock on Channel Ten. I ended up with an entire box filled with videos, painstakingly marked in my teenie handwriting (MOSTLY UPPeRCaSe WiTH aLL LeTTeRS oF THe SaMe HeiGHT, UNLiKe THiS DeMONSTRaTiON) with the name of each episode, with little M*A*S*H asterisks between them. I kid you not, I was a librarian in the making, albeit one who was only interested in collecting the Alan*Alda*Show in a pristine ad-free condition. (You should have seen how good I got with predicting when the ad-break would end. Three-Two-One, unpause.) As far as I was (and am still) concerned, he only got better with age. From black to salt and pepper to white, that's an impressive mop at any age.

Sadly, as many fan letters as I began to pen to Mr Alda, I never actually sent - or even finished - one. I always vaguely regretted not fully capturing the intensity of my pre-teen crush on, let's face it, Hawkeye Pierce. I was strongly convinced (and am still not entirely unconvinced) that he helped save my life. Without the laughter I found every night at six, a very difficult period in my life may have become unbearable. That's what I would have said in my letter. Mind you, I probably would have also gone on about his lanky grace, his surprisingly good singing voice, his knobbly nose... *ahem*

That's why I was so charmed to find this post on one of my dailies. A sweet Swedish boy (or someone breaking English in order to appear as a sweet Swedish boy) has written a love letter to Drew Barrymore. While I can't boast to have seen 16 filmen as you with in the filmen nor am I the proud owner of 10 off the filmen have I DVD-filmen, I have admired Drew since I owned a record of her telling the story of E.T.

I screamed! Then the goblin screamed!! I'm a good screamer.

In fact, I bet there are a lot of people out there who never put into the world their Celebrity Love, or at least admiration, due to embarassment, laziness, lack of stamps (a problem I often struggle with) - whatever! But you're an adult now - get over that ridiculous embarassment, turn from laziness to solid procrastination, eschew the stamps, they're a thing of the previous millennium anyway! I encourage you to write that fan/love letter that you never did as an angst-filled tween/teen/fully grown obsessive. Write it today! Post it on your blog, or write it on a piece of paper and burn it (especially if Luke Perry's character in Jeremiah is the reason for your aDORiNG PeNMaNSHiP. In which case, you might want to investigate professional therapy, there's nothing I can do for you.) You can even send it to me and I'll post it (on my blog, not to the celebrity - what do you take me for?) for you.

So get writing. In the meantime, I'm going to see if my local video store (DVD store just sounds wrong) has Everyone Says I Love You, to get my Alan-and-Drew, Together-At-Last fix, which has the added bonus of being a musical riot for the whole family! And yes, Paul, there is a little something in it for you too.

Librarian Out.

Not a Tourist Follow-Up

2007-03-06T02:09:00.000Z

Was just reading over a previous (and somewhat ancient) post because I linked to it in my latest mammoth effort of verbosity - yes that's right it's called insomnia - and had the brilliant idea of finding the ad with Ron Moss as The Man From Snowy River on You Tube. For some reason there's an alternative version with "I know" at the end, which totally blows compared to the original and the best, "Bloody Oath", but luckily I managed to find the dinkum-di-true-blue-gen-u-ine-article.

Enjoy if you haven't before. And if you have, enjoy again. And drink some orange juice. It's good for you.

Librarian Out. Again.

girl dates

2007-03-05T23:33:00.000Z

I've been thinking about how important female friends are lately, pretty much since my best friend left the country last week. Now I don't know how much this will apply to any male readers I may have (i.e. my brother, if he ever bothers to check whether I'm posting), except perhaps in a voyeuristic kind of fashion (again, my brother. Sick bastard that he is), but I'm going to talk briefly (if I am indeed capable of that, which is highly unlikely, and there's NO WAY I'll manage it without parentheses* or having imaginary conversations**) about girl dates.

The great thing about girl dates - at least the kind I go on - is that they can involve pretty much anything. Dinner, movies, ice cream (well I think that's pretty much mandatory, or at least it should be), museums, brunch, coffee, book shopping, live music, shoe shopping...

Okay, that's pretty much mandatory too, even if there are no shoe shops around or the shops are closed. There's always window shopping or my personal favourite, pointing out other girl's shoes.

*just loud enough for her to overhear*Oh-my-God they're SOO cute - look at how they go with her coat! I wonder where she got them? Would it be rude to ask?

*whispered urgently*Oh-my-God check out Skanky-McGrandma over there! Orthopodic toe cleavage is just too much. Promise me you'll shoot me if I ever wear anything half as Irene as that!

Of course you immediately switch into Teen-Speak (i.e. a pseudo-American accent) whenever you discuss random people's footwear.

My favourite girl date friend at present, a fellow librarian and super sexy Irish babe to boot, is, I think, an old hat at girl dates. She's the person who introduced me to the term, though I've actually been having them since I was quite young.

My best friend and I used to go steady when we were preteens, teens, and even into our early twenties - we had our regular Saturday day date Saturday nights were reserved for sleepovers, either of the innocent hair competition variety when we were young, or the not-so-innocent boyfriend variety when we were a bit less young every week if I recall correctly, probably for close to ten years, possibly longer. Certainly it got less set in stone as new commitments - study, new girl date friends, possibly even boyfriends - came on the scene, but we kept up that tradition for a very long time, and I remember it clearly starting in about grade five, it might have been six, when we were allowed finally!! After being treated like children for so long!!! to go to the shopping centre by ourselves.

Oh the fun we had! The hot chips we ate! The vinegar that got SQUIRTED ALL OVER MY FAVOURITE OVERSIZED BLUE yes there was a time when I didn't think blue was the colour of blah itself T-SHIRT!!! The oversized tacky matching-but-opposite black and white speckled geometric earrings we bought from that stand that now rotates as a shoe sale or calendar stall depending on the time of year! Yes Sherlock it WAS the 80s, though the very end, and most of our girl dating years were in the 90s so lots of hair bands gave way to big fringes gave way to that most hideous of crimes the undercut (though neither of us ever got one a short-term-girl-date stand-in got one to supplement her eating disorder... little wonder that budding relationship didn't last), gave way Brenda Bangs (or really a Brenda fringe in our language, but I just can't pass up ~~good~~ bad alliteration) to the Claudia Schiffer bed head look gave way to... um I don't actually know, I think I got less keen on looking like everyone else around that time.

Anyhoo, my best mate and I have always been most into shopping for our girl dates. Something I noticed recently is that she sometimes seems to react to situations that involve having both sexes involved - brunch with the group of friends who have just been to dinner and drinks the night before, will probably be going to have a beer in the pub later on together - by suddenly ducking into a shop with a quick I'll catch up with you guys in a bit, okay? Hey, TravellingLibrarian, come with me for a sec and suddenly we're back in the girl date zone, pointing out shoes or tops or even DVDs that would suit the other but would totally not work on me, so you should try it on! No seriously! It's not my colour and I could never pull off something with that small a waist, I'll take the boob top you're holding onto coz sweetie, much as I love you we both know there's no way you'll be filling that up anytime soon. Maybe when you're preggers, but... hang on, is there something I should know?

See, one of the great things about girl dates is the freedom they provide - that is, the freedom from men - to talk about absolutely anything. The great thing about platonic girl dates - you had figured out I meant platonic by now hadn't you? Coz if not, seriously get ~~a grip~~ ~~a hold~~ control of yourself there buddy - is that they're like a return to childhood, of sorts. Where you talked about everything you could think of - sure, at a certain point that was mostly reserved to clothes, boys, Christian Slater, 90210, and how one day hair dancing would take over the world okay maybe that was just me. But as we grow older we talk about more weighty issues. Fashion, slightly older boys, Johnny Depp, Desperate Housewives... and career choices, whether we will buy a house or more likely unit on our own, or contemplate having children on our own. Whether we'll adopt if we manage not to conceive, or even if we can conceive because we believe in giving children a loving family, no matter what their genetics. What we believe in, what we're afraid of, what we want from and what we want to give back to the world. What we'd give up for love. Things that I wouldn't think of discussing in a public forum so you'll just have to use your imagination or your experience, coz if you're still reading this I'm guessing you're a girl who has girl dates too.

Since sleepovers are now reserved for boys, a lot of the time we spend socialising is in mixed company, and we do a different kind of growth in those environments, and within those relationships. The growth we experience by talking with our girlfriends - and the fun we have too of course! - is one of the most important things, I think anyway, about being a grown-up girl, or as some people like to refer to us as, women.

So when a friendship like that changes, either by distance, a disagreement, someone getting married or becoming a mum, or by the natural growing apart that occurs in many relationships while others of course make up for that loss by becoming closer, it can make you feel like your world is slowly crumbling, or at least like there are some serious cracks that aren't going to be easily or at least not in the long term filled by pretty, shiny shoes. And by a return to childhood I don't mean a return to immaturity. I mean a return to the kind of growth we experienced in our childhood - or maybe more accurately in adolescence.

That quick, intense growth spurt that was insanely confusing, extremely hard and ultimately helped make us into the people we are today, that energy is what I feel when I'm with a close - or becoming close to a new - female friend, on a girl date. But the great thing about having girl dates as a grown up is that you can use that energy - channel it even, to make this post sound even more Oprah-esque - into more than finding the perfect pair of boots as important and futile a search as that is. You can use it to help make yourself the perfect you.

I totally didn't start writing this post thinking it would go here, but now it has it's led naturally to me thanking the women who have helped make me who I am today. Being a travelling librarian is not actually about travelling, or the traditional kind of travelling, as in seeing different places, for me. As I've mentioned before, I'm not a very good tourist. Being a travelling librarian is about never giving up on the search, never giving up on the joy, never giving up on the curiosity about who I am becoming. Who is this person TravellingLibrarian, and how can I make her more of herself? Whether that's through experiencing different cultures or fitting more comfortably into my own culture, through seeing the beauty of the natural world, or the beauty of man-made things... however or through whatever means feel right to me at the time, so that when the light bulb inside me is ready to be switched on, I've got enough power inside to keep it shining for a very long time.

Thank you to all my female friends, those I have loved, do love, and will love in the future. You help to make me who I am. And if one of you doesn't introduce me to my perfect man at a dinner party someday, I'll have to figure out how to find that switch myself. But I imagine I'll need a lot of girl dates in order to figure out how.

Librarian Out.

*I replaced all of my parentheses with pink text. Much less confusing.

**Except when the pink text is in italics. Then it stands for speech.

Well, I can't have a readership who can't think on their feet now can I? I love breaking grammar, but in a fun pseudo-intellectual and definitely sleep-deprived kind of way. And only because I respect is so much.

Pink Librarian Out.

Book Recommendations

2007-03-04T19:22:00.000Z

A friend of mine has just started reading, after years of deeming it too boring. Turns out she just needed some good recommendations. I was on IM to the most uber librarian I know, and said "guess what book got her started?" She knew straight away of course - it was The Time Traveler's Wife, possibly the saddest and most beautiful book ever written, which Uber Librarian actually introduced me to. I also recommended My Sister's Keeper to my newly bibliophilic friend, and she keeps asking for more recommendations.

Seeing as I read quite widely, but am not Nancy Pearl, I was a bit afraid of recommending stuff that may then turn her off reading - not my responsibility I know, but as book lover I feel a certain responsibility to not let anyone (especially the newbies) drop out of the fold. So imagine my delight when I got an email (from Library Link of the Day, which I'm really enjoying receiving, as a certifed Library Nerd) that linked to an article about LibraryThing.

Now I'm not likely to catalogue my books anytime soon - I am so not enough of a nerd for that right now (not to mention I don't have that many books here: I actually am having to recycle them due to the fact it's ridiculous to send books back to Australia - I'll keep the ones I really love of course, as I like to lend them out and one day want an entire room with bookshelves on all the walls, with big comfy couches in the middle and a really cute little puppy dog to accessorise it. Okay, fantasy over. And point taken, I am enough of a nerd.), but the suggestion search is awesome - well from my limited testing I thought it was really good, and I passed on the recommendations to my friend. Some of them were books I'd read but hadn't though to mention to her, so as well as suggesting new ones for her to try (and me!) it reminded me of others I'd loved.

As librarians can't know (or at least remember) everything - even though some people expect us to - it's really good to know about websites that can help give us the illusion of knowing more than we do. You're a fan of Zadie Smith? You'd probably like Monica Ali. But I'd stay away from books on Christian theology. (Okay so the unsuggester is a little weird. It seems like the database includes books from people who read fiction and those who read biblical and scientific texts, and the algorithm states that ne'er the twain shall meet. Which is probably completely true - I love fiction and am extremely unlikely to pick up either What Jesus Demands of the World or Against Method for a lazy Sunday afternoon, or in fact any time of the day read, and I'd be surprised if the owner of What Jesus Demands also owned The Red Tent. But if you need it suggested to you that you probably wouldn't like a book on programming in C, you may just need to go browse in a library or bookstore. Or try reading the introduction of that programming book and staying awake. I'm just saying.)

I think it would be a great idea for libraries to use a similar technology - having users of the local library share their book choices. After all, it's not just the books we buy but the books we read that are important. For example, I love Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum series, but I don't buy them because I know I won't reread them and I'm unlikely to lend them to someone. I think they're perfect for libraries, however, because they're light and fun and quick to read, and as a public librarian I'd make sure I had the whole series in my library. I'd still suggest them to someone, but probably only if they were asking for something light to read on holiday, which is how they were recommended to me. Of course a search that recommends books based on the type of reading you wanted to do is just making the whole thing more complicated... not to mention boring to read about on my supposedly new, improved and no longer verbose blog, so...

Librarian Out.

New focus

2007-03-03T04:23:00.000Z

Okay, so the occasional extremely lengthy thing hasn't really been working for me. I'm going to try short and regular. Not much going on in my life at the moment - I've had the flu and am still laying low, not to mention Jess has left the country and everyone else is away this weekend - so all the more time for me to draw your attention to stuff on Teh Interweb.

First up, it turns out MicroGatesSoft is still evil, despite those amusing ads from Mac (the British ones are fewer but everything sounds better in an English accent, especially when the word humdinger is used). Speaking of Macs, I think I might purchase one once Lappy decides it's over between us. MicroGatesSoft not taking feedback in a positive way and all. As much as I love my computer I'm noticing some limitations with MS and think I may be quite influenced by that Mac advertising, after all. Not really a shock considering my advanced consumer abilities.

If you haven't yet heard this song and all the associated wackiness go download it NOW. Goose is the man, there's even a video clip. It's awesome, and the name Ray just regained some of the coolness it lost when associated with the Foxx's one-musical-removed lame performance in the Beyonce-Isn't-The-Best-At-Everything-All-The-Time Show. If someone can figure out how I can get that streaming thingy to play in my iPod (seems to work in iTunes so no idea why on Job's Green Earth it won't work on the NaomiPod) please let me know. I could do with some of that on the tube - yes you buddy get OUT of my personal space and may I SUGGEST you CONSIDER anti-perspirant?

Okay even short posts are time consuming.

Librarian out.

Important Correction

2006-11-27T20:45:00.000Z

It's now been fixed, but there was a VERY important typo in my previous post. Jess and Alfie are engaged, and GETTING married - next November, in BrisVegas. They're not married yet. Woops!

I'm baaaaack!

2006-11-09T23:15:00.000Z

Turns out I'm not the only verbose librarian out there. Who knew?
So I guess I've been pretty slack. Can't promise it won't happen again. Internet is dial-up (who can believe it? Seriously. Can I really be reduced to this?), and Lappy hasn't fully recovered from the drinking problem he developed earlier in the year, and doesn't always cooperate. Oh, and I have a life now. Hence the not writing home so much...
Highlights of the last two months:
Paris - with Jess. Fantastic. Shopped at Galleries LaFayette (like a really expensive and pretty Myer), looked at the Eiffel Tower (lines to long to actually attempt to climb it), watched a nun blatantly flout the laws of the Musee Dorsay by taking photographs of pieces of artwork. Priceless. And other stuff... the Champs, the eating in the Latin Quarter... you know. The usual.
Jeremy Irons - I'd love to be able to say I did Jeremy Irons, but alas, he's happily married. I've started going to the City of London Choir - I have my audition next week, wish me luck although my sightreading is not up to scratch - and they needed singers for a concert in Dorchester. I had agreed to do it (sucking up due to my crappy sightreading) so that I could say I'd gone to Dorchester (WHERE?), and it wasn't until after I'd signed up that I found out the incomparable Jeremy Irons would be there. HOT. With two Ts. So we did this Vaughn Williams piece that calls for orchestra, choir and speaker, and he was the speaker. Did I mention HOTT? And apart from saying that the elm tree was drowning the hill, instead of crowning the hill, he did extremely well. Plus, the Hotness. Bliss. If I ever learn how to put my photos on the Internet I shall show you his English gentlemanly handsomeness next to my eager Heathrow Injectioned nerdiness for you to imagine the lovely smell of rolling tobacco...
WICKED - Okay, so I've decided I can only stay up long enough to tell you about the top 3 things in my life of late, so this musical has to be the third. It's BRILLIANT. Watch out world, it's the next touring sensation. Think Les Mis, think Phantom, then think both moving AND hilarious AND doesn't make you want to slit your wrists or murder Andrew Lloyd Webber, and you're with me. Learn the songs now so you can be ahead of the cool crowd. Oh, and if you're in London in November, get yourself to the Apollo in Victoria so you can see the original lead Idina Menzel from the Broadway production that won the Tony award for her incredible performance as Elphaba (remember the verbose from the beginning of the post?). Rockin' the wicked witch like it's never been rocked before. Oh, and of course Adam Garcia is hot, and his dance is hilarious.
Okay, so apart from that work is good (I'm a "researcher", hehe) and I'm living with a good friend in an awesome part of London - stand by for Kate Winslett stalking stories - and did I mention I LOVE LONDON? Offers of eligible young English men to marry me so I can stay in the country always welcome.
Till next time I feel like sharing my celebrity moments,
Librarian OUT.
PS I know, it's eletronic, so post scripts are kind of irrelevant, but I like them, okay? JESS AND ALFIE ARE GETTING MARRIED. Congratulations, guys. Now I have a year to reverse the Heathrow Injection* so I can look incredible on your special day. Cue song: All my friends are getting ma-a-a-rried...
*for those of you who aren't aware of this, there is the descriptive version: You come to Heathrow, they give you an injection that makes you crave hot chips, pasties, chocolate, and anything as long as it's fatty and starchy and delicious. Preferably not salad. For the literal ones among you (yes you, Paul), you come to London, you get fat. Sheesh, do I have to explain everything?

Barcelona, Job, Moving

2006-08-24T21:58:00.000Z

So I've been busy. Sue me.
Spent last weekend in Barcelona, soaking up the Spanish sun while England was grey and dreary. Ah, August. One of my favourite months no matter where I am! The mediterranean was super salty and cleared out my sinuses nicely - the only downer on the weekend (apart from the company I was keeping but let's not go there) was the awful cold I succumbed to on Friday, and am only just starting to hardly notice now - a week later. So Barcelona included lots of rambling on the Ramblas, a few gazillion more freckles on my shoulders, tapas and gelati galore (it's best when it's so smooth it's like a paste), and marvelling at the oddness of La Sagrada Familia, Gaudi's insanely brilliant/just plain insane cathedral-in-the-making, and... um... well that's it really. I also spent a lot of time coughing and sneezing, but Barcelona didn't really make that special. Oh! That's right. It's really smelly. If only my sinuses had been fully blocked.
So, I was told by my boss a few weeks back (or one of the five I have... ah, matrix management is SOOO much fun!) that my replacement is to start on the 4th of September. One of my other bosses, who was in the room at the time - actually I think I was in the room and they were talking about the new person starting, but nevermind - says "So what happens to The Travelling Librarian then?", which I was quite pleased about, coz I was wondering the same thing. And the first boss says something along the lines of "Well, when the Replacement Librarian starts, the Travelling Librarian will have to go" and I was like, *shrug*, fine, I'm a temp after all, no worries, I'll just tart up the resume earlier than expected. So, I had a bit of a think about what I want to do, professionally, while I'm here in the Land of UK, and decided that in terms of my goals of wanting
a) to earn more money
b) experience I wouldn't get back home
c) to earn lots and lots of money
d) to work in an environment where I could conceivably trip over a member of the male gender that isn't another librarian (no offence guys, you're lovely, but few and far between), and
e) did I mention the whole money thing?
I decided that the best way to go would be to become a librarian in an investment bank. So I tarted my resume accordingly, stamping big black shiny pounds signs all over it, and listing every database I've ever used that has anything vaguely to do with Business on it. I picked the top 3 corporate information recruiters in London, and sent it off.
Well, it seemed to work because within a week I'd had a fair bit of interest. AND THEN, OF COURSE, manager number one comes to me and says "You know, Travelling Librarian, we're really happy with the work you're doing here at the Poncey Public Library [link removed because the people I work with are lovely, its a really great service and most of the patrons are fine - you just get quite a few poncey ones], and we'd really love you to stay until October."
"Gee, Boss Number One" I replied "that sounds great, because I really do love what I'm doing here. But you should know, I thought I was leaving at the beginning of September so I've already sent out my resume." (And, sidebar, if I get offered a few pounds more an hour I'm gonna take it. I do have to keep myself in shoes, you know. This stylish coordination thing I have going on doesn't magically happen!)
"Oh, that's fine, Travelling Librarian. Just give us a week's notice if you find something."
So, low and behold, I got an interview with an investment bank. A big one. They're not the best in the world for holding other people's money and making the chocolate of the smoothy creamy goodness, but they had a reputation for taking that which did not belong to them in the dubya dubya two, if you get my drift. Glottal stop.
So anyhoo, to cut a potentially long and therefore typing intensive story short, I rocked up to the interview, after Barcelona, and doped up on all the paracetamol and cold and flu tablets that my body could handle, and attempted to smile through the fog. Apparently my sparkling personality, desire to no longer be bored, ridiculous enthusiasm for getting my hands on databases that cost gazillions of smackeroos to sully (Datastream, Reuters, Bloomberg... oh, bestill!), and masochistic desire to work for a bunch of wallies who want "25 annual reports, an indepth study into the potential market for toothpicks in Guatamala, and an industry overview of cocoa beans covered in chocolate - dark, not the milky kind mind you - on my desk by this time YESTERDAY" shone through the over-the-counter induced haze in which I'd surrounded myself to brave the London public transport system, and I got the job!
Well, when I say I got the job, I've been offered it, and I have accepted. HOWEVER as I will be working in "the city" (read: square mile, read: financial services), they need to get five years of reference, credit and residential checks on me. And, as I spent the last five years, minus the last 4 or so months, in Australia, I don't think that's going to be as fast as they want it to be. And, because I learnt my lesson when I dealt with the Evil Empire earlier this year, I refuse to give notice at my current job until I know for SURE that I've passed the security check. So... we wait.
But if it all goes according to plan, I will be
a) earning more money
b) called the Travelling Researcher (not quite the same ring, is it?)
c) attempting to trip over the odd investment banker on my way to the Starbucks for my skinny lemon poppyseed muffin (seriously, don't try them, they're ADDICTIVE - must be the opium)
d) gainfully employed, hopefully for the rest of my visa (it's an ongoing contract), and
e) I mentioned the money, yeah?
Okay, so that's enough about that for now.
Onto my last item for discussion (this has taken way longer than I wanted it to and I'm sleepy): I'm moving. The house I'm currently in has been great, but it's a bit above my current level of cash flow - in fact, even in my new job it would probably be above my level of cash flow, considering the amount of travelling I'd like to do while I'm here. And a good friend of mine offered me a bed when it came up at her place, so I'm going to try the "share a room" concept that is so popular with cash-strapped antipodeans in the Land of UK. At least for a while. So I won't be sending an email with my postal address and phone number (the mobile hasn't changed and hopefully won't if the bloody carphone warehouse gets their finger out and ports my number like I told them to TWO WEEKS AGO) because it could change again in a couple of months. So, if you're desperate to send me some snail mail, email me and ask me for my current mailing address.
Alright sports racers, I should hit the hay.
So until next time, Librarian out.

An Open Letter to TFL

2006-06-26T23:42:00.000Z

I know, I know, I've been a bad little Librarian, running off and doing fun things (Foo Fighters concert, dancing to the BEST DJs ever to hatch from a Kiwi egg, yobbing it up at the Oz-Brasil extravaganza at the Clapham Grand, non stop BBQs) and then getting sick because of too much fun (five days in bed with a dreadful flu. Ah, the immune system of a tragic romantic female. How it plagues me.), and not telling you about it. But don't think I've forgotten how much you yearn for my quirky take on living in the seas over the waters over the seas (okay, so maybe my fever hasn't completely gone!)
To prove to you all how much I've been thinking of you and wishing you were here experiencing the homesickness, carb cravings, lack of good shoe shops, brilliant English summer weather, constant eating of far too much English cow (that's right, I can no longer give blood in Australia), comfort eating of Cadbury fruit and nut chocolate, obsessive baking (yes, I would too be thinner if you were fatter) and general wacky shenanigans that go with being a shy, retiring antipodean marooned on the vast island of cess that is London, I have decided to share with you my latest spur-of-the-moment fit of passion: a rant.
But not just any rant, no, fair reader. A rant that will not only give you a glimpse of how frustrating it is to traverse London as a wee young slip with nary a spine to call her own (PUN! Books! Spines! Get it?), but also how much fun it can be to have an English major that you'll never do anything useful with, except occasioinally pen (or in my case, tap) scathing letters to disgruntled public servants that will either be filed in the bin, or put in an email that you eventually receive years later as a *true* story written by an anonymous patron of the aforementioned dreadful service. SO, to get the jump on that slightly amused employee who decides to distribute my letter, I post it here for you now. Behold! An open letter to Transport For London, regarding their online travel planner facility.
*WARNING: CONTAINS EXPLICIT LANGUAGE, VIVID IMAGERY, AND A FAIR AMOUNT OF RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION. NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN UNDER THE AGE OF SATIRICAL CONSENT OR PEOPLE EASILY OFFENDED BY THE EXTREME OVERUSE OF FIFTY-CENT WORDS.*

Dear Journey Planner Programmers/ Project Manager/ Mayor of London,
I have been using Journey Planner (JP) almost daily since I arrived in London 2 months ago, in order to get around. I have found there are some rather serious problems with it.
Firstly, there is NO WAY it takes 16 minutes to walk from SW11 1EP to Clapham Junction Station - it's more like seven, 10 if you're really unlucky with the lights and maniac buses, and/or slow. But because JP has this ridiculous 16 minute thing built in, it hardly ever tells me to take a train and tube - it generally directs me to a bus, which is usually a LOT longer than a walk-train-tube combination, and NEVER as direct as JP makes it out to be. Bus stops, for one thing, are VERY difficult for the uninitiated to locate. Especially as the bus drivers seem incapable of, or unwilling to, assist in anything more than giving you a stern glare for daring to breathe in their bus. Seriously. Welcome to London.
Another problem: JP can be prohibitively complicated. In, I assume, an attempt to make non-Londoners either never want to come back, or leave as soon as they are financially able, the program sends you on ridiculous wild goose chases for platforms and bus stops that MAY be the fastest way to go if you make every connection and know exactly where the platform/bus stop is (which JP does not tell you) and have superpowers that can get you from one side of Waterloo to the other in the blink of an eye, but are, to mere mortals, prohibitively complicated.
As it seems that most seasoned Londoners ignore JP and just use their train/tube/bus map and make it up themselves (and generally do a far superior, less confusing, and more timely job of it), I can only assume JP's biggest users are tourists, and your goal is to confound, bewilder and alienate. I'm sorry to say JP falls down SEVERELY in the tourism department, that is if your goal is to help rather than alienate people who come to your city to spend large amounts of foreign cash. If your goal is the latter, then please continue. You’re doing a stellar job. I have never experienced such a convoluted way of making a - relatively - simple system such a frustrating and – yes, I’ll say it - hideous experience.
You need another example? No problem: JP told me it would take an hour and a half to get to a job interview across London. It didn't take me anywhere near Zone 1, even though that would have been direct and I had to pay for that as I was going from South West Zone 3 to North West Zone 6; I had to transfer five times; I allowed two and a half hours and was ten minutes late. I then figured out my own way home purely from the tube and train maps in my A-Z, and it took less time than JP had quoted me to begin with. And that was on the Picadilly line, stopping for breaks every couple of minutes, and then the District, which has to be the slowest line known to subway travellers worldwide. I transferred three times and was home in less than an hour and a half. HOW CAN YOUR PROGRAM NOT FIGURE THIS OUT???
PLEASE, for the love of your fellow mankind who was not born with the tube map etched in their brain or on a TShirt, PLEASE fix these ridiculous problems. I've gotten so I have to TRICK the stupid JP into giving me the answer I want.
And guess what, that bus it suggested I take to Tooting that takes 40 minutes and comes every 8 minutes (which 8 minutes, I wonder?) will - yes, that's right - take far more time than the train and then tube I could take in its place. And as I know it doesn't take me over a quarter of an hour to walk to the train station from my address (seriously, did you time someone on a walker frame? Or a seriously drunk person who kept stopping every five paces to throw up and/or urinate?), I know I can be there in less than 40 minutes and won't need to suffer the nausea brought on by a) waiting for a bus or b) travelling on a bus. While I feel I have learnt how to somewhat "cheat" the JP system, by ticking or unticking boxes, and putting in stations instead of postcodes (oh, and your postcodes could match up to the ACTUAL ones too, that would be useful. Use streetmap.co.uk - everyone else does), I can't see how this works well for anyone, and I believe it needs a serious overhaul.
The forms are good, I'm VERY glad you have an advanced search screen, but the data it retrieves is faulty and was obviously not written by someone (or thing) that understands how London Transport - that is, the experience of it, rather than your organisation - actually works. And seeing as I doubt you have access to an artificially intelligent computer program that has experienced the joys of travelling in London, why not use you staffs' expertise? Or your patrons? Maybe if you had two options: "the algorithm suggests" and "Greg from Notting Hill suggests" it would work much better. I understand this may be prohibitive, but think outside the box, people. Because what you got IS broke, please fix it [sic].
Thank you for your attention, and allow me to complement you on an otherwise quite amazing public transport system. You ain't New York, but you're still damn fine. Get a computer program that reflects that.
Kind regards, the Travelling Librarian

Oxford Photos 3/05/06

2006-06-07T00:05:00.000Z

Taking it easy while punting down the Isis (the name they give to the Thames in Oxford). Chad is at the helm.

Then after lunch...

Mike (Spoony) lets the beer soak in while I struggle with the pole. I'm telling you, I'll need more alcohol next time. One wine spritzer does not an expert puntswoman make.

After punting...
While the others are at the pub, I head off on a typical library-nerd hunt for the Bodleian. After much confusion,

I photograph the building I was told was the Library (above)...

...and the building I thought was the Library (left).
Turns out they both are (thanks to the chatty woman on the train from Victoria to Clapham Junction who cleared up the mystery that no-one in Oxford could). Apparently there's a third (modern and probably not pretty) building that is also part of the Library, and there are tunnels underneath.
Will have to go back for the tour!

Pretty, aren't they?

Photos!

2006-06-06T23:23:00.000Z

So I finally figured it out... sortof. As I really have no idea what I'm doing, I'll have to do another post for Oxford. Here's a couple from Bath.

Me and Bath, when visiting Kara, 20/05/06.

At the Roman Baths, 20/05/06.

Celebrity stalking fun!

2006-06-06T22:01:00.000Z

So I don't know if you've picked up that between the punting in Oxford, trips to Bath and Cheltenham, and getting occasionally slaughtered here in London town, I haven't had much to do lately. The last couple of days have seen me invigilating (read: supervising) at some exams as a temping job, which has got to be one of the most boring jobs ever, while I wait for my Home Office clearance. But when I'm not living the hedonistic lifestyle of an (almost) late twenties librarian newly arrived to London (I know, I'm sooo adventurous!), I spend a great deal of time with my dearly resurrected lappy, checking out our favourite websites and generally enjoying one of my favourite activities: celebrity stalking.
Granted, I've never actually stalked a celebrity, and don't really care to do it in person (hiding in bushes and going through rubbish are yet to make an appearance in my personal rendition of "Raindrops on Roses"), but I love, love, love that the Internet makes it so easy for me to do it from afar. I won't regurgitate the snarkily presented ~~news~~ gossip that you can amuse yourself for hours with at this great site, however I will direct your attention to a particularly disturbing piece of media I came across here:
Paris Hilton has made a video.
Unlike the more famous Paris Hilton video, it does not involve her having relations with Brenda's ex-husband, but rather - and I use this word in the loosest possible sense - singing along to a backing track of what I can only assume is her own voice and, I dearly hope, her own lyrics. I hesitate to watch this video too often, as I'm sure the annoying "reggae-inspired" backbeat will get lodged in my cerebral cortex and cause a tumour later in life, but I'm sure many analyses of the lyrics will appear on the web in a very short time.
With gold such as "I don't find too many guys/ that treat me like you do/ those other guys all wanna take me for a ride/ but when I walk they talk of suicide", I'm sure there will be dissertations on it coming out of pop culture courses in no time. I predict that a particularly enthusiastic psych major will endeavour to prove the link between being dumped by Paris Hilton and the recent rash (no pun intended) of C and D-list celebrity male suicides.
Another line: "if you show me real love baby/ I'll show you mine" demonstrates to me Paris' pure ironic genius. Personally I've never met Paris, I've certainly endeavoured on a daily bases to not show her any real love, and I've seen hers more times than I can count.
But the truly wonderful thing about this video is the dancing. If it wasn't so obviously comprised of her best drunken dance moves and she wasn't so obviously in love with herself it'd almost be sweet, as there's an element of lusty-teenage-girl-dancing-in-her-underwear-in-front-of-the-mirror-with-a-KenDoll to her "choreography" (I never realised how talented Britney was until I watched this video. Respeck, Spears).
Now I believe, thanks to this video, that the old adage is true: I will never forget Paris. No matter how much binge drinking I may do to try and wipe her from my mind, she's now there for good.
Librarian, with scarred retinas, out.

A punting we shall go!

2006-06-05T20:48:00.000Z

So when my new flatmate Mike (there are two: this one goes by many other suitably Aussie names, including Colesy, MC, and Spoony) said casually to me one night last week that he was going punting in Oxford on Saturday and would I like to come, I pretty much just took in the "Oxford"and "bunch of people" parts of the conversation, and figured it sounded like a fun day out, and the reason I'd moved across the world. My lack of understanding as to what was actually involved was probably helped by my serious lack of comprehension as to what "punting" actually is. I think if I'd stopped to think about it I might have thought it had something to do with horse races, but as I said, I didn't actually stop to think about it, I just signed up.
So this is how I found myself up at 7am on Saturday morning, after quite a big night out on Friday, heading towards a fun-filled day of sun, sans a hat or any sunscreen. I did, however, have my umbrella. I learn quickly, me ;-)
Unfortunately - well, fortunately really because it was a beautiful day - England decided it wasn't feeling very British on the weekend, and decided to emulate, as much as it possibly could with such poor resources, Queensland in about October. Therefore, it was an absolutely perfect day - sun shining, hardly a cloud in the sky, and oh, did I mention we were punting in Oxford?
I understand if you don't quite get the significance of this - I certainly didn't until I arrived - but punting (as explained here by the wiki - there's a nice picture of a guy celebrating his graduation with a bit of heave-ho there too) is quite the English tradition, especially in well-to-do places like Oxford and Cambridge where they have nice little creeks. Basically, a bunch of people (I saw entire families in the one punt) cram into a flat-bottomed boat and alternately relax (the lucky passengers) or struggle (the designated punter) with a most unusual method of transportation whereby the chump with the pole propels the boat along by stabbing the creek bed with said pole. If you do it right, you can get to the pub down the way in about 15 minutes. If you're a bunch of Aussies who've forgotten hats, coordination and (egads!) beer, you will probably take over an hour. (We did manage to get some sunscreen as some of our party - girls, of course - had backpacks filled with useful stuff - including changes of clothes. They obviously had a vague notion of what punting involves!)
Once you get to the pub, however, the pain of punting is all worth it (or the joy is increased if you've been lucky enough to be a passenger) as you're presented with Pimm's; a modern take on traditional pub fare (my steak sandwich came in flatbread); and a massive lawn where the boys can enjoy kicking the footy around and throwing frisbees at girls in bikinis, and the girls can enjoy watching the boys get drunk and make idiots of themselves. Once the revelling ceased (we spent about four glorious hours at The Victoria Arms), it was the girls' turns to punt down the river (the boys were a tiny bit pissed). Luckily for us, the current was now in our favour, however unluckily for this girl (and her boy passengers), I am terrified of
a) falling in the water
b) losing my punting pole
c) looking like a complete girl by doing either a) or b)
and therefore
d) scream like a girl a lot, and although I avoided both a) and b) I still managed to do c). *sigh* Once I'd taken us around in circles and through a number of seriously aggressive bushes, Spoony took over, and his practice earlier, coupled with 3 pints of lager, got us back to the docks in record time. Obviously I didn't have enough practice or enough to drink to perfect my punting style, but I'll be planning a similar outing to Cambridge where I will attempt to rectify both of the identified shortages (and take a change of clothes just in case).
After the punting (I don't think I've described how wonderful it really was - a perfect day - I really need to figure out where and how to load my pictures so you can see just how pretty), the gang went, quite uncharacteristically, to a pub. As pretty much the only sober member of the party, and feeling like it might be a bit of a waste of such a beautiful day in England in a situation that I could experience back at the RE (they're a lovely bunch of folks they all went to Uni in Brisbane, so there was a nice feeling of familiarity there), I took myself on a self-guided walking tour of the Oxford colleges. As any one who has met me knows, my sense of direction is only hampered by maps (pesky things, they're never going in the direction I am), so I randomly walked, and I must say, if I followed my gut (even if it told me to walk down a dodgy looking alley) it got me where I wanted to go (the Bodleian Library), whereas when I tried to follow the maps kindly placed about by the Oxford tourist haters, I ended up in a cow paddock (click on the Christ Church Meadow link on the left - for some reason it refuses to stay stable although you don't need authorisation).
After a couple of hours of trudging around in my thongs truly living up to the Library Nerd title my new friends had firmly crowned me with during my obligatory "defend the profession" conversation at lunch (hey, they asked), I made it back to the pub, where I amused myself watching the plastered guys around me say and do hilarious things, and chatted to the girls about life in the UK, and started to feel like maybe I'd get the hang of it here after all. Just give me a few more perfect days punting in Oxford, and next time I want cucumber and mint in my Pimm's. (BTW, for you apostrophe Nazi's out there, and you know who you are KATE, it's correct because it was Pimm's recipe, so therefore he owns it, and all of that associated malarkey.)
Librarian out.

Land of the TARDIS

2006-06-01T21:32:00.000Z

Sick of sitting in my cute, tastefully decorated room reading news about people I will never meet I decided to eat as much as I could (so I wouldn't get hungry and have to buy food - ah economising in London) and head out. Not quite feeling up to sightseeing, as my Lonely Planet and I still haven't made up, I decided to take myself to see my first movie since leaving Oz. Holding firm to my principles and refusing to add to the gross "international" profits of my least favourite minor American celebrity, I decided to show some patriotism and support Jean-Luc instead. Once I arrived at the Southside Shopping Centre in nearby Wandsworth, I was confronted with the surprisingly difficult task of finding the front door. After having walked around part of said shopping centre in search of an entrance, I wondered where they fit the 14 screen cinema they'd so modestly advertised (if there's one thing the English don't like to do it's boast). After locating the entrance I was presented with the most depressing shopping setting I think I've ever experienced. I guess developers don't have anything better to do than sink £72 million into an ugly 1960s structure. It went something like this: phone shop, empty shop, phone shop, placard advertising said shopping centre covering empty shop... ad nauseum. Eventually there was some variety, in the form of the usual suspects: Boots, Superdrug, cheap clothing stores, and yes, everyone's favourite Poundland, with a caption that reads "yes! everythings £1" [sic]. After walking for some time through the insanely wide corridors that were presumably built to accommodate the gazillions of Londoners that will flock to Southside every Saturday to buy new mobile phones, I realised that the shopping centre was far bigger inside than it appeared from the outside, and that in fact the creative geography so prevalent in SciFi is in fact a reality here in the Queen's land. Maybe that's what happened to the £72 million. If only they'd use both the TARDIS technology and the money somewhere where it would be of use, like the tube. As for public transport in London, well that's a topic worthy of a post in and of itself, and for another day. Librarian out.

RIP Gar Gar

2006-05-31T11:35:00.000Z

Last Thursday my grandmother died. She was 85, sick, and ready to go. She deteriorated quite quickly and her suffering is now at an end. Unfortunately I was unable to attend her funeral, which was Wednesday morning in Brisbane. So in lieu of being able to share my memories of her at the funeral, I'd like to honour her here.
As the eldest grandchild on Mum's side, I was given the dubious honour of christening my maternal grandmother. Coached to call her Gar, as that was the tradition in the family, I bucked the trend when I started doubling everything, and Gar Gar stuck. We had a lovely relationship when I was a child, as the two lone extroverts in a sea of introverts - Mum always said I take most after Gar Gar and Pauline, my aunt by marriage!
Gar Gar had a great love of music, and used to sing to me when I was little. She loved to play the piano, and I'd dance around. My cousin Danny also had a strong musical connection with her - we both ended up studying music at University, and Danny is now on tour with an orchestra in China. She was so proud of her grandchildren, even though she didn't really understand what Paul does (don't think she'd ever used a computer) and didn't really understand what I do as a Librarian either (does anyone?). But music she understood. She encouraged exhibitionism, and my early performances with a broom in the living room to I am the Pirate King were met with rave reviews from the critics, both Gar Gar and Nana, my great grandmother on my Dad's side.
As the only grandparent I really had around, supplemented of course by Nana, who Gar Gar always said was "marvellous" for her age (she lived to 99), Gar Gar was an example to me in many ways when I was a child, and continued to coach me into adulthood. When I started dating, she used to caution me against getting too serious, and use such time-honoured sayings as "there's plenty more fish in the sea", not as a comforting thing said when a relationship broke up, but as an admonition not to limit myself at a young age. She always said quite proudly that she didn't get serious until she was 26, and that she danced through the War with many young men - though never a Yank. My brother reminded me how proud she always was of how she'd shown her patriotism through only flirting with Aussie soldiers - I remember her being quite miffed that her good friend had ended up marring an American, and was hardly heard of since. She was also very stylish in those days - I used to pour over pictures of her in her youth and hope that I would one day be as pretty as she was. I'd like to think I inherited some of her sense of fun and adventure: although she never left Australia, she enjoyed many trips around her beloved country in her retirement.
Gar Gar was extremely generous. Whenever we'd go over to visit her she'd give us money. She was also scrupulously fair. If I'd gone over 3 times and she'd given me $10 each time, and then Paul rocked up, she'd give him $30 to make up for the times he'd missed. I remember when I was little she won the Lotto, which she used to play with her partner, Ces Ces (see the trend I started there?). She'd bought the tickets that week, and she split the money with him even though he hadn't contributed. He obviously felt it was something she didn't have to do, as he bought her a car in thanks. Not only was she generous with money, but in spirit also. When the '74 floods came and flooded my Mum and Dad's house at Fairfield, she took not only the Kermeens, old friends of my parents who were staying in their house, but also the next door neighbours who had no family or friends in Brisbane, into her home and organised everyone. She was a great organiser, and would have been a dynamo administrator.
Gar Gar was very much a product of her time - she was quite conservative in many ways, and despite her admonishing me not to get serious young, as soon as I turned 23 she started encouraging me to settle down, and thought that a baby would solve any and all of my problems. While we differed in opinion on many issues (a woman's place being one of them!) she was a greater example of a feminist than I think she would have ever realised. When her husband died after 15 years of marriage, leaving her with a 14 and 9 year old to raise, she returned to work and gave her children every opportunity that she had never had. Both Mum and Denis went to University, and despite sometimes accusing them of being too "analytical", she was very proud of her smart children, even though they ended up on the other side of the political fence.
Above all, the most important thing to Gar Gar was that people be happy and taken care of, and the hardest thing for her was getting older and feeling that she was a burden. She was fiercely independent for as long as she could be, another thing I think I've probably inherited from her!
Although like all of us she had flaws, and we had our differences in both opinions and tempers, I will endeavour to carry her with me always, as she was a very important part of my life and I will miss her, and the conversations we were yet to have.
I love you, Gar Gar.

All Hail the Drying Cupboard

2006-05-27T22:42:00.000Z

And the Lord spoke, and he said "Truly it is the drying cupboard that will solve all your problems concerning the spillage of beverages on the equipment of the electrics. Thus you should hail the drying cupboard and install one in your home immediately. For without such a marvel as the drying cupboard, your laptop, if not your very life itself, will be forfeit." Too right. Well spoken, Lord.
So yes, the drying cupboard has worked its heavenly magic and life has been restored to Naomi's Lappy. It's not yet entirely trauma-free life, but I have signed it up for counselling, and hopefully it will stop freezing randomly, itunes will fully restore itself, and we can put this whole terrible episode behind us. And we have both decided to limit our beverage intake. I believe it's the only sensible option in the light of such an event as this, and as I am the parent/boss/owner/human in our relationship, what I says goes, even if Lappy did enjoy his brief hiatus from being constantly bashed on, and really quite liked the drying cupboard coz it was nice and warm and toasty and he felt so very light without his battery, and free, free as a bird, to dream, perchance to live...
Naomi is asleep. Lappy out. (mwah ha ha ha ha)

Ooops...

2006-05-27T16:16:00.000Z

So London's been a bit tough so far... finding somewhere to live, a job, managing my money in the almighty (and evil when converting to it) pound... all been a bit stressful. However I've now found a house (great location, awesome room, FANTASTIC flatties), a job (start at the Home Office on Wednesday as an Acquisitions Project Librarian - should be full on but a great learning experience), and... well, the money thing is still an issue, but when I convert my new salary into dollars I feel a bit better ;-)
The new fun (is there a way to write sarcasm in computer speak?), and the reason for the title of this post, however, is that I am temporarily computer-less, having spilt tea (yes I have pretty much given up coffee - was that a mistake I wonder?) all over my bed, which then went into my wonderful lappy, which was, of course, on, and playing Southpark. So I'm now on one of my new flatmate's computer, and may not be on line much until this gets sorted out. Luckily my new house is a geek one (they shall inherit the earth, you know) so hopefully even though my wonderful brother Paul is not around to solve my every nerd need, I will have some support through this difficult computer-less time. Although I may end up with an Apple if I have to buy a new computer - it's a Mac House.
I think it's slightly ironic that it took my computer being toasted to force me to update my blog, but hopefully it won't destroy my other plans (such as making my photos available on an album), although they're all on my computer, so... Pray for Naomi's Laptop.
And feel free to keep the emails coming, just not sure how regularly I'll get to respond.
Librarian out.

Relaxed Angry Easter Sunday

2006-04-17T01:44:00.000Z

Danielle tells me I need to calm down, and shortly I'll be cut off from the computer because it's bugging me so much. So I'll have to be short and sweet. First off, I'm mad because I can't figure out how to get my comments to be shown on this bloody thing. Does anyone know? If so, please email me because numerous people have told me they've left comments, but they don't appear to show up. Supra annoying. Secondly, I spent a frustrating hour or two fixing the buttons on my new coat so it would fit me properly - yes, I had to buy a coat becuase Vancouver is FREEZING. Sweet Mother of God, it's cold. And wouldn't you know it? I left my coat in the cab in Sydney when I was all frazzled and it was 6am in the morning and I'd had 3 hours sleep. Obviouly I didn't miss it in LA, but once I got to Van I started freezing - my fleece just wasn't warm enough.

Yesterday we spent an absolutely dreadful day attempting to shop in downtown Van - totally soulless and commercial, which I'm usually fine with - but usually I know the names of the shops and where to find what I want/need. But this time, I NEEDED - not just wanted - a coat, and despite the fact that it's 5degrees here, there are NO WINTER COATS FOR SALE. It's all light capris pants and tiny pretend sweaters. I was SO DISCOURAGED. I couldn't even find a tracksuit for less than $80. I wanted to cry, but my tears were frozen I was so damn cold. I had no idea how protected I was last time I came to Canada - totally taken care of, coats heaped on me, I was never that cold, and I lived in minus 40degrees! Crazy. Independence can totally suck.

Anyways, today was a lot better because we went to breakfast on The Drive (Commercial Drive, where Danielle lives, is the totally funky and alternative part of town, and the breakfast was AMAZING - vegetarian, and way better than the greasy spoon I had on Thursday), and we just meandered into this thrift store, My Sister's Closet, that supports Battered Women's Support Services, and I found some amazing clothing! It was fantastic. I got this long gorgeous coat for $30, and an "Eighties Chic" (Danielle's description) sweater for $12 (both purple, which is new for me, but hey, I'm in a new place). It was hilarious because we went next door to an expensive store, where they only have one size of each item, and there were really similar sweaters in there for $50! I of course insist on calling them jumpers just to confuse everyone, and because sweater sounds so obnoxious, but I guess it's rubbing off on me. *sigh*, I'm so impressionable. Anyway, the coat was a bit big and I wanted a double breasted, so I came home and got all domestic, moving buttons and measuring and stuff - thank goodness Mum made me that sewing kit. Greatest present ever, Mum. Danielle thinks it's amazing, too. So I've done my first no-one helping me adjusting of a piece of clothing - I must be a grown up.

As for the Easter thing, I had the traditional Saturday night Easter drink with Catherine last night in a bar down town, which was really fun. And I've been eating chocolate constantly, though not necessarily the Easter kind. Apart from that, it's been relatively low-key and relaxed. We walked through this beautiful nature park on Friday -Lynn Headwaters Regional Park. The Canadian wilderness is just so beautiful - so green! I've joined Bookcrossing, too, and am officially releasing my first book tonight, the review is in the link.

Well, I promise I will get to updating you on the last bit of my LA travels when I get around to it. Hope you're all well. Love, TravellingLibrarian.

My "Friends" email to the world

2006-04-15T09:51:00.000Z

Okay, so Trish sent me this and I've spent so much time emailing I haven't had time to write a proper post. I have heaps of stuff to report, but it will have to wait until it's not 3am in the morning. So, to keep my eager fans (I know who you are) enthralled, I'm answering the "Friends" email Trish sent me for all the world to see. Now stop bugging me for posts! I know you have no lives, but I have to live for you to do so vicariously, and that takes time, people, time!

1. What time did you get up this morning?
About midday, Vancouver time. I was exhausted after coming from LA yesterday, even though there's no time difference. Go figure.

2. What was the last film you saw at the cinema?
The Inside Man with Paul in Sydney. Loved it. Even with a mask, that guy is damn sexy (yes, I have no idea what his name is right now).

3.What is your favourite TV show?
Tough one. Probably Veronica Mars. No, Gilmore Girls. Ooh, scrap that, it's Battlestar Gallactica. No, 24. Geez, I don't know. Paul, send me more TV so I can work it out :-)

4. What did you have for breakfast?
A genuine Canadian breakfast - not nearly as good as the one Espressohead serves, but it was $4 so who's complaining? Well, me actually, because it didn't even have hash browns, not like Marg used to make them. *sheesh*

5. Favourite cuisine?
Now that I'm back with Danielle I'm thinking chocolate... When I'm with Jess it'll probably be Chicken Tikka Masala. If someone else is buying, it's steak. I'm only slightly impressionable ;-)

6. What is your middle name?
Joan. Apparently "of Arc" fame. Dad never gave up on me becoming a Catholic Saint.

7. What food do you dislike?
Omelettes make me vomit.

8. What is your favourite CD at the moment?
You mean playlist on my Naom-iPod, right? That would be Kim's Favourites. Yeah, baby, you know you rock it.

9. What kind of car do you drive?
Unfortunately Charles has been retired and I am now car-free. *cry, cry*

10. Favourite sandwich?
Oooh, tricky one. Sometimes I really crave ham, cheese and sandwich pickles. But I can always go a BLT, especially if it also has an A in it. I hate to admit it, but I LOVE white bread, and will happily eat half a married high tin with no accompaniment. You know there are Starbucks on every corner here instead of bakeries? Now if only someone would combine bread and coffee, I'd have my perfect food store.

11. Favourite item(s) of clothing?
My pink JLo tracksuit is a must, especially seeing as it's one of the only warmish things I have with me and it's bloody cold here. *BRRR*

12. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation?
Well, on an exploring myself and visiting my friends vacation it's LA, Vancouver, NYC and London, obviously. But right now I would love to be lying on a beach in the middle of a tropical paradise. Did I mention I'm cold?

13. What colour is your bathroom?
Danielle's bathroom is a deep grey-blue, and beautifully decorated like everything else in her house. I don't *sniff* currently have a *sniff sniff* bathroom to call my own. Yeah, I know you feel for me.

14. Favourite brand of clothing?
Ummm... bought a lot of stuff from Express at the Beverly Centre, but mostly coz everything else there pretty much sucks - either way overpriced or just plain slutty (what is it with starf*ckers in LA? Must they ruin my shopping experience?) In Australia I LOVE Sportsgirl pants, and anything I buy from Witchery I wear forever, probably because it's so overpriced.

15. Where would you retire to?
I don't even know where my next job will be, let alone what I'll do when I finish my working journey. I guess it would depend on my interests, health and lifestyle, but right now I'm thinking somewhere warmish where people are somewhat odd. No, not impressionable AT ALL.

16. What was your most memorable birthday?
The anniversary of my 21st birthday rocked. German's broke things, I forced people to admit they wanted me. A good time was had by all.

17. Favourite sport(s) to watch?
I can't believe I'm going to say this, but I prefer to play than to watch. I got pretty into the ice dancing at the Winter Olympics though. The Italians were hilarious. Poor Maurizio!

18. Furthest place you are sending this?
The world is my destination, baby. Teeheehee.

19. Who do you least expect to send this back to you?
Obviously not written for a blog. If you wish to send this back to me, you may, as I am happy to know more about you, whoever you are ;-)

20. The person you expect to send it back first?
I'd just be happy for a comment at this stage.

21. Favourite saying:
Right now I'm trying to use Australian swear words to differentiate me, so "bloody..." is becoming a favourite. Also "no worries".

22. When is your birthday?
30th June. My father is an economist, he planned me as a deduction.

23. Are you a morning person or a night person?
Okay, your really don't know me. I don't wake up until at least 2 cups of coffee and 2 hours after I arise.

24. What is your shoe size?
Manolo Blahnik.

25. Pets:
Mum has Monte, the adorably scruffy toy poodle named after the Italian composer Monteverdi, and Dad and Anne have a cute little Jack Russell, Polly. Right now I'm living with Freda, a beautiful cat. And seeing as most of them are pure evil, that's quite incredible. (Yes, I know I'll be evicted from the Librarian Posse for generally disliking cats, and I'm okay with that.)

26. What did you want to be when you were little?
Very little: Queen of the Dress Up Box, and Queen of the Monkey Bars. Having achieved that, when I was a bit older I aspired to be a singer-actress-model, just like I thought Kylie was.

27. How are you today?
I've had a good day. Went walking (hiking?) in a Forest in, or just outside of (no idea) Vancouver, which was really beautiful. The Canadian landscape is so familiar, yet so different. It's bloody green.

Stay tuned for my sum-up of the wackiness that is the City of Angels. Happy Easter/ Passover/ Spring / Autumn Festivals.

Not a tourist

2006-04-11T22:49:00.000Z

You know, I didn't really know how I wanted to travel. It's been so long since I've done it, and I was so young then (when I was seventeen, it was a very good year), that I think I was taking on what I thought you should do as a tourist, and not thinking about what I actually want to do.
So I haven't done Universal Studios, Disneyland or gone on a tour of celebrities houses. Instead my last 24 hours have involved having an amazing dinner made by Todd's Dad, Larry, the finishing glory of which was this incredible thing called Bananas Foster. Not, as I expected, concocted of bananas and beer, but of bananas and sugar and rum, fried up and poured on ice cream. YUM-MY. So apparently when I decide I'm too skinny and need to eat my way through life, New Orleans is the place to go. Larry and his beautiful wife Cheri have also provided me with the Internet, through which I am able to tell you about my LA adventures. Yay for Larry and Cheri! The coolest thing was when Larry got out his guitar and started singing Brisbane Ladies, which actually has a line in it about "farewell to the maids of Toowong". He sung that he sold all his cattle and must be moving, which I'm pretty sure is a translation from droving for American audiences, but otherwise it was very good, if about as Australian as Ron Moss on a horse selling Aussie orange juice, which btw is one of my favourite ads.
Okay, what else in the 24 hours of which I speak? Well, this morning Todd and I got a late (for him) early (for me trying to adjust to LA time) start and went to this great cafe in West Hollywood, the Urth Caffe - it's all very good for you, and at first I couldn't figure out what to eat (no bacon and pancake breakfast, and omelettes make me wanna spew, even if they are made from "100% pure vegeterian grain fed free range happiest chickens in the world" eggs, and AS IF I'd pay $US10 to have oatmeal or granola cereal or whatever they call it, even if it is fasmagorical), but then I chose a Farmer's Salad, and it was great, and came with THE BEST BREAD EVER. It was nut bread, but had sultanas and stuff in it too, and it was SO INCREDIBLY GOOD. Maybe I don't need to go to New Orleans, I'll just eat that every day and lost the skinny instantly! But seriously. Yum.
So after the food we went to The Bodhi Tree bookshop, further down Melrose, and it was very cool. Browsed heaps, and bought Thick Nhat Hanh's The Energy of Prayer, which just seems perfectly right for where I am right now, in terms of starting my spiritual journey - at least consciously, I guess you could say all of life is a spiritual journey so I'm 27 years into it already, but hey, this is my blog so I'll say it how I want! The other book is by a Los Angelenos, All the Fishes Come Home to Roost: An American Misfit in India and it's about her upbringing on an ashram in India. Described as funny and inspiring, which is what I need right now. I just finished reading Marian Keyes' latest (OMG remind me to tell you about the guy at the airport in LA who I leant my book to so he could fill out his visa form - to die for British accent, I'm gonna love London!), which was amazing - soooo sad (in a good way of course), but I wanted something real, but funny too. So hopefully it will be good.
Then Todd and I went and did the Autry National Center: Museum of the American West, which had a great exhibition about Native American jewellery, called From Totems to Turquoise, it was well curated so I enjoyed it a lot. Also had some incredibly beautiful jewellery displayed - it's fascinating what a living art it is, and how traditionally male-dominated. Not something I expected, so it's great to learn. I also realised how inherent to C20th American culture the myth of "the west" was - as an Australian I don't really think about all that stuff much, it hasn't really been a part of my consciousness. So it was interesting, but didn't really resonate. Not like the National Treasures exhibition - which is coming to a state library near you in the next few years (as long as you live in Australia, that is).
Another great part of today was just cruising the LA streets. It takes ages to get anywhere here (I can see why TWoP wonders at which LA Kiefer is living in) so there's plenty of time for car dancing to the gazillions of radio stations on offer. Muchos fun. Luckily I didn't get sunburnt today (unlike the last two days, where my face has been like a beacon), coz I borrowed Todd's Red Sox hat. Which has made me want an LA Dodgers one.
Tomorrow I plan to go shopping at the local shops, where I'll buy that hat, and probably way more other stuff I don't need too. Should be fun.
Till then, love ya.

Cabana Sucks

2006-04-11T01:29:00.000Z

So, I went to "the hottest club" in LA right now, Cabana. It totally sucks. I mean, it's aight (I so cannot say correctly, as much as I try), but the hottest club in LA? Looked just like any other club to me. I also went to a small private party in the Hollywood Hills, so that was cool, but I'm not really sure living up the la-la is the way for me to go in LA. I had more fun eating a pastrami on rye (oh my god the meals are so huge here) at Canter's and then people watching on the lawn at the Grove while an easy listening rock band played and kids danced around in a hilarious manner. So funny!
I've been having a good time, Todd and his friends have all been great. I was really sick when I arrived, I must have caught a 24 hour bug on the plane over, coz I spent the entire flight sick, and then was sick all of Wednesday. I was still really jet lagged on Thursday, and couldn't sleep at all, so Friday Todd's roomate Mandy took me with her to work. She works in an exclusive salon in Bel Air, and lots of celebrities shop in the centre. So I was helping out in the morning, and this crazy person came in and started touching all the products and everything, and asking me all these questions. I helped her as best I could, thinking all the while how she seemed like a crazy homeless person, just like the ones who used to come into the Body Shop in the Queen Street Mall when I worked there, but that she was probably someone rich and famous instead. Sure enough, it was Janice Dickinson, from America's Next Top Model. Bizarro. At lunch Mandy swore she saw Jack Nicolson, but all I sore was the back of an old bald guy, so probably was him :-)
The guys at the salon did my hair in the "sexy LA" style, basically just a blowdry, and it looked pretty good. Then Todd and I went out to dinner to this cute little Italian place, Micheli's, which had crap food but the most amazing atmosphere. There are Chianti bottles hanging all over the ceiling, and there is live music (the waiters even sing opera!) and it was just fabulous. After dinner we went to this old club, the Lava Lounge, which is from the 70's and done up all in a Hawaiian style, to see his friend Rose sing in her Rockabilly band. There was another performer there from Australia, apparently the Rockabilly scene in Australia is really in trouble - who knew?
On Saturday night Todd got a bunch of his friends together to meet me, and we went out to dinner after having drinks at his house. I got baby back ribs - I'd forgotten how good they are! Just a half rack though, coz I have to make sure I don't put on all the weight I lost in the stress of leaving and the throwing up when I arrived! We went on to Molly Molone's to see Todd's parents friends' band, then on to Three Deuces to dance to bad music, which was fun. It was a great night all round. When I got home Mandy was just about to go out again, which is when I went to Cabana, which, as I mentioned above, sucks.
Sunday saw Todd's friend Alpha talking me under her wing, or at least her afro, and showing me some LA essentials. We ate at the Jewish diner Canter's, the menus are insane there! Then we browsed at the Grove shopping centre, and shopped down Melrose. I'm surprised how similar the fashion is to Oz, except of course everyone owns a dozen pairs of jeans and hoodies are the standard, but it's all pretty generic.
Today Todd took me to do some touristy stuff, like putting my hands on Marilyn's at the Chinese Theatre, and getting a picture of the Hollywood sign. Once I figure out how to upload pictures I'll make a gallery of all the great people I'm meeting, and stuff I'm seeing. The last couple of days I've got really sunburnt, so I'll have to buy a hat tomorrow. I want an LA one, of course ;-)
Well that's about it for now, hope you guys are all surviving without me. Hugs!

2006-03-26T15:27:00.000Z

Preparation: La-La-Land

I’m ashamed to admit this, but I loved LA Story as a pre-pubescent. I know that doesn’t gel well with the Woody Allen Love that is currently making everything until I meet him in New York a blur, but at the time I thought it was hil-ar-i-ous. No idea why, as I now find Steve Martin to be a very close silver medal to the champion of Hollywood’s-Most-Annoying-Man crowd, the impregnator Cruise. (The only reason Robin Williams isn’t on that list is because he’s won gold in the Please-For-The-Love-Of-God-Don’t-Ever-Let-That-Man-In-Front-Of-A-Camera-Again category.)

Nevertheless, I loved the stupid round of over-the-top coffee orders, I loved Sarah Jessica Parker and her proclamation that the reason her breasts felt different was because they were real, I loved the whole driving down a highway in a red convertible thing. Then my friend Catherine called it Le Story, in a phony (but also hil-ar-i-ous) French accent, and referred to it as La-La-Land, and I realised that my love was, to others, dirty. Thus my love-hate relationship with this city I’ve only ever seen in movies and really good bad teen TV shows began. (Yes, I watch the OC and Brenda is still the best bitch ever to rock Beverly. Stop judging me!)

So when I decided to go on my mid-twenties (I can too still say that Oscar!) journey of exploration to the motherland via North America, I just had to go to Los Angeles. Not just because my wonderful friend Todd is there, but because I just have to see what it’s really like for myself. Plus, there’s the whole Richie-stalking thing. But as I started to really think about what going to LA would mean, I started to think like a Los Angelenos, or at least how they are portrayed in that fabulous bad TV to which I am addicted, (I SAID stop judging me!) and I realised that while I am perfectly fine looking in BrisVegas, that close to Las Vegas I will be a pasty, not-skinny-enough white girl. Ayyyyy! Something had to be done.

As Los Angeles is well known as the land of all things fake – breasts, marriages, singers – I decided I would attempt to fit in with the crowd by making myself a little less pasty – and therefore somewhat skinnier, as we all know tanned bodies look thinner – by smothering myself in fake tan for the couple of weeks before I depart. As much as I attempt to emulate Jessica Simpson in most aspects of my life – marrying another barely famous singer and having an award-winning* TV show based around my life, wearing ugg boots with tracksuit pants, having carnal relations with a General Lee – I decided that her particular shade of orange probably wouldn’t go with my hair, so chose instead the gradual “tanning” option offered by several products. I didn’t choose the Mischa version, as much as I would love to be just like her and embarrass myself every time I step out of the house/car/toilet stall wearing hideous rags on my anorexic frame, I’m cheap. So, I started to lather myself up with a more generic label, and was getting right into it, exfoliating the Jessica patches away on a regular basis, only to find out from my LA contact that in the land of fake, actual fake tan is a no-no, and that instead you should fake up the sun, by visiting what I’m guessing is the cool term for a solarium, the “Bulbs”.

*Most-Likely-To-Inspire-Hilarious-One-Liners-In-The-Gilmore-Girls Award, 2004

I may as well give up, start eating Cheetos and go to Britney’s house. At least I’d find a fellow not-skinny-enough slightly pasty white girl there to plan how to make Richie fat again. Plus I could talk her into buying K-Fed a belt. Now there’s a stellar plan. Librarian out.

2006-03-20T14:26:00.000Z

910.41 : Trips Around the World

As an alternative to the usual bulk email that travellers generally send their loved ones, I have decided to join the blogging set and document my travels here. The benefits are great: you can read it when you want, you don't have to read it if you don't want to, and I get to say I have a blog.
Uber librarian kudos. ;-)

I am not, as yet, travelling, therefore this is really a pre-post, however I want to get started and have it all organised (well, I am a librarian!) before I leave.

For those of you who are confused (or I forgot to tell - sorry!) my itinerary is as follows:

Friday 31st March: I leave BrisVegas for the shiny lights of Syd-en-ey, where I will stay with my bro Paul and his loverley fiance Trish; go bridal shopping with the aforementioned not-a-Bridezilla; meet up with Chris and Jane, kiss their new baby's toes, just coz I can and they're cute, and then so Zoe isn't jealous of her sister tickle her to within an inch of her adorable toddler life; and see Kim, whose birthday it happens to be when I'm there.

Wednesday 4th April: Departing Sydney for the City of Angels, I will spend 8 glorious days with Todd stalking Nicole Richie and attempting to make her eat carbs. Lots and lots of carbs. I may also shop and go to Disneyland. But Nicole is my priority ;-)

Thursday 13th April: I bid farewell to the smog and say hello to the mountains as I arrive in Vancouver to see not one but two gorgeous Canadians, Danielle and Catherine. Looking forward to the relaxo mode. Don't think there are many celebrities to stalk there, so may have to take in some nature instead...

Friday 21st April: Will see me trying to convince Woody Allen that I'm perfect to play him in his next movie, as I'm suitably neurotic, can talk really really fast while eating thirsty pretzels, and my great great grandfather was Jewish... Understandably crushed by his rejection, I spend my time in New York with my friend Damo, who has graciously flown in from Waterloo, Ontario to nurse me through my heartache at having my dreams in tatters. We meet up with Catherine, who has taken a leaf out of my stalking book and followed me to The Big Apple to stage an intervention for the incubator Holmes.

Saturday 29th April: I arrive at Heathrow to find my fabulous best friend Jess and her perfect boyfriend Alfie waiting for me to introduce me to my new life in London.

To see if these tales and others come true, stay tuned...