Well, to be honest… it was negligible. All I really noticed was that the trams were a lot more packed and many many more people got off at the sporting arenas, for whatever reason. Oh, and the cost of a hostel went up $5 a night. If I sound somehow unimpressed by the greatest global sporting event next to the Olympics, it’s cause I am.
C’mon. I mean, America left that whole “commonwealth” idea behind a looong time ago. It’s worked out pretty good for us. Before I came here I’d never even heard of the thing. Can you blame me? I saw the weightlifting on television. Tonga got third place. No offense, Tonga, but who’s rooting for you, besides you? What vested interest does anyone have… in a random Tongan weightlifter?
One of the reasons I came to Melbourne is that I was told they were having this great international sporting event. There were supposedly lots of jobs to be had. Got here… no such luck. And I got the sales job instead. Which is for the best, really, because now they’re over as well as they’re jobs. I’ve noticed because I can ride public transit normally again.
Although I have to say… the glowing fishes in the river was a really nice touch, Melbourne. People really liked it. Giving each of them a plaque detailing their nation of origin was… silly. Well, you gotta legitamize 100-odd giant floating fishes somehow, right?
…have been greatly exaggerated. I will say it in those fanciful words of Mark Twain, cause, ya know, a lot of people are mailing me. I’m fine. I’ll be posting more soon, about my road trip I just had to Bairnsdale and everything. So sit tight, o ye faithful.
Nights like these are what travelling is made of. The hard life of living in hostels, buying beer by the glass cause you haven’t seen the inside of a refrigerator for 3000 miles, talking to people only for the thrill of finding out who they are… nights like these make everything worth it.
I got in a fight with a junkie. Wasn’t as much a fight as a schoolyard hold-em-face. Have you ever been in a fight with a junkie? It’s not hard. Just push ‘em down and not say anything stupid. Make comments about all the change they spilled. But, for future reference if you don’t want to get in a fight with a junkie don’t ask if they’re a junkie. Repeatedly. Just say, “we can share the alley. We’re all friends here. You’re cool, we won’t make faces.” And whatever you do, if he calls you a pedophile, tell him he’s absolutely right. Make friends with your junkie. Joke about how pervy the girls you found in the alley are. Get him to acknowledge that the situation is ridiculous; because it is.
Mom, wipe that look off your face. Cause it’s funny and you know it.
I was unsuccessful in trying to share an alley with a junkie, and damn if it wasn’t a good story. I’ve talked to so many people already, just because it’s an interesting story. The bouncers on the street, who said “welcome to Melbourne.” A woman drinking Midori in the hostel bar. Two computer nerds next to me. Yes, I mean the two of you, you nerds.
So my night was good. It is my belief it is, and therefore it is so. And you know what? I made more that one sale today (two), and it was good. Things are ok. Maybe tomorrow I’ll let a prospect start a fight and get three sales. Or I’ll write my mom and tell her that I’ve hired a personal bodyguard, and tell her to send me more money to pay “The Jab”. Win-win?
A long week. A tan, a lack of sleep and money, a new way to live. I got new work boots and some corns to match. I got a helluva lot of pictures to share, once I get to upload them. I got a lot of things to think about and a lot of things to work on. And I’ve worked a lot.
Monday morning you could’ve seen me taking the 8:15 Glen Waverly train to East Richmond lugging my life’s luggage behing me. Never before and never again, will I commute with an extra 70 pounds. Was exhausted before 9 that morning. The team and I drove through the wistful browns of Australian countryside stopping occasionally for petrol or beef-and-toh-mah-toh pies. In three hours we were in Echuca. Echuca! Gezundheit. Echuca is a not-terribly-large town on the Murray River, just crost the border from New South Wales. Our hotel was a not-terribly-large shack where I’m not entirely convinced we weren’t squatting. We were in the field before one o’clock.
Enter the tan. For a week I’ve been outside every day. And it’s summer here. On wednesday I got burned real good, in particular an even line across my forearm which some found quite humorous. I was lucky: used a chunk of aloe plant from the matron of the local fish ‘n’ chips shop. Bought sunscreen as a reward the next day, for selling one home over to green. That was my pattern for the week—one sale a day, one tiny reward a day. Licorice for breakfast. A peach for lunch. Some fish ‘n’ chips later. New boots to replace the shoes that fell apart in the rainstorm last saturday. And herein lies the problem: $1000 will only take you so far. That’s how much I brought over, and that’s how far it took me. I’m outta money. I was outta money on friday.
Well, not really. I do have $3.12 left. Naturally this presents a problem, however, when trying to buy food or lodging. So when the road trip was over (just a bit worse for wear), I had to crash at my manager’s hostel. And while I’d love to think it’s out of the goodness of his heart, it’s because our employer’s… fudged a bit, and not paid me yet. So it’s been an interesting time. I’ve been living off mooched food for the past few days, and was quite worried that I’d lost a lot of weight until I realized that my pants were stretched out from carrying a camera all day. Yes, go ahead and laugh. I’ve got reserves on the way—$3000 AUD worth.
Soon, hope ‘n’ pray, I’ll have enough to afford the very next apartment that comes along. And you better believe I’m gonna take it.
