Empty Cage

Well, I guess now is the point in which I finish talking about my trip and talk about my homecoming. Home… such a relative term. Any ways.

At Munich I also toured Dachau, the other concentration camp on my mission. I took a guided tour and it wasn’t quite as moving as Sachausen, but I learned a whole heap more about sort of what when on in the camp itself. On the whole Munich was a pretty average place to visit. I would recommend it to people who actually drink unlike yours truly.

Keyboards in Germany are bizarre. The letter ‘Y’ and the letter ‘Z’ are actually switched, so it was nearly impossible for me to type anything. In Munich I met an Aussie lady travelling actually with her daughter, I tried to imagine how that would go for me and my mom, and who would try and drown whom first in the beer garden.

There were some other strange things in Germany though, like every cup has a line on it to show exactly where, say o.4 litres is so they don’t accidentally give you too much soda, as well, most bathrooms have an automatic seat cleaner, which, after you flush, wipes down the seat with what looks like a wet napkin. So strange, and yet, so German. My German was terrible as expected.

My thoughts are scattered again, so apologies for another entry that seems disconnected, my mind is missing today. I’m just so… But nevermind.

From Germany I went down to Italy, stopping in a small Austrian town in the Alps. It was pretty, but we only stopped there half an hour. I think it was called St. Johannes or something. Regardless, very picturesque… but of course… I have no pictures of it.

Yea, my second camera was stolen in Venice. Go me. Ugh.

Anyways, Venice was quite interesting, but beautifully terrifying. When they say you ‘get lost in Venice’ this is not some sort of romantic sentiment, this is cold hard fact. You will get lost in Venice. I went into the city thinking I’d spend two or three hours just chilling in the city — seven hours later when I found the train station again. Haha. But yea, camera with all of my pictures from the trip… gone. Figures.

Venice is stange and terrifying with an hundred small streets and alleys the walls are all high so it’s almost impossible to navigate properly, and with all the mask shops and other rather eerie looking places it really is a bit of a creepy city. Though it is interesting to go into a shop and see some Italian painting a mask right there on the front counter. Seriously, genuine Venetian or what? I wish I had someone to talk to in Venice though because I felt very alone the whole time. My Visa stopped working for awhile whilst I was there too, thus leading to a little unbridled terror for one of my days in Venice.

The ‘hostel’ in Venice was actually a camp site, right by the airport. Yes, all night it was awesome all you could hear was ‘VAROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!’ of the airplanes going overhead. And, my room mates who left on the first day left something rank in the room. Venice was, on the whole a place I was a bit uncomfortable in. I want to go back, but not alone, which is odd for me.

From Venice I hit Rome which was a bit on the surreal side I have to admit. Oh, look, there’s the Coliseum, and… the Forum… and the Pantheon… and a hundred amazing buildings and… well let’s face it, the city oozes awesome from it’s ancient pores. Seriously, if walking London is like walking a novel, walking Rome is like walking a history text book. Who knew the Pantheon was now a Christian church, because I certainly didn’t. Seems, I don’t know, ironic or something.

Vatican City was impressive to say the least, so extravagant, sort of like Versailles, where you sit there thinking no wonder it couldn’t last forever without some serious trouble. I even got to see the real version of my favourite painting, ‘The School of Athens’ by Raphael. And the pope paid for my lunch. Indirectly of course.

I go to the cafeteria and pick up a modest lunch, noting that they take Visa, as to be honest I never had more than 5 Euros cash all through Italy, anyways, I go to pay and wouldn’t you know it, the Visa machine isn’t working. I ask where the nearest ATM is, and she says there isn’t one in the Vatican. I’m starving and probably look it, because she mutters something in Italian and runs off, coming back with a manager looking guy, and they basically say ‘Go eat.’ so there we are free lunch.

Okay.

Sorry this entry is lacking my usual charisma, but my heart isn’t really in it right now. I really want to relate all these stories to you properly, but I’m so dejected about returning to Canada just opening up WordPress seemed unapealing to the point of nauseating.

Now everyone’s mad because I don’t want to come back, but it’s not the people I don’t want to come back to. It’s that I’ve fallen for this stupid country quirks and all. Everything from the robolady on the Chyuuube, to driving on the wrong side of the road, to the lifts. And I love all you nutty Canucks back home, but this is the place I feel like I should be, and leaving it is hard.

Back to packing.

As the title suggests, I should be well on my way to the city by now, but before I go I want to write a quick blog. I have been terrible for getting them out lately because in my overwhelming ANGST!: The Musical (My favourite injoke of all time apparently) the days have all blended into an intermeshing superday.

So, what’s new? Well, I applied for the most amazing job ever that I would have been perfect for… but by the time I got to it it was filled beginning the theme known as ‘my luck’. I’ve never considered myself particularly unlucky before, and maybe I’m only unlucky in the UK. Regardless, the bitter optimism is forcing me to be cheerful, I am not going to hate this trip — damnit!

The perfect job was at the bookstore at Westminster Abbey, and the lady I spoke to was incredibly nice, she said some of their hires would be leaving at the end of March. A running theme, I’ll have ten jobs once April rolls around. I’m reeeeally disappointed about missing out, but I’m keeping with my optimistic theme by saying maybe I’ll get a call April second (not April first, I wouldn’t be able to take it if it was April first) and work the rest of my term at Westminster.

To add to my employment luck, I got another few e-mails with ‘the position is filled’ and one e-mail with ‘Please call me!’ I’m thinking ‘Yes, finally someone appreciates my talents!’ Only to find both numbers provided are not in service temporarily. This is just getting hysterical. If I don’t laugh I’m just going to burst into tears, so I’m laughing.

I finally got out to see some of the sights the other night. It was late and I was on the phone with my Pangeous friend and I decided to wander back to Trafalgar Square (Have I mentioned I love that word? Trafalgar, sounds so epic and archaic, I love it!) From there I wandered down to the Parliament buildings and over to Westminster Abbey. It’s amazing seeing the sights at night.

And for the very first time I was glad I didn’t have a camera. (I think I told Ange this on the phone). Last time I was here it was like looking at the sights in a book because it was always through my camera that I saw anything. I never really looked at and admired all the things I was seeing. I mean, holy crow, for those of you who have seen Big Ben and Lord Nelson all lit up at night laa-dee-dah to you. But to those who haven’t, it’s something amazingly breathtaking. There you are standing in front of something so old and so beautiful, Ange and I listenined to the clock strike 9 before we decided to end our chat.

Big Ben gets this brilliant orange glow to it, and all the shadows cast on it emphasize how imposingly and elegant it is, you almost feel guilty looking at it, as though it is very stern and unhappy to be caught awake at such an hour. Elegant, as I’ve probably thought a hundred thousand times is the best way to invision it.

And Lord Nelson in Trafalgar Square seems to just glow in the dark. I want to know how they light him up like that, he’s so high off the ground! Something very imperial about the lions at night too, I’m reminded of some Jim Morrison Lyrics:

Lions in the street and roaming 

Dogs in heat, rabid, foaming 

A beast caged in the heart of a city 

The body of his mother 

Rotting in the summer ground. 

He fled the town. 

He went down South and crossed the border 

Left the chaos and disorder 

Back there over his shoulder.  

One morning he awoke in a green hotel 

With a strange creature groaning beside him. 

Sweat oozed from its shiny skin.  

Is everybody in? The ceremony is about to begin. 

I don’t really know why. Probably the first and last lines only, or a Beast Caged in the Heart of the city… That’s me. However, it’s what I thought to myself as I looked at the huge lions at the feet of Nelson. The Abbey is a bit of a sore spot I’ll describe later.

So, there you go, what I’ve done so far. Actually, while I was typing that sentence a recruitment agensy called me back, they may have a few jobs I can do. Isn’t lovely how forced optimism really works. It looks like a grimace but I assume you, it is a smile. I’ll be doing stuff ‘Similar to COIP’ Smile. It’s a job. Shut up and smile. Maybe until Westminster calls and asks where I’ve been all their life. Anyways, tons of love, I’m sending out post cards tomorrow, so e-mail me your addesses everyone or you won’t get one!

To the commenters of this entry and the last one:

To Crystal, now it’s not just Sweeney and Jack the Ripper I have to fear, it’s Youtube abusers D=

To Amber, isn’t that link awesometastic? It kept me amused for ages!

To Mom, I will, I will I promise I will!

To Ange, I totally should as it would be friggan awesome! Do your essay! Ahahahahah! Call you again soon because that was wicked awesome talking to you <3

I’m going to now use text based images to explain to everyone something about my life, back in Canada everything seemed very much like the following line:

—————————————–

Notice, very static and unchanging, I could have lived life in my sleep and still gotten by pretty fine, here in England is a rather different tale, my line looks more like the following instead:

—–^v^v^v^——–^v^^^^^vvvvvvvVVVvv—-^^^^^—^v

(The ‘v’s being low points and the ‘^’s being high points)

I’m not used to this much variance in how things move about. I vowed to myself I would be optimistic this entire trip even if it killed me. I’m finding it difficult as this morning I found my beloved camera missing. I’ve visited most of the places I’ve been since then but to no avail. I guess that’s extremely hard to be optimistic about. I’m going to call Darlington, Middlesborough and Whitby stations as well as my Whitby Hostel and see if anyone turned it in on another leg of my journey, but I’m not holding out much hope. It’s just so bloody HARD to be optimistic about something like that, if it doesn’t turn up by the end of the week I’ll have to replace it, I’m sure there’s a silver lining SOMEWHERE I’m just not seeing it. What a way to kill a happy trip by the sea.

Anyways, minus the huge ragedisappointmentfuryetc at having a vanishing camera (I’m not going to say I’ll bet some arsehole stole it but…illbetsomearseholestoleit)… I might have an interview. I do have someone to call for an interview I did get the e-mail while I was in the North, I just hope the position isn’t filled yet. Right, optimism, the position isn’t filled yet and they are killing themselves for a Canadian for some reason.I’ll try to stop the sarcasm, and say they may or may not hire me, end of story. And called, as I type this and as usual ‘The Middle Way’ they’ve filled the position for right now, maybe in a month they might have space. Count backwards from 10 and breath, it’s a data entry job, not a huge deal.

I’m getting my bank card today finally, so I can put the scary, scary Visa I’ve been living off somewhere far away and hidden. Not that I have any real money, but it’s nice to know I can pretend and people won’t give me the ‘put away your silly Canadacards’ look.

I had the roommate from hell last night, she woke up every hour all night and loudly demanded the time, she smelt strongly of alcohol and she didn’t seem to understand that there were four other women in the room. SHE WORE NO PANTS OR UNDERGARMENTS. I nearly fainted. She slept deep into the morning while I was trying to find my camera and whined that I was making too much noise, while she snorted and sighed all night. Ugh!!

ON THE BRIGHTSIDE–

Which I am dead set DETERMINED to come up with now, I walked past Fleet street today while I was lost, and started humming part of the Sweeney Todd theme to myself and someone joined in my humming. ALSO, I still have my laptop, which I would die if someone stole. AS WELL, I AM IN LONDON. And while I spend most of my existence lost in this city there is so much to see and do. FINALLY! I am about to go out and eat, which should be enough to make anyone happy.

To my commentors who I didn’t reply to last time:

Bergberg! I’m trying not to! I’m a bit of an inborn personal stresser that comes from my mother as I’ve sure you’ve guessed.

Harvey! I actually transfered all of my York and about a quarter of my Whitby pictures onto my laptop so I still have a few photos to show off yet, I may get a disposable camera for now.