this time, hopefully
five things to help one survive whilst living overseas:
5) gin
4) crowded house
3) charles bukowski
2) a bike
1) murder she wrote [se ha escrito un crimenn] (classic seasons) spanish dubbed version
so it will now be:
arrive kingsford smith 05:10, 17/07/06.
i do sort of feel sorry for doing that to my parents, but hey, it was nearly 300€ cheaper than the other ticket. and air france seems trustworthy enough. as long as dominique du villepin can quash those pesky disturbances they've been having.
dominique, listen to sarkozy. he always knows where it's at. he's a vicious motherfucka. send in the troops like they wanted you to for the estates. arrest fucking everyone. i'd hate for my flight to be delayed.
i do like the JUSTIFICATION IS MANDATORY warning on the ticket. it's kind of like the inverse of australia detention policies, where mandatory is justification.
imagined scene from the flight:
me - ah, i would like a vegetarian meal please
flight attendant - read zee ticket.
me - huh?
f.a. - justification is mandatory.
me - oh, well, basically, it starts with the premise that all people deserve equal respect of their interests. and from there, it questions the distinction between....
i have just spent the last two hours making a million laps of pamplona, trying to work out my fucking airline tickets, and at the same time teaching two kids and two old men english. the money didn't arrive in my account. dagny helped. it wouldn't accept my card. they could extend the reservation. i had to go back to pay a deposit. i could pass by when i wanted to finalise it.
i went home. i put on the mars volta. i made myself a gin and tonic. gin has become my: i am tired. we are all tired. let us drink. drink.
at track three (towards the bottom of the glass) idoia calls me: yeah, so, i was just checking to see if i could find anything better for you, and... air france has just brought out some new tickets. from bilbao, via paris, then singapore, for about 300 euros less. emmmm, ok. well, i guess i'll take that then.
so it's gonna be the 16th of july. better, i think. pero me cago en dios.
anoche fue la primera noche de 'club dagny'. fue algo más relajada que la primera noche de club kim, pero nos lo pasamos de puta madre. unos alemanes y un frances encontrado.
certainly was a good way to spend the few hours when i got home. because i definitely wasn't going to sleep any time soon.
i booked a ticket today. as in, for coming home. looks like it's gonna be:
leaving spain on the 24th july
leaving europe (london) 25th july
arriving in sydney 26th july (evening).
flying with gulf air, through bahrain. when the woman said bahrain, i started racking my brains. united arab emirates? no, that's dubai. oman? i have a friend from there. is it one of those deliberately confusing city-states? then the other woman working there goes, no, it's malaysia. malaysia? then i really felt stupid. steph's family is from fucking malaysia and i don't even know bahrain. shit!
then i get home and check it all up on the net. malaysia no. above saudi arabia and right next to qatar, yes. in fact, their building a 'friendship bridge' with qatar which will be the longest in the world. sounds nice enough then.
i decide to research gulf air. (bad idea) a consumer site tells me they're ok. a four star airline, just like qantas and british airways. about the only ones to beat them are singapore and, funnily enough, their friend qatar. the worst bit was when they bragged that their catering was rated number 1 in the world for first class and business class. joel class however, comes in at number 6. then i check the wikipedia site on them. founded through nice old colonial aviators, great. then i get to thee crashes and incidents section. hint, you don't want to read this unless it's for qantas (see dustin hoffman in rain man).
On 23 September 1983, while the Boeing 737 was en route to Karachi from Abu Dhabi, a bomb exploded in the baggage compartment. The plane crashed in the desert near Mina Jebel Ali in the United Arab Emirates. All 6 crew members and 111 passengers perished.
On 23 August 2000, Gulf Air Flight 072, an Airbus A320-200, which was flying from Cairo to Bahrain International Airport in Muharraq, Bahrain, crashed into the Persian Gulf, North of Bahrain while doing a go-around after an aborted landing, all on board were killed.
yeah, but, like, apart from that nothing bad has ever happened, yeah?
to all of you who doubted, i respond to you only with this image:
i arrived late but had advised. but somehow we missed each other like a bad high-five and i was waiting in the rain and calling and still we weren't getting it right until she was there and it all went quiet and slow and i didn't want to move we sucked at each other like babies at a powerpoint we wanted every last bit because you never know when your next chance will be and when things will all fuck up or not.
i was sick and we did nothing all weekend except throw a party. people didn't drink the sangría but that was their problem. and we talked and told stories that had never been told and we marvelled and realised in an instant the size of time and space. things were said that should never have been said things were said that had to be said. things were hard things were very good.
right now, there is a 'manifa ruidosa' (nois[y] protest) downstairs. it's by basque kids, after the recent deaths of basque prisoners in spanish and french prisons [at least one of which, from what i've heard, does sound particularly dodgy]. they're basically just walking around whistling really loud, hitting things, chanting occasionally. it was actually oddly effective, i found (by effective i mean disruptive and disconcerting). i think the whistling (that is, by human lips, not by a whistle) had a sort of emotional immediacy to it. i think because of the sustained length of it. whistling usually pierces the air for a second, to draw attention, or at most sticks to a rhythm eg. at a footbal match, or a tune. this was just long, toneless, collective whistling, one person bleeding into another, like collective circular breathing. ps. stay tuned for a postt on why basque is the best language in the world and should be installed as the new esperanto (but actually used). can't post it now cos i need my basque book.
my university [universidad pública de navarra/nafarroako unibertsitate publikoa] has one, maybe two mac rooms. they're almost never open when i'm using computers, so they're also a special treat. a small room, fifteen eMacs, three rows of five. the best thing is, that heaps of local students go to walk in the door, see the svelte sex of the macs and sigh dramatically, and mutter 'joder' [fuck]. then they pull their head back out of view and go look for a room with real computers that are useable. sweet.
ups to the sisters and the mamas and the aunties and the daughters.
you know over here it's el día de las mujeres trabajadoras (women workers' day)? way to make things contingent upon labour status. all amas de casa (housewives), start charging.
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