...And there it goes again...
Tomorrow I start work testing barley for Baird's Malt. I must say I'm somewhat apprehensive about this, mosly due to the fact that I may be working with insular teuchtars who are irrationally resentful of the new student twat. Of course, this fear may well be completely unfounded, but if worst comes to worst, at least there will be 6 others at least a little like myself.
Of course, since the rains have only just started just now, there's a very good chance there will be bugger all for me to do, which makes for some great paid slacking. Sorry, I mean diligent working. Ahem.
Anywho, it's work and it gives me money so I can't complain. Otherther than I dislike the acrid smell of barley. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea....
I've seen two films in the past few weeks: Whale Rider and Buffalo Soldiers. Boths are top class slices of celluloid, with my personal preference going towards Whale Rider due to it's itimate and touching performances and even more beautiful cinematography that continues the New Zealand tourist boards projection room wet dream, kick-started by the (bloody) lord of the rings. Anyway, the film is beautiful, and give a brilliant insigt into Mauri society. It's not that different from what Scottish society could have been, had it not been for cultural cleansing.
Also seen some VERY good animes recently, but I can't tell you where to get them yet due to thier "sensitive" nature (read: Pirate). Still, when "Wolf's Rain", "Stand Alone Complex" and "Lain" are available to you, snap them up. They're brill. Not Turbot.
Right, early nights are needed, so I'll be off soon. The full update on the workplace will be posted the very instant a moment occurs when I am next at the computer and can be bothered. Bye for noo.
Tuesday, July 29, 2003
Sunday, July 27, 2003
For the first time in a very long time I feel at peace with the world. Thigs that I needed to say have been said, truths strengthened by thier being made verbal. I seem to be able to just gel with people today, and I'm spotting the hidden worths in the most unassuming induviduals. For a tiny capsule moment, all is just right, and I feel like I could tolerate the intolerable.
It doesn't even seem to matter that the feeling will be gone by tomorrow. What I can't figure out though, is whether this is just a figment of samsara, or whether it's genuine happiness. It certainly feels like it.
Listen to Manu Chao. French-latin reggae. It just makes sense.
It doesn't even seem to matter that the feeling will be gone by tomorrow. What I can't figure out though, is whether this is just a figment of samsara, or whether it's genuine happiness. It certainly feels like it.
Listen to Manu Chao. French-latin reggae. It just makes sense.
Monday, July 21, 2003
So, Amsterdam…
Where to begin on this one?
Right, first off, you’ll more than likely end up at Schipol airport, which is massive. Picture the most massive airport terminal you can think of. No, more massive than that. And again. Yep, that’s how big it is. Bloody huge. Plus it’s a good introduction to the quirkiness of Holland, incorporating bars with names like “hello there!”.
We arrived in Amsterdam’s central train station via a train almost exactly like Paris’s RER (read: clean, fast, efficient and actually ON TIME!). There were no intercom announcements on board, but fortunately for us there were some loud Americans who basically broadcast the names of the stations for all the train to hear.
Dutch is a very funny language. It’s sounds like people speaking German backwards. If you’re not tantalized by learning a new language that sounds like that, fear not, for absolutely everyone in Amsterdam, with no exception, speaks English, This is rather handy, especially after wandering Mallorca trying to cope with the bare rudiments of Spanish. The Dutch accent is just plain weird. It’s like a mixture of cockney Australian, Danish and South African accents. This makes it very hard to understand some words, but overall its fine.
Right, Amsterdam itself. We’ll get the obvious out of the way. Amsterdam is indeed, without a shadow of a doubt, a den of vice. There are heaps of the famed “coffeeshops” about the town, but don’t expect good coffee from these places. Outside of these there are even more Bong shops, as well as a quite a few “smartshops”, which deal in legal alternatives to mind expanding drugs, as well as life, fresh (and smelly) magic mushrooms. Of all these, the smartshops have to be the coolest, just for their sheer counter-drug-culture value. They are also where I first heard my song of the month, but more on that later.
The red light district is the first one that I’ve seen that actually has red lights. In this area of town there are a lot of sex shops as well as the omnipresent booths, each of which contains a scantily clad gyrating lady of pleasure. To be honest, it’s nothing really special, although the “big fat trannies” as worth the trip for their comedy value alone.
The Dutch are a weird bunch. Most have had a total sense of humour bypass, are prone to staring, and some, like a certain wine shop owner are just downright rude without actually being insulting. This rule is not without exception, one such being the very helpful and funny chip stand owner we met, who in addition to making very nice chips, was also of a warm and amiable disposition.
For some reason, there are masses of Indonesian restaurants in Amsterdam. Indonesian food is very nice indeed. But be careful for one particular delicacy. They are pretty much potato crisps that have been re-fried then covered in a sort of hard toffee-syrup. For the first few moments it tastes very nice indeed. After this time, however, the toffee stuff turns out to be VERY, VERY SPICY! I mean excruciatingly spicy! You have been warned!
Amsterdam has three letters in its name which is also a big draw, the letters being a, r, and t. Obvious choices for art galleries would doubtless include the Van Gough museum, where you can get very close indeed to the said painter’s works, but more appealing to me was the Modern Art gallery next door, featuring works from Mondrian no less! I now have a poster. YAY!
Nightlife is well catered for too, and I personally recommend a trip to “BoomChicago!”, an improvisational stand up act that is bloody hilarious. www.boomchicago.nl.
Anyway, here’s some odds and ends I learned in Amsterdam:
Noodles are everything that spaghetti should be but isn’t.
Dutch folk music isn’t up to much.
The Dutch love their houseplants.
No, not THOSE houseplants.
(You can get the seeds for those houseplants if you REALLY want them)
Pannekaaken with Stroop are best avoided unless you like the taste of musty sugar.
One place you won’t find the German tourists is at the Anne Frank house.
Jungle Formula insect repellent is also a potent herbicide.
The weather is VERY variable in the Netherlands.
Strip joints’ doormen will quite loudly pitch their product as “Grade A filth and sleaze” on the street. In front of small children.
Some parents will drag small children into red light districts.
Amsterdammers are hacked off with sex and drugs (and clogs).
Marijuana is a pretty plant; if you’d just let it bloody grow!
And my music pick of the month is “Hands Around My Throat” by Death in Vegas
It’s groovy, don’t you know.
Where to begin on this one?
Right, first off, you’ll more than likely end up at Schipol airport, which is massive. Picture the most massive airport terminal you can think of. No, more massive than that. And again. Yep, that’s how big it is. Bloody huge. Plus it’s a good introduction to the quirkiness of Holland, incorporating bars with names like “hello there!”.
We arrived in Amsterdam’s central train station via a train almost exactly like Paris’s RER (read: clean, fast, efficient and actually ON TIME!). There were no intercom announcements on board, but fortunately for us there were some loud Americans who basically broadcast the names of the stations for all the train to hear.
Dutch is a very funny language. It’s sounds like people speaking German backwards. If you’re not tantalized by learning a new language that sounds like that, fear not, for absolutely everyone in Amsterdam, with no exception, speaks English, This is rather handy, especially after wandering Mallorca trying to cope with the bare rudiments of Spanish. The Dutch accent is just plain weird. It’s like a mixture of cockney Australian, Danish and South African accents. This makes it very hard to understand some words, but overall its fine.
Right, Amsterdam itself. We’ll get the obvious out of the way. Amsterdam is indeed, without a shadow of a doubt, a den of vice. There are heaps of the famed “coffeeshops” about the town, but don’t expect good coffee from these places. Outside of these there are even more Bong shops, as well as a quite a few “smartshops”, which deal in legal alternatives to mind expanding drugs, as well as life, fresh (and smelly) magic mushrooms. Of all these, the smartshops have to be the coolest, just for their sheer counter-drug-culture value. They are also where I first heard my song of the month, but more on that later.
The red light district is the first one that I’ve seen that actually has red lights. In this area of town there are a lot of sex shops as well as the omnipresent booths, each of which contains a scantily clad gyrating lady of pleasure. To be honest, it’s nothing really special, although the “big fat trannies” as worth the trip for their comedy value alone.
The Dutch are a weird bunch. Most have had a total sense of humour bypass, are prone to staring, and some, like a certain wine shop owner are just downright rude without actually being insulting. This rule is not without exception, one such being the very helpful and funny chip stand owner we met, who in addition to making very nice chips, was also of a warm and amiable disposition.
For some reason, there are masses of Indonesian restaurants in Amsterdam. Indonesian food is very nice indeed. But be careful for one particular delicacy. They are pretty much potato crisps that have been re-fried then covered in a sort of hard toffee-syrup. For the first few moments it tastes very nice indeed. After this time, however, the toffee stuff turns out to be VERY, VERY SPICY! I mean excruciatingly spicy! You have been warned!
Amsterdam has three letters in its name which is also a big draw, the letters being a, r, and t. Obvious choices for art galleries would doubtless include the Van Gough museum, where you can get very close indeed to the said painter’s works, but more appealing to me was the Modern Art gallery next door, featuring works from Mondrian no less! I now have a poster. YAY!
Nightlife is well catered for too, and I personally recommend a trip to “BoomChicago!”, an improvisational stand up act that is bloody hilarious. www.boomchicago.nl.
Anyway, here’s some odds and ends I learned in Amsterdam:
Noodles are everything that spaghetti should be but isn’t.
Dutch folk music isn’t up to much.
The Dutch love their houseplants.
No, not THOSE houseplants.
(You can get the seeds for those houseplants if you REALLY want them)
Pannekaaken with Stroop are best avoided unless you like the taste of musty sugar.
One place you won’t find the German tourists is at the Anne Frank house.
Jungle Formula insect repellent is also a potent herbicide.
The weather is VERY variable in the Netherlands.
Strip joints’ doormen will quite loudly pitch their product as “Grade A filth and sleaze” on the street. In front of small children.
Some parents will drag small children into red light districts.
Amsterdammers are hacked off with sex and drugs (and clogs).
Marijuana is a pretty plant; if you’d just let it bloody grow!
And my music pick of the month is “Hands Around My Throat” by Death in Vegas
It’s groovy, don’t you know.
Thursday, July 17, 2003
Well I'm in Holland! Isn't that weird?
It's very rainy and I'm using the internet point in this hideously lavish hotel here, and it's probably costing a small fortune, so I'll be brief.
Marijuana EVERYWHERE here, though I've still to see the red light district. Very pretty here also, though the streets all look the same, and this has led to some confusion. In addition to hash growing, thew Dutch are very much into thier housepleants, and a such there are HUGE amounts of carniviorous plants that can be bought from the many flower markets.
Anyway, time is short, and I'm soon to partake of the many Indonesian restaurants here.
Weill soon have a cigarette and a flapjack/cigar and a pancake/crepe and a bong.
See you next time!
It's very rainy and I'm using the internet point in this hideously lavish hotel here, and it's probably costing a small fortune, so I'll be brief.
Marijuana EVERYWHERE here, though I've still to see the red light district. Very pretty here also, though the streets all look the same, and this has led to some confusion. In addition to hash growing, thew Dutch are very much into thier housepleants, and a such there are HUGE amounts of carniviorous plants that can be bought from the many flower markets.
Anyway, time is short, and I'm soon to partake of the many Indonesian restaurants here.
Weill soon have a cigarette and a flapjack/cigar and a pancake/crepe and a bong.
See you next time!
Sunday, July 13, 2003
Well, that was Mallorca.
Not a bad holiday spot if I do say so myself, but not one I’ll return to with massive haste either. First of all, should you decide to go to Mallorca at some point, for God’s sake DON’T go in the summer! It’s like a bloody oven! Temperatures averaged in the high 30°’s during the day, and never got below 25°C at night. Now, this wouldn’t be so bad if everything was air conditioned, but nothing is there. To be fair though, by the end of the holiday I had adjusted quite well to the heat, but I certainly couldn’t sunbathe for very long without immersion in water. It would be more sensible to journey there in spring or autumn, when the heat is less intense.
After finally escaping Palma airport (a construction of nightmarishly Byzantine complexity), and the run down sprawl of Palma itself, we soon arrived at Port de Soller, a town about the size of Macduff (with slopes to match) on the north shore. The town is a lower key tourist trap that most places on the island, with fairly good views but a totally crap beach. The water is permanently murky due to heaps of yacht moored there, including, whist we were there, the royal yacht from Jordan.
Geographically, Mallorca is amazing. The island is one great chunk of mountainous semi-volcanic, beige rock, interspersed with some of the most perseverant trees I have ever seen. The roads that wind round give priceless views over the desert pines and olive groves that cling madly to the sides. Up in the mountains there are some very impressive villages, the construction of which boggles the mind as to how exactly it was achieved. Another thing which is pretty impressive in its construction is the 4km long tunnel that has been bored through the side of a mountain, connecting Palma with Soller. It’s long, dark, and like a road version of Euro tunnel. Only through a mountain. Obviously.
Not so impressive is the human impact upon Mallorca, leaving it stained with all the traditional tourist town tack was well are more depressing fare: Burger King, anyone? Indeed, the modern human presence on the island has ruined what was otherwise an astounding formation in the Mediterranean, a prime example being Port de Pollenca or the northern peninsula. Filled to the brim with what Basil Fawlty would call “riff-raff”, each one swaggering after their Whatney’s Red Barrell, no doubt.
The flora and fauna is quite interesting, with quite a lot to see at the small but concentrated botanic gardens in Soller, as well as 50 or so Black Vultures on the island (feel very lucky if you ever see them), as well as a weird moth that looks, moves and behaves exactly like a humming bird. Weird.
But the best thing about Mallora is underwater. The Diving there is excellent, with crystal clear water. And despite the Mediterranean’s pollution there was a huge amount of things to see including Groupers, Stingray, Lobsters, Octopus and massive schools BIG BLOODY BARRACUDA AS LONG AS YOUR ARM!
Needless to say, I was massively impressed. I would return to Mallorca for a diving holiday at the drop of a hat. Absolutely fan-tastic (it’s also a great excuse to ogle petite, giggling Danish au-pair types in skin-tight neoprene…)
Anyway, that’s what there is to do in Mallorca. As of tomorrow, I’ll be away again.
Destination: Amsterdam
Not a bad holiday spot if I do say so myself, but not one I’ll return to with massive haste either. First of all, should you decide to go to Mallorca at some point, for God’s sake DON’T go in the summer! It’s like a bloody oven! Temperatures averaged in the high 30°’s during the day, and never got below 25°C at night. Now, this wouldn’t be so bad if everything was air conditioned, but nothing is there. To be fair though, by the end of the holiday I had adjusted quite well to the heat, but I certainly couldn’t sunbathe for very long without immersion in water. It would be more sensible to journey there in spring or autumn, when the heat is less intense.
After finally escaping Palma airport (a construction of nightmarishly Byzantine complexity), and the run down sprawl of Palma itself, we soon arrived at Port de Soller, a town about the size of Macduff (with slopes to match) on the north shore. The town is a lower key tourist trap that most places on the island, with fairly good views but a totally crap beach. The water is permanently murky due to heaps of yacht moored there, including, whist we were there, the royal yacht from Jordan.
Geographically, Mallorca is amazing. The island is one great chunk of mountainous semi-volcanic, beige rock, interspersed with some of the most perseverant trees I have ever seen. The roads that wind round give priceless views over the desert pines and olive groves that cling madly to the sides. Up in the mountains there are some very impressive villages, the construction of which boggles the mind as to how exactly it was achieved. Another thing which is pretty impressive in its construction is the 4km long tunnel that has been bored through the side of a mountain, connecting Palma with Soller. It’s long, dark, and like a road version of Euro tunnel. Only through a mountain. Obviously.
Not so impressive is the human impact upon Mallorca, leaving it stained with all the traditional tourist town tack was well are more depressing fare: Burger King, anyone? Indeed, the modern human presence on the island has ruined what was otherwise an astounding formation in the Mediterranean, a prime example being Port de Pollenca or the northern peninsula. Filled to the brim with what Basil Fawlty would call “riff-raff”, each one swaggering after their Whatney’s Red Barrell, no doubt.
The flora and fauna is quite interesting, with quite a lot to see at the small but concentrated botanic gardens in Soller, as well as 50 or so Black Vultures on the island (feel very lucky if you ever see them), as well as a weird moth that looks, moves and behaves exactly like a humming bird. Weird.
But the best thing about Mallora is underwater. The Diving there is excellent, with crystal clear water. And despite the Mediterranean’s pollution there was a huge amount of things to see including Groupers, Stingray, Lobsters, Octopus and massive schools BIG BLOODY BARRACUDA AS LONG AS YOUR ARM!
Needless to say, I was massively impressed. I would return to Mallorca for a diving holiday at the drop of a hat. Absolutely fan-tastic (it’s also a great excuse to ogle petite, giggling Danish au-pair types in skin-tight neoprene…)
Anyway, that’s what there is to do in Mallorca. As of tomorrow, I’ll be away again.
Destination: Amsterdam
Tuesday, July 01, 2003
Well, to be honest, bugger all is happening at the moment.
Had Cameron, James an Pippa round for the weekend, in which time we watched many movies and consumed much junk food. 'tis what life is all about, after all.
Oh, and I PASSED MY THEORY TEST! Ok, it's not much a of a real achivement is the whole life stakes, but it feels a damn sight better than failing it.
As a result, I went anf bought one of those 10'' tall Alien Queen figures. It's very ph33rsomely w00t, yet kawai at the same time.
And no, I've no idea why I'm acutally spaking like a geek today (in addition to my usual acting like one).
Anyway, it's sun, sea and sangria as I go to Glasgow on Friday. A brief "hell-" to Stuart, then off the the depressing rainy slums od Mallorca I go (wait a tic...). Just for those who are easily confused (and stupid), it is worth pointing out that Mallorca and Majorca are in fact the very same place, with the same pronounciation. I had not realised this. Fortunatly I was saved by roughguides.com before i seriously embarrased myself im public. Apparant ly the whole "Majorca" this is a little inside joke exclusive to the islanders there. It's all easily confusing (and stupifying).
Will return in a bout a week hence, but there's a good chance I'll pop out to Amsterdam for a few minutes shortly after. Time will tell.
No music recommendations today, so you'll just have to wing it next time you're in HMV. Remember: If nobody's ever heard of it, then you can pass yourself off as "cultured".
Had Cameron, James an Pippa round for the weekend, in which time we watched many movies and consumed much junk food. 'tis what life is all about, after all.
Oh, and I PASSED MY THEORY TEST! Ok, it's not much a of a real achivement is the whole life stakes, but it feels a damn sight better than failing it.
As a result, I went anf bought one of those 10'' tall Alien Queen figures. It's very ph33rsomely w00t, yet kawai at the same time.
And no, I've no idea why I'm acutally spaking like a geek today (in addition to my usual acting like one).
Anyway, it's sun, sea and sangria as I go to Glasgow on Friday. A brief "hell-" to Stuart, then off the the depressing rainy slums od Mallorca I go (wait a tic...). Just for those who are easily confused (and stupid), it is worth pointing out that Mallorca and Majorca are in fact the very same place, with the same pronounciation. I had not realised this. Fortunatly I was saved by roughguides.com before i seriously embarrased myself im public. Apparant ly the whole "Majorca" this is a little inside joke exclusive to the islanders there. It's all easily confusing (and stupifying).
Will return in a bout a week hence, but there's a good chance I'll pop out to Amsterdam for a few minutes shortly after. Time will tell.
No music recommendations today, so you'll just have to wing it next time you're in HMV. Remember: If nobody's ever heard of it, then you can pass yourself off as "cultured".
