The Witches European Broomstick Tour – 29th November 2016 – Day 5

Current Country / City: Netherlands / Amsterdam

Morning Temperature:  MINUS 5^oC

Travel Method / Rating: Train / reasonably comfortable

Travelling to: Germany / Berlin

Accommodation:  Apartments am Brandenburger Tor

Day Time Temperature: MINUS 5^oC

Approximate Travelling Time: 6.5 hours

Currency: Euro (€)

Steps (as calculated by phone software): 11,458

Activity/Observation:  Sad to leave Amsterdam we nevertheless shouldered our packs and checked out of the hotel. We walked the 500m to the Centraal Station as T-Witch had booked us on a train to Berlin. This journey took 6.5 hours and was pretty comfortable although the carriage was too warm for me. Far nicer than working in the frosted fields racing past outside though. Everyone had bought the strangest foreign lollies and snacks they could find at the supermarket and these were shared around, to be enjoyed or spat out, whichever was deemed preferable to individual tastes.

The large windows allowed us to look upon rural and suburban scenes which passed the time. Everything is a little different to what we are used to seeing. We weren’t aware of crossing the border until a second ticket check was performed by a German official. Previous border checks must have been horribly time consuming and annoying.

My first impressions of Germany are solar panels and wind turbines. They are literally everywhere. Nuclear power station must turn over at idle these days.

We arrived in Berlin at 3pm and found our way out of the station, taking heaps of photos along the way. The huge Xmas tree in the foyer was very impressive with its ever-changing, light display.

Then we braved the cold to skirt the Bundestag towards our apartment.

Darkness was falling by the time we found the hidden doorway to the apartment block office. T-Witch checked us in and spent quite a bit of time printing our boarding passes for the next leg of our trip. Ryanair insist that their customers (sheep) check-in online or a hefty fee is charged at the airport. These types of fine print rules should be a premonition for the worst airline experience of our trip - but more on that later.

Our apartment was on the 2nd floor and had a tiny elevator. Us youngsters took the stairs, which were dark (couldn't find the light switch until the next day). The door lock was a pain in the arse but we finally got inside and placed dibs on the rooms. The apartment was warm, clean and had the amenities you'd expect to find in budget accommodation. We dived in to wash our clothes and the washing machine broke down for the second load. I blame M-Witch's socks that had been worn for too many days straight.

Broomstick Tour - Day 6

The Witches European Broomstick Tour – 28th November 2016 – Day 4

Current Country / City: Netherlands / Amsterdam

Morning Temperature:  MINUS 2^oC

Travel Method / Rating: Trams and walking / Easy to use

Travelling to: N/A

Accommodation: Avenue Hotel

Day Time Temperature: 5^oC

Approximate Travelling Time: N/A

Currency: Euro (€)

Steps (as calculated by phone software): 14,117

Activity/Observation: With another Avenue Hotel breakfast under our belts we took a tram to the famous IAMSTERDAM sign. Trainee M-Witch needed her picture taken here, as did a thousand other tourists. Obviously I missed the point of this exercise but joined in anyway.

Damn that metal was cold on my tender bits.

My first impressions while walking through Amsterdam’s street are the permanence and sheer age of my surroundings. So many 100, 200, 300 year old buildings. Each structure is tied into the next with the full expectation that this is how they will stand long after the architects and builders are dead and forgotten.

A visit to the Van Gogh Museum was a welcome break from the cold. As Aussies are said to be an uncultured lot, we spent some time critiquing the paintings to make up for our deficiency. I preferred the landscapes. I’m not much into abstract art especially after listening to several wanky patrons trying to impress everyone in earshot.

Afterwards we ambled through Amsterdam back streets, breathing in clouds of dope smoke as we passed a dozen ‘coffee shops’ and found ourselves in the red light district. Apparently I missed some eye-popping views (I was more interested in looking at old buildings than old whores) but the witches got flashed a few times.

Drugs are bad, mmm-kay?

T-Witch knew of a fantastic little café where we ordered lunch and drank some great beers.

Cafe Hoppe

Then it was a short-cut through the flower market to look at some slumped buildings along the canal, before finding a restaurant for dinner.

Broomstick Tour - Day 5

The Witches European Broomstick Tour – 27th November 2016 – Day 3

Current Country / City: Netherlands / Amsterdam

Morning Temperature:  1^oC

Travel Method / Rating: Trams and walking

Travelling to: N/A

Accommodation: Avenue Hotel

Day Time Temperature: 10^oC

Approximate Travelling Time: N/A

Currency: Euro (€)

Steps (as calculated by phone software): 14,873

Activity/Observation: After breakfast at the hotel we went sightseeing. I requested a Gluhwein or Glogg (hot, spiced wine) much to the amusement of the coffee shop/bar owner, due to the early hour I suppose. I suspected the witches were having me on as they raved about how good it is but I was incorrect. Great taste and very warming right down to my soul. I immediately proposed to drink a lot more at every opportunity.

After 39.5 hours travelling a pressing need had arisen. I needed to make a priority purchase of shoe deodorant, and a spray on body deodorant. (These are essential items if you intend wearing shoes and clothes for more than 18 hours straight and expect others to share a room with you.)

 With the pharmacy purchases taken care of we spied an old building displaying alcohol which immediately drew our attention. We bought some 15 year old whiskey from a sour old bastard in this very interesting, ancient bottle shop. A cheese shop opposite was also visited to sample the dozen cheeses on display.

After wandering for a while, smelling pungent smoke at every corner, I realised all the coffee shops in the area actually sold weed as their main source of income. Marijuana is not legal in the Netherlands like many people think, but the police use their powers only when someone is misbehaving, and even then you can pay a small on-the-spot fine for drug possession. Come to think of it I never saw a cop while we were passing through these back streets and I never saw anyone misbehaving.

By 2pm the sister witches needed to find a sports bar to watch the Grand Prix race. We settled on a bar and asked the owner to dedicate one of his many big screen TV’s to the Grand Prix while we ate lunch and drank good beer.

 At 3pm we headed back to Centraal Station to pick up two more witches - L-Witch and trainee M-Witch. After dumping their huge packs, we recommenced our walking tour, stopping at Wijnand Fockink for a tipple.

The bar had rules on how to drink the liqueur.

 The new witches were understandably stuffed from the long flight and begged off so they could get some quality sleep.

The rest of us found a nearby restaurant with a decent menu before also heading back for our second nights well earned rest.

Broomstick Tour - Day 4

The Witches European Broomstick Tour – 26th November 2016 – Day 2 (Part 2)

Current Country/City: United Arab Emirates / Dubai

Morning Temperature: 28^oC

Travel Method/Rating: Qantas Flight - A380 Economy Class / Minor discomfort due to seat size

Travelling to: Netherlands /Amsterdam

Accommodation: In flight economy seating – not conducent to obtaining rest. 

Day Time Temperature: MINUS 1^oC

Approximate Travelling Time: 7 Hours

Currency: Euro (€)

Steps (as calculated by phone software): 2852

Activity/Observation: As all good things eventually come to an end we departed the depleted Emirates Lounge with our bags full of freebies (contraband) – toothbrushes and toothpaste, socks, eye shades and razor kits - 7 kits each - and boarded our flight for Amsterdam.

After another 7 hours flying we landed in Amsterdam at 9pm their time, very, very tired. I maybe got 1 hour of micro sleeps and my brain was shutting down. Zombified, we barely showed our surprise when everyone's backpacks was spat out onto the carousel. 

Geared up, we headed for the Metro where T-Witch and H-Witch sorted out a suitable train. It was freezing in the tunnels and smelled like rotting garbage, wet concrete and diesel fumes. Smells immediately reminiscent of years of underground mine work. However there were more lights and tiles in the train station. 

Having achieved the goal of finding the right train we got off at Central Station. Trudging through the crowds to our nearby Avenue Hotel was thankfully a short journey and the hotel was easy to find. After an uneventful check-in we all split to our rooms for long showers and blessed sleep.

All up, the combined time spent travelling and waiting in lounges for flights from Auckland to Amsterdam added up to – 39.5 Hours.

Broomstick Tour - Day 3

The Witches European Broomstick Tour – 26th November 2016 – Day 2 (Part 1)

Current Country/City: Australia / Melbourne

Morning Temperature:  12^oC

Travel Method/Rating: Qantas Flight - A380 Economy Class / discomfort due to flight duration

Travelling to: United Arab Emirates / Dubai

Accommodation: Emirates Terminal 2 Business Class Lounge

Day Time Temperature: 29^oC

Approximate Travelling Time: 12.5 Hours

Currency: N/A

Steps (as calculated by phone software): 2500 – (to and from the buffet and bars)

Activity/Observation: ‘Hell’ is maybe too strong a word to describe this boring, uncomfortable and never-ending flight. I just can’t sleep sitting upright even though we had pretty good seats that backed onto an emergency exit. We could recline without pissing anyone off. We were also on the upper deck so only about 30 people were using my toilet. Yes, 30 people visiting one toilet for 12.5 hours. I dread to think what the ratio was downstairs in the real economy section with 400 people.

As the lights were dimmed and every other bastard seemed to effortlessly fall asleep I struggled through, watching movies, one after another. At home I never manage to watch even one whole movie without getting up to do some gardening or go to bed at the ¾ mark. But there’s no bed and no garden at 11,000 metres. There’s nothing else to do at 11,000 metres. So I milled around like a caged tiger having an occasional chat with the bored stewardess.

We landed at Dubai anticlimactically. Of course the contaminated fuel delay meant we missed our connecting flight so we were resigned to a long wait. Luckily a sympathetic Emirates Host allowed us to use the Terminal 2 business class lounge. (We were supposed to use the very busy Terminal 3 lounge).

Our lounge was eerily deserted. Only 1 or 2 other passengers were floating about, but even these people seemed to get the willies after a few hours and they disappeared. Since we had 3 bars, 3 buffet spreads, plenty of empty beds, a hundred comfy lounges, along with 30 staff at our singular disposal, we can’t pretend we suffered during our 6 hours delay. And, during that 6 hours, the staff must have wondered where all the champagne was going. I think around 6 bottles evaporated in our vicinity. Using these time-passing tools, plus beer, (and some of us even showered), the wait was tolerably pleasant.

BTW - roll on deodorant that pretends to be active for 48 hour is a bullshit claim. Since my clothes were in limbo I never showered, so I stank.

Broomstick Tour - Day 2 (part 2)

The Witches European Broomstick Tour – 25th November 2016 – Day 1

Current Country/City: New Zealand/Auckland

Morning Temperature:  12^oC

Travel Method/Rating: Qantas Flight – 737 Economy Class / Tolerable

Travelling to: Australia / Melbourne

Accommodation: Qantas Club Business Class Lounge

Day Time Temperature: 24^oC

Approximate Travelling Time: 4 Hours

Currency: New Zealand Dollars ($) and Australian Dollars ($ Yaks)

Steps (as calculated by phone software): 7044

Activity/Observation: We dropped Mental at the cattery totally forgetting we haven’t renewed her F3. Much stress ensued as most catteries will not accept unvaccinated animals. We are so lucky and thankful that we have a great relationship with our lovely cat minder who said she’d take care of it for us.

Second screw-up occurred when we were informed that our connecting flight is delayed as Melbourne airport has rejected a batch of contaminated fuel. All flights are affected so we weren’t the only ones getting stuffed around. There’s no consolation in sharing this pain though.

We met up with T-Witch, H-Witch and K-Witch at Melbourne airport and swept into the  Qantas Club Business Class Lounge like we owned the place. We ate junky food and drank ‘free’ drinks while sitting around catching up for 2 hours. Our plane sat quietly on the tarmac, waiting until after midnight to receive its second allocation of fuel. As we needed 180,000 litres in order to get to Dubai we let them get all if it on board.

The calendar switches to 26^th of November by the time we continue our journey. The dreaded 12.5 hour, non-stop flight to Dubai.

Broomstick Tour - Day 2 (Part 1)

The Witches European Broomstick Tour – 2016

This bi-annual trip started in 2014 after the original 5 witches held tentative discussions where dreams where ultimately turned into promises to tour Europe together. The intention being to take in the sights, immerse themselves in each country’s culture, and to buy tokens as proof of passage through the 100’s of Christmas markets that spring up throughout the European Union. They called this x-Europe rampage the "Broomstick Tour", got shirts made, and thoroughly enjoyed the inaugural experience.

Credit for the Broomstick Tours must go to the J-clan globe-trotters (with a special nod to T-Witch). Her in-depth research, creative use of transport (planes/ships/trains/subways/limousine services), ability to seek out unconventional accommodation and oversee the kitties. None of these activities are taken for granted.

T-Witch made a huge effort to ensure everyone had an initial say when choosing destinations on the 2016 Tour and continually modified the itinerary to ensure the progression was workable. She even included a few Easter eggs to keep us entertained and to make sure each country we visited was memorable. In all we'll cram 12 cities/towns into 23 days while visiting Netherlands, Germany, Latvia, Estonia, Finland, Hungary, Slovakia, Austria and United Kingdom - nobody better blink.

I’ll remain forever grateful for her dedication and patience as she shepherded the 6 of us (4 veterans and 2 virgins) through a quagmire of connecting flights, weird ticketing requirements, map deciphering, tracking down hidden accommodation locations and drew on her magical previous travel experiences to ensure we didn’t fall into the many tourist traps along the way.

Why I was invited is beyond me. As the lone male member, (partner to one of the witches), I didn’t fit the criteria. Also a daily battle with IBS, recently diagnosed and by no means understood or under control, made the decision to go along quite daunting. But, tired of being controlled by the illness, I chose to risk it.

The brief for this tour was for each person to carry a 45 litre backpack, (to suit carry-on size restrictions), with several extra bags shared between the group as check-in luggage as purchases mounted up.

We exchange NZ dollars for 300 Euro’s before we left. This later proves a laughably pitiful amount that needs topping up several times. Apparently we have expensive tastes and thirsts.

Due to time zone changes some estimates quoted may not calculate correctly. I have taken the liberty of rounding off and applying real time when indicating hours for travel.

Broomstick Tour - Day 1

I had a little break

For better or for worse I am back. Kinda surprised that my blog was still active. Had a little bit of spam built up and a couple of real comments to paste up. I'm currently doing Nanowrimo so I will be using my sister site Killer Serials to post my story up as a serial as I go.

Baccarat cookware - spare parts found!

Australians love Baccarat cookware. They're reasonably priced (they always seem to be on sale for 50% off), well built, easy to clean and they just work. The only maintenance they need is tightening the handle and steam vent knob every 6 months or so. Now, I don't bloody sell Baccarat products, I don't get a kick-back from them, and I don't care about your one lousy experience that makes Baccarat your chosen whipping boy for all that's wrong with the world. I'm just touting something that does its job well for us, which is extremely rare these days.

We've had our set of Baccarat saucepans (and all the other stuff that came in the box) for about 12 years. They've been treated roughly (one has a nasty scar on its butt - a souvenir from an exploding stove element), been crammed into 5 different removalist trucks and have hit the floor the exact number of times you'd expect a klutz to drop them. Well, after all that abuse I finally managed to smash the steam vent knob off one. They were starting to deteriorate, almost definitely as a result of high dishwasher temperatures.

The accident sent me on a highly irritating journey through the internet to find spare parts. It seems that no bastard stocks them. Not even eBay sellers. I blame the evolution of JIT and Kaizen inventory practises for this, not to mention the sheer resilience of the Baccarat product which means there's not much call for spares.

Anyway, since Baccarat is so damn popular I found loads of posts from other people looking for the same parts without success. Eventually I found a article by Matthew Abraham who'd tracked down the owners of the Baccarat trademark, PlayCorp. (They're huge - supplying more than 13,000 products to around 6,000 retailers such as Target, Rebel Sport, Coles, Kmart, Myer and Big W.)

After scoring the magical customer service email address I broke through to their warehouse guy (Erol), who's a really nice bloke. Erol does not require you to jump through any hoops or fill out any forms. He will take your order over the phone and then tell you the ridiculously cheap price. (They must only just cover the production costs. $5 for the steam vent assembly).

Throwing the lids away just because one part was damaged  would have pissed me off so I'm really happy with the result.

So if you or your mates are looking for Baccarat spares here's the details.

PlayCorp group of companies

Warranty and Customer Service.

7-9 Mephan Street

Footscray   3011

Tel: 03 9317 1115

Fax: 03 9317 1127

Email: eroly@playcorp.com.au

Things that make you go Hmmmm.

Here's a list:

• Trying to do a blog on "Things that make you go Hmmmm" and Chrome won't open Blogger.
• Opening all 47 windows in a 2 story house and watching rain clouds roll in.
• Cleaning sliding windows and pressing sweaty body parts against them while reinstalling.
• Experiencing wind changes towards the house each time dry, dusty garden clippings hit the shredder blades.
• Stepping back from cleaning a filthy house to find it is now merely messy.
• Starting a simple gardening project and realising you now have every tool out of the shed.
• ...

Xmas - You are dead to me

Hi Xmas zombies

(For clarity I use the term 'Xmas' instead of 'Christmas' to signify the consumerism function that I previously and resentfully worshipped). 

I'm not a religious person, or maybe a God that suits me hasn't been invented yet - but fear not, this isn't a religious rant so let's explore my latest Xmas epiphany instead.

Despite the unwanted pressures and expectations of Xmas each year I always wrote the upbeat letters, sent the least sickeningly worded cards I could find, erected and decorated the fake tree, bought presents and observed the rituals as decreed by marketing gurus.

This year; mostly due to a life-changing course I took online; I resolutely boycotted Xmas in a non-participatory, non-judgmental way.

So what happened?

A discomforting enlightenment occurred.

Each year we send around 30-40 cards and receive maybe 20-30 back. With zero sent, guess how many came back this year? 8! 3 were from real estate agent suck-up lists with 1 from our hideously evil  bank. By the way I really love the people who sent the heartfelt 4.

So what does this tell me?

Obviously I have been guilting people into sending cards for years. No one, including me, really wanted to do it but we got caught up in the machinery of Xmas and behaved accordingly.

I have this huge, uncomfortable feeling of having wasted vast quantities of time and energy by blindly going through the motions. Surprisingly even my wife had absolutely no interest in picking up what I let drop. Abilene Paradox anyone?

I'm still not yet free of all Xmas' insidious requirements. We still bought too much expensive food and stupidly overate to a state of extreme discomfort. It bemused me why I would do this to myself but I valued the forced introspection.

So what have I learned from this experiment?

• I don't have to allow big business, relatives or friends dictate my behaviour on any given day.
• Conspicuous waste should never be celebrated.
• Rituals should mean something to a person performing them.
• Being manipulated into thinking or acting far outside your will is dehumanising and frightening to acknowledge. 

This post will cause some people to label me according to their beliefs. That's fine, but bear in mind that I'm not suggesting Xmas or Christmas for not right for YOU, I'm just removing its unhealthy influence from MY life.

Commercialised Christians and Heathen Hijackers

It's a week before Xmas and I am walking despondently towards the Mecca of Merchandise to fulfill a ludicrous obligation that has no meaning to me.

Despite being an affirmed heathen, I have always played along with friends and family whether they hijacked the holiday or faithfully celebrated Jesus' Birthday, mainly to avoid the Scrooge tag and just be tolerant of their views. But no more.

What do I hate about Xmas?

• The sugary bullshit songs of joy and happiness that blare over the squalling children 'I WANT' 'ing everything they have been primed to desire by the TV.
• The frantic confusion of the Halloween/Xmas decoration overlap period. Someone should really sort that shit out.
• The bombardment of advertising that encourages and approves overindulgence from all sides. I don't need any encouragement along these lines. I already have self-control issues.
• The economic stimulus of the holiday spending spree is no doubt welcome to all businesses but I look at the CRAP we buy and only see landfill life-spans drop. Other people's conversations invade my ears while loitering in the toy aisles as people snatch cheap junk from shelves to tick boxes on their lists; Mum, Dad, Katie-Sue, Katie-Sue's newborn, the dog etc. "Ohhh I can't think of anything for Steve's family" - "I'm just getting everyone chocolates" - "I already did that for Kindy group!".
• Being forced to participate in Secret Santa activities that aren't secret and are usually covered off by 2 people in the group as no one else can be bothered.

What do I like about Xmas?

• When it's over.
• It means the New Year is upon us which is as close as I can get to feeling spiritually/mentally renewed.
• Kids have to go back to school soon - hahaaa.

I'd rather look at Xmas as just another notable day on the calendar. One that should slip quietly by, celebrated by those who feel it is significant to them without their accompanying judgements against those of us who opt out.

So to sum up, #@*% Xmas, but I wish a Happy New Year to everyone who deserves one.

Generation Useless

Much as I like bagging out the youth of today, (in the venerated tradition handed down through the generations), I did think the TV program I saw recently about young adults unable to boil an egg or change a wheel on their car was slightly rough on them.

Everyone has to be taught how things work, (not to mention how to interact socially and maintain a suitable level of hygiene). A lot of young people seem to have trouble with some of the above examples - sometimes all three at the same time. But my point is, if a person hasn't been told/shown/taught how to operate/act/cook, the rest of us have no right to slag them for that ignorance.

On the other hand, if they have been shown/told/taught and just can't seem to follow instructions, then they are fair game.

I was very lucky to have parents who instilled life-skills into me from an early age. I sure felt that they wanted me to see the world as soon as legally possible (waiting for a teenagers' brain to catch up with his/her breakneck pace of living must be quite tiring). But, being thrust into the big, bad world is frightening enough when you are able to fend for yourself. I'd hate to try to cope without the skills I'd been given.

I find it amusing that coddled kiddies of today look at me and think: "That old guy can't keep up with the technology of our world". And they're right. But should I apologise? I can cook, clean, maintain my possessions and engage in a meaningful relationship with other people. I'll accept that we have a difference in priorities but I'd rather have good core life skills than be at the cutting edge of technology.

I'm happy to let youngsters forge ahead - sometimes the path they leave behind is less hazardous when the pitfalls are filled with someone-else's money, blood sweat and tears.




 

George Carlin

I've only recently discovered George Carlin. He's dead now, but his profound ideas and harsh opinionated attitude lives on, and they really struck a cord with me. 

Carlin divorced himself from the human race because he actively hated those of us who would not see the "truth" of our existence. (Quote marks around truth represent its complex nature.)

 

George had an old man's measured intelligence. His disgust at humanity was derived from a life-long scrutiny of how people think. His cynical outlook was reinforced by what people do, and did not bother to hide his total hopelessness that we are capable of positive change.

Calin was able to be this honest because he was wealthy. He considered life's Hamster-wheel that we all board as optional. Freed from most obligations he shed that fake persona we adopt to survive. He got to stand beside humanity's treadmill, laughing whenever we stumbled and fell off the end.

He could be seen as a bit of a bastard I suppose, but I only resent him as much as I want to be him. But I'll probably never get to that level. We are the disenfranchised with a very limited ability to steer our own path, make informed decisions, or achieve goals.

You might argue "What about that one percent who break through?" Well, I believe they allowed to succeed as the necessary exception to the rule. They are dangled as the unobtainable carrot on the stick for the rest of us to wear ourselves out grasping for.

Take a look at the methods of our control. Educated to a standard only high enough to run the machines that keep the "owners" (to use George's apt word), comfortable. We're bombarded with advertisements that make us want that newer, faster, better, prettier thing that harness us to debts that always outstrip our income.

We are encouraged to throw our money into that giant gambling pit called the Stock Market which is manipulated and swayed by suspicion and rumour. We know we cannot win a rigged game yet we still buy those lottery tickets.

We are swamped by incomprehensible laws that constantly change so that only dedicated extremist can keep track. Educating others about their dwindling rights cause those extremists to slip from our consciousness on dark nights and lonely curves in the road.

Kinda bleak, depressive viewpoint, huh? But before you write me off as a droning defeatist, take a good look at the world. It's difficult isn't it, to fight your conditioning? Facebook is calling you. The newest episode of make believe is on TV. Another 'must have' iPod is being released. If you investigated your circumstances, could you really work out why you're so "average", all the while thinking you're slightly better than everybody else?

Do not look here for advice; I'm in no position to give any. I believe most of us will always be compliant slaves, victims of circumstance, and mere numbers for corporations to crunch. We are only a coherent society due to the sheer amount of meaningless shit that is forced upon us. Beware; attempting to break free can result in a broken mind.

The right house.

We've been searching for a house. We didn't start out knowing what we wanted, but we definitely knew what we didn't want. In fact we looked at so many places, and left so many disappointed realtors in our wake, we renamed ourselves "Mr Negative" (because I would immediately point out any faults I found), and "Mrs Hard Faced Bitch" (because my wife does not tolerate fake people and keeps her opinions to herself until we get back in the car). We imagined some of the realtors reactions, after they'd seen us a few times. We would arrive early, rip up their carefully rehearsed bullshit, and be gone. "Oh God, here comes that negative bloke and his unimpressable wife."

We hunted houses for 3 months, and in that time I very quickly put together the best research sites and developed psychological ploys to help us evaluate and negotiate for each house we were interested in. From several comments from the realtors, it appears the average buyer does not usually equip themselves in this way.

We, on the other hand, armed ourselves with the current market price of the house - (immediately lets you work out if the vendor has unrealistic expectations), land value - (to subtract from the asking price and work out if the house is over-priced or under-priced), how much the owners paid for it and when, (enabling us to calculate their monthly repayments and approximate age group).

Why other buyers don't do this is beyond me. I was able to talk several realtors down by over $100,000 just by knowing what the market was paying for that area, and how much of a hole the vendor was in.

Now fully streamlined, with pre-approved finance and research material covering every aspect, we soon realised that we'd rejected every house in the areas we liked, in the price range we found acceptable, and configuration that would suit us. That was pretty depressing and made us question how realistic we were being. But it's not as if we'd been unwilling to compromise. We'd almost made an offer on several houses, but their faults were just too large, too expensive to fix or too unforgivable to live with everyday.

Then, one weekend, we went shopping instead of house hunting. But we always carry a list of "maybes" and decided to drive-by several unappealing prospects on the way home. It was a steep area and we couldn't see much of one that might be of interest, so we drove around to a back street to see if we could get a look at its rear end.

By coincidence we came across a realtor who was pulling up at a driveway with no sign, and not on our list, to start an open house inspection. It was a fairly expensive part of the suburb but I immediately forgot about the other house, slammed on the brakes and invited ourselves in. I asked the price before entering, as I didn't want to waste our time looking through a million dollar house that we couldn't afford. I was shocked at the answer. Pleasantly shocked for a change. And the house was near-on perfect for us. It met almost every criteria we desired and could be easily modified to create the aspects that were missing. It was an exciting find and I couldn't be bothered keeping a poker-face. I smiled even wider when the realtor takes my enthusiasm for stupidity and asks us to sign a contract then and there. And if she thinks my positive reactions have anything to do with the way I negotiate, then she is going to be disappointed.

As it turned out, after I got home and did the research, the house was under-priced, and the vendor was in a hurry to get out. In the interest of fair play, good will and a balanced Karma we offered them the list price. I have NEVER done that before. Not even on a cheap computer monitor. I NEVER pay retail on principle. But it felt right and saved a lot of bad feeling and delays.

Our offer has now been accepted and the fun begins. The Agent is learning not to stick her nose into our business and is slightly upset that we don't require her input. So long as our inspectors and solicitor are satisfied we will be in our new house a day before Xmas.

Snobbery at its Finest

We are currently looking at houses, with an aim to purchase, which our bank was very keen to assist us with by offering us large amounts of money. Commendably we have resisted utilizing this amount to the last dollar, leaving us in the mid range listings for the areas we are interested in.

During our interactions with RE Agents we are inevitably shown structures that are well outside our "absolute top dollar" price range as they predictably try to find out where our "real" ceiling is.

I believe we have fairly simple tastes. We like value for money and aren't particularly interested in, what I term, "look at me" houses. I'm just as happy in a large, old shed with three different extensions in multi-coloured zincalume as I would be in a barn sized air-conditioned garage. Especially if the dunga shed has 74 power-points, a 2 post hoist, TV, beer fridge and pool table inside. I'm not out to impress anyone. Being comfortable is what we are all about.

So anyway, I am looking through the listings and find a fancy, architecturally designed mansion by accident and do some cursory searches on its value. I see that it has been dropped a shitload in price. More searching uncovers a possible drainage problem at the back. As it is a very beautiful home, and because I can't help buying something "worth" 1 million dollars at half price I ring the agent.
 
Let's call her Miss Upherself shall we?

Ring, ring.

Miss Upherself: Hello, this is BitchFace. How may I help you?

Me: Hi. I was interested in that hideously expensive mansion you have listed and I've noticed on the flood map that there is a possible flooding problem at the back. Is that why it the price has been reduced?

Miss Upherself: Well I'm absolutely certain that map is wrong. (Blah blah, city council, irresponsible mapping data, etc). May I inquire what price range you are interested in.

Me: (Insert hopeful dollar figure).

Miss Upherself: Oh dear me no, I think you should be looking in other ares. The front door alone is worth $3000.00.

Me: Click. Beeep... beeep.. beeep...

Living in Loser Yobboville

Before I begin my rant I would like to identify myself as an average, working-class Aussie - one retaining a measure of morality and common decency, if somewhat tainted by run-away cynicism.

For various reasons we were forced to lease a 3 bedroom, 5 car garaging townhouse (sight unseen) in a fairly new sub-division. It presented very well in the real estate online ad. Talk about 'looks can be deceiving'.

In reality we got a 2 and a half bedroom with room for 1 full size car in the carport and maybe a motorbike in the garage. The suburb was also very much a "lower socio-economic" area. OK, we got conned, but we could live with that.

What we couldn't live with were the people.

 

We quickly sold our V8 ute (sob) to fit a smaller car into the shoebox garage. The necessity was brought about by the gangs of kids who roamed the streets nightly, graffiti'ing property and pissing in fuel tanks and letter-boxes. Seriously.

Then there were the burnouts at all hours (from absolute shit-boxes, not even V8's!), a disturbed young man who'd wander up and down the street without shirt or shoes, kicking a football into backyards so he can have a look around. Also there was the random screams that would jerk you awake and make you listen for attackers or follow up yell.

 
But daytime follows night and the bored little pricks would disperse back into their homes. Into the houses ALL AROUND US.

A particularly uncouth sub-class of white-trash Australians existed directly behind us in a battle-axe block. They used our front yard as a parking lot, graffiti'ed the fence and had loud, very personal conversations that we could not avoid hearing since our neighbours are 2 meters from our back verandah and bedroom windows.

These people were the epitome of the urban lower-class. They are the dole-bludging losers you see on the news when domestic violence goes from fists to knives.

The parents were in their 30's. Their kids are late teens. One of the teenage daughters has a 3 year old and a 5 year old. They all live unhappily in a similar sized house to us, using their garage as several bedrooms, each contributing $160 a week in rent. (Discovered during a screaming argument over who owed rent).

They communicate in moronic low-class drawls while listening to loud commercial radio and use the word "fuck" in every sentence. For instance:

"Where ya fuckin' goin'." 

"Down the fuckin' shops."

Week-ends were a time to max out expletives, fueled by the cheapest beer they have managed to buy with their pooled child-assistance cheques.

I heard this gem through the bedroom window while they were spray- painting (Supercheap had a special on Matt-Black paint). "Hey Dad, this fucking spray can is fucking fucked."

We get used to finding condoms, beer bottles and other rubbish thrown into our back yard. Screaming arguments, broken glass in the street, a girl beaten and crying running from her boy-friend. The level of tension and stress is never-ending and inescapable.

A decision is made to 'fix' an old station-wagon. Soon the trails of oil leading in and out of their driveway, up and down the road and all over our brick frontage is beyond a joke. These self-absorbed, small-minded, short-tempered rejects are totally oblivious to how their actions effect the people around them.

There was NOTHING I could do about it. I cannot start a fight with people who have nothing to lose. They have no focus, few morals and no direction. They live day to day, reacting to obstacles that they let fall in their way with rage and violence. Any sort of confrontation or police assistance would paint a target on our backs. Reasoning with them would be pointless. Any attempt at discussing their behaviour would inevitably degenerate into physical retaliation.

On the up side, I eventually left that place. And I take some valuable insights from that urban hide. The minds of the barely literate, irresponsibly procreating, unimaginative dregs of our society were open to me. I've lost hope for future generations.

Pollyanna the Cynic.

I recently replied to someone;s blog post in my usual knee-jerk, flippant manner. Someone else replied that I'm an overly cynical negative bastard. And I suppose I do tend to expect the worst. It’s a defensive mechanism brought on by years of adversity. But I'd prefer not to be labeled as 'overly negative'.

Overly Negative people think they are perceived as more intelligent when they point out the faults in a given situation, rather than accepting the circumstances and moving on. This pseudo-intelligent pessimist seeks to cloud our sunshine moments because they're envious. If they can’t be happy, why should anyone else be? I am not this person.

My belief in Karma - my Great Mental Balancer often comes in handy when I am feeling negative. Occasionally I do dump my negativity on others and afterwards I feel obligated to pay forward the attention I've been favoured with by attending to someone else's negativity. This is not a fun past-time and reminds me not to do it to others too often.

I recently received some great advise about listening which has made the chore much easier to cope with: “Sometimes people don’t want you to fix anything. Sometimes they just want someone to hear them.” Incredible. If you aren't wracking your brain for a method to fix their problem, then you are really listening to them.

I always seek to diffuse misery, yet misery loves company. A truism often encountered in long-term workplace employees. Ever notice how the two most sour workmates always hang around together. On the flip side, being surrounded by positive thinkers could be pretty tiring too. 

You'd think you’d LOVE never to be unhappy ever again, wouldn't you? I don’t. How could you appreciate the special times of unadulterated pleasure if it's on tap 24/7.

Be kind when you can and think happy thoughts, people; just make sure to top them with a healthy amount of cynical sprinkles.

Digging ditches

I've been helping my brother dig ditches and lay pipe on and off for the last week or so. Probably the hardest I've had to work since the Great Pack Up and Move and has helped me drop several more kilo's.

We did all the work by hand to cut costs, digging through clay, shale and a million tree roots, and so what if I could barely move the next day after each session. I'm sure Jules can tune out the groaning.

The job was only necessary to drain a much bigger project underneath the house. Oh yeah, we all know how much I love crawling around under houses. Next task is to remove another 5 cubic metres of dirt before the block layer and concreters turn up. I can barely wait for the next weight training exercise.

Comfort Zone or Stagnation

In the past I have always found a certain level of uncertainty in my life acceptable. I've never seen the point in planning out a career path, with goals highlighted along the way. I usually get itchy feet in the 2nd or 3rd year of residing in one place, even if we break it up with holidays away.

Therefore the long stay in SmokeTown has effected me profoundly. I accumulated stuff that I found difficult to let go of. I got comfortable in a niche that had enough positives that they outweighed the many negatives of the place. And the "remote" location disconnected me from society and robbed me of my ability to learn and take chances.

I am going to change this trait if I can. I don't want to be cutting edge, but I most certainly don't want to be left behind.