Tuesday 29 January
Alright so it’s definitely been a while hasn’t it? Like nearly a month. Why you ask? Because I’ve been a lazy sod. Also nothing spectacular of note has taken place because for the next couple of months I’m going to be a boring fart. I’m going back to school. Outside of that I will be watching the entire back catalogue of Smallville episodes in preparation for The Man of Steel release in the summer. Debauchery has taken a back seat.
At least it was meant to. Right up until Australia day/Burns night last Friday, when things went a little off the rails. I pulled a muscle in my stomach trying to shimmy my kilt around my waist. A couple of hours later I looked in a mirror to discover my face covered in paint, while not going to bed or eating anything other than the ice from my vodka for 24 hours. I remember kissing a very attractive girl from Northern Ireland. Some of you may recall what happened the last time that occurred…
Back to the hostel I shuffled after taking guests out on the town, only to be greeted with a psycho-bitch-crazy-fruit-loop worker who kept asking me what I was doing there and what my contribution was. I provided a sound explanation of exactly what I had been doing (which was a damn sight more than most), but after what seemed like an age of her repeating herself, not letting me get a word in edge ways, throwing melodramatic stress fits and providing some dodgy translation to someone who wasn’t even the hostel boss, I reached the end of my tether and packed it in. Oh yeah I forgot to mention I started working in a hostel a while back. Anyhoo, I then proceeded to write a strongly worded letter of complaint regarding her conduct and how I believed she was on smack. A copy is available on request. Let me tell you the laptop keys were smoking with vicious, scathing prose. This was two days ago, so I’ve calmed down enough to the point where I probably won’t even send it. The hostel is on its knees, it’s going backwards, yet staff are employed who clearly have a screw loose and no scooby what’s going on. Good luck to them. If it’s still open by the time I leave Budapest with that calibre of “employee”, I will eat my scrunched up fedora in my guitar bag. I ‘unliked’ them on facebook too. That’ll show ‘em.
So I find myself a week away from beginning my intensive, four-week teaching English course. It’s costing a small fortune, but if I even manage to pass, it should open a few doors for earning some decent money while traveling, thus keeping me on the road that little bit longer. Now I ‘m round the corner in a new (much better) hostel, desperately seeking cheap, short-term accommodation. It’s a minefield out there, but I will tell you this; if you can manage to earn either GBP or US/Aussie dollars in a country like Hungary, you’re on easy street. It’s cheap as chips. I’m talking a room in a nice flat for around £150 a month all-inclusive. The problem is I’m not earning at the moment, so it’s going to dent the balance a little, feel a tiny bit sore, and make me feel guilty about those seven weeks in Medellin, Colombia…
For the next wee while then dear readers it’s all hands to the pumps, and the nose firmly in English books. Honestly I don’t know where I was when they handed out the grammar brains, but it’s going to be enjoyable to dissect this language I love so much, and hopefully in a month I will have a nice shiny certificate that says I can charge what I want to Japanese businessmen to talk with a native English speaker, and then after they can solicit me for sex. I can’t wait to abuse my position of power, just like Robin Williams in Good Morning Vietnam:
“Vietnamese ladies no friends.”
…Well we’ll just see about that.
Oh yes I’m also trying to grow a beard. Well it’s more like a goatee, and I think it looks alright, however there is an alarming number of gingers hairs present. I am considering termination of project, because my chin looks like a squirrels’ arse.
(Disclaimer for future teaching English employers: the last paragraph was a joke. Apart from the beard bit.)