Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Finding a New Local: Day One

One of my favourite people on the planet, Eleanor, and I live in the 'mental health triangle' of Dunedin. It's named thus because of it's large number of 'half-way houses' (somewhere between an institution and a normal house I suppose). It's also interesting because it marks the boundary line between South Dunedin and City Centre - South Dunedin being infamously 'working class' (a street of barely coping second-hand stores, driven to desperation by the large Warehouse opened a few years ago).

Anyway, we need a new 'local', as always. So we are trying all the pubs within a short walk/ drunken stumble of our abode. First up, The Kensington.

If you bother going to the web-site, you'll see the pub is very much sponsored by 'Tui', which bothered me quite a lot and Ellie not so much. The branding everywhere and the Tui ads shown on a screen while music plays irked me, but after a while I conveniently forgot and noticed the many charms of this "upmarket, yet instantly inviting" (from their website) pub.

Upmarket it is not, but more importantly, there is Monteiths on tap and it's $7 a pint. Sold. Also, it's warm (lots of faux fires everywhere), there are multiple levels, a nice set of stairs, music Ellie knows the words to (Phil Collins) and multiple pool tables. Also, interest from the local boys (not mutual).

Cons: $25 for Fish'n'Chips. GET REAL I say.

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

So Cold I Forgot I had a Blog

Hello humans,

Since the last post in South-Bavaria so much has happened, but in another sense it feels like nothing much. I am back home in south, almost Antarctica, New Zealand. It's really cold, but I think I'm mostly thin-skinned because I bike/ walk everywhere and I refuse to wear sensible clothes. Wishlist: thick socks, merino, polyprops, scotch.

Maybe someone could make a dress out of thermal material! Just kidding, please don't, it sounds awful.

Things are quite sad. I mostly still think about Opa every day and feel filled with a loss I can't express. I feel spoilt, because he was 92 and people are supposed to feel grateful or something. Maybe that feeling will come with the maturity I'm supposed to be arriving at sometime. I mostly just feel sad, and robbed.

To compensate for being a sulky loser I have been learning poems off by heart and making new friends who add a sense of sparks and surprise to things. People forgive a lot of sulkiness if you buy them a drink and tell them a beautiful line.

Weirdly, I find this very life-affirming right now:

If you wanna charm the bonnet off your missus, go out and catch a firefly and stick him in a jar. 

From another (the swimming song):

I'm a self-destructive fool, I'm a self-destructive fool 

Much love yep.

Even you.