Back online.

12 Nov

Well, it’s November 2012.  It’s a month away from the end of the world and 20 days until my 10 month anniversary of being in Australia.  I must apologize for my extreme lack of attention to the blog.  When I started the blog I didn’t exactly consider the obstacles one might encounter when living in a car.  My priorities quickly changed from bragging about my trip on my cool new blog to a more pressing concern…which fast food restaurant parking lot seemed the safest to park the car and sleep in overnight.  If you ever want to know how to pick a parking lot…ask me.  A surprising number of factors go into the decision… street lights, garbage cans, bushes, nearby business’, the number of unruly teens in the area, whether or not the joint is 24-7 or not; and that’s just to name of a few… Oh, most importantly…the place must have hot coffee for the morning.  I’m not proud of it, but I will admit that I decided early on in the car-living life that if questioned while washing my face or brushing my teeth in a Mcdonalds restroom, I would angrily and patriotically tell that foolish employee that I, Lauren McDonald, descendant of the great Ronald, am from America, where the sesame seeds of McDonald’s hamburger buns were sown and without me and my fast food nation, Australians would be forced to survive on kangaroo, koala and the occasional Great White shark rather than McHappiness. So leave me be, let me brush my teeth in peace and please do not interrupt my beauty sleep tonight.  Also, if you could dim the lights on the drive- thru sign, that’d be great.

Enough of Macca’s.  (Although I do dearly miss the smell of french fries in the morning).  Charlotte and I are currently living in Sydney, in the lovely suburb called Randwick.  We work in Coogee Beach.  I, at the Palace Bistro and Charlotte at the Rugby Club.  Our apartment is the dirtiest little thing I have ever seen.  I’m also slightly concerned that the apartment is some sort of halfway house for crazy people being reintroduced into society.  The woman upstairs spends the day wandering around the complex while clutching her kettle.  Our next door neighbor blasts nightclub music all day while lifting weights and holding his pet snake (yes an actual pet snake)  There are no locks on the communal bathroom doors and apparently a no-knocking rule is in place.  Shy bladder be gone! The silver lining of our cloudy apartment…we have an avocado tree in the backyard.

The thing about travel is that its never boring, no matter how mundane your daily activities may be.  My job is a prime example.  At first look, you could just say that I’m the front of house staff at a pub bistro. Simple enough. I take orders, clear plates, make coffees and wash an occasional dish or two.  However, its my coworkers that make my life interesting.  The other day, my nose started bleeding at work.  So, my 43-year-old Algerian head chef stuck his thumb up my nostril.  Strangely enough, it actually worked. The same guy gives me a lesson every single day about the United States and our unfortunate state of affairs.  The conversation usually ends with him shaking his head repeating, “poor America, poor America.”

Then there is the Bangladeshi guy, Asif.  One of the first times I spoke with him, he asked me what my thoughts were concerning time travel.

Its an unusual crew, and sometimes I want to punch the French kitchenhand in the head for being so entierly incompetant.  But when again in my life will I work with Croatians, Italians, Algerians, Australians, Lebanese, French, Italian and Bangladeshi all at the same time.

It certainly is an interesting life I’m living.  As I like to say, better werid than boring.


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