La Rica Robusto
In Japan my blogging friends and I used to refer to ‘great blog material.’ For example:
"So in school today I had to make two kids have an English conversation. Except they can't speak. At all. Seriously it was like 'urrrch-ch-ch' and then 'urch urchhh-guh-guh'"
"No way! Special school right?"
"Seriously, and the teacher's like, 'So, so, velly good' and I'm like, 'WTF mate?'"
"Great blog material though eh? But hey, this is a great cigar right? Am I right?"
"I'll say."
The other day I went to London for the JET alumni reception where Robin and I were to meet up with some really groovy people whom we hadn’t seen in a while. Robin, having the return part of a coach ticket, had left earlier in the day and I was waiting for the noon Megabus - the poor man’s National Express. After a while reading, finishing up Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy, I noticed a slight uneasiness developing in the crowd of backpackers and students I was waiting with. The bus was an hour late. It had still not turned up an hour later. In fact it never did. By the time the next bus arrived at 3pm only I was left waiting, because really, where else was I going to go?
“Excuse me, I was meant to be on the 12 o'clock bus that didn’t turn up, it’s alright to get on this one though right?”
“No sir. You have to pre-book. It says quite clearly in the small print.”
“Yes, I did, but your bus never arrived”
“Sir, you cannot get on this one bus. If you phone the number, which is clearly displayed on this sign, you can book a seat on the next bus, which will be departing at this stop at seven o'clock. It says very clearly…”
“…In the small print yes. But my thing is at 6.30”
“I can't help you sir as you see as the small print clearly says…”
“…Right!...The small print…I get it.”
“Yes”
“….…”
“Sir?”
“….…”
“Umm, sir?”
And I stalked off, to where I had no idea. I stopped behind the next bus-stop to thrash about a bit in disbelief. I felt a bit silly, especially when I noticed an old lady looking disappointedly at me.
“The busses issit love?" she crooned. "It’s alright love, we all ‘ave bad days don’ we."
I finally got to London at 9.30, too late to get to my hotel and ditch my stuff, but in time to meet everyone in a pub after their five hours of free wine at the reception. Swines. For those of you reading from Japan, and indeed those of you now elsewhere: it was real nice seeing those people again. Back in the 'yama we would still have several good hours to go, but London is not kind to those broke or loaded with luggage and we had to leave, it seemed, too soon. Laurie saw me off nicely with a glass of very good red, because, well, she's a lovely human being.
London is a very expensive place to stay and so our hostel was more picturesque outside than in. The lift had a mind of it's own and scraped up and down the walls in a frightening manner.
Outside:
Inside:
People in London live in small cramped apartments and pay through the nose for it (at least that was my experience) but it's all worth it for this:
Hyde Park
JET re-union aside, picnicking in Hyde Park was the highlight of the weekend. I miss that about London - the park, the papers, and a bottle of wine. And it never seemed to rain. London parks are a lot more welcoming than Tokyo's:
Still, great blog material. ish.
"So in school today I had to make two kids have an English conversation. Except they can't speak. At all. Seriously it was like 'urrrch-ch-ch' and then 'urch urchhh-guh-guh'"
"No way! Special school right?"
"Seriously, and the teacher's like, 'So, so, velly good' and I'm like, 'WTF mate?'"
"Great blog material though eh? But hey, this is a great cigar right? Am I right?"
"I'll say."
The other day I went to London for the JET alumni reception where Robin and I were to meet up with some really groovy people whom we hadn’t seen in a while. Robin, having the return part of a coach ticket, had left earlier in the day and I was waiting for the noon Megabus - the poor man’s National Express. After a while reading, finishing up Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy, I noticed a slight uneasiness developing in the crowd of backpackers and students I was waiting with. The bus was an hour late. It had still not turned up an hour later. In fact it never did. By the time the next bus arrived at 3pm only I was left waiting, because really, where else was I going to go?
“Excuse me, I was meant to be on the 12 o'clock bus that didn’t turn up, it’s alright to get on this one though right?”
“No sir. You have to pre-book. It says quite clearly in the small print.”
“Yes, I did, but your bus never arrived”
“Sir, you cannot get on this one bus. If you phone the number, which is clearly displayed on this sign, you can book a seat on the next bus, which will be departing at this stop at seven o'clock. It says very clearly…”
“…In the small print yes. But my thing is at 6.30”
“I can't help you sir as you see as the small print clearly says…”
“…Right!...The small print…I get it.”
“Yes”
“….
“Sir?”
“….
“Umm, sir?”
And I stalked off, to where I had no idea. I stopped behind the next bus-stop to thrash about a bit in disbelief. I felt a bit silly, especially when I noticed an old lady looking disappointedly at me.
“The busses issit love?" she crooned. "It’s alright love, we all ‘ave bad days don’ we."
I finally got to London at 9.30, too late to get to my hotel and ditch my stuff, but in time to meet everyone in a pub after their five hours of free wine at the reception. Swines. For those of you reading from Japan, and indeed those of you now elsewhere: it was real nice seeing those people again. Back in the 'yama we would still have several good hours to go, but London is not kind to those broke or loaded with luggage and we had to leave, it seemed, too soon. Laurie saw me off nicely with a glass of very good red, because, well, she's a lovely human being.
London is a very expensive place to stay and so our hostel was more picturesque outside than in. The lift had a mind of it's own and scraped up and down the walls in a frightening manner.
Outside:
Inside:
People in London live in small cramped apartments and pay through the nose for it (at least that was my experience) but it's all worth it for this:
Hyde Park
JET re-union aside, picnicking in Hyde Park was the highlight of the weekend. I miss that about London - the park, the papers, and a bottle of wine. And it never seemed to rain. London parks are a lot more welcoming than Tokyo's:
Still, great blog material. ish.
posted by Geoff at 5:54 PM
7 Comments:
I bet you thought that your low ceiling problems would be over once you left Japan. Not so, my friend!
well geoffrey it was very nice of you to call me a lovely person. i also like that u put a picture up of me looking as ugly as possible thus cancelling out the nice comment! looking forward to you coming to my AMAZING flat in london and us getting drunk together rather than u having to hold me up!
There's no such thing as ugly people Emily, just ugly, um, no wait...
Hilarious. The pictures especially. Emily is quite the holiday drunk. Man oh man do I know the pain of a low lying shower head. The world is not built for us.
Shit, its blogs like this that remind me that we gotta get the band back together.
Em were you drinking lighter fluid?
Geoff-I might be ugly but atleast I am cool.
Brad- I am not a holiday drunk I am a student. U r a jealous and unemployed.
Max- yes thats right I was drinking lighter fluid.
Wow how do I manage without you guys.
I never said you were ugly. I said you were lovely.
Who are you mad with really Laurie?
Who?
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