Bug Unit

Ok, I don’t mean to alarm regular readers, but I think that the status quo is about to change, and it’s going to be big.

No, nothing on the job front. No, nothing on the relationship front. That’s right, there is only one front left: food. I think Red Pepper Hummus is about to be deposed. Not that I won’t always love it, with its tangy taste and smooth flavour and the way it spreads over chips or olive bread or naan warmed in the oven. We’ll always have St Paddy’s Day. Only…

Lately I find my head turning to greener pastures. Edinburgh is a big, windy city filled with cobbled streets and tiny little shops. And on Cockburn there is a shop. A baked potato shop. Called The Tattie Shop. And they make potatoes filled with all manner of goodness. My favourite is a medium potato (‘medium’ is technically two of the largest spuds you have ever seen) filled with Avo, cheese and tomato. And I mean FILLED. Seriously, it is breathtaking. My friend Louise introduced me to them, and I introduced Kyle, and now I can’t believe I almost missed them.

Breathtaking.

As some of you may be aware, while I was in Italy, I was very preoccupied/excited by the prospect of a Job. It was an exciting company, good salary, cool project,I would be using my skills to their capacity, blah blah blah. Was this going to be the one? (Spoiler warning: It wasn’t.) So I had one good interview, and one okay-ish interview where I couldn’t answer one of the questions and I came home and cried like a crazy woman while chatting to people online. Not my proudest moment, and now laid bare for all to read about. Anyway, I didn’t get the job. I was their second favourite (not sure if it really helps to know that, or just really makes you want to hunt down the other guy in the dead of night) but I did not get the job. They will keep my CV on file.

The problem now, is that I have to Get Back on the Horse. And I hate The Horse. If I could kick it and not give it a nose-bag to snuffle from and not get caught, I would. Basically what I am trying to say in this extremely dodgy personification is that job hunting sucks, and it sucks even more if you are dealing with Evil Recruitment Agencies. The deal is this: media industries are notoriously closed, and Edinburgh is no exception. They hire people from each other, not from the outside pool. And they don’t advertise jobs, but don’t take kindly to cold calling either. So you have to start looking at Evil Recruitment Agencies to get you what you want. Here is a random sampling of conversation:

Me:Hi there, I am a journalist with a four year degree and one years experience in a cutting edge new media environment. I have a knowledge of CMS, am able to edit/spec new websites and am also able to edit on Avid/Premiere Pro systems. Do you think you have anything for me here?
Evil Recruitment Agency: Can you use a switchboard?

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

People who haven’t experienced this are not likely to understand the frustration. They generally have glib advice to offer. The equation goes something like this Good Job+Salary+Benefits+Never Having Experienced People Undervaluing Your Skills and Asking You How Many Words You Can Type In A Minute= Glib Advice To Other People, Safe In the Knowledge That Your Skills Will Never Be Undervalued.

My sister, however, holds a special place in my heart for being able to empathise. Having climbed the dizzying heights of the corporate ladder, she decided on a career change. While trying to get on her feet, she took random jobs to pay the rent. Having looked after purchasing for the whole of Africa and the Middle East for a very large corporate, she was fired from one job for ‘not having an adequate phone manner’. I love you Ang, we are cut from the same cloth. (I suspect that my phone manner sucks too, but that is a whole other story).

Ok, summary of this post:
1. I didn’t get this one job that I really wanted.
2. It sucks.
3. I am going to get back on the horse.
4. I hate the horse.

Tomorrow I promise to write about blossoms and red pepper hummus again.

I have recently returned from swanning around the continent. Swanning felt good. Returning, strangely enough, felt just as good. But more on that later.
One of the perks of being *essentially unemployed* is that you can just go and do stuff without taking leave. This is what I did, so that I could laugh in the face of all the people with real jobs. Basically, it is a slippery slope towards claiming the Dole and hair curlers.
Anyway, I went off to beautiful Tuscany for seven great nights, caught up with old friends and newer old friends and had a jam, except for the warthog. I will tell you all of the warthog later, but the thing has a nasty streak, and was mocking me. If you are getting mocked by a bronze warthog then you are probably not all that close to achieving all your lifelong dreams, or maybe you are closer than you ever thought possible. It really just depends what your lifelong dreams are, and if they involve being mocked by a warthog, who am I to judge?

Ok, so the trip started really early two weeks ago on Wednesday. I got up at 2 am to pack, and was in the taxi at 2:45 to get to a 3:30 bus to Prestwick. I arrived at Prestwick at 5:30 to get the 7:10 flight to Pisa. From Pisa I then waited 2 hours for a Terravision bus to Firenze SMN (the main train station in Florence). Then I had to get myself to Figline (believe it or not, you pronounce this word fee-lee-nee, and it officially becomes the only name in the world with a silent ‘G’) Valdarno, a scenic town about 40 minutes outside of Florence. I did this by grabbing Italian people, pointing at my ticket, and speaking slowly i.e the international language of travellers who want to look like idiots. Luckily I found a ridiculously pretty Italian girl called Camilla who spoke excellent English, and kindly took me through every step of the process, including helping me validate my ticket in the wierd yellow box next to the train. She was also getting off at Figline, and took me under her wing, which was lucky, because ten hours of travelling combined with a dying cellphone battery (I still needed to get to Simon, tell people at home where I was and maintain business contact with the UK) was making me a little edgy. So Camilla ushered me onto the train, where I was able to appreciate for the first time one of the tru-isms about Italy: evryone is better looking than you, thinner than you, and wearing better sunglasses. Luckily I was tired so I only managed one or two girly up-and-downs at people before losing interest.

I arrived in Figline Valdarno which is almost straight out of some film about Tuscany. It has those windy streets and green hills, with the Italian alps on the one side, and some genuine villas. I was staying with Simon, a friend I met while at M-Net last year. He is currently in Figline working on websites and drinking at the campsite bar. He lives on the first floor of a 700 year old villa, and thus, I can now say that I have stayed in one too. I had a nap while he finished off work, and then we had some anti-pasti and chianti in the villa courtyard as the sun went down. It was totally cool. We then went out for dinner and a bottle of chianti at the campsite restaurant, then a glass of chianti at the campsite bar, and then we made the Decision That Was A Bad One, namely to check out the campsite Discotecque (sp?). Soon I was bellowing ‘Uno Corona/Jagermeister/Chianti per favour’ at the poor bartender, and Italy’s camping community was being treated to my gumboot dancing and Simon’s Impi stepping. I would love to say that the cultural exchange was a success, but judging from my head the next morning, it is pretty safe to say I wasn’t the best cultural ambassador. Bygones though- I had a great night.

The next day I read and soaked up the 27 degree weather, and then Simon, Rani (one of his new colleagues, a girl who speaks about 5 languages fluently and is the nicest person ever) and I went to dinner in Florence. Now, to say that Florence is beautiful is understating things a bit, but understatement will have to do. Basically, it is a city of yellows and reds and blues set against scenic hills and along a green river. It is really beautiful, and so different from anywhere I have ever been before. I was absolutely enthralled- a feeling that wore off briefly when I forked out 17 euros for two ice-creams, but returned as the sun went down and the city lit up with sounds and sights and smells and minstrels. It was great. After dinner Simon and I headed back out to Figline, almost missed our stop, had a campsite bar chianti and resisted the urge to go discotecqueing again, and went to bed.

Friday was a bit of a crazy day. My cellphone had now died a final death, and I needed to get hold of Tanja and Natasha to meet them somewhere in Florence, and I was trying to get hold of a company in Edinburgh to see if I had a second round interview with them. Oh, and there was a train strike. It all worked out fine in the end though, since I was stuck in Figline, Tush and Tanja were stuck in Ancio after returning from Croatia, and once the trains got running again it was a simple journey to Firenze Santa Maria Novella to meet up (them by train and me hitching a lift with Rani). The scariest part of the whole journey for me was a window washer (yes, they have them in Italy too) who started bashing on Rani’s car window outside the train station and telling her that she would break her window unless Rani gave her 2 euro. Today’s lesson: everyone needs to stop bashing South Africa and understand that extortion happens everywhere. At least in Jozi it is only 2 rand, not 20.

Seeing Tush and Tanja in the middle of a busy bus station in Italy was very very surreal. It is always wierd to see people outside of their natural surroundings, but we still hugged and yay’d and did all those good things. We then went back to Tanja’s mom’s house to make tea, which was equally surreal, simply because I have yet to find a circumstance in which Tush and Tanja can’t be comforted by a good cup of tea. We chatted until late and then went to bed.

We woke up on Saturday morning and prettied a bit before heading into Florence to look around. Both Tush and Tanja are incredibly generous people and had lists and lists of people that they had to get presents for, so most of our exploring took the form of looking around markets and shops seeking out the perfect gifts. I am stingy and bought no presents, so I had more time to take in the amazing scenery. We wandered into and out of shops, bargaining and laughing and eating ice-cream. It was great. Also, the Cupola is officially my favourite building in Florence. You can just look at it again and again, and the more you do the more you are amazed by the intricacy of it. That people put so much work into a church is absolutely incredible.

On Sunday Tanja, Tush, Stefi (Tanja’s brother) and I headed out to go and see Pisa. Pisa is a small city about an hour outside of Florence. It is also home to the famous Leaning Tower of Pisa, so named because it is situated in Pisa and as a result of limestone, poor building and shifting ground, it leans. A lot. It is a building that is so mediated, it was cool to see it in person. It really does lean, although it isn’t as tall as it always looks in photos. The church that it was going to be the belltower for is also incredibly beautiful, all built out of the same white stone. We resisted the urge to have photos of us pushing against the tower, and compromised by doing leaning pictures instead. Double the fun for half the cheese- everybody wins. The other highlight of the day was watching Natasha bargain an item from 25 euros down to only 8. She has a real talent for it, whereas both Tanja and myself seemed to only get the stroppy shop assistants who had no interest in making a sale.

We spent most of Monday and Tuesday wandering around Florence, buying presents and taking everything in. A high point, literally, was going up to the top of the Cupola, and having a 360 degree over the rooftops of Florence. The low point contained within the high point was having to climb up 400 odd steps behind thirty school children. Trust me, claustrophobia is being in a tiny tunnel high up with only school children for company. At least the view was worth it.

Other memories that will always hold a place in my heart are as follows:
1. Being called a long nosed Pinocchio liar (phrasing exact) by a stallholder, after I told him that my friend had bought a certain jersey for 8 euros.
2. Being rejected by a bronze warthog. There is a tradition in Italy that you have to put a coin in this warthog’s mouth and rub his nose if you want to make sure that you come to Florence again. I tried three times, each time the coin fell out of the warthog’s mouth onto the paving. The third time the coin fell into a dirty puddle. Basically the warthog doesn’t want me to come back. I am getting over it, only because I think pitting your wits against a bronze Italian warthog is taking away from important red pepper hummus time.

So now I am back to real life in Edinburgh, which is actually amazing, since spring has officially sprung and it is all green and beautiful with blossoms. Blossoms is a cool word.

Summary of Italy:
1. Beautiful. Beautiful beautiful.
2. Good shopping, but get good at bargaining otherwise you could end up being called a long nosed Pinocchio liar.
3. Buy ice cream if you feel like a millionaire.
4. Italian men do stare more than ordinary men, but this is actually flattering considering that everyone in Italy is
5. Thinner, prettier, and with better sunglasses

Wow, what a great weekend!

Kyle and I hired a car (a Ka, actually) with the purpose of going all around Northern Scotland, and boy did we get more than we expected, in every way.

Saturday morning dawned bright and sunny, and first stop was Enterprise Car Hire to collect our vehicle. We had been lazy and had missed our 9am collection time, so by the time we arrived, there were no more level one cars, so they had to upgrade us. We drove the new Vauxall 5 door Corsa automatic… beautiful beast of a car that virtually purred. If any of you are thinking of one, I would recommend it. Feo (you can’t drive a car without naming it) went well the whole time, except when he almost ran out of petrol in the barren wasteland, but that is a whole other story.

So we headed up the coast past Kirkaldy to St Andrews. Kirkaldy is a small beach settlement, but the sand is very brown and further stained by oil. The only thing of significance that happened in Kirkaldy is that I finally dipped my feet and frolicked in the North Sea, which was just about as cold as one would expect. St Andrews was absolutely beautiful, with rocky castle ruins atop scenic hills overlooking the sea. It was warm and beautiful, and I am definitely keen to go back soon. We ate our packed lunch on the beach, where all the Scots had already stripped down to shorts and t-shirts in honour of the 16 degree weather. Afterwards we wandered around the town, being too cheap to go into the castle.

Next stop was Dundee, a pretty town on the north of the river Tay, which we briefly drove through on our way to our pitstop, Perth. Perth used to be the capital city of Scotland, long before Edinburgh. A large river cuts the middle of the town, and it is also, at the risk of overusing the word, very pretty. What made it better was that we had found a cool hotel room to stay in, courtesy of laterooms.com. What this meant was that a hotel room that was usually £120 per night was ours for the bargain price of just £42, or £21 each, while a hostel is usually about £15 each. Anyhow, nevermind about the economics, this place was a haven with fluffy white towels and a real shower, and we were totally grateful for it. Our positive image of Perth was augmented by the best Italian meal we have had since we arrived overseas. After our brilliant supper, we ventured out to try and find a bar, but alas, this seemed to be what Perth was lacking: in the bars we found (and we do not dispute that there may be others, we just didn’t find them) everyone was either too young or too old, and by and large everyone seemed to be very, very drunk. We made the decision to cut our losses and head back to the hotel.

On Sunday morning we managed to have a brilliant sleep in, since check out was only at 11am. I headed off to an Easter service at the nearest church and left Kyle to pack the car:). The service was beautiful, and we heard from some foreign students (from Kampala, Pharoah Islands, Japan and Tibet) about their experiences in their home countries, trying to do charity and perform good works. The one from Kampala had managed to build an orphanage for 50 children on what used to be the killing fields during Amin’s reign, while the man from Tibet had adopted 10 orphans into his home, and had built a church and a school, even although to get there was a day’s bus ride and a day’s walk where the bus couldn’t go. It was amazing and humbling to hear from these people, and I left feeling very uplifted.

We headed off to try and see some of the sights that Perth had to offer, but having been stumped twice (we couldn’t manage to find either the palace of Scone or a lookout hill) we ended up stumbling upon a residential castle and a lookout point that were well worth the drive, albeit a little bit windy. We clambered back into the car and headed off towards the Highlands. One fight about directions and 45 minutes of silent treatment later, we made peace enough to appreciate the exquisite mountains that had begun to rise around us, coated with giant firs. Lochs lay brooding at the bottom of the valleys, huge bodies of black water pulsing with the currents. Every now and again a castle or a quaint village appeared amoung the trees. It was so rugged and different from anything I have ever seen, and it was such a fitting setting for all the unrest and jealousy and war and passion that Scotland has seen over the past 2 000 years.

The weather was turning Scottish (that is to say, cold and wet with some wind and a tad of mist) by the time we arrived at Fort Augustus, a tiny town at the foot of the immense Loch Ness. We checked into a classy looking hostel called Morag’s Lodge, complete with rich red carpets and wooden beams, and rooms named after films made in Scotland (one night in the Braveheart room, in the bag). We then headed out to see the loch, and get some food, which ended up being a heart attack’s worth of cheesy chips and bacon sandwiches, but my excuse is that it was very cold. We spent a pleasant evening in the hostel’s well stocked bar, drinking doubles and mix for only £2.10, chatting and catching up on life before heading back to our dorm and going to bed.

Monday morning saw us slothing around the hotel, loathe to leave behind our little pool of radiated warmth for the weather outside. We went eventually, and headed down to the Loch. I was determined to lock (loch?) lips with Nessie, and I wasn’t leaving until I had. Hence the titular kissing of monsters at the beginning of this post. For those of you who thought it referred to Kyle, shame on you. Anyway, I digress. So I walked out onto the loch, and began my Nessie summoning Haka. I really did, and if you don’t believe me, Kyle has the video of me doing my best gumboot dancing while chanting ‘Come Nessie, Come Nessie’. That is how I usually get people to kiss me so I was sure it would work. Nothing. I went to the side of the lake, leaned forward and closed my eyes. Nothing. I am told it was some minutes before Kyle could wrestle me to the ground, where I lay in a disconsolate heap, sobbing Nessie’s name, over and over. Or maybe I’m lying. Who knows?

We headed from Fort Augustus back down towards Edinburgh via Fort William, Glencoe and Stirling. The best moments of the return journey were a surprise stop off at Inverlochy Castle, ancient seat of the Comyn family in the time of Robert the Bruce. History nerd that I am, this was very cool, because one of my favourite books deals with Isobel of Buchan, who was married to a Comyn, but ran away from him to support Robert the Bruce and was the one who crowned him, because she was of the ancient house of Fife, the family responsible for crowning the king. Seeing this ruined castle allowed my mind to run riot about how it would have been in those times. We left Inverlochy behind, and headed towards Glencoe. Glencoe is also absolutely beautiful, with mountains rising and falling around, black and brown and shrouded in mist. It is just wild, and again, a perfect setting for wild Picts in browny kilts. It pleased me aesthetically. What pleased me less was the fact that we had been travelling on the petrol light for a while, and were now in this beautiful, un-altered landcape, devoid of man’s destructive influence, and thus, also devoid of petrol stations. We kept looking for towns and when we limped into Ty-something, the first petrol station for ages, we estimate that we had less than a mile before the engine ran completely dry and we would have been stuck in the Scottish wilderness forever.

Final stop on our trip was Stirling castle, another dusty coloured castle built into the rock, surrounded by a neat town and green fields. We ate triple chocolate ice-cream and chatted and looked at the scenery.

Overall, the trip was absolutely amazing. I am so glad that we managed to see Scotland on our own time, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. Scotland is every bit as wild and beautiful as people say.

Tomorrow I am off to Florence to visit Simon, Tanja and Natasha. The travelling is pretty indirect, and involves taxis, buses, planes, trains and more trains. Commencing at 2:50 am tomorrow morning. Wish me luck…

Woohoo! This weekend Kyle and I are finally going to get on the road again, and see a little bit of Scotland. We will literally be on the road, as we have hired a dinky little Ford Ka. And Kyle will be driving, while I curl up in foetal positon and try not to think of the trauma of driving on tiny-wrong-sided-up-a-mountain French roads. All I can say is thanks H for organising his international license. As Offical Passenger, I am guessing my role will also comprise Looking at the Scenery and Putting Red Pepper Hummus On Chips For The Official Driver. I can’t wait.

Our master plan is to head up to Perth on day one, via St Andrews, and then stay in a nice hotel place, albeit a cheap one. On day 2 we will drive through the Glens to get to the lochs (haha, don’t you just love Scotland), then we will be staying in Fort William in a youth hostel on the second night. And just like they make you do on the Haggis Tours, I fully intend to do a haka-type Nessie summoning dance on the banks of Loch Ness. Add a little hummus and it’s my kind of afternoon. On day three we will drive back to Edinburgh via Stirling. Overall, according to Kyle’s spreadsheet (yes…) this should only take one tank of petrol, and will be amazing fun (The amazing fun wasn’t on the spreadsheet. You just can’t quantify that sort of thing.) Yay!

I am taking along my ski outfit, just in case there is a chance to jump in the snow or do some snowboarding, although it has been unseasonably warm in Edinburgh (6 degrees this morning-haha) so maybe up north the snows will be all gone . It never hurts to be prepared though.

All this travelling will make great fodder for the next episode of Ducklight Travels. At the moment we seem to have too much fodder and not enough people (me) to edit it. Once again, I admit to be a Bad Person and Champion Procrastinator. I can tell all our faithful viewers that we have one song for the next soundtrack though…it’s all about taking things one step at a time.

Hey all, sorry for the radio silence of a week. I have no excuse except that both Kyle and I are Bad People.

Well, last weekend was the mother of all weekends. If you are Kyle’s friend on Facebook you can check out the photos of Face, Muppet, Chicken and Repunzel (um, that’s Tam, Gavin, Kyle and me) on our weekend. If you aren’t a Facebooker yet, fear not, I will try and load them onto flickr, in spite of breaking out into a cold sweat when i think of technology. Which is probably why I didn’t get the production analyst job.

Ok so Tam and Gav were up for the weekend, and we had an amazing time, saw the sights, drank cocktails, met the people, drank beer, took in the nightlife, drank anything we could get our hands on. You know, that type of thing. We had an amazing Friday night where we went to the Assembly, Frankensteins and ended up being drastically out of place at the Nicol Edwards (Edinburgh’s most haunted pub, allegedly) because we had had quite a few more cocktails than anyone else at the bar. My sympathy goes to, in no particular order, the bar staff, especially the guy tasked with finding a bottle of Jagermeister, the poor guy doing open mike who was asked (by me, hang head in shame) to sing happy birthday to Gavin at least three times, and the other patrons who had stopped in for a quiet drink.

On Saturday we went up to New Town and happened upon one of those parades with marching bands and everything, celebrating 300 years of Union. Weird, but cool nonetheless. On Sunday we went touristy during the day, and went up to Edinburgh Castle. Then we went onto the Haymarket and in an amazing show of bravery we each had at least one bite of the dish they call Haggis, Neeps and Tatties. So now I have tried haggis, and from now on can say that I have tried it whenever anyone asks. From that point of view it is totally worth it. We also went on a night tour of the Vaults, which was cool, a little bit fake, a bit scary, a bit not scary, and all those sorts of things. We saw the torture instruments used in about the 15th to 16th century Edinburgh. For me that was the worst part of the tour. It is disgusting what people can do to each other.

On Monday we bid farewell to Tam and Gav, and said hello to Louise and Rob, who were arriving from a bit of a road trip. Louise and Rob are recent arrivals in the UK, and are still horrified by how much everything costs, so it is good to have other people validating your opinions and horror of having to live off the rand. Louise, Rob and I missioned around the city on Monday, telling Rob everything we could remember from the tours we have been on, and then we had lunch at the Baked Potato Shop, a place that will surely go down in history for its buttery potatos with avo and cheese on them.

Life has pretty much gone back to normal now, although I have two trips on the horizon. Kyle and I are thinking of hiring a car for the Easter weekend and driving up to Northern Scotland to see St Andrews, the Lochs and various other things. I have also booked for five days in Florence, Italy, to go and see Simon, Tanja and Natasha. This is the benefit of being unemployed. I am really excited, but a little apprehensive as to how I am going to find my way around a country where I am alone and don’t speak a word of the language. Ah well, that is what adventures are about though.