The smell of gasoline in the Summer heat

Photo: Anna Rosa Krau

Well, I've been in Europe for more than half a year - still no desire to return to Australia, much to my relief. At the moment I am a little bored of living in the same Spanish town and working the same job every day (it has been three months, come on!). I like my job a lot, but....I like adventures more. If only money grew on trees. So, I could write about how Ly and I go out to drink, dance, and eye up sexy bartenders every. single. weekend... or I could re-live past travel experiences. I don't know where to start though, so I'd like you to choose for me.

Options are:

The Gold Coast (Australia)
Melbourne (Australia)
Norfolk (England)
Cambridge (England)
London (England)
Northern Ireland (UK)
Edinburgh (Scotland)
Fort William (Scotland)
Inverness/Loch Ness (Scotland)
Ullapool (Scotland)
Glasgow (Scotland)
Milan (Italy)
Rome (Italy)
Venice (Italy)
Florence (Italy)
Paris (France)
Krakow (Poland)
Warsaw (Poland)
Vienna (Austria)
Dresden (Germany)
Prague (Czech Republic)
Cesky Krumlov (Czech Republic)
Budapest (Hungary)
Barcelona (Spain)
Madrid (Spain)
Valencia (Spain)
Granada (Spain)
Sevilla (Spain)

About me.

I've realised people have so many misconceptions about me. My friends were shocked when I got into childcare and teaching because they assumed I hated kids, which is totally not true, it's almost impossible to hate children (when you're being paid to like them). Joooking. Also, people have called me a feisty bitch who doesn't let anyone bother her, totally untrue - well the 'doesn't let anyone bother her' part anyway. I am a delicate flower; my Starbucks manager used to call me a 'Venus flytrap' whenever I told her that. Bitch. Also not sure why everyone thinks I hate men, nope don't hate em, why would I hate them? Just because every nice thing they say has an ulterior motive? That's the quality I love about them, they're reliable, preDICKtable. Ha! Gawd I'm funny. Yeah, I started writing an about me page...this isn't going to be it. Epic fail.

Well the stale chips are up and the hopes stakes are down; it's all these ignorant faces that bring this town down

And here we are, another morning. This one is different to previous mornings however - the sky is gray. LIkE ** OmGZZZ. It's cold too. Winter has finally caught up with me in Southern Spain, after two Springs, two Summers...and I guess a couple of unnoticed Autumns.

So far the day has already been special, I had a coffee (heated up in the mircowave), wrote to my Dad, had a shower, and then made my flatmate stare at my breasts to check that nipple can't be seen through my top. The day will only get better from here, I'm positive.

Today I get to teach my 16 year olds about 'reported speech'; isn't it fantastic that schools in English speaking countries don't teach their students about how grammar works? Yeah, it's bloody fantastic that Spanish teenagers know more about ENGLISH grammar than I knew at their age...erm...well, more than I knew....last year. Oh but hey! My English lessons in High School and University were valuable, I know how to psychoanalyse the shit out of shit. This post, for example, is my literary representation of my traumatic journey through the birthing canal. Ew.

This time next month I'll be in the Netherlands. Toma!




Photo: Geoffrey Barrenger

All the same, I miss you. Today has been okay.

Ohh-tayy. It's less than a month until I go on my Christmas Holidays Travel Extravaganza - Chte for short, pronounced 'chitea' which sounds quite smiliar to 'shitty' in a French accent, so perhaps we'll just scrap that. Hostels, flights and trains are booked. This will be my first Christmas away from home and I am determind to be distracted from this fact on Christmas. Perhaps I will just deny it is even Christmas. Baby Jesus, who? Yeah. I'll do that.

My updated journey includes Paris, Bruges, The Hague, Amsterdam and Madrid. Tips for any of these places are more than welcome. I have never been to Belgium or the Netherlands before. I have had space cakes before, I baked them with my Mum before a music festival back in Melbourne. Mum was concerned the neighbours could smell the 'butter' brewing, and then told me that the smell reminded her of most of the Melbourne cafes she frequents and had never realised what the scent was before. Oh Mum, I love you.

Time to work. No picture today. I'm feeling, texty.

It shouldn't hurt me to be free, it's what I really need - to pull myself together.

But if it's so good being free, would you mind telling me, why I don't know what to do with myself - Emiliana Torrini, To be Free.

I'm aware that it has been awhile since I wrote a real, newsy, blog post. There's a reason, I haven't had the words, or the inspiration, or ..something. What have I been doing? Living. I work, I plan lessons, I eat, I have coffee at the local, I listen to music, I download terrible shows like 'Vampire Diaries ' to fill the spare hours, I drink and dance, and I sleep. My Spanish continues to suck, people continue to let me down and annoy me, for some reason the weather continues to be quite warm. I have been attempting to be less cynical, about everything, but really - it's just not me. Someone has to prove to me there's a reason to be less cynical before I can achieve it.

Work is both fantastic and awful - depending on the students. It would be lovely to say it is the teacher who sets the general tone of the class, but as of yet I am not experienced enough to choose the tone myself. The classes with the amazingly awesome kids are amazingly awesome. The classes with the bitchy, sulky and completely ignorant teenagers, run as such. I felt quite pleased with myself both as a teacher and an Australian when I walked into my class of 12 year olds last week, to a chorus of 'G'day mate'. Love em, just love em.

Planning my Christmas holiday should be filling me with excitement and optimism. In a way it is - something different might shake me up a bit, in a good way. I have become complacent here, with my easy Spanish life. My plans have changed a bit since I last posted about my holiday, now I will be visiting Paris, Bruges, The Hague and Amsterdam - back in Spain for NYE. I wish I could stop thinking about the future all the time. No matter where I am, or if I am doing something I have looked forward to for years, I am always thinking about what is next.

Last night we had a DVD night, we got The Transporter (purely for perving purposes) and Before Sunset and Before sunrise. Way, way, way too much dialogue in one night. We should have stuck to action. The scene in The Transporter where Frank beats up about 20 guys while wearing no shirt, pretty much made the night. We squealed like children at the fair and attempted to pause the scene in the best, ab flexing places. Yeah, I ain't no classy world traveller.

It's strange, I think I miss Cambridge and Edinburgh more than I miss Melbourne. I'm also wondering, is it possible to be nostalgic about moments which never happened? Of course it's not, but I am. Ha, this post is just, so stupid.

Without you here the seasons pass me by

I want something. I just don't know what it is. Damn it.




Photo: Oliver Schwarzwald

Fly like a plane, drive like a car, hold out a hand...

In Spain....

People leave their cars in the middle of the sidewalk with the hazard lights on, while they buy alochol/cigarettes/chocolate.

Walking to work is stressful due to the amount of dog shit on the footpaths.

Men make 'come here kitty cat' noises when girls walk by and don't get punched/any reaction.

There are condoms and lubricant in the vending machine outside the DVD store, right next to the chocolate bars and packets of chips. Confusing.

14/15 year olds have never heard of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Problem.

Whether cars stop for you at pedestrian crossings seems to depend on the mood of the driver.

The stores stock duvets but not duvet covers. WTF?

The Christmas decorations are up.

Peoples' watches run 15-60 minutes slower than the real time.

They think drinking coke with vanilla ice cream is weird.

Be running up that hill, with no problems.

Not feeling The Happy today.

I miss you.

Photo: Andreas Burz

But I'm still tryin' to make my mind up, am I free? or am I tied up?

There is this boy. I can see him from my window every weekday morning without fail. We don't know his name, we call him 'Swing Boy'. Swing Boy is about fifteen and rocks on the swing in the playground beneath our building for hours. Sometimes a small child will occupy the swing; Swing Boy will sit on the bench opposite the swing and stare that foolish child down until it moves. He is such a mystery.

Swing boy, are you skipping school? are you on crack? When I look out my window and you're not there, I always think about how lonely that bright yellow seat looks without you.

This is my 100th post. Happy blog milestone, me.

Photos: Timothy Barnes

I'm always where I need to be, I always thought that I would end up with you eventually

I was always going to be addicted to Europe. Venice 1993. The outfit was so I didn't get lost in the crowds...and it probably contributed to my extreme hatred of pink.

I drink good coffee, every morning. Comes from a place that's far away. When I'm done, I feel like talking. Without you here, there is less to say.

We're waiting for you call; we're against privacy

Yesterday in one of my classes:

Students are doing an activity and three girls are chatting in Spanish.

Te: Girls! You know the rules, you can talk but it must be in English.
Girls: *All roll eyes* okay okay, teacher.
Girl 1: So what do you do on last weekend?
Girl 2: All day I was being with my boyfriend
Girl 1: How 'being'?
Girl 2: passing time
Girl 1: Oh i thought, the sex
Girl 3: How long you have dated your boyfriend?
Girl 2: six months
Girl 1: And you have....?
Girl 2: no! I am only 14, we are all the time kissing. I am not 18, or 16.
Te: * is silently impressed with student's maturity*
Girl 1 and 3: Only kissing? * laughter*
Te: Oooookayyyyyyyyyyy. Time for a silent activity.

Teenagers. For a second I thought I was back in 2002.

Flash flood. You got too comfortable so I showed you who's really in control

Photo: Timothy Barnes

They asked me if I've ever been in love. No. I don't think so, and I'm sure that if you have to think about it then the answer is no. Right? It's perfectly normal for a 22 year old to never have been in love. Right? Well, there was that one time, when I was in love with Angel from Buffy. But that doesn't count. Right? I'm thinking I'd quite like to be in love. I wanted adventures afterall, and packing up and moving to Spain is all well and good as an adventure, but in love you have more to lose, so it's more exciting. No, can't do it. This is a screwed up way of thinking about love. .

Right?

People dancing should have never chose girlfriends

• On Friday morning I got home at 4am from Thursday night. On Saturday morning I got home at 5am from Friday night - three hours later I got up and packed to spend Saturday night in Granada. Never, ever, pack whilst drunk.
• My camera has decided to screw with me in revenge for the many times I have dropped it whilst drunk. It is now set to landscape/no flash mode and therefore won't work at night; possibly trying to give me hint - less drinking. Therefore I have been put incharge of my flatmate's camera; she doesn't know how mine died.
• Spanish Halloween is great, nobody dresses up as 'slut'.
• I was a little 'girly girly' for awhile, but I have been cured.
• Trying to get the spaces between my photos to be the same is really, bloody frustrating, and now these bullet points are messing with me.