Did somebody say Charlston dance-off??

Charlston dance-offs, bday shenanigans...

The day of the big party. Although, as per usual, I managed to use every inch of my spare time to catch up with other mates. First, I went to the beach though - just beautiful, the day was gorgeous and the area is surprisingly un-bogan around here. I think over the hill is a different story.

Then another bestie M came round, we headed out to a local music festival where another friend was DJing and had sorted some tickets for us, and hung there for about an hour before having to come back. I rushed to ready myself and ran over to the party - Great Gatsby theme, which I was well happy about. Had plenty of clothes to choose from in my burlesque drawer!

It was full-on seeing all these people, some of which I hadn't seen in years and had to update not only on overseas adventures but what I'd done since school (8 years ago!). So that was a annoying, feeling like a broken record, but I'm kinda used to it. Anyway, it's not like I hate talking at the best of times! I had lots of compliments on my outfit etc so that was good, but everyone really did put in a stellar effort and it really set the mood for the whole evening.

There was a jazz band, a couple of Charlston dancers who got people up to teach them a dance (me and another girl were the 'finalists' in the competition but it was quite clear who was used to being on a stage out of the two of us! haha), the bar was free-flowing and the whole set-up just worked. Funnest party I've been to in a while.

Of course, I managed to still almost make a fool out of myself by the end of the night, given the absolute favourite of my sister's friend was there, being his amazing, perfect self... sigh. But he didn't take it to heart, we were all drunk... And hey, it was the after party at my sister's best friend's holiday house by that stage. There was all kinds of dancing shenanigans going on on that dance floor!!! Priceless.

Staving off anxiety with alcohol

Having arrived safe n sound in Sydney, I was already pleasing dad because we were in and out within the free 15 minute parking allowance they've now introduced at Kingsford Smith. Nothing much changes ;) It was stupid o'clock in the morning, I was still drunk from the plane (would you believe, the steward actually asked me how much I'd had - ha! First time ever) but I was pushing on. And I'd now gotten over the mild anxiety attack that came on as I landed in Sydney, once I could tell myself I was only here for a week.

Came home, checked the net and twiddled my thumbs until I thought it was a reasonable hour to call my friends. Turns out all of them were up already because, as I'm yet to find out, having a big grown-up job does require a pre-8am wake-up. NOT looking forward to that in the future!!

Everyone was super surprised at me ringing from a Sydney number, but I was still paranoid someone would slip to my sister. Alas, the surprise was kept under lock n key until that evening. After a little sleep and catching up with two of my besties at a local pub for lunch (more alcohol), I joined dad and his wife for the drive up to my sister and her fiance's new place on the coast.

We'd hired a house on the same street, which was quite nice, and soon enuf they left to make sure everyone had arrived at my sister's before dinner. Once they had, they tried to get me on Skype, of course I wasn't on, dad feigned annoyance and tried to ring me, that was the signal, I picked up my beer (I'd had three more by this stage) and another 6-pack, and headed up the road.

I swear I've never seen L so surprised - now I actually know the look of someone whose seen a ghost! She gave a little shriek and then hugged me, everyone was all excited and it was hectic, then we headed to dinner.

Heading in for the big surprise...

Halfway done and I'm in Singapore. To be fair, the flight wasn't as painful as I'd feared it would be - except for the fact the presents I'd bought for my sister and brother were confiscated at Frankfurt airport due to another security screening (they were over 100ml). Would've been NICE for someone to tell me that in London before I shelled out money I really don't have to buy them. I ripped my things off the conveyer belt and slumped into a chair at the boarding gate before turning on Glassjaw really loud in my headphones. Angry, angry!!!!

The guy sitting next to me was German I think, not bad looking but amazing arms and body. He offered to change his seat with the woman who was there before and had complained of pain in her legs. I think he got a free choice of anything up to $100 worth in the shopping brochure. Dammit, I could've used that to buy more presents!

Now I'm eerily close to being home... yes, this is what I've been hinting at all month. September will be a busy one. Yes indeedy. Stay tuned. Fucking oath. This will be one manic week from hell but hopefully also a chance to catch my besties if not for just one night.

I do worry about some of them though, I've been away for a while and feel I've grown apart from them, that they won't be as excited to see me as I them. It's not so much the ones I've been in close contact with, more the others I speak to less. I worry I'm going to feel isolated and out of the loop with them because I haven't been there to join in their jokes. And some of them have actually started to grow up. Like, serious stuff. Babies, weddings, jobs... FAAARRRRKKKK!!!!!

Aussie Convicts vs. Conservative Germans

I spent my day yesterday first with a boozy lunch with B and a very pregnant C in town and then straight to a boozy dinner with some others back eastside. Funny instance happened after we left drinks to head to the curry place. One of my mates said she didn't want to deal with the hustle of the curry places and I, sufficiently swollen with drunken confidence, said it was no problem.

Now for those of you that don't know, if you EVER go to curry on Brick Lane, you must not walk in the door without first bargaining for at least 1 round of drinks or a bottle of wine (or several, depending on your group size), 20-25% off the entire bill, free papadum entree and if you want to be cheeky, no service charge. Just to kick them right in the balls. But hey, don't think I'm evil, most of these places are owned by the same people and if they weren't making any money, they wouldn't still be in business right?

So anyway, it's never been like this before but last night as soon as they saw we were keen to eat, all these door guys came towards me with deals. I silenced them all and told them I wanted all the above or I wasn't interested. The first one that came back to me with 2 rounds of drinks, 30% off the bill etc I agreed to and we walked in. 2 rounds of drinks and dinner later, just over £10. Illegal huh.

Having run into the housemate of B, who I'm staying with at the moment, and his German friend, we decided to keep drinking and somehow ended up convincing his quite conservative friend that the reason he was given a glass to drink outside was that he looked respectable, and he should definitely take advantage of their stupidity. Minutes later, I was devising a plan to get his half-empty glass out of the bar without suspicion and back to the house. Seems you really can't take the convict out of an Australian. Got home after a pitstop at a pub with a pool table (useless player that I am) and realised the glass was actually plastic. Still. It was a good plan.

Came home to start up 2 equally ridiculous banters with A on facebook, which I held up quite well considering my boozy state, and have entertained myself endlessly by re-reading it today. I'm glad every else can also see me get ripped on the social platform.

Now I'm all packed up and ready for my next adventure... the next 24 hours will indeed be interesting. Stay tuned...

Another night, another barrel of beer

Last night I got to catch up with my souf Lundun mate and one of his high school friends, both funny guys so it was assured I was pissing myself all night. This drinking session had followed on from a day of catching up with my own high school buddy and walking around Shoreditch with one of B's doggies, Rabbit. So cute!! I miss having a dog! The weather was quite decent so I stayed outside as much as possible. Gotta soak this up while it lasts!!

Oh, and I washed my hair. Another epic mission that required pre-planning to ensure ample drying conditions - good weather, right time of the day, right schedule... Blah!

The longer I stay in London, the more comfortable I get - it's feeling more like 'home' in the sense that I am familiar with everything and nothing really surprises or challenges me. I don't like this feeling. I had gotten used to these random cities where no one speaks your language, I have no idea where I am or indeed where I'm going. That in itself had become a bit of a comfort. Strange, yes, but I have now gotten used to my 'wandering gypsy' mindset and this is all part of it.

So would I move back to London had I the choice? Not right now. What I need to be doing is challenging myself. Learning more about the world and letting it learn about me :) When I look at the world map, I still stagger to think how much of it I HAVEN'T seen. It's crazy!! And hopefully I will be able to see much more before I head back to Oz for my sister's wedding in August. I've already downloaded Excel calendars for 2010/11 to colour-code all the things I want to do and from here until mid-2011 that will hopefully include Slovenia, Slovakia, Hungary, Czech Republic, Wales, Cyprus, Turkey and South Africa. Double smiley face.

resting in london

Some people ask me why I am unhappy. I’m not. I’m grateful for my life. I enjoy the things around me. And I relish the new experiences I have on a weekly basis as well as those I know I will encounter in the near future. Then why do people say they can see it in my eyes?

The eyes. Those things they say are windows to the soul. Those things you can’t escape. Not matter how hard you try to shut them. Even behind those closed lids they create a kaleidoscope of colours and depths that defy even your own imagination. So maybe you shouldn’t try to escape your eyes. Maybe they’re meant to be there to show you things. Crazy, huh?

Sometimes I wonder if I really am unhappy. Sometimes I feel like crying just because. Does that make me unhappy? Sometimes I am sober and I feel like crying. Sometimes I’m drunk and I feel like crying. I wonder how often those feelings are linked.

Do my eyes really tell that much of a story? Sometimes I tell a story and I well up. Not because I’m upset but because…. Well, just because. Emotions so often are felt by osmosis. Maybe that’s where I get it from.

Once I got a reflexology from a clairvoyant and she unlocked all sorts of things from my past. Amazing how that can happen. Just when you think you’ve got it all sorted out.’

So am I unhappy? Because I sometimes feel like a piece of me is missing. Maybe that piece has something to do with finding the right person for me. But does that make me unhappy? I think it certainly makes me more determined to distract myself with other things in life. Prove myself in every other field I chose to immerse myself in.

I don’t choose to absorb myself with life because life just absorbs me. If something doesn’t distract me for long enough I let myself move on. But does that make me incomplete? Does that me unhappy?

Every person’s definition of unhappiness is different. At the end of the day…I could go on and pretty much talk shit until the cows literally came home. Don’t even try me. At the same time. Food for thought yeah…

First 24 hours in London... hectic!

It's been an interesting first 24 hours back in my old stomping ground of London. First, it was a mad rush trying to get ready and into town to meet people, without a UK number, and with the combined organisational intelligence of a pea with my other usually organised friend Z1... needless to say, it was hectic times.

Finally made it into a Chinese restaurant in Chinatown, had dinner and drinks, warbled over to the tube and headed south. Now south is not somewhere I usually frequent but this time, on a friend's suggestion, I thought I'd give it a go. Though, in hindsight, I'm not sure why I'd throw myself to the black lions having recently been so dismayed at them. But I like to make things complicated innit.

So I take my girls (Z1 and Z2) to Hootanany and have a boogie to the Latina band playing, before getting that old familiar 'I've had a few beers, time to pick up' feeling. Cue Pink Panther music in background and I stalked my prey. This morning woke up, fully clothed mind you, on a fold-out futon next to a cute Mexican skater who was a tattoo artist back home. Shazam. Pretty sure I did my old trick of passing out as soon as my head hit the pillow though. Gotta keep up the class.

You taking notes yet??

Nighttime swimming and ridin' with the silver surfers

Feeling well chuffed with my choice of hostel - great location, cheap price, clean and well run - I set my sights on putting together some options for the Swedish girls once they arrived in Budapest. After getting a good night's sleep - and fuck knows I needed it after the multiple disruptions from the night before - I was up and ready to meet them at Keleti station next morning.

It had started to rain but the walk there was quick and painless. Finally collecting the girls from their late-arriving train, I attempted to make the walk back to the hostel as uneventful but managed to wander too far down the street and get the poor girls soaked while I turned my map in all manner of directions.

Once safely delivered to the hostel, we headed for breakfast and decided then that we'd check out the House of Terror and try for some monuments in the big park. The rain persisting, quite appropriately, as we checked out the place of torture and interrogation during fascist and soviet rule, and by the time we finished we were more concerned with food than seeing monuments. I'd already seen them and they could always go after I left the next day.

At the hostel, I arranged to meet the American guy and his Slovakian girlfriend I met last time that owned an English school for a drink and talk about potential job opportunities. At this point, I left the Swedes to their own devices and pushed them in the direction of Buda. A few beers and one confirmation of work later, I'm scrambling around the city in the general direction of Buda and after arriving late, we scouted the uber-expensive restaurant district of Buda for some semi-reasonable food and drink.

Our meal, while tasty and not tooooo expensive, was most interesting because for the most part we spoke in the broken Romanian we'd learnt in the past 2 months. And it was pretty funny! Much easier to talk about the people around you when you're speaking a language virtually no one else would know. And we did alright!

We then headed off, at my suggestion, to the baths nearby for some night swimming. It took forever to find the damned things but when we did, we paid about £10 and went inside to the modern-day version of a Turkish bathhouse. Mostly young people, quite a few couples, gross Hungarian men staring at the women and even a woman with what I can only assume was Elephantisis on her legs. Mixed crowd.

We messed around wrestling and jumping in the different temperature pools before my alcohol-soaked brain started to melt in the water and we called it a night. Not too cheap but a good and unusual way to spend a Friday night, particularly with people who don't tend to drink much.

Now I'm on the plane to London with the silver surfers on BA (none of this low budget airline business!!), so very excited to see everyone! I need to get my cowboy boots fixed too. Pronto. Lots more use for them to come!!

Oh, and another Help X host contacted me from Wales asking for help in January at a cob stud. The website is quite good and the horses just beautiful, I'm seriously considering it but awaiting more info on what kind of training I'm needing to do. Cos I am OUT if it's dressage!!

When you realise your stallion is actually just dog meat

My diversion to Budapest has so far yielded less than desirable results. Not only have I not been treated to the special cuddles I was so looking forward to, but I have almost been assaulted by said man's friend.

Let me start from the beginning. After getting some sleep and managing to withdraw money, I spent pretty much the whole day on the internet doing bits n pieces I hadn't had a chance to over the past couple of weeks. Having been cooped in the house the whole day and getting only glimpses of my friend as he went from errand to errand, I eventually decided to get some wine for us (he agreed to drinking it last that night with me) and of course the 5 minutes I chose to go to the shops was the exact time he came back to the house. Not getting in, he went elsewhere.

So I'm getting more and more bored as I drink myself to oblivion, saved only by his mate that comes round to get something and stays for a chat. Eventually, he gets home, completely stoned off his nut, hardly even notices I'm there, so I stuck around for a little bit then bailed to bed. What was the point in staying up??

I am awoken at some ghastly hour of the morning by not my mate, but his FRIEND climbing into bed with me. Once I realise it's not in fact my mate, I jump out of bed, all dazed n confused n fuzzy from the grog, and yell and scream at him until he finally gets the picture and leaves. I notice he takes the keys with him, to deliver back to C, so I wonder if this was all pre-arranged or a sneaky act on his friend's behalf.

Finally C gets home ("I do have a gf you know" - what a charmer), I try to explain what happened and his first reaction? I'm pretty sure you were flirting with him and gave him that impression. Thanks. No, really, thanks for your support. I said it was neither here nor there whether I was (innocently) flirting with his mate - most likely to try and get some kind of response from his stoned ass in the corner - more the fact that his mate had such low moral standing to try it on with a girl he knew had come to Budapest just to see his friend. Tired of arguing with a brick wall, I fell asleep.

Another little treat came in the morning, when at some stage I was roused by C's hand pushing my head towards his crutch. Now I'm not entirely sure what school of ho he thinks I attended at some point in my life, but this is not cool. Especially when my refusal to perform such acts is met with a swift turn of the back and continued sleeping. Way to make me feel loved. And about 16 years old again. It's like he channeled all those fuckwits I hung with during high school that made me hate men for so long. Good work though, it was quite a stunningly accurate portrayal.

I've now checked myself into a hostel for the last 2 nights of my stay here. I have no intention to be put in that situation again and also no desire to see his friend ever again. Particularly when I am certain they'll be on the same team about the whole thing.

It's so disappointing that this guy, who was so lovely and generous last time we met, and who had expressed a specific desire to see and hang out with me this time around, ended up being this way. Oh well, I'm just so glad I'm outta there - the knot in my stomach is starting to unwind finally...

My hair continues to fascinate Romania

Read the warning: sleeping pills cause stupidity

I write this from the cosy little apartment I'm staying at in Budapest, having had a hectic last 24 hours getting here. Having been ferried from Reghin to Targu Mures for a bus trip that would take 12 hours to get to Budapest, I settled into the backseat (momentarily squashy due to a lady who found the fact I knew a few Romanian words fascinating) and popped a couple of sleeping pills. The next few hours were a blur, as I rocked in and out of consciousness and somehow negotiated toilet stops throughout.

Once at Budapest, at 4am I was faced with then negotiating a bus station I had never been at, hardly anyone speaking English, no stations open to even get money out and no idea which direction to get a tram, should I find one running. I found some young Hungarian girls that spoke good English but had little more suggestions other than wait, meanwhile my mate's on the phone saying he needs to get up soon to do something so I am being pushed to get to his sooner than later.

He orders a cab to the station cos that's cheaper apparently, while I searched for a cash machine. Once located, I in my groggy sleeping pill state, stared blankly at the screen asking for my PIN number. Blindly fumbling onto some keys, I managed to get it wrong twice and at least recognise that another attempt might lose my card forever. So I had to think fast (not an easy task for me at this time) and ended up getting public transport (tram, metro then walking) and making it to the flat before he left. My back was killing me from my hectic backpack but in hindsight, I did save money from getting a cab!

Got to C's place about 5:30am, the second time I've arrived at such an hour (poor thing) and he left shortly after. I had a good few more hours of sleep then woke with a sudden flash of non-sleep deprived intelligence, and rushed to the bank to try my 'PIN'. Seems I was onto a good thing and now I'm flushed with cash - yay! Now I have today to try and sort out some shit on the computer and chill out before the Swedish girls arrive on Friday for a night of my fabulous tours :)

Finally feeling the gratitude

So after all my bitching and moaning about this self-righteous ass, when it came to farewell time he actually allowed me to say my piece about his behaviour and still poured compliments on me afterwards. They asked for feedback as to working on the farm etc, so after holding back from my true feelings, they pressed me for more and I thought fuck it, and said in a well-executed way that his yelling and cursing in front of me made me feel awkward, uncomfortable and I felt it was unnecessary in getting his point across. I also said I wasn't used to hearing someone speak to his partner like that and I preferred to walk away and not listen, but it was quite hard when it was dinner time or the like.

His response was that he appreciated my fiesty and upfront attitude, and candid nature, that in this sense I truly represented the stereotype of Australians, he was thankful for the progress made with Gina and A, he felt more confident with moving her onto the cart and one day learning to do it himself, and almost begged me to return if I came back to visit the other hosts one day. I was a little shocked, as I thought he thought I was a lazy little bitch but I guess it all is a front with him. God knows why anyone feels the need to hide behind a cavalcade of swear words and insults but each to their own.

I almost cried when I hugged A goodbye, though, she is such a beautiful person and we really did get along. I would almost brave going back there just to see her. On my last night there she brought in an injured cat from a car crash and nursed it all night. She had to get it put down the next day though, because of the injuries it had sustained. Poor thing.

So there it is. Goodbye Idicel, with your electrocuting shower, shitty toilet paper, carb-saturated vegetarian meals, angry male leader and cute little local banditos. I will miss some of you. Good riddance to the others.

Romanian dance-offs and boozy Sundays

My weekend was pretty good, considering I finally got to go out discothequing with some of the locals in Targu Mures. The previous night, my favourite little boy promised to come and pick us up although considering he'd made the same promise the week before to the others and never showed, I didn't hold out much hope. After dinner, we were unsure how we were getting to the next village for their discotheque but thought if all else fails, we could hitchhike.

As coincidence would have it, as we were all walking out of the house to leave for the evening, we heard a BEEP BEEP and - bless his cotton socks - my favourite boy was in the driver's seat of his 8-seater van. Sweetness on a stick. So we jumped in, had a discussion about where to go and waited while he tried not to sound pissed off that we weren't in fact going to Targu Mures (the closest city to this village) and only to some lame discotheque 5 miles away. The self-righteous ass that runs this place - any of my blog readers will recognise this description - insisted it was better to go somewhere closer so we could walk home if no one was sober enuf to drive us, that we would pay through the nose to get in and for drinks, and that it would be full of wankers and boisterous security guards (moreso than the neighbouring village).

However, after looking at my choices - go with this rude, arrogant, annoying man of 40 years or the bunch of good time-loving locals we'd befriended at the local pub recently, and who insisted the drive (my fave) was sensible enuf not to drink - I decided to break away and go to Targu Mures. The American guy I've previously mentioned, who I now get along with quite well, came along. He's the local's favourite so considering they bagged him as well as a female, they were pretty chuffed.

As it happens, the club was half the price to get in as the neighbouring village, the drinks were the same price and probably better brands, the music was a funny mix of 50s-00s music with Romanian dance thrown in here n there, the place was packed and the crowd was also quite entertaining - from girls of probably about 15 (they're allowed in but no drinking for under 18s) with packed-on makeup etc to built guys with attitude problems. Pretty much standard actually.

We had a good boogie to Guns n Roses and Grease, particularly with one of the guys who kept telling me I was beautiful as I warded him off with one hand and held my beer with the other. He was funny though, good value. The American scored with a pretty Romanian girl and I had no luck with my fave, who by this stage was so bored and miserable without alcohol that he called it a night. When everyone finally made it back to the car I jumped in the front seat, got one kiss out of the boy and we drove home.

Then it was Sunday, rest day. Well... it turned out to be restful for everything except the liver, which was given a good belting from lunchtime when we visited the illegal distillery up the road from the house. They were making sweka (I think??), another version of palinka, another version of rakiyo etc. Anyway, it's hard shit. And makes you a bit woooooooo after a few shots.

But, given we'd spent the morning up at the orchard having a shepherd picnic as we watched the horses graze, we were nicely relaxed to get on with the important bits. Half-baked, we attached Gina to the cart and her foal ran alongside as she got used the feeling of being on the road, the cart etc, and their 2 big, burly mares carried about 8 of us (including an extremely drunk driver who kept falling asleep and a 50+ year old woman with biceps bigger than most of the guys I know). The horse did really well actually so I'm confident she'll also do well with the cart.

We lost the others to the pub and then that funny boy's house to drink more sweka and when we were called to say they were back in our village at the pub, I headed down to check out the damage. It was pretty funny, the host couldn't keep himself together so A pulled him away (thank god, he was dribbling that much shit...) and we had a couple more beers before heading back for dinner. Afterwards, the American and I went back for some pool and beer but I was just not feeling it. Maybe the extremely drunk old men annoying me had something to do with it.

So we headed back and I to my bed (I have a proper one now, instead of the floor yay!). I've decided to leave tomorrow, I have no interest in dealing with this asshole anymore and I have given A a good start with Gina so now it's up to her. I wish I could just spend a few days here with her and the others though, without him. Arrrghhh he annoys me!!

More Romanian man meat

OK, I admit it. I realise I am a tourist attraction to most of the people in Romania. Particularly men. And I take full advantage of that fact. It pretty much gives me exclusive choice of every man around me, including married and otherwise engaged, so until my tourist attraction veneer rubs off, I am gonna milk this bitch til the shepherds come home. Or I come home. Whichever comes first.

Last night I once again chose my victim - same personality type as shepherd boy before him, not arrogant, controlled when drunk, not a show-off, not a raving lunatic, not full-on trying it on - you know, I'm not picky or anything ;) But yeah, he's also not even 20 so that's good. I feel like Madonna.

Today I woke feeling a little rough and was eternally grateful that my first job was to be a shepherdess to the horses as they grazed the orchard. I promptly laid in the grass and fell asleep, to be woken now and then by the foal muzzling my foot or some other random limb. That cleared my head a little and then it was lunch - a big meal of fresh bread from the market and cheese from the shepherds, and more rabbit food - and onto jam-making. Still feel like a little nap but doubt that'll happen.

Tonight is discotheque night. Hopefully tomorrow is lay-in Sunday.

Truvant proves its worth (nothing)

The most interesting thing that's happened in the last few days was the pub and party that followed we went to, perhaps which was entirely created for us, with a bunch of underage kids with nothing better to do. First, we started at the pub playing pool with them, then once that closed they told me to jump in a car and go to a party. So I grabbed the boys and we all piled into car after car to drive (drunk of course) up the road about 500m.

I still don't really know whose house it was or indeed whose alcohol I was drinking, however it was quite entertaining, particularly when the home-brewed palinka (although apparently you don't call it that here) came out. A few swigs of that and I had reached my limit - I asked to lie down somewhere (I'm getting old) and after shooing off a guy who came to sit (or hopefully lie) with me, I went to close my eyes. Next thing I knew I was being whisked into another car with the annoying, shirtless brut of a boy winking at me from the steering wheel. Not knowing what exactly was happening, I protested but then all the girls at the party (about 3) jumped in with me so I felt a little more safe.

The next day, slightly foggy, me and the 2 boys piled into the back of the Truvant (a hard task considering the American is about 10 ft tall). After a little while, we started to notice a particularly carbon monoxide-like smell and soon after, realised the exhaust pipe was dragging under the bottom of the car. So we jumped out and aired ourselves in the rain, already poisoned and more hungover than before, and eventually had to get the local bus to Reghin.

Today the boys are off trying to repair the shitbox which has given me and A some down time. I really like her, we get along well and she is so lovely. She showed me photos of her when she was younger, not that she's old now (just over 40) and she looked like she could've been a classy Romanian film star. Shame she gets to berated by the asshole she's with sometimes. Saying that, I've had a few more good moments with him and I guess we get along cos he realises I have a good head on my shoulders. Just wish he'd have the same faith in the one he loves.

Their builder has a nephew with a carriage he wants to sell, so unless he gets drunk he'll be taking it over here and showing us. If he has a harness small enuf, we could attach it to Gina and test her out the back. She was a little shit today, biting and kicking when she could. But we'll soon beat that out of her - kidding!

Looking up bus routes now, super fun... trying to get the route from Reghin - Budapest which A says does exist. But unless it's a train, any online information is hard to find! Only a few more days, though, and I'm back in Hungary - yay! I think I'll go visit that English school and have a chat with them about the details. I'm confused about what they say they pay because it seems very good... Anyway, I digress. Must stop writing and focus on less shiny but much more important matters at hand... or in the belly ;)

Penny-pinching goes to a new level

After a decent day's progress with Gina and her foal, me and the boys decided to go to the pub for a few post-dinner drinks. Now I say 'pub' but it's really only inhabited by the same few people day in, day out and when the boys come they stay open longer because they're some of the only business. And it's got a pool table. So that's something.

I went in and after sitting to the side with the boys drinking 2-3 litre bottles of beer between us, the inevitable happened and we integrated ourselves into the pool games while the boys took turns in flirting with me, the only new girl they'd seen in quite some time. I could've been hunchbacked and haggard, they still would've given it a go I reckon. But it was entertaining, me trying to speak my lame version of Romanian, them trying to do the same with English. We played several games of pool, me always partnered with one of the boys vying for some conversation with me even though I sucked ass and balls at pool, and eventually looked at the clock and called it a night at 3am.

Needless to say, the next day I was a little foggy but still got up early and worked a little bit with the horse and A. All was good except the initial catching of Gina, who decided it was more fun to turn around and double barrel kick me than have a rope attached to her halter. Little shit. She only got my hands slightly though so I wasn't hurt but it surprised me - she hasn't pulled a stunt like that again so hopefully I handled it the right way.

Afterwards, I volunteered to accompany the couple to the shops as A needed some help getting a new horse brush etc. Bad move. It was, suffice to say, the WORST shopping trip I have ever been on. I would've gladly changed places with either of the boys had I known what was going to happen.

Firstly, we visited no less than 3 supermarkets to get the cheapest of certain products, even to save literally 4 ban (which is the currency smaller than lei, under a dollar's worth in Oz equivalent). I understand if you're a little tight on the budget but this was ridiculous - I think the petrol burned in the old Truvant would've cost what they saved shop by shop. But hey, it's their life.

But, when they continually bicker in the car, on the street and in the shops, it gets awkward. I wish they'd do it in Romanian so I could just block it out. Especially when G refuses to give A money to go to the shop because he doesn't trust her to make an economical decision, and she gets back into the car to drive back without him, it's awkward. Talk about dominance issues. Again, I do not know how she puts up with it, she must love him a lot. I can tell she's quite an independent, free-thinking person and he can be so suffocating with her.

Today, when we worked with Gina, we got the 12 year old from next door to jump on her and walk around. She was fine with that. The old, cheeky neighbour (grandpa of the boy) tried to push me on her but I resisted. Still not 100% about her leg strength and size. Also got the beautiful, new harness made especially for their vintage carriage on her and she was fine, even when the old neighbour was behind with the reins. I think we can get a tyre behind her tomorrow and then try to get another neighbour's old, small cart to use out the back so she gets used to it.

I also jumped on the massive heavy that the neighbour uses to pull his carts of trees, but only with a halter and shoddy rope for reins, so I just trotted. But would like to ride again with the bridle, it's a bloody big mare though but I do need practise riding bareback. You wouldn't think I would, would you haha

Potentially Attractive Australian Girl

So I finally made it to my new village of Idicel (only just, after having to bang on the train door as it pulled out of Reghin station because they didn't hear me cry that I had to get off - luckily they stopped again, the impatient cunts), and it's already quite a different experience to Halmeag. While the village itself is more affluent than Halmeag (they have FENCES here!!), the actual property I'm on is owned by possibly the most penny-pinching people I've EVER met. Now I don't mean this in a derogatory way but I have never had to go to 3 supermarkets in one sitting before just to save a few ban. And I'm talking ban, not lei, as in the smaller denomination below lei.

But I digress... back to the trip from Reghin station. I got in an hour late and they were there waiting - an English man and Romanian women. Both seemed lovely so I jumped in the back of their beat up Truvant (ie shitbox) and headed down possibly the most potholed road in the history of the world. And I've just spent 6 weeks in Halmeag. On the way we were chatting away, and I am told "I'm lucky" because the other helper boys have spent days speculating whether I'm a hot Australian or an ugly Australian - after first getting over the disappointment that I was arriving sans Swedish girls. They'd been contacted by these guys too on the same site but decided against coming because there is just one horse and it would've been boring, as well as probably not just horse work but fruit picking, hay baling etc.

Anyway, these guys had seen my pics on Help X but couldn't see my face properly apparently so they'd nicknamed me "Potentially Attractive Australian Girl". I'm sorry, how again was I "lucky" to be met with such expectations the first time I enter this house, I thought to myself as I sat stinking of horse poo and dog in the back seat. I was a goner. So after 2 nights with them and one night out at the pub (more on that later), I am pretty sure I haven't met their expectations. Oh well. One has a gf and although he's nice, he's English and really reminds me of Sam from Lord of the Rings. The other is kinda cute but has a bit of that American attitude I don't really like in a guy, although as friends they're both fine. So I guess we're all in silent agreement on the topic. However, give me 6 weeks here and you never know... I get ever so bored.

The first night I was pretty tired so went to bed soon after a bite to eat (had forgotten to buy food before the train ride and there was none on board) - vegetarian though, another big difference to Halmeag! The next day I met Gina, the mare I was meant to work with. Turns out she isn't a wild, crazy thing but just cheeky and untrained. If she can get away with something, she'll do it. Like most cheeky mares. A has done a great job, considering her lack of experience, in training her so far and I think there is lots of potential to use her as a cart horse as I'm not sure who would ride her since no one here can actually ride and I feel too big to jump on her. She's probably only 13 hands. And just 3 years old. Was thinking of getting one of the gypsy boys to jump on sans saddle (they don't have one) just to get her used to the sensation. But we'll see.

I feel I've got the cushiest job here, with the other helpers going out to pick and peel fruit all day and me bandying around with horses. But hey, that's what I was asked here to do so.... I help A with the cooking too, which I don't mind, and anything else she needs but she does a lot herself so hasn't asked me for much yet. Such a difference to Halmeag, I feel so lazy!!

One thing, though, which does get on my nerves here and that's the geezer husband. At times, he can be a self-righteous prick and his attitude to his partner does nothing to endear me to the male species. Dominating, berating, condescending... everything I'd hate in a partner, I don't know how she stands it. She's so easygoing, relaxed, kind, helpful. But whatever, it's none of my business how they run they relationship so I'll just ignore it - I just have to try and not spend too much time with him when he's in a group because that's when he starts talking condescendingly to everyone around him, thinking that makes him look good. Sadly, sadly mistaken.

But on the horsey side of things, the first day I brushed Gina, got kicked by her little shit of a foal, put a neighbours harness on her as a test and lunged her a bit. And taught A some things. So it's slow progress, but it's progress.

And back at Halmeag, Swedish lass L is already making good progress flirting with my shepherd boy - bless them, the horny little things! I'm not sure if he's technically still employed anymore and I know she's being sly with the boss etc, so not sure how it's gonna work but best of luck to them - 2 year age gap is certainly more appropriate than 8. Eek!

Farewell Halmeag... for now

As I write this, I sit on my late arriving train to Reghin, to meet the hosts of my new Help Exchange place. It's still in Romania, just the other side of Transylvania, so hopefully that means I'll get to see a new side of this beautiful country.

It was sad saying goodbye to H and B, and they looked so cute standing in the doorway waving us away, but there is always the chance of coming back, maybe for Christmas for a surely amazing dinner by B. Mmmmm.... motivated by food.

I drove into Brasov with L at the wheel and E in the back, it was a little stressful but we got there in one piece and on time - not that it mattered, my train was half an hour late itself! They will head back to Halmeag and stay for a further 10 days or so, and hopefully we'll all meet up in Budapest for a day before they return to Sweden and I go on to my next place.

Sitting here thinking about the little house in Halmeag, I am getting a little teary... besides H and B, I will miss the dogs, the horses, the life, the 'hello!'s from all the kids in the village, the 'buna seva' greetings from the older residents, the people staring at us like we have 3 heads and of course my little shepherd boy :( I said goodbye to him yesterday on the way back from our ride, and the girls waiting a little further down the road. He is so sweet, I just wish he wasn't a gypsy and there was a little more promise in his life than what I know probably awaits him. No doubt he'll have knocked up some village gypsy by Christmas and be working as a goat herder with the little black hat they always wear, and never wash. Sad times but better it's her than me I guess.

The weather fined up for my last day in Halmeag and I was bummed I couldn't stay to have a longer ride but at least it is nice looking out the window of the train. It has been on and off rain for the week, but not as bad as I feared and at least warm at night with the fires burning.

I do wonder what awaits me at this next place, and indeed the places afterwards... there are so many options for me but I do think at some stage, probably over winter, I'll have to bite the bullet and actually work as an English teacher for some cash. Maybe I could convince my friend in Budapest that it's an awesome idea to let me stay at his for a little while (I'm sure he really wouldn't mind that much...) but we'll just have to see. It's this little problem of money that always rears its ugly head.

But plans are afoot for big things in the very near future.... September will be a very interesting month.... stay tuned.

A dog pissed on my hand today

Yes, a dog did piss on my hand today. But it didn't meant to. Still, it was piss and it was my hand. Simultaneous action that should never be simultaneous. Regardless, I'm sure it would apologise if it could but the fact I was trying to untangle it from its ken at the time is somewhat frustrating.

Moving on, today was a good day. Mainly because once the boss and his wife left with L to go to Brasov for the dentist, I breathed a sigh of relief, kissed the shepherd boy and went out riding with E. We were both on youngsters so it was a test of training for all of us, and nothing went wrong so that was good.

We then went to Fagaras to get some photos developed, the store of which by chance was next to a beauty salon so I gave myself some much-needed attention, then went grocery shopping and home. Funniest thing about the salon was, while at home I'm used to phones turned off, calm meditation music in the background, soft lighting etc, here they've got Eurotrash Hits 2010 playing (with some Paris Hilton thrown in, yeah you forgot she made music didn't you) and her phone is going off all the time (she answers it too)... not the most relaxing environment.

But anyway, we strode through the town of people staring at us (nothing new) and gypo brats trying to get money out of us (stopping soon after we yelled at them to go away in Romanian), and went home to make dinner.

We've made dinner now, the clock is striking 11pm and they're still not home. I knew they'd be late but this late? We're falling asleep here! But the meal should be good, even by masterchef B's standards. Better than last night's haha what a failure! I don't care though... you won some, lose some eh... The shepherd boy (not much of a shepherd boy since he's always here helping and not guarding any horses) stayed after hours to sit and chill, mildly talk since we're on very basic Romanian levels, and look lovingly into my eyes haha... nah, but it was nice to sit with him.

He is such a sweet lad. I gave him a few photo printouts of him and I, and him on the stallion, and he was so touched (the other photos I got were of us girls and the boss n his wife, and their now dead cat Bunka). I doubt he'll ever own a camera, printer or horse (maybe a horse) and I caught him showing the other gypsy workers after, he was so happy. Then I showed him the video of me burlesque dancing and he was again speechless. Not sure he knows what he's gotten himself into here. Haha... they never do.

Counting down til moving on

I can definitely feel each day wear on since I made the decision to leave on Sunday. The dampness of the boss' moods at times only increases the general dampness of the weather and my own mood. I feel like riding all day in the cold, windy rain just to escape the house. I'm sure it's really not as bad as I think but with the thought of impending departure rapidly circulating my head, it's not hard to find myself at this juncture.

Also, should I have stayed on, something would have definitely developed more noticeably with the shepherd boy and while he is lovely, he is a gypsy and the head honchos here don't seem to like going down on their level (ie the Swedish girls were told not to let them touch them - I still haven't been given that talk). On top of that, we're told he's getting fired on Monday so I'd have found it hard to still see him anyway. And deep down, I know it's not a good thing to get involved with him. I am so terribly bored though.

I've given myself a new project in the most nervous horse here, Lily. She has a pretty little face but is kinda mental and as such, has not been ridden much at all. I'm told her specialty is rearing. Awesome. Yesterday we put the saddle on her and the shepherd boy had a spin, but we quickly realised his method of riding only made her worse so we stopped it until the next day. I had been on 2 rides, both without saddle because I am lazy (and I just HAD to try Myastoza's wither-less spine!), so I was fine to wait for the next day.

Today is the next day and so I rode her, bucks n all. She calmed down a little after an initial freak-out and only bucked once more out of nowhere, but we took it slow and I managed to stay on. I wore a helmet though. Finally, a challenge!!

I stole a couple of kisses with the shepherd boy today. He's been coming to help out at the homestead (wonder why) so it's always a little thrill to flirt behind the scenes. Well, it's pretty obvious to most of us but hopefully not to the boss and his wife. Does make my day a little brighter though, and he looked very cute today all rugged up. Bless.