Update from low-on-internet Hastings. The job has up's and down's, one up being the travel aspect, another the regular team shifts that prevent you from ending up with people you don't get along with.
I had a short burst of 'I really miss you guys!' some days ago, but with the days getting longer again, I hope I get into the spring mood.
Jonas mailed me that some of you found out that the two of us write mails and thus you told him to greet me from you in his mails (Imagine this said by cpt. Jack Sparrow). Now Jonas is telling me that the next step is to tell you to mail me yourself. Which is not the right thing to tell you. If you want to greet me, leave me a comment right here. In the blog. If you need extra motivation: for every comment on this entry, I'll throw in one crazy dream I had over the last weeks.
Patrick
--
Empfehlen Sie GMX DSL Ihren Freunden und Bekannten und wir
belohnen Sie mit bis zu 50,- Euro! https://freundschaftswerbung.gmx.de
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Saturday, June 23, 2012
New Things Happening!
\paragraph{23.05.12}
The bus started at 1030. Before that, I called Bunty to ask him why he still did not show up. I instruct him to give the paper to Felix, so he can give it to me when he travelles up north. The bus brings me to Auckland. There, I stay for two nights to rest and enjoy urbanity.
\paragraph{24.05.12}
After the first night in the 'Freeman's lodge', I take a walk in Auckland. I go to the harbour, the workntravel office to check my mails, the metro center, a cinema and entertainment complex designed by a madman (everything is bent in some way, gangways from one floor to another, hallways without straight angles, general bizarrchitecture). I watch 'the avengers' yet again, this time in 3d. Near the university, I discover a stand selling 'gamja' or 'ugly hotdogs'. Picture a german frankfurter on a stick, covered in korean pancake dough and rolled in potatoe pieces that turn into french fries when the whole thing is deep fried for five minutes. Ugly, but delicious. I inquire about buses that can bring me up north. I also snatch some interesting books from the exchange shelf that need appreciation, Schaetzing and others.
\paragraph{25.05.12}
I travel to Kaitaia, a town up north. The busdriver makes long and elaborate speeches about the bus company, the route, the passenger numbers, etc. He obviously should have chosen a job where he can put that hobby of his to better use. In Kaitaia, I look at the hostels, buy supplies in the pak'n'save and take the local bus to Ahipara, an even smaller town located near shipwreck bay. I check in and book for two nights.
\paragraph{26.05.12}
The first day, it is raining, so I stay in the hostel and play monopoly with the other guests. Again, mostly germans. When the rain stops, I take a walk up the mountain slopes and to the shipwreck bay.
\paragraph{27.05.12}
Today I went to the giant sand dunes with a sled from the hostel. They were indeed huge. It took me at least fifteen minutes to climb them. Up there, I left my sled behind and wandered over the dune plateau which looked like a desert bordering a forest with the ocean at the horizon. I walked around for hours, dune after dune, watching the sculptures formed by sand with an amout of iron and wind containing salt water. The whole scenery reminded me of the video game myst, a beautiful and varying but ultimately empty landscape. When I decided that there is no point in walking on, for behind the next dune will be another, I turned and walked back. When I reached the slope down to the beach, it took me a while to find the sled because it turned out that I took a very different route back. I slided down the slope, climbed back up and slided again. But the slight but steady rain wetted the sand, slowing me down, which is why I headed back to the hostel. There, I listened to Molyneux 'against the gods' (I especially liked the part explaining why agnostics are cowards), played cards and listened to travellers stories about Laos, Thailand, Bali, India and the whole asia region.
\paragraph{28.05.12}
Today I went to the dunes again. The sand had the exact right concistency to slide. But I didn't slide too often because it was quite exhausting to climb the dune.
\paragraph{29.05.12}
Today I had a lazy day in the hammock listening to Molyneux, though I had to go in a few times because of slight rain which made it uncomfortably cold outside.
\paragraph{30.05.12}
I sat on the front porch in the sun and discussed politics with a german guy who has a shot on all sorts of conspiracy theories. He is of the opinion that all decisions in worldwide politics and economics are made by five to thirteen families who have been in charge for centuries. They started the global warming myth, organized 9-11 and decide about presidents and popes. His ideal political system is derived from the origin of the word 'democracy', something like 'rulership of the village' or something. His model has a nation-wide set of basic rules (murder etc.), but government, police and justice are organised by every village for themselves. That way, the rulers know the people they rule over personally. When I asked for specifics about the election and police systems, it quickly grew out of his hand. But we agreed that his system can easily be implemented as part of an anarchocapitalistic society. He made me rethink the systems of crime and punishment.
\paragraph{31.05.12}
Today discussed with two british girls about religious models, god and the concept of a 'good-intended cosmos'. One of them believed in some 'higher energies' (try to talk to a scientific person about energy). When she agreed with several scientific principles I proposed, she got cornered and got to interesting compromises. Since conscience without matter is not possible, god has a body, it is just not flesh (?). This matter is in another dimension, since it cannot be outside the universe if it affects us. If the matter is restructured (by, crude example, a bullet), the conscience ceases to be, ergo: god can die. When she said that the 'creation' had to be created by someone, I asked who created god, since he consists of matter and is thus a creation. She then mentioned the late hour and what a long day she had. Her co-traveller claimed not to believe in a god, but took a counterposition when her friend ran out of arguments.
\paragraph{01.05.12}
Today I met an older couple that came over to see the hostel that once belonged to them. Peter Roberts, an impressive person with long hair, sunglasses, shirt and leather jacket, has his own post-production studio, his wife owns a high-class designer clothing store. All of their three sons have their own businesses, one of them some coffeehouses. They tell me that he is in constant need of baristas, so I ask them where to apply. Peter gives me his business card and tells me that he can forward my application to him. He tells me about his own year abroad, from which he ultimately returned after three years of travelling the world. He mentions that two times he had a gun pointing at him. I think about all the people that tell me about how beautiful asia is and how I could add some months of travelling the coast of Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand and India. Later that day I prepare my curriculum vitae for the barista job.
\paragraph{02.05.12}
In the morning I sent the application to Beau, the coffehouse manager. The day is sunny, so I and the conspiracy guy take sandboards and drive to the beach in his car. From there, we start walking, but a french surfer couple take us with them in their van. It is a stony way for a van, but we make it to the next bay, where they go surfing. We walk to the dunes and climb them. The dunes are free of charge, but the sliding comes at the price of the climb. After one slide, conspiracy guy (what was his name??) already heads back to the hostel, he couldn't climb up again and wants to go surfing instead. I climb up and enjoy the view over the beach, ninety mile beach and the quad and dirt bike drivers climbing the dunes and rushing down again. I meet a family climbing without sleds. They run down the hills, which is propably a better idea considering the concistency of the sand today. I slide down and head for the hostel. At shipwreck bay, I meet Joseph, a backpacker from the hostel, who takes me back in his car. At the hostel, we meet four travelers from Auckland on a long weekend. They want to head home tomorrow, so I ask them if they have a place for me, since I could get a job there quite soon. They don't, but Joseph, the tzech guy, says he is heading that way tomorrow, too.
\paragraph{03.05.12}
Today, I decided to travel in the general direction of Auckland, in case Beau hires me as a barista. Joseph, a traveller from the tzech republic, was on his way to Omapere and took me along. We were searching for more huge sand dunes at Rangi Point he was told about by other travellers. We found them, but could not reach them. They were at the end of a large area recently deforested. The roads were loose gravel, nothing for his car. We saw the dunes in the distance, but decided to turn around. The view was unique, a large deforested area with flat vegetation framed by thick forest and dunes. We took the ferry over a bay, arrived in Omapere and checked in the Globetrekker Hostel. I walked to the wooden quay and watched surfers arrive from the bay entrance, where the waves were high enough. They used large, two-seated jetskis to go there and back and now, they loaded them onto hangers. They are the motorbikes of the sea (Yamaha, no less). I walked along the beach, which was sand and, at the lower points at low tide, rocks. I saw three huge boulders. When I returned, we played a quick round of poker, but I was tired and went to bed. Joseph made one of his interviews with Lauren, one of the four travellers from Ahipara. He interviews people he meets to write a book about New Zealand.
\paragraph{04.06.12}
We drove off to Auckand, stopping for the kauri forest with the 'lord of the forest', the biggest kauri tree in New Zealand, and other large and thus famous kauri trees. An impressive view. during the journey, Joseph remarks that I am not too much of a talker. I confirm, then hesitate and tell him that normally, I am more of a talker. In Auckland, we meet with one of the four travellers from Ahipara and check in a lodge with an unrememberable maori name. In the afternoon, Joseph gets us going for the city to find a shisha bar. He got directions from a guy in the hostel. At the shisha bar they wanted me to try the pipe, and as they got insistent, I explained my decision as well as my general approach to descisions like this (I don't act upon principles that whould rob me/ free me from choice, but embrace the possibility to choose and the responsibility of the consequences, in this case the short term 'taste' that I tasted before and found it not that good as well as the long term effects.) Joseph was impressed and said he now understood that I was not someone who does not talk so much but rather someone who only talkes when it is important to me ('a heavy subject' as he called it), explaining situations and opinions thoroughly. I agreed and mentioned that that was the reason I hesitated in the car about the topic of me being someone who does not talk much vs someone who talks a lot. When the topic is important to me, I usually talk more than the average person.
\paragraph{05.06.21}
I take a long walk along the city of Auckand. Stopped at the work'n'holiday office to read my mails, since the hostel has no free wifi.
\paragraph{06.06.21}
The hostel bookshelf has some strange books, 'bad monkeys' by Matt Ruff, which is surreal and gives me the feeling that I have already read it years ago. Maybe I did, who knows. A girl at the hostel tells me about her work with [charity], where you have to talk people on the street. Sounds like the job for me.
\paragraph{07.06.21}
Today I visited the office of [charity]. Bottom line is that I got the job, but until someone explained to me the exact reach of the confidentiality paragraph in the contract, I'll leave it with that.
The bus started at 1030. Before that, I called Bunty to ask him why he still did not show up. I instruct him to give the paper to Felix, so he can give it to me when he travelles up north. The bus brings me to Auckland. There, I stay for two nights to rest and enjoy urbanity.
\paragraph{24.05.12}
After the first night in the 'Freeman's lodge', I take a walk in Auckland. I go to the harbour, the workntravel office to check my mails, the metro center, a cinema and entertainment complex designed by a madman (everything is bent in some way, gangways from one floor to another, hallways without straight angles, general bizarrchitecture). I watch 'the avengers' yet again, this time in 3d. Near the university, I discover a stand selling 'gamja' or 'ugly hotdogs'. Picture a german frankfurter on a stick, covered in korean pancake dough and rolled in potatoe pieces that turn into french fries when the whole thing is deep fried for five minutes. Ugly, but delicious. I inquire about buses that can bring me up north. I also snatch some interesting books from the exchange shelf that need appreciation, Schaetzing and others.
\paragraph{25.05.12}
I travel to Kaitaia, a town up north. The busdriver makes long and elaborate speeches about the bus company, the route, the passenger numbers, etc. He obviously should have chosen a job where he can put that hobby of his to better use. In Kaitaia, I look at the hostels, buy supplies in the pak'n'save and take the local bus to Ahipara, an even smaller town located near shipwreck bay. I check in and book for two nights.
\paragraph{26.05.12}
The first day, it is raining, so I stay in the hostel and play monopoly with the other guests. Again, mostly germans. When the rain stops, I take a walk up the mountain slopes and to the shipwreck bay.
\paragraph{27.05.12}
Today I went to the giant sand dunes with a sled from the hostel. They were indeed huge. It took me at least fifteen minutes to climb them. Up there, I left my sled behind and wandered over the dune plateau which looked like a desert bordering a forest with the ocean at the horizon. I walked around for hours, dune after dune, watching the sculptures formed by sand with an amout of iron and wind containing salt water. The whole scenery reminded me of the video game myst, a beautiful and varying but ultimately empty landscape. When I decided that there is no point in walking on, for behind the next dune will be another, I turned and walked back. When I reached the slope down to the beach, it took me a while to find the sled because it turned out that I took a very different route back. I slided down the slope, climbed back up and slided again. But the slight but steady rain wetted the sand, slowing me down, which is why I headed back to the hostel. There, I listened to Molyneux 'against the gods' (I especially liked the part explaining why agnostics are cowards), played cards and listened to travellers stories about Laos, Thailand, Bali, India and the whole asia region.
\paragraph{28.05.12}
Today I went to the dunes again. The sand had the exact right concistency to slide. But I didn't slide too often because it was quite exhausting to climb the dune.
\paragraph{29.05.12}
Today I had a lazy day in the hammock listening to Molyneux, though I had to go in a few times because of slight rain which made it uncomfortably cold outside.
\paragraph{30.05.12}
I sat on the front porch in the sun and discussed politics with a german guy who has a shot on all sorts of conspiracy theories. He is of the opinion that all decisions in worldwide politics and economics are made by five to thirteen families who have been in charge for centuries. They started the global warming myth, organized 9-11 and decide about presidents and popes. His ideal political system is derived from the origin of the word 'democracy', something like 'rulership of the village' or something. His model has a nation-wide set of basic rules (murder etc.), but government, police and justice are organised by every village for themselves. That way, the rulers know the people they rule over personally. When I asked for specifics about the election and police systems, it quickly grew out of his hand. But we agreed that his system can easily be implemented as part of an anarchocapitalistic society. He made me rethink the systems of crime and punishment.
\paragraph{31.05.12}
Today discussed with two british girls about religious models, god and the concept of a 'good-intended cosmos'. One of them believed in some 'higher energies' (try to talk to a scientific person about energy). When she agreed with several scientific principles I proposed, she got cornered and got to interesting compromises. Since conscience without matter is not possible, god has a body, it is just not flesh (?). This matter is in another dimension, since it cannot be outside the universe if it affects us. If the matter is restructured (by, crude example, a bullet), the conscience ceases to be, ergo: god can die. When she said that the 'creation' had to be created by someone, I asked who created god, since he consists of matter and is thus a creation. She then mentioned the late hour and what a long day she had. Her co-traveller claimed not to believe in a god, but took a counterposition when her friend ran out of arguments.
\paragraph{01.05.12}
Today I met an older couple that came over to see the hostel that once belonged to them. Peter Roberts, an impressive person with long hair, sunglasses, shirt and leather jacket, has his own post-production studio, his wife owns a high-class designer clothing store. All of their three sons have their own businesses, one of them some coffeehouses. They tell me that he is in constant need of baristas, so I ask them where to apply. Peter gives me his business card and tells me that he can forward my application to him. He tells me about his own year abroad, from which he ultimately returned after three years of travelling the world. He mentions that two times he had a gun pointing at him. I think about all the people that tell me about how beautiful asia is and how I could add some months of travelling the coast of Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand and India. Later that day I prepare my curriculum vitae for the barista job.
\paragraph{02.05.12}
In the morning I sent the application to Beau, the coffehouse manager. The day is sunny, so I and the conspiracy guy take sandboards and drive to the beach in his car. From there, we start walking, but a french surfer couple take us with them in their van. It is a stony way for a van, but we make it to the next bay, where they go surfing. We walk to the dunes and climb them. The dunes are free of charge, but the sliding comes at the price of the climb. After one slide, conspiracy guy (what was his name??) already heads back to the hostel, he couldn't climb up again and wants to go surfing instead. I climb up and enjoy the view over the beach, ninety mile beach and the quad and dirt bike drivers climbing the dunes and rushing down again. I meet a family climbing without sleds. They run down the hills, which is propably a better idea considering the concistency of the sand today. I slide down and head for the hostel. At shipwreck bay, I meet Joseph, a backpacker from the hostel, who takes me back in his car. At the hostel, we meet four travelers from Auckland on a long weekend. They want to head home tomorrow, so I ask them if they have a place for me, since I could get a job there quite soon. They don't, but Joseph, the tzech guy, says he is heading that way tomorrow, too.
\paragraph{03.05.12}
Today, I decided to travel in the general direction of Auckland, in case Beau hires me as a barista. Joseph, a traveller from the tzech republic, was on his way to Omapere and took me along. We were searching for more huge sand dunes at Rangi Point he was told about by other travellers. We found them, but could not reach them. They were at the end of a large area recently deforested. The roads were loose gravel, nothing for his car. We saw the dunes in the distance, but decided to turn around. The view was unique, a large deforested area with flat vegetation framed by thick forest and dunes. We took the ferry over a bay, arrived in Omapere and checked in the Globetrekker Hostel. I walked to the wooden quay and watched surfers arrive from the bay entrance, where the waves were high enough. They used large, two-seated jetskis to go there and back and now, they loaded them onto hangers. They are the motorbikes of the sea (Yamaha, no less). I walked along the beach, which was sand and, at the lower points at low tide, rocks. I saw three huge boulders. When I returned, we played a quick round of poker, but I was tired and went to bed. Joseph made one of his interviews with Lauren, one of the four travellers from Ahipara. He interviews people he meets to write a book about New Zealand.
\paragraph{04.06.12}
We drove off to Auckand, stopping for the kauri forest with the 'lord of the forest', the biggest kauri tree in New Zealand, and other large and thus famous kauri trees. An impressive view. during the journey, Joseph remarks that I am not too much of a talker. I confirm, then hesitate and tell him that normally, I am more of a talker. In Auckland, we meet with one of the four travellers from Ahipara and check in a lodge with an unrememberable maori name. In the afternoon, Joseph gets us going for the city to find a shisha bar. He got directions from a guy in the hostel. At the shisha bar they wanted me to try the pipe, and as they got insistent, I explained my decision as well as my general approach to descisions like this (I don't act upon principles that whould rob me/ free me from choice, but embrace the possibility to choose and the responsibility of the consequences, in this case the short term 'taste' that I tasted before and found it not that good as well as the long term effects.) Joseph was impressed and said he now understood that I was not someone who does not talk so much but rather someone who only talkes when it is important to me ('a heavy subject' as he called it), explaining situations and opinions thoroughly. I agreed and mentioned that that was the reason I hesitated in the car about the topic of me being someone who does not talk much vs someone who talks a lot. When the topic is important to me, I usually talk more than the average person.
\paragraph{05.06.21}
I take a long walk along the city of Auckand. Stopped at the work'n'holiday office to read my mails, since the hostel has no free wifi.
\paragraph{06.06.21}
The hostel bookshelf has some strange books, 'bad monkeys' by Matt Ruff, which is surreal and gives me the feeling that I have already read it years ago. Maybe I did, who knows. A girl at the hostel tells me about her work with [charity], where you have to talk people on the street. Sounds like the job for me.
\paragraph{07.06.21}
Today I visited the office of [charity]. Bottom line is that I got the job, but until someone explained to me the exact reach of the confidentiality paragraph in the contract, I'll leave it with that.
Saturday, June 16, 2012
Quick update: I am in Auckland right now, and internet is scarce. Yes, one gets reasonably-priced wifi in the remotest hostels but not in the biggest town.
I started a new job as a fundraiser for [charity] last week, and they ordered me to Wellington, I fly on monday. When I find internet that is not cut after 20 minutes or 30 mb, you'll get a bigger update.
I started a new job as a fundraiser for [charity] last week, and they ordered me to Wellington, I fly on monday. When I find internet that is not cut after 20 minutes or 30 mb, you'll get a bigger update.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)