For the first time since I landed in 4 months ago I'm back at Sydney airport for O'TooleFest 09 pt2. It's going to be a weekend of cousintastic fun. But first, a few thoughts...
Seat 23C, jetstar flight 625. Oh crap, it's an airbus. Wings? check; pilot x2?check; new pitot tubes? absolutement; fire extinguisher on cockpit? Oh yieeah... I'm ready for this. Seatbelt on, seatback up and tray in stowed position. Time to go mr pilot, crank her up and let's get this bird in the air.
One thing niggles though, something wasn't quite right there. Wait a second, here we go, that was different, different to how things are done in yerp. For starters I didn't have to pay to print out my own boarding card. My bottle of water made it through security intact, my shoes remained on, I felt almost... human.
Curiously they don't ask to see your boarding pass to get past security. Stranger still I wasn't asked for a single bit of ID to get on the plane. Next time there's a sale I'm gonna buy a ticket in the name of osama mcterrorist to see if they treat me any differently.
I did laugh at travellers inability to do nothing. Everyone was watching tv, ordering food, reading and in one wonderful example of the world gone stark bonkers crazy there was a young chap, maybe 18, sitting on the ground, legs askew with laptop precariously balanced on his gangly knees as he desperately tried to keep the power flowing in order to watch tv. Mad I tell u.
Me? Oh I was facing the tv, music in my ears, coffee by my side, writing this entry on my apple individuality device.
Good day sir.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Plan B
An extract from an email home:
Soooo, it's been 41 days since I landed in Sydney. Allowing for the "settling in" weekend that means I've been job hunting for 37 days. As I've said in previous emails that involves 5 days a week of calling recruiters, meeting recruiters, applying for jobs through online listing websites, contacting people I know in Sydney for potential leads and on one occasion actually going in for an interview.
In the last few weeks I've upped my recruiters again taking on Marcus, Jonathan, Lisa and Daniel to add to Ian, Sophie, Will, Bruce, Martin, Cliff, Darragh, Pater, Willem, Tasha, Deanna, Mark, Petina and Sean. This pretty much covers all the financial recruiters in Sydney so I have my bases covered. Out of those I have the guys that I know are "on my side" who I call every day. The others get a call once a week and an email too for good measure just to remind them how great I am.
Today has been a decent day as I have a phone interview at 4pm with Canon for an 8 week contract role doing reconciliations and also have scored an interview for a permanent position at a pipelines company on Friday at 4pm.
Looking for a job is a full time job so I haven't been able to get any other work as of yet such as data entry, bar work etc though I have started to look into it. I know that if worst comes to worst then Fi O'Toole's mate in Melbourne definately has bar work available! That said I'm holding out for a "proper" job.
It's a lot of work so far and sure it's gotten me down a bit now and again but it's all part of the rich experience of life. In the time here I've managed to go to three frisbee tournaments, see a few museums, go to Manly, do some clifftop walks, hit the beach frequently and do various nice things like that. I've cut out all entertainment that costs money such as going out at night as things are a little tight. Good to live like that now and again to get a grip on reality.
Occasionally one does let oneself go though and this happened two weekends ago when I was talking to someone on the beach in Terrigal between games. She had just completed a trip around Australia in her van and was looking to sell. She wanted €2000, I offered €1000 and she accepted. The best bit is that I don't have to pay until I can afford it :) So now I have a Plan B which is sitting outside the house. His name is Harald and he's a 1988 Hiace with 400,000kms on him. He's got a double bed in the back, three seats up front, 4 gears, a full kitchen and lots of other stuff I've yet to find. A pretty good Plan B if you ask me. You can check him out here: http://tinyurl.com/ctvs8e
You see I've given my months notice on the house I'm in as I can't afford the rent which means I have exactly one month to find a paying job to live a normal life. If that doesn't happen I'll hop into Harald, find some mates to share fuel and head off north to sunnier climes working on farms / finance / admin / whatever jobs to pay my way. It sure beats sitting around waiting for non existant jobs to turn up! This is very much a Plan B at this stage though it is kinda exciting knowing that it's an option.
Soooo, it's been 41 days since I landed in Sydney. Allowing for the "settling in" weekend that means I've been job hunting for 37 days. As I've said in previous emails that involves 5 days a week of calling recruiters, meeting recruiters, applying for jobs through online listing websites, contacting people I know in Sydney for potential leads and on one occasion actually going in for an interview.
In the last few weeks I've upped my recruiters again taking on Marcus, Jonathan, Lisa and Daniel to add to Ian, Sophie, Will, Bruce, Martin, Cliff, Darragh, Pater, Willem, Tasha, Deanna, Mark, Petina and Sean. This pretty much covers all the financial recruiters in Sydney so I have my bases covered. Out of those I have the guys that I know are "on my side" who I call every day. The others get a call once a week and an email too for good measure just to remind them how great I am.
Today has been a decent day as I have a phone interview at 4pm with Canon for an 8 week contract role doing reconciliations and also have scored an interview for a permanent position at a pipelines company on Friday at 4pm.
Looking for a job is a full time job so I haven't been able to get any other work as of yet such as data entry, bar work etc though I have started to look into it. I know that if worst comes to worst then Fi O'Toole's mate in Melbourne definately has bar work available! That said I'm holding out for a "proper" job.
It's a lot of work so far and sure it's gotten me down a bit now and again but it's all part of the rich experience of life. In the time here I've managed to go to three frisbee tournaments, see a few museums, go to Manly, do some clifftop walks, hit the beach frequently and do various nice things like that. I've cut out all entertainment that costs money such as going out at night as things are a little tight. Good to live like that now and again to get a grip on reality.
Occasionally one does let oneself go though and this happened two weekends ago when I was talking to someone on the beach in Terrigal between games. She had just completed a trip around Australia in her van and was looking to sell. She wanted €2000, I offered €1000 and she accepted. The best bit is that I don't have to pay until I can afford it :) So now I have a Plan B which is sitting outside the house. His name is Harald and he's a 1988 Hiace with 400,000kms on him. He's got a double bed in the back, three seats up front, 4 gears, a full kitchen and lots of other stuff I've yet to find. A pretty good Plan B if you ask me. You can check him out here: http://tinyurl.com/ctvs8e
You see I've given my months notice on the house I'm in as I can't afford the rent which means I have exactly one month to find a paying job to live a normal life. If that doesn't happen I'll hop into Harald, find some mates to share fuel and head off north to sunnier climes working on farms / finance / admin / whatever jobs to pay my way. It sure beats sitting around waiting for non existant jobs to turn up! This is very much a Plan B at this stage though it is kinda exciting knowing that it's an option.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
In the current economic climate...
A month of job hunting, five hours a day online, at least ten
recruiters working for me and countless CV revisions has pulled up one
interview so far. I'm doing everything I can, using all my contacts,
calling all my recruiters, responding to all the ads but not much is
happening. I'm taking time to reflect on what the "current economic
climate" actually means. It means I have the opportunity to really get
to know myself through building the CV, talking to recruiters
answering questions that we should really be asking ourselves regularly:
What motivates you?
What are your strengths and weaknesses? (clichéd? yes, but have you
actually thought about yours?)
How would your friends describe you?
Describe your ideal job.
What are your goals in life?
These are tough questions that can really put things into perspective.
Think about them and all of a sudden the change of circumstances, the
reduction of pay doesn't seem to be the end of the world. I'm loving
the challenge of finding a job that I might actually enjoy. I'm loving
the challenge of feeding and transporting myself for €10 a day.
Admittedly Sydney isn't a bad place to be unemployed. After I put in
my hours searching for jobs and contacting my recruiters I either go
for a long run along the beachside clifftop between bondi and coogee
beaches or head to the beach for a few hours if reading, swimming,
thinking, appreciating and usually hanging out with mates.
Now if all this sounds a bit like a hippy has taken over sensibAL you
may be a little right. While I don't do drugs ("dope is for dopes",
right?!) and barely drink (it's expensive and I'm enjoying that smart
feeling that comes when you don't have a hangover) I have taken the
precaution of buying a campervan.
By campervan I mean of course a 1988 white Hiace van with bed in the
back. He's got two personalities, Harald and Casper II. I've yet to
pick him up but I'm sure we'll get on just fine. I said that I've taken the
precaution of buying him as if the job situation doesn't pick up I can
just find some willing travellers and take off up the coast to sunnier
climes, working in random jobs as I go.
So that's the backup plan. I feel an oxymoronical sense of calm and
adventure when I think of it. What better way to spend a year when
there simply aren't enough "proper" jobs to go around.
So don't be alarmed, I'm the same person, just a happier more content
one who's loving being challenged to make the most of life.
Hippy out,
al
recruiters working for me and countless CV revisions has pulled up one
interview so far. I'm doing everything I can, using all my contacts,
calling all my recruiters, responding to all the ads but not much is
happening. I'm taking time to reflect on what the "current economic
climate" actually means. It means I have the opportunity to really get
to know myself through building the CV, talking to recruiters
answering questions that we should really be asking ourselves regularly:
What motivates you?
What are your strengths and weaknesses? (clichéd? yes, but have you
actually thought about yours?)
How would your friends describe you?
Describe your ideal job.
What are your goals in life?
These are tough questions that can really put things into perspective.
Think about them and all of a sudden the change of circumstances, the
reduction of pay doesn't seem to be the end of the world. I'm loving
the challenge of finding a job that I might actually enjoy. I'm loving
the challenge of feeding and transporting myself for €10 a day.
Admittedly Sydney isn't a bad place to be unemployed. After I put in
my hours searching for jobs and contacting my recruiters I either go
for a long run along the beachside clifftop between bondi and coogee
beaches or head to the beach for a few hours if reading, swimming,
thinking, appreciating and usually hanging out with mates.
Now if all this sounds a bit like a hippy has taken over sensibAL you
may be a little right. While I don't do drugs ("dope is for dopes",
right?!) and barely drink (it's expensive and I'm enjoying that smart
feeling that comes when you don't have a hangover) I have taken the
precaution of buying a campervan.
By campervan I mean of course a 1988 white Hiace van with bed in the
back. He's got two personalities, Harald and Casper II. I've yet to
pick him up but I'm sure we'll get on just fine. I said that I've taken the
precaution of buying him as if the job situation doesn't pick up I can
just find some willing travellers and take off up the coast to sunnier
climes, working in random jobs as I go.
So that's the backup plan. I feel an oxymoronical sense of calm and
adventure when I think of it. What better way to spend a year when
there simply aren't enough "proper" jobs to go around.
So don't be alarmed, I'm the same person, just a happier more content
one who's loving being challenged to make the most of life.
Hippy out,
al
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Settling into Sydney
I've been here just over two weeks now and have taken to the place like a UCD team to a train vestibule. Actually the house I'm living in is quite like a vestibule as there are constantly random people coming in and out although it is a little bigger. I'm staying in Bondi Junction, also known as County Bondi due to the large number of GAA shirts being sported by those of the fairer complexion as they hit the happening night spots. Sadly I forgot my favourite Dublin jersey (supported them for years y'know) and my WCBU Ireland shirt has been confined to indoor use only.
For the first week I was staying with Troy from Fire of London who's here with de Google on a permanent transfer. Luckily he had a spare room so I was able to sleep off the horrific jet lag without having hundreds of backpackers milling around.
After a week I moved to the big house near Bondi Junction and about a 15 minute walk to Bondi Beach. The house is a huge 4 living room, 5 bedroom yoke with 5 of us paying rent and a travelling contingent of at least five randomers staying every night. I have my own room with a bit of privacy so it's all good. It does lead to an awful lot of red wine though as there's always a few people having a sip and who am I to refuse?
The job situation here is much like Ireland with very little going on. I've spent the last week contacting recruiters daily, scouring the interweb for potential positions but there's very little out there. The standard line from the recruiters is that if I'd turned up last year I'd have a job within a day. Now who would want that with the beach only a 15 minute walk away!! So it's a little tougher than expected but I'm still hopeful that with year ends coming up there may be some work on the audit side of things. Otherwise it may be al the waiter or floor cleaner for a year which would be a nice little grounding. Needless to say my mum isn't too pleased that I gave up a good job in London but I'm confident what I've experienced in the last 8 months is worth a bit of job pain and sure, the recession can't last forever, right??
Socially I've landed on my feet. I stayed with Troy from Fire for a week when I got here and now I've moved into the aforementioned house with Grace "the face" from Cark, Quentin and Sinead from Waterford, Colette from Sydney and Lopez the afro'd party planner from Paris. Added to that we have Ziggy from London who used to live here staying on the sofa, Damien and Regina on the fold out couch, Caroline and Hayley who are staying with Grace, David who's also staying with Grace and Lisa the Swedish model slash waitress who's staying with Lopez. !
Added to that I've been shown around by Elayna "Phelpsy" from the Green Tortoise bus in America quite a bit. It's been great to have familiar faces to hang out with.
I'm playing frisbee with Manly twice a week which is sweet. I have a few tournaments lined up with them over the next few months as well as summer / autumn / winter league.
So that's the Sydney Story for now. I'm down in my room, about to look for more jobs before heading out to Tropfest, a large outdoor film festival. Heavy hardcore trance is pumping down from the living room upstairs as Lopez and his mate come down from a big night out. Good times really, good time :)
For the first week I was staying with Troy from Fire of London who's here with de Google on a permanent transfer. Luckily he had a spare room so I was able to sleep off the horrific jet lag without having hundreds of backpackers milling around.
After a week I moved to the big house near Bondi Junction and about a 15 minute walk to Bondi Beach. The house is a huge 4 living room, 5 bedroom yoke with 5 of us paying rent and a travelling contingent of at least five randomers staying every night. I have my own room with a bit of privacy so it's all good. It does lead to an awful lot of red wine though as there's always a few people having a sip and who am I to refuse?
The job situation here is much like Ireland with very little going on. I've spent the last week contacting recruiters daily, scouring the interweb for potential positions but there's very little out there. The standard line from the recruiters is that if I'd turned up last year I'd have a job within a day. Now who would want that with the beach only a 15 minute walk away!! So it's a little tougher than expected but I'm still hopeful that with year ends coming up there may be some work on the audit side of things. Otherwise it may be al the waiter or floor cleaner for a year which would be a nice little grounding. Needless to say my mum isn't too pleased that I gave up a good job in London but I'm confident what I've experienced in the last 8 months is worth a bit of job pain and sure, the recession can't last forever, right??
Socially I've landed on my feet. I stayed with Troy from Fire for a week when I got here and now I've moved into the aforementioned house with Grace "the face" from Cark, Quentin and Sinead from Waterford, Colette from Sydney and Lopez the afro'd party planner from Paris. Added to that we have Ziggy from London who used to live here staying on the sofa, Damien and Regina on the fold out couch, Caroline and Hayley who are staying with Grace, David who's also staying with Grace and Lisa the Swedish model slash waitress who's staying with Lopez. !
Added to that I've been shown around by Elayna "Phelpsy" from the Green Tortoise bus in America quite a bit. It's been great to have familiar faces to hang out with.
I'm playing frisbee with Manly twice a week which is sweet. I have a few tournaments lined up with them over the next few months as well as summer / autumn / winter league.
So that's the Sydney Story for now. I'm down in my room, about to look for more jobs before heading out to Tropfest, a large outdoor film festival. Heavy hardcore trance is pumping down from the living room upstairs as Lopez and his mate come down from a big night out. Good times really, good time :)
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Australia
After a great month in Dublin it's time to move on again. The need for some sun and employment is dragging me kicking and screaming to Sydney. It'll be a great year or two away to experience a "different culture" and learn a new language ("oh yiiaahh?", "g'daiy" etc).
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Costa Rica
Puerto Viejo is billed as a party town, a paradise, somewhere you'll go and never want to leave. Sadly it is none of these. The Caribbean storms that had thus far prevented my from seeing that coast were still in full swing. The devastation was everywhere, flattened houses, ruined crops, waterlogged everything.
As a result of this Puerto Viejo was empty. I stayed in Rockin' J's, a hammock based hostel about 500m walk to the town centre. This was hostelling on an industrial scale with hammocks everywhere, countless tents on a raised platform and a few dorm rooms. Sadly it was empty, maybe about 20 tired, wet travellers.
We'd heard that there had been a bit of trouble on the road to town recently with local kids on bikes robbing travellers at gunpoint. With this in mind a group of four of us got together to make the walk to town. We were all over 6ft tall and our group included an Olympic rower (only got a bronze medal but figured he'd still be useful in a fight). As we walked in formation down the dodgy street we were buzzed a few times by the bike kids, they stared at us, we stared at them, each trying to out-menace the other.
We made it to town to find we were pretty much the only people there. A quick dinner and a bottle of $2 beer (Costa Rica is a relative rip off) and we headed back to the safety of the hostel compound.
The next day we heard that 5 of the 20 people staying at the hostel had been robbed on the same road the previous night. This place was hell, it was time to go. In five months of travelling through such places as Mexico City, El Salvador etc I'd never felt so unsafe.
Panama was next with the promise of another paradise, Bocas del Toro, around the corner.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Nicaragua
We arrived in bustling Leon in western Nicaragua around 3pm after a no-sleep-dirty-hangover bus ride from San Salvador. Being in no mood to take crap from anyone we got in an argument with our taxi driver over whether it was €1 each or €1 in total. We threw him a single and walked away into the Big Foot hostel, satisfied that we hadn't been ripped off, victorious.
We checked in, I emptied my entire bag into a laundry sack (things were getting a little grim on that front) and headed back to reception. There at the door, finger pointed right at me, was our taxi driver and a cop straight out of a 70's show, tache proudly tickling his nose. A quick check with the receptionist confirmed that we had in fact ripped off the taxi driver and now he was back, bullied kid with headmaster style, to collect his dues. Not wanting a night in a cell I threw him the extra cash, mumbled an apology in pigeon Spanish, and retreated to the safety of the dorm.
That was pretty much the highlight of leon, we wandered around a bit, checked out the huge cathedral, ate fried chicken and slept.
Next day we were off to Laguna Opoyo, a volcanic crater lake near Granada. This place was paradise with the dorm in an old boat shed looking out on the thermally warmed laguna. After a day and a half of kayaking, tubing and swimming we figured every day here would be identical to the last so moved on.
Granada was next, yet another colonial town where I said goodbye to Mark from Canada and Charlotte from Minnesota.
It was here I first saw the Virgin Mary.
There she was on a float surrounded by palm leaves and cherubic angels spouting water followed by a generator and a band. They sure love the virgin in these parts as I was to find out in San Juan del sur where she was paraded around incessantly with an entourage of big band playing, firework shooting devotees.
The preferred way of honouring the virgin appeared to be to make as loud an explosion as possible. Some of these bombs shook windows and reverberated around the town and they kept going all night. Not quite the relaxed beach atmosphere I'd expected.
A few days of lazing on the beach and a bit too much time online made me sick of the place so I hopped on a chicken bus to la frontera. Dodging ox and carts, chickens roosting in trees and roadside stalls we hoofed it to the border which we were warned was super hectic.
In fact it was a great border. That may have been because I hadn't had much sleep or appetite in the previous few days and was also slightly hungover which fostered a mild delirium where everything was amusing. After a bit of banter with the cambiomen I paid my dollar to get through the small gate which signifies the end of Nicaragua.
After persuading the emigration man to stamp my passport I walked the 10mins to costa rica, found the immigration office tucked behiind the restaurant and got my bus ticket to the capital, San juan.
San juan is a bustling place that looks like it was built in the 50's using the post war brutalist school of thought so popular in the bombed cities if the south of England. Avoiding the over pushy taxi men I decided to risk a walk through town to get to my hostel. It was just like any depressed high street, full of tacky shops, interesting people and litter.
After 20mins I checked into the aptly named hostel tranquilo, parted with my $8, had a freezing shower, hit burger king and went to bed. Up at 6am on account of the early night I set out to discover the historic heart of San jose. Not finding one I headed back to the hostel for the free DIY pancake breakfast. After frying up what was more like a loaf of bread than a pancake and laughing with the other hostellers over their equally inept efforts it was time to walk to the bus station and get the bus to Puerto Viejo on the Caribbean coast near the panama border. So I'm on the bus, iTouch in hand, listening to Damien Rice, admiring the hilly jungle-esque interior of costa rica and hoping it's not raining on the coast.
We checked in, I emptied my entire bag into a laundry sack (things were getting a little grim on that front) and headed back to reception. There at the door, finger pointed right at me, was our taxi driver and a cop straight out of a 70's show, tache proudly tickling his nose. A quick check with the receptionist confirmed that we had in fact ripped off the taxi driver and now he was back, bullied kid with headmaster style, to collect his dues. Not wanting a night in a cell I threw him the extra cash, mumbled an apology in pigeon Spanish, and retreated to the safety of the dorm.
That was pretty much the highlight of leon, we wandered around a bit, checked out the huge cathedral, ate fried chicken and slept.
Next day we were off to Laguna Opoyo, a volcanic crater lake near Granada. This place was paradise with the dorm in an old boat shed looking out on the thermally warmed laguna. After a day and a half of kayaking, tubing and swimming we figured every day here would be identical to the last so moved on.
Granada was next, yet another colonial town where I said goodbye to Mark from Canada and Charlotte from Minnesota.
It was here I first saw the Virgin Mary.
There she was on a float surrounded by palm leaves and cherubic angels spouting water followed by a generator and a band. They sure love the virgin in these parts as I was to find out in San Juan del sur where she was paraded around incessantly with an entourage of big band playing, firework shooting devotees.
The preferred way of honouring the virgin appeared to be to make as loud an explosion as possible. Some of these bombs shook windows and reverberated around the town and they kept going all night. Not quite the relaxed beach atmosphere I'd expected.
A few days of lazing on the beach and a bit too much time online made me sick of the place so I hopped on a chicken bus to la frontera. Dodging ox and carts, chickens roosting in trees and roadside stalls we hoofed it to the border which we were warned was super hectic.
In fact it was a great border. That may have been because I hadn't had much sleep or appetite in the previous few days and was also slightly hungover which fostered a mild delirium where everything was amusing. After a bit of banter with the cambiomen I paid my dollar to get through the small gate which signifies the end of Nicaragua.
After persuading the emigration man to stamp my passport I walked the 10mins to costa rica, found the immigration office tucked behiind the restaurant and got my bus ticket to the capital, San juan.
San juan is a bustling place that looks like it was built in the 50's using the post war brutalist school of thought so popular in the bombed cities if the south of England. Avoiding the over pushy taxi men I decided to risk a walk through town to get to my hostel. It was just like any depressed high street, full of tacky shops, interesting people and litter.
After 20mins I checked into the aptly named hostel tranquilo, parted with my $8, had a freezing shower, hit burger king and went to bed. Up at 6am on account of the early night I set out to discover the historic heart of San jose. Not finding one I headed back to the hostel for the free DIY pancake breakfast. After frying up what was more like a loaf of bread than a pancake and laughing with the other hostellers over their equally inept efforts it was time to walk to the bus station and get the bus to Puerto Viejo on the Caribbean coast near the panama border. So I'm on the bus, iTouch in hand, listening to Damien Rice, admiring the hilly jungle-esque interior of costa rica and hoping it's not raining on the coast.
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