Funky all the way home

You know those blog posts that start along the lines of “sorry I haven’t updated this blog in a while” and then go off in some rambling frenzy as to the pressures of life and the reasons that virtual pen could not be brought to virtual paper? Well, this is sort of one of those. Only there isn’t an apology here, more a heads up.

So hello. Since the last time I wrote, all sorts of exciting things have happened in my life, most notably being, I am no longer employed. Being, with any luck, a perpetual traveller, this isn’t really the end of the world thing that it could otherwise be, but still, it did come somewhat out of the blue so was almost as much a surprise to me as it may be to you. You being the regular reader who keeps up to date with my travellings and ramblings of course, not you the person who just stumbled across this entry as a result of searching for a song lyric. There are better places to look for that.

For reasons that are possibly somewhat complicated, and at the same time profoundly simple, we, being Vera and I, are on the road once more. I will attempt to distil these reasons down into a nice simple timeline for you, if that is the sort of thing you are interested in. If not, I have lots of other great posts you could be reading instead, focusing on actual travel, or photography. If that is your thing. Which I would hope it would be, this being a travel and photography based blog. If listening to me attempt to explain my current situation, with the possible hint of some gossip is more your thing, carry on.

On March 15, 2011, we, being Vera and I, commenced work at the Funky Green Voyager in Rotorua. This was, and in fact still is, an awesome hostel, top rated by the Lonely Planet, in Rotorua. It was hard to explain quite what it had that set it apart from other places, but I think in essence it just had a certain vibe that felt both positive and welcoming. Add to this a number of neat touches (beer fridge, sweets on the pillow in your room, spice rack) and overall the hostel was a place full of happy, content people. Which attract other happy content people. And so the cycle continued.

Our offer for our time there was pretty awesome. As well as including accommodation (and all the stuff that comes with that) we were also given internet, laundry, power, water.. well, all the stuff you would think that comes with a place. On top of that, we were offered a very competitive financial package, which was not to be sniffed at. All was, indeed, very well.

Sadly, this didn’t entirely continue. For a long while we laboured, under the impression that we were going to be rewarded financially. And in part, we were. I had lots of hours and was being paid what I had been promised. Sadly the story for Vera was not the same. About a month after we started the job she had been promised was awarded to someone else with the reason being given that Vera hadn’t been deemed suitable for the front desk. Obviously the decision as to who to put behind the front desk of a hostel is a critical one, and Vera accepted this decision, although it left her rather low.

Overall, this was a bit of a blow, but we persevered, under a revised offer where Vera had less responsibility and less hours, only with less financial compensation. Which, although not what we had signed up for, was still a good deal overall.

Things came rather to a head a few weeks after this when Vera checked her bank balance to discover that she hadn’t as yet been paid even the revised offer, and was only receiving a third of what she had signed up to. When she enquired about this anomaly, she was informed that the intention had never been to start paying her fully until at least a couple of months had gone past, as there wasn’t really enough money or work to justify employing three people. This was clearly a rather large miscommunication, and despite the hours and effort she had put in, there was no shifting the position.

This was the tipping point at which she felt she had had enough, and so she decided to leave. Since the whole plan had been to live and travel together, and I didn’t feel that she had been treated very fairly, I left too. And so we travel onwards again, cosy in Bernie, to see what the next part of the adventure takes.

That was that part of the story. The good news of course is that I now have plenty of free time to regale you with further tales of adventure. In the pipeline over the next few weeks will be the concluding part to my photography tips article that was published over at yTravelBlog. I have an interview with Daniel, of Canvas of Light, talking about his take on travel blogging.

I have a wild tale of rolling down a hill with two stunning girls in a ball full of water. I even have some thoughts on Hobbiton which I have recently visited, most of which I can’t share with you because of a form I signed saying I wouldn’t. So that could be a brief post. I may even be able to slip in a hint of a waterfall and maybe some hot pools. Until then, keep smiling folks :)

Today’s post was happily made partly possible due to the ongoing generosity of only-apartments, who help keep my travelling going. Their message is as follows: If you don’t know where to go on your next holiday, let me give you some advice: Madrid is the funniest city you can visit! Apart from the great monuments and museums, there are plenty of bars always full of its nice people. Rent Madrid accommodation and discover its charms. There’s no better way to travel!

Mr. Bean & Cultural Stereotyping

Now. Before I start this post, you should be warned, it could come across a little bit ranty. It is, if this is of any consolation, a Friday. Which means almost nothing when you are travelling, other than the fact that all the pubs are likely to be busier if you go out.

I wish to raise the issue of cultural stereotyping, and wonder if it is just me who finds the worldwide phenomenon that is Mr. Bean just a little bit odd. And if you are wondering what I am wittering about, here is a standard conversation that I may have whilst on the road, and someone realises I am from the UK:

Me: Oh hi, who are you, where are you from?

Other person: Ohmigod you are from the UK! I love Mr. Bean!

Me: Er, yes. Right. <sidle away gently>

This, I should point out, is not a problem unique to being English. My girlfriend, who happens to be German, ends up dealing with the belief that all Germans are obsessed with David Hasselhoff, and in particular, his singing. The conversation is a little bit similar to the one above, only instead of the “I love Mr. Bean” it is replaced with “Germany! You must love David Hasselhoff!”. This is, to be fair, probably worse.

Still, I find it rather tragic that the sole cultural export that appears to be instantly recognisable, and in fact, loved, worldwide, when someone discovers I am English, is a rather silent, and somewhat moronic TV character, played, in case you didn’t know, by Rowan Atkinson. It’s not like the UK doesn’t have other exports. Football hooligans for example. Or the belief that everything tastes better with ketchup. Hmm wait. Maybe Mr. Bean isn’t so bad after all.

I guess it makes some sort of sense. A knowledge of English isn’t really necessary, as there is never really any talking. The humour is slapstick and therefore easy to get. It’s not Monty Python, but I guess, it is as least British.

I wonder if other nationalities find themselves to be instantly categorised by some aspect of their culture that to them seems, well, plain weird. Do let me know in the comments. In the meantime I’m going to wrap a union jack around my waist and raise a glass of sherry to the queen, whilst humming rule Britannia. Which, of course, is how I always pass my Friday afternoons. Cheers!