It's been a while, there's some catching up to do

It's been some time since my last post, but more since the last documentation of events - considering I did Queen's Day and Dublin back-to-back, I should have written them as such. But I've been lazy and committing it all to text has gotten away from me.

So, on the 5th of May, I jetted my way over to Dublin with barely a Country Road bag full of clothes, ready to meet up with Shivs (whom I hadn't seen since I left Sydney the first time in January), Dalts and Tones (missing since the end of last year), Brent (still sorely missed since London) and Rats (and old school friend I hadn't seen in ages). Fumbling around the airport, I managed to make it to O'Connell St and called Brent, who suggested meeting up at the 50m high spike in the centre of the city. Genius idea for a meeting point (though all credibility was lost when I found out the Irish use miles for distance but kilometres per hour for speed... seriously). We met up, said our hellos and wandered off to find our hostel. Brent can take full blame for the shithole that was our accommodation, but I'll get to that later. Dumping our bags, we proceeded to crash in the common room, me recovering from a hang over from work and them from a horror 20 hour bus trip with stops through the night. There was a short walk/reconnaisance, but minds were elsewhere.

It wasn't long before Dalts and Tones arrived and the drinking could commence. We headed to Temple district and got stuck in. Not much more needs to be explained about the night (not that I remember much of it). We headed from bar to bar, sinking pints of Guiness (that I now have a fond affinity with) until I could barely walk. The halftime kebab was my downfall, but after some 'light relief', I was back on my feet and we continued on. Highlights include meeting Brent's Irish mate Ciaran who, having seen some attractive (but not really) girls walking up the street, proceeded to address them in his Irish-accented, Viennese German. Before he could finish his line, the girls had delievered theirs - a hearty 'fook orff'. We fell over laughing quite quickly. The total ban in all bars was a godsend - everyone felt so much 'cleaner' for lack of a better word. But Rats was thinking ahead and persuaded me to buy him some snuff. Racking up lines on our hands in every bar we were in must have looked highly suspicious, but having everyone sneeze straight away perhaps shed some light on our true motivations.

The next morning I awoke early with a killer hangover, so disappeared into the streets to find some Gatorade, panadol and sustenance. Most people had sorted themselves out by 12pm, so we went down to watch the football and start drinking again. This time, I decided that pacing myself was a better option and managed to stay ahead of the pack. A conversation with a 60 year old couple turned interesting when they started lining up our snuff on the table at 4 in the afternoon. Brent was feeling a little worse for wear, but Dalts, Shivs and I kicked on. We met some very strange girls in a random Irish pub, but I can't remember much of the conversation whatsoever. They were ridiculously stupid, but anything more escapes me. We ended up with nowhere to go at the end of the night, though Shivs and Dalts kicked onto the Viper Room where I was too cheap to drop E15 on the cover charge with half an hour til closing.

The next morning was just as seedy, but this time I had been monstered by bed bugs. Disgusting to say the least. More fucking around, but Brent and I were on a tight schedule to get back to work, so we disappeared that arvo for our respective flights.

The next week was quiet, except for some heavy work at 180, but Shivs arrived for a short stay on the 18th (what was a public holiday, but I was in the office anyway). Getting in early in the evening, we dumped the bags and headed to 'Cargo' (a.k.a. Verck). A few beers there and we moved to the 'Sheaf' (a.k.a. Cafe van Zuylen) and drained another pint or two. I was trying to organise a drink with a Dutch friend of mine, so after some text ping pong, contact was established and we decided to walk to the other end of the city to grab another few beers. It's quite a trek from Sheaf (at Spui) to Cafe de Pijp (de Pijp) but we undertook our mission with vigour. I think Shivs appreciated the walk because he was vocal on said Dutch friend's physical appearance.

The next day, we did a bit of exploring (having slept in til the afternoon) and then started drinking at the FA Cup Final. From there, we just moved around the city, from bar to bar, chatting and drinking ourselves into oblivion.

Shivs stayed til Thursday, so did his touristy shit while I was at work. The only other real event of note was watching the Champions League final at my office in our conference room. I was having a beer with my Account Manager (who also gets the Shivs Nod of Approval) and Shivs dropped by, sank some beers with us and watched the game. As it happens, on colleague is a AC Milan fan from his childhood in Italy and displayed many characteristics synonymous with Italian football fans - the reason he was in the office is because he said that he'd do something at a bar that wouldn't guarantee his safety.

Shivs left on Thursday and Tash McCarthy arrived on Saturday. It was great to catch up after having not seen each other for ages, but I have to say, I was very impressed with her drinking ability. A long night of drinking on Saturday and some experimentation with local produce on Sunday made for two fantastic nights.

It's fast approaching midnight (thanks DJ Shadow) so I think I might end it here. A quiet few weeks in store (unless I get to France in 10 days or so), then a trip to London and JBo coming over with a posse - should be great fun...

Queen's Day 2007

It’s been a couple of weeks since the last post, but what a couple of weeks! First Queen’s Day with Tommy G (the biggest national holiday in the Dutch calendar), backed up with a long weekend in Dublin; simply epic.
Friday night, after work, involved work drinks to welcome in the holiday season. Expecting Tom to get there about 9pm or so, I’d duck out, dump his bags and bring him back to festivities before heading out. But I get a call at 6 and he’s missed his flight. Went… (wait for it) to the wrong airport. Only in London, with 4 options, could you go to the wrong airport. No matter – he’d be a little later that night but I’d be several more free beers down at the office. By the time he did arrive, I was well on my way to plastered, having just had a lively discussion about the pros and cons of Xbox vs. PS3 which nearly came to blows (in fact, I don’t really have an opinion on the matter, but stirring him up was way too much fun).
Having found Tom, we dumped his bags and headed out to Spui (pronounced Spow I’ve now learnt) to meet Anno and more of her French friends. Essentially Tom and I got stuck into the beers but the difference between the two parties was noticeable – the extended drinking on my side versus the subdued marijuana-induced coma of the Frogs. In fact, I’m not sure how appreciated my exuberance was. Either way, Tom and I enjoyed ourselves to the wee hours and then stumbled home to crash.
The next morning was consumed with the search for a reasonable café for breakfast (not a meal I’ve been accustomed to in Amsterdam due to my propensity to the snooze button). Wandering the canals for nigh on an hour, we eventually came across something that resembled a café and sat down. From memory, which is thoroughly hazy, and no photographic evidence until much later that night, we chilled in the apartment sinking beers and watching Arnie back to back. Eventually we headed down to a café in De Pijp (the Surry Hills of Damage) that, once we finally found it sans directions, turned out to be a winner. €5 for some of the strongest mojitos I’ve ever had meant that loosening up wasn’t a problem. But our party had other ideas – a house party further into the depths of unknown territory. With more battle communications and some of the best gut-instinct map work you’ve ever seen, we appeared at the front door… just as the decision was made to head to another bar. Essentially a venue too small for the amount of people we had (which ignores that fact that it already had its own thriving contingent of drunk Dutchmen) we were jammed up into one corner. But the alcohol and conversation flowed freely and again, we stumbled home hammered (only this time it was an hour long covert op north – not the most pleasant march home I’ve ever had).
Waking up the next day, we were determined to achieve something, so it was decided Tom and I would head to the Rijksmuseum and, if we had time, the Heineken Experience. After brushing the option of a one and a half hour cut-in at the Anne Frank house (though the offer was most generous), we strolled down to Museumplein where we did a speed-through of the Rijksmuseum, limited to one minor wing for renovations. We then waltzed down Museumplein and up to the Heineken Museum, getting there seconds before it closed. Actually, it HAD closed but I sweet-talked the hot door-bitch into letting us in, haha. What a joke the Heineken Experience is. We burned through it in no time, only waiting to experience being a beer going through the bottling process and at the bars to score our free beers. And to play a drum-kit made of giant beer bottle tops – standard.
It was Sunday night by this stage, ‘Queen’s Night’ – the day before the holiday when everyone just heads out to get blind. The streets were heaving and there were people everywhere. After wandering around, Anno called to see where we were and we ended up in the most rammed street, sneaking beers and talking shit. The night is a blur, but Anno came back to see my apartment with Tom and I and then she and I disappeared back into the streets with a bottle of wine and two glasses to find her crew. Class.
Queen’s Day is simply ridiculous. The canals are flooded with people on both sides who are still drinking from the previous night. There innumerable boats with a driver, a DJ and 40 dancing people busting out their best moves as they meander down the canals. Every 10 metres or so, someone is stroking their narcissistic DJ alter-ego by pushing their speakers and decks out the window for the benefit of dancing revellers below. With plenty of time, Tom and I explored the Vondelpark, full of kids performing and families undertaking the traditional garage style in the park (no one pays tax on Queen’s Day and it has become a tradition to flog your shit). Tom stepped up to the plate with the ‘crush-an-egg-with-a-boule-and-win-a-six-pack’ and scored the beer on throw number 3 (he only mentioned afterwards that he’s actually pretty awesome at boule).
We wandered back through Museumplein, where DJ Tiesto was headlining a massive free concert (we’re talking 2-3 times as big as main stage at Big Day Out) and back to canals. We missed Puck (her friend had taken a glass shrapnel wound to the foot and retired hurt) but we met with Anno and her friends toward the end of the night.
I needed to be up for work the next day and Tom had an early train to Dusseldorf, but it was with GREAT reluctance that we surfaced at 8am the next day. What an epic long weekend!

3 Weeks In

It's been three weeks since my last post and three weeks since I started work at 180. All in all, it's been going very well - or as well as such an intense transition can warrant. Work has initially been pretty quiet, but with a big presentation out of the way, it should now step up into some seriously interesting stuff - very much looking forward to it! The people are pretty cool; a little older and with different 'goals' than someone their first year out of university, but with a desire for alcohol that rivals even the most seasoned advertising agencies. The people have been really helpful and are giving me tips at every turn - certainly making the career change (as much as creative to suit is a career change) a lot easier.

I've managed to secure some lodging as well - a reasonable-sized studio in (what I only discovered later was) one of the nicest areas in the city. Overlooking the Prinsengracht, the outer canal encircling the Centre, it has a pub and, just opening tomorrow, a convenience store right below - pretty convenient no? A 10-15 bike ride to work, it's surrounded by trendy restaurants, galleries and shops. However, while the area closer to the city is nicely formatted into rings and bridges, west of my house is an urban jungle - a mixture of tiny lanes, unmarked cross streets and tiny canals that I can't place. I think some thorough exploring with maps and compasses (perhaps a GPS knowing me) is required to take the most out of the area. But there's plenty of time for that!

Week One had a four day weekend at the end of it, so finding my place in the office and meeting the various divisions took up the majority of my time. By the weekend, I was so stuffed I just needed to crash and further continue my explorations. I managed to go for some quiet work drinks and meet up with Puck, JBo's friend from Amsterdam, who took me out for a catch-up and a brief low-down on living in the city.

Weekend Two had had lunch starting at 12:30pm (standard advertising fare) and resulted in most of the Accounts team feeling rather boozed by 8. I certainly struggled home on the bike ride home but needed to be up early; I had a trip to Paris to meet a friend on exchange. Taking the TGV sounded like a great idea - see the countryside, enjoy moving at near 400km/h overland and end up right in the heart of Paris, the Gare du Nord. However, I didn't think that it would cost more than the equivalent flight that would have only taken an hour, compared to the 5 hours it took on the train. That said, it allowed some much-enjoyed reading (I'm on my fourth Bret Easton Ellis - last one!) and was generally more relaxing. Well, until the Seppos on leave from Iraq started talking about taking fire outside Kabul and dealing IEDs. Interesting conversation but not conducive to relaxing reading.

I met up with Anno in Paris at about 2pm, but caught her at a very bad time - she was still dealing with the effects of the night before. But I must have put her in good spirits because she sank her coffee and perked up right away. We headed out to a local park to meet J-Ho and some of Anno's exchange friends. Being the small world that it is, the first greeting I get is 'Aren't you Will Burroughs - I've seen your photos on Facebook!' - a friend of Alec et al. meant for a lot of interesting conversation and made me feel right at home... very comforting being the first familiar faces since I left! After the park, we headed out to dinner with Anno, her flatmate Kate, James and I (just realised that Will, Kate and James all had dinner together!) at some Lebanese tappas-style place. Initially skeptical, I ate my words (uhhh) and thoroughly enjoyed the meal. We even convinced the still-struggling alcoholics from the previous night that hair of the dog is the key to a successful recovery.

We started bar-hopping and met some of J-Ho's friends who have made the move to live in Paris. A number of bars later, we decided to meet up with the Park People, though we couldn't come to agreement on which was the best watering hole. This led to a compromise - we headed to the Pont des Arts with a case of beer and a couple of cheap bottles of wine. What a fantastic drinking location! 200 people, chilling on the bridge with bongos and firesticks (STANDARD!) but a great atmosphere. Anno and I ended up stumbling home at 6am and I had a classic drunken D&M - one of those nights that you just know are going to live in your memory forever. A tired lunch/breaky the next morning, a wander around the local area, some gelato and a rest in the local park at 28 degrees. A fantastic trip by all accounts.

This week has been a little more busy at work prepping for the preso, but it went well so Friday night drinks were great fun. The weekend has been quiet, apart from an explore to the Vondelpark - the Centennial park equivalent of Amsterdam. A quick ride around did wonders for the constitution (don't you know) and it was great to get some fresh air while seeing parts of the city backpackers don't usually get to. And now it's 8:19, so time to start thinking about dinner - the bane of my life. Perhaps I'll just sink beers and sleep through it. But it's Queen's Day next weekend (the biggest party of the year) and my little Dublin vacation to see the boys the weekend after - can't wait for that!

The end of an era

It's Sunday afternoon and I'm sitting at my (temporary) new local, The Bulldog - don't blame me, it's free wifi if I buy a drink! I've spent the last 4 days traipsing around Amsterdam and tomorrow my life changes with the first full-time job I've ever had. Shock, horror... work.
Having traveled around Europe for the last 2 months, segued by 2 weeks back home to settle my affairs (clever yes?), I'm back with the intention contributing to the Dutch economy. The flight over was well planned, a 5pm departure gave me a long night which meant sleeping wasn't a problem. Landing in A-Dam by about 8am, I sorted out some very dodgy hostel accomodation and began my explorations of the city. Getting bearings, finding the immediate landmarks and a small walking tour, the lure of free wifi inevitably dragged to a coffeeshop for some legalised weed - simply reiterating my disdain for it, haha.
Basic highlights have been Rijksmuseum, and de Pijp, both explored on foot and reminding me that a bicycle is an necessary purchase! But I'm now getting the hang of the Damage and I feel confident in the immediate surrounds of the centre.
My only qualm is the influx of pommy and seppo tourists who are purely here to get stoned. After only a few days here you can tell that the city is so beautiful once you escape the confines of the tourist areas. I'm also starting to get slightly hostile towards backpackers in general. Don't get me wrong, I can see some pluses - you get to meet other young people and it's cheap(ish), but the majority here are just interested in going out and getting stoned. I'm starting to head towards the idea of moving away from tourist-centric places - small places that you won't hear some seppo whinging that a cafe doesn't have American coffee, which is basically either a long black or an espresso! (Well, obviously not quite, but close enough to sate one's caffeine addiction.)
So, I'm stepping off my high horse for the arvo and getting back to satisfying my recent Bret Easton Ellis desires...

Quick recap of the trip thus far

Just managed to get about half an hour free from the stresses of skiing and drinking, so thought I would indulge myself with some internet time (the withdrawals have been horrific).
Leaving on Tuesday, I got to the airport mostly intact, though it was inevitable I would forget something, I always do. This time it was my camera. BUT, it's not as bad as it seems - I'm meeting the family in Europe very soon so hopefully they will bring it for me. But it seems that Aspen will be limited to shots that Alec deems suitable - that's not altogether a bad thing, he did ban the upskirt shots from the 60th birthday.
The flight was as appalling as could be - note to everyone, "don't get excited about United". Shitty small seats, no movie screens to speak off and not even young hot stewardesses (it seems that seniority rules in the LA-Sydney trip - YUCK!). But 14 hours to LA, 2.5 to Denver and 30mins to Aspen wasn't too bad (contrasted to the rest of Alec's family who had a fire over the Pacific, landed in Western Samoa to a drunken police chief who banned their departure, 9 hours on the tarmac and basically 30 hours late for Aspen. Shit eh.
First night out, Alec and I got ourselves settled and headed to the nearest pub for a beer. Turns out, unbeknownst to us, it's the Aspen equivalent of the Sheaf and numerous familiar, friendly (and hammered) faces began to appear. What was supposed to be a quiet dinner turned into a solid night out, ending at about 2 when all the bars closed up shop. Shuffleboard, Buck Hunter and more than a few beers made for a great debut.
And that night out resulted in a sleep-in til 1pm the next day. Still unsure of where Alec's parents were (no phone coverage for them), we bought the necessary ski-gear and headed up for a cheeky lone run to get the ski legs back in. Aspen is awesome - although coming off the depths of Japanese snow makes drawing comparisons trés hard, the blue skies are picture-perfect. And knowing that Europe (the next port of call) hasn't had any snow to speak of, I'm making the most of it.
Day Three was solid. Powering around the main mountain all day, we met up with some of Alec's family friends for a guided tour. This made for a great learning curve, particularly because they'd been skiing for a couple of weeks already and were taking us down some ridiculous shit. Let's just say double black bumps bigger than me on some seriously steep slopes. Both of us were forced to find form (debatable!) quick smart.
Day Four (today) was awesome. Managed to meet up with some mates and their guide for a local's guide to one of the mountains (Snowmass). A solid morning, I'm still waiting for Tom Nolasco to stomp his backflip and then teach me the heli I've promised myself by the end of Aspen (now I'm screwed, I've made it public). This was followed by a move to Highlands and more skiing with family friends. Last run of the day, we found this mogul run under a lift, but that still had a shitload of snow on it. Favourite run of the day by far - shout out to Immy for the tip!
But time is running out for the internet cafe, so I'll end the stories here. I'll do my BEST for photos!!

The Silly Season

It seems this post is a little late, but I thought that seeing as I'm heading overseas very shortly I should dust off the blog like times of old.
Having finished exams in early November, I've finally put five years of university behind me. Exam results locked in and its on to bigger and better things. That involves working at advertising agency The Topia Project as a creative - simply the most fun you can get paid to have. But that is all generalities...
This Christmas has been fantastic. With the knowledge of impending employment slavery, I think it has spurred me to play much harder. Backing up every night (bar one - conveniently the day Paris Hilton was drinking at the local) for seven nights was certainly a record for me. But so many good times and better photos have obviously made it worth it.
This year I took on the responsibility of the New Years gathering - which definitely did not pan out how I expected. A fair amount of preparation led to a fantastic night; a lot of people from all different groups meant that everyone could meet new people. By 1am, the night was getting pretty heavy, but everyone was still having a ball. Unfortunately, conservative neighbours made a call to local PD and the volume was turned down (who makes a call like that on NYE!?) But the night kept on for at least a couple of hours while people struggled to evacuate the east - quite an experience but a rad night nonetheless.
The next morning was pretty painful - up at 8:30 to get the cleaning done, the hangover was certainly making its presence felt. Other than that, it's been pretty quiet. Couple of nights out, including taking a family friend from London (cheers Tommy) to Vegas and oggling the subaquatic dancers. Also back at work for this week before I leave next Tuesday - a shocking call, it was ridiculously hard to go back after 3 weeks of shutdown; how on earth am I going to go back after 2 months?!?

I know I'm a little rusty, and this is being done late at night and in bed, but I need to get back into it for my trip. There should be many more to come soon enough...