I said 'Goodbye' before i Pierced off...

I have just left Leeds and with it many of the friends that i had made there. Along with the International friends that i hung with for most of the time i was there i also did make quite a few British chums, which is great as this was a primary reason for visiting the country. In the last three days before i left i went to a Christian dinner and question session with Helen the med student who i met at the Hypnodog show in the first week; i had coffee with Steph who studies French and Spanish, who i met at Salsa and Swing dance lessons; I hung out with French/American Ben who i have been playing a massive amount of Table tennis with and Abbey who often watches us play and i stayed with Taryn, a Bahai girl, at her place for two nights where we watched a couple of films, and had dinner and breakfast together. It's never easy saying goodbye to people that you've hung out with a great deal - but i think i'm getting much better at it. Possibly because for the last two years i have been making new friends and then seeing them off after every six months, and possibly because i have now visited those friends and know that it is not just possible, but highly likely that i will see them again.

We've all seen movies where someone starts somewhere new and makes a dramatic change to themselves and i've experienced it personally. Last year one of my best mates at Newcastle was an American called Casper. Or so i thought, he just invented that name up on the plane when he came out - his real name was Louie. I was slightly miffed that i had had the wool pulled over my eyes, but more than this i was very impressed - what a cool idea! So i thought i would try something in a similar fashion when i was in Leeds. I wasn't brave enough to attempt a name change, or speak with a lisp, or pretend i had a limp - instead i got an eyebrow piercing which i have just taken out. This was spurred by my own opinion of people who had piercings like this - i generally thought of them as being cool, rebelish, tough and young. Now if i just got a piercing in Australia, these connotations would certainly not be attached to me if people had already known me, so i would need to start somewhere afresh with it. So did the experiment work? Did i feel like i was being treated differently because of a slab of metal in my brow? The short answer is no. And whats more, ontop of this, i didn't feel any different or even feel the connotations that i had attached to this kind of piercing. Perhaps once or twice when i was around others who had piercings, i would feel a sort of kinship, like we were in on something together - but for the most part i didn't feel any different whatsoever.
It is also very hard to tell if people viewed me differently as there is no control to compare it too - and if i did feel like i was being viewed differently, was this because of the piercing, or my Australianness, or beard -which have also only occured since i've left the country.
I didn't think that it would affect peoples' views of me in a significant way - but on a superficial level i thought it would play a part - but perhaps because piercings of this sort are more prevallent in English society it isn't as noticible. I am fortunate enough to have two instances which back up these suppositions. On my Contiki trip Caitlin told me that she liked my hair and that it was what made me unique. In a similar artery (why don't people say that?) the teacher of the give it a go session on body language was saying that a good way of remembering peoples' names was to focus on something physical about them, she then said, referring to me 'I would remember you as the man with the beard'. So perhaps i have so many unique qualities to my appearance that a sliver of stainless steal is rendered erroneous. Or perhaps piercings of this sort do not really play a major part in how people define who you are. In my own age group i would readily believe this, but in other more older age groups i wouldn't have thought it would be the case. My relatives that i've met here for example, haven't really battered an eye lid at it. On my Grandfathers side this could be because there is already a son in law who has tattoo's up and down his arms, paints his nails, wears make up and he and his wife (Great Aunt Alison's daughter) have skulls on their chunky wedding rings. Perhaps... On my Grandma's side, my great Aunt Betty is quite conservative, and she did ask me if the pearcing had any significance, but appart from that it was not spoken of and we got on fantastically. Although one of the little cousins asked what it was, how it got there and whether that made me a robot. So perhaps in his eyes i was a little bit different.
I took it out because everynow and then it would get all puffed up, and this made me feel much worse than it ever made me feel good when it was all hunky dorey. It was a worthwhile experience, and I think i've found that my own opinions have changed more than those around me.

Things that have got me thinking...

I was playing football (soccer) recently with some English pals, and there was this one bloke on the other team who was your typical soccer player - Speedy haircut, Man U shirt, shiny boots, and in all fairness he had quite good ball skills and had made me look pretty average everytime i tried to get past him. So i made it my mission to beat him, and i did! He had the ball, i slide in, got it off him, hit him in the knee with my knee, he fell down, screamed in alot of pain and sat off for the next ten minutes. It was a bit of a hollow victory...


Not being a drinker i don't go out to bars much, but on Monday i went to The Library (a bar) with some people from Charlie Mo as a 'cheerio' for Steve the American. It was nice, i talked to many people and the music wasn't too loud. The highlight of the night though? Some golden English lingo...

"So Josh, how was your exam?"
"I thought it was a peach actually"

Brilliant.


Conundrums. We all come accross them everynow and again, and i had one just yesterday that was a real humdinger. I was walking around the back of the Union building and came accross two of my favourite handrails to slide down - short, sharp and untouched. But they were both covered in beads of water from the recent downpour. I was five paces out when I noticed this and knew that if I rode the rails I would then have to sport a wet mark that started at the back of my crotch and ran down my left leg, giving the impression i had suffered a rather nasty rectal failure. Yet at the same time I knew that the water on the rail would add as a lubricant, making the slide even faster. Conundrum indeed. With half a pace to go i decided to do what any extreme rail rider would and take the ride. I proudly wore my damp pants, and saw the mark on them not as a stain of seepage shame, but as a badge of honour for attempting that which other might flinch at.

'You Australian Twat'

Since i have been here i have copped only a small amount of flack from Poms for being an Australian, but i got my biggest dosage two nights ago when i was playing my nightly game of table tennis with American/French Sam.

'Err, we beat you in the final of the last world cup'
'You Australian Twat'

This is obviously part of going overseas as i would not attract this sort of attention at home, so i'm not angry or worried about it, but rather excited. But I was a bit baffled about the correct way to respond though. Obviously the socially acceptable thing to do would be to act all manly and throw some other sports statistic or fact at them and i was thinking of the last time Australia played England at soccer (3-1 our way) or mentioning the cricket. Yet this is like saying that my country is represented by sports teams, this is what my country is(and it is just a little too easy to beat an englishman with this sort of attack). Now i'm not the flag waving type and i despise nationalism, but I am proud about certain aspects of my country; that i get supported by my Government to go to University, that we are ranked 3rd on the UN's list of most livable countries, I quite like the landscape and Steve Irwin came from here.
So can i say this back to a jibe about the Wallabies footy team? I don't think it really matters, as these guys were so drunk that they wouldn't have remembered in the morning anyway...

Leeds University: Slide to success

Six out of every seven people who apply for Leeds University get turned away. This is a fact (or as close to as i can remember), so why is it that so many people want to come here? Is it because in its 104 years of existance it has established itself a worldwide reputation for excellence in a wide range of academic disiplines, because it is in the top ten Universities for research in the UK, has over 50 000 people enrolled in its courses, or because people want to follow in the great J.R.R Tolken's foot steps and be a student at this outstanding institution? The answer is neither of these (although 'did Tolken study there?' is a good way of cutting back Universities to choose from) but is infact that Leeds must have the best handrails for sliding on anywhere in the world. Right now for instance, I am already looking forward to walking back to my residence, as i will be walking thirty metres less then i walked here. Thats right there are three hand rails adding up to a whopping thirty metres for free, energy efficient, exhilerating transportation. Leeds has not got this reputation as a handrail sliders paradise because of the number and length of available handrails, but of their variety. This enables the avid student to experience all types of rail helping them to study and appreciate this fine art. There are two main variables that you have with a free standing rail - gradient and surface. If the pole is painted you will only slide on it if you are wearing business type trousers (i choose a grey pair as it doesn't show up any stains that you may get from the rail), but if it is untreated steel or aluminium ('untouched' in rail sliders jargon)you will slide with greater speed and can get away with wearing regular jeans. Gradient varies alot here at Leeds too, as the Uni is built on the slight incline of a hill, meaning that there is a good range to test your skills. I'm a big fan of the two short sharp untouched rails at the back of the union building, but my favourite are the triple, low-gradient painted ones leading off the Bragg building cluster where i am now - not great speed, but enough length to enjoy the ride and really test your balance.
If you want to improve the skills that will get you further, faster in life, then Leeds is for you, while your here why not try getting a degree as well!

My journey to the library

After finishing revising a chapter of France’s forth republic at a quarter to six today I decided to trundle over to the library to dip into Hunnic history, so wrapped up in my winter woollies I ventured out into the cold leaving my hall via the front entrance. Now I’ve been at Charles Morris for a couple of months and know the quickest routes to get to most places, and the quickest route to the library (now that construction work has finished) is past another Charles Morris block and round the back of the Union building. But the second I had stepped outside my hall I realised that I may have to change my plans, as leaning cautiously against the other Charles Morris block was a devious looking character. Now despite being initially put off by this mans appearance quite near my chosen path, I decided to walk as I had initially decided upon as the alternate route was not insignificantly lengthier, no hoody wearing lout was going to add an extra nine seconds onto my journey! So I walked precariously towards where he was standing careful not to give any eye contact until the crucial moment, then just as I passed I gave him a fleeting glance and our eyes lingered on one another for a brief moment, this was just as a gesture to say ‘look, we are both humans, we both exist, I acknowledge that you are here and are more than just the brick wall upon which you lean’. But he took proceedings outrageously further by saying right out loud ‘youright mate?’. Well I was dumbfounded, just because we both exist does not mean that we need to get all cuddly feely about it, not only was this a request for verbal recognition of his existence but he also required me to turn back upon myself to answer, a privilege only reserved for those close to my heart, or at least people I vaguely know or find attractive. So slightly miffed at his audaciousness I cunningly replied over my shoulder ‘yeah, yourself?’. But my words were in vain, as he ignored them and lobbed another unheeded question at me ‘spo-wee?’ he said, tapering his voice towards a higher pitch so as to kindly alert me that this car-crash of a sentence was actually a question. ‘Pardon?’ I replied. ‘spot of weed?’ he said more slowly, again with the questioning tone. No thanks I muttered, and I turned back around and continued on my way. I guess I should have trusted my first instinct and steered clear of the hooded rapscallion, but as it was he didn’t hinder my progress by more then nine seconds, so it’s not really worth losing sleep over.

Study time

Since i've been back at Leeds i've been spending pretty well all my time studying - with just enough time spare to catch up on emails, play a bit of table tennis, and do a bit of reading before i go to bed. It has been really fulfilling actually, although since yesterday i have had the sniffles and a stuffy head - not cool.

Glasgow to Leeds, though not as planned...

Andrea and Adam's bus back to London left at eight in the morning so we were up quite early and at teh bus station we said our goodbye's. 'It's been fun, see you when i'm next in America'. I then went in search of the train station where i thought i could get a ticket to Leeds for a remarkable £12, but first i had to find the station. I knew roughly where it was as the hotel receptionist had given me a map and shown me, but i had all day and was in no rush. Along the way i reluctantly withdrew my map and quickly looked at it, as Glasgow is the kind of place where if someone sees that you are lost they will cross the road to ask if you need help. Sure enough, on the second time i withdrew my map a lady did ask me if i needed help, but i assured her that i was fine. So as i ambled to the train station i thought about my stay in Scotland...'Glasgow was a very fine place, very friendly; people had fantastic accents; i got to see Loch Ness; I tried Haggis; saw some men in kilts at the Hogmany celebrations; but i didn't get to go to Edinburgh or try a deep fried mars bar - there's always next time' i mused. But as it turned out i could at least cross one of those two missed opportunities from my list as the only train i could get to Leeds bypassed Edinburgh and cost £49. So having no other choice i took it, and with in an hour and a half i was in the country's capital. My ticket to Leeds was not time dependent so i wandered outside of the station and had a look around the chilly but beautiful city. First i walked through a large park that was the drained out remains of a Loch (lake) which sat below Edinburgh castle, then i wandered up to the castle and had a nice look around the outside. It cost £11 to get in, and i didn't feel like walking around too much in there as my backpack was starting to weigh heavy upon me. Whilst taking photos of it, a worker there asked how i was going, and we got chatting. He told me where he thought a good chip shop would be that sold deep fried mars bars, so i headed in that direction, back over past the railway station, not before visiting the (free) kilt making and Military Tattoo mueseums. When i made it onto the street that the chip shop was supposed to be on i spied another mueseum that was having an exhibition on portraits. Now i'm not all that big on paintings, but i'm rather partial to a good photographic portrait, so i thought i would have a quick gander through the exhibition to see if any painted portraits would excite me. Before i could enter the room though, a lady informed me that i could not wear my bag inside and i could either carry it by my side or leave it at the front desk. My bag must wiegh in excess of 15kg so chose to leave it at the front counter where i recieved a token to show when i returned to pick it up. I went back into the exhibition and was very impressed by some of them, who managed to emulate photography amazingly 'why do that when you could just take a photo some might say' but 'why not!', i'd reply it looked fantastic. As i left the exhibition i decided i might just leave my bag there a little while, to liten my load for my search for the deep fried mars bar.
After finding that the place suggested by the castle employee was closed i went into a 'Walkabout' pub which is an Australiasian themed bar, and while i was waiting to ask someone, i had a look at their food menu. To my surprise, i found that everything on their menu looked fantastic! I didn't think Australians really had a specific food culture, but i must be wrong. Ther were chunky lasagnes, burgers, roasted potatos, salads, wedges and much more, all very nice and whetting my apetite. The guy at the bar with a very Australian accent (must be from Perth) gave me some very very rough directions on how to get to Old town where there was sure to be a 'chippy'. So i followed them and after crossing an old bridge and a pub called 'the Scotsman' (i just mentioned that because lots of people were having their photo taken infront of it - perhaps it is famous?) i found just the shop i was after. I ordered a burger, can of IRN BRU and a 'Mars fry' as it was advertised. Handed to me in typical fish shop styrofoam was my holy grail, i had found it, THE DEEP FRIED MARS BAR!!!! Now it sounds a bit over the top deep frying a chocolate bar - but deary me, what a fantastic over the top idea it is. The crispy battered shell holds the warm melted chocolate in beautifully and the two combine to form a brilliant filling treat. You should definatly try this at least once in your life time (perhaps any more and your arteries might clog up!) Just like the two minute noodles and toast in Wales, adding these two good things together was never going to be a bad conbination. I ate my burger and downed my drink on the walk back to the mueseum to collect my bag, as i thought someone might get a bit suspicious if they actually thought about a bag that had been abandoned, with the security announcements that are currently running at all airports and train stations. Thankfully my bag was still there, so i gave a donation to the 'friends and good pals of Scottish art' foundation and went to catch my train back to Leeds. The trip took me along the east coast of Scotland so i got a nice view of the ocean and rugged shoreline and also of the very green country side before it got dark and i arrived back in Leeds.

2 breakfasts + 2 playgyms = very happy Justin

That morning at 4am we were awoken by a fire alarm and all the residents of the hotel met up outside - the fire brigade was there but apparently it was just caused by someone smoking in their room. Smokers eh? Despite this i woke at 8o'clock so that i could have some of the fantastic breakfast that was provided; Croissants, pa chocolate's, yoghurt, cereals, toasts, fruit, and three types of juice. While i was munching away on a croissant the lady who was working there sidled up to me (presumably as i was the only person there) and asked how my new years was. She then mentioned that because not many people would be up, they were going to serve breakfast up until 12 not the normal 9. So with that handy piece of information i went back to our room where Andrea and Adam were still sleeping and slipped back into bed and slept until ten to twelve when we all got up and i had a second lovely breakfast.
The day only got better from there as we had a lovely walk around Glasgow, along the Clyde river which was originally used for transporting ships that had been built in the town and into a nice big park. Now i was quite impressed with the first play gym that we came accross, especially as it had a sign that said 'give priority to those under 12 years old', and as there was no one there we had free run of it. But things just got even better when we saw about 200 metres away from us, towering up into the sky four pyramid type consructions with inbuilt ladders, and from the top of each spouting what appeared to be giant swirling slippery slides. We hastely approached them, and found that it was indeed a mega play ground and it had a sign saying 'give priority to those under 16 years old'. I must admit, i was quite excited as this looked like the king of all play gyms - and i was not to be dissapointed. Inside we went and first up tested out the massive rope swings, then the slides, but found them to be quite slow and a bit wet. But a Dad who was there with his two daughters gave us two plastic bags to sit on for going down the slides, and they made such a dramatic difference! My word - these would have to be the coolest slides i have probably ever been on. And this is just another example of how nice the Glaswiegens are. After a quick play on a very crazy rotating swing, we set off in search of the play gym for those 18+, but figured it would probably be in the shady part of town...

Highlands and Hogmany

Early in the morning we rose, and very much enjoyed our complimentary breakfast (a couple of notches up from the usual cereal and toast of youth hostels) before racing to find George square where we would meet our tour operator who would take us all around the Scottish higlands. After a few moments of panic caused by the changes to the square because of that nights new years celebrations we found him and claimed the back seats of the 30 seater bus. Our tour guide 'Billy' spoke with a fantastic Scottish accent and made sure that we answered with an 'Eye' not a 'yes'. In that day we covered over 600kms and saw some fantastic scenery as well as having a cruise on the eery Loch Ness. I didn't see any monsters, but i wouldn't deny that one could live there. It is over 23 miles long and up to 300 metres deep in places! Througout the trip Billy told us stories about the old Scots and the country side, dropping in lots of fun Scottish sayings. My favourite was 'When i get back i'm going to have a cheeky wee drop of malt whisky, not your mamby pamby blended stuff'. When we did arrive back it was dark so we had a quick bit to eat and headed out to see the Hogmany (what the Scots call New years)celebrations.
We didn't have tickets to enter the square and see the celebrations, but thanks to some very helpful random Scots (who we could barely understand) we secured some and went inside with the other 17000 Glaswiegens. The band 'the view' played and then we counted down to 12:00 where Old lantine was played and everyone sung, and then Loch Lomond, which we had learnt the words to on our tour
"you take the high road,
and i'll take the low road
and i'll be in Scotland before you"
After this we shook hands with and kissed the people we were standing next too, and fought our way through the crowds back to our motel

London to Glasgow

We only just managed to catch our coach to Glasgow (we arrived just as the final boarding call was announced) bus once on board enjoyed the opportunity to see a great deal of Englands green country side during the day time, which lasts for about 8 hours and is slightly lighter than the night time. I sat next to a red headed twin from Manchester who was studying in Germany this year. It's not everyday that you get to meet single twins,(i mean seeing one and not the other - she had a boyfriend) so i gave her a good grilling on the sort of funny twin things that you always want to know if they actually happen ie. Do you dress the same? (quite often actually) Have you played any games on people where you switch places? (yes, changed classes quite often in primary school) Can you feel when she is in trouble, like a superhero? (no, that is silly). After she got off the bus at Manchester i started reading the book of Shirlock Holmes stories that Emma gave me for Christmas and tried applying what i had learned to people on the bus. I deduced that the girl sitting opposite me was less 18 years old, from a well to do family, was interested in trivial things such as fashion, had just come back from a trip to see some close relatives, and over the past 6 months had lost a lot of weight. I figured this as she wore fashionable clothing (ugh boots, jeans, nice top) but the jeans were too big for her, not the tight fitting form worn by girls her age. The boots were not worn suggesting they were not her only pain, she ate sandwiches and fruit and read a reality tv magazine boasting 'best celeb diets' and she carried a sleeping bag...So i'm not on the same level as Holmes (he would be able to tell you not only what pet's her neighbour had but their names aswell) but really, who is?
Finally after ten hours and about 600kms travelled we arrived in Glasgow and found our hotel within 2 minutes. The receptionist John was very lovely and we asked him a couple of questions regarding where we could get food and how to get to the tourist information centre. He had the most marvelous Scottish accent, and must have dropped in about seven 'wee's' in the five minutes we were talking to him - fantastic! After dropping our stuff in our room, we wandered down the street and bought some food at a fish and chip shop, one of the only ones still open (it was 10'oclock on a Sunday night). Because i promised my sister Dru that i would try haggis so i bought one (deep fried) and a burger(which turned out to just be a patty deep fried), some chips and a bottle of IRN BRU, a scottish fizzy drink. Back in the hotel we broke the haggis into three and munched away. Andrea knocked hers back, saying that the smell was alot worse then the actual taste. I would agree with that, but the taste for me came in two waves. Initially it didn't taste too bad, but then just before you swallowed it, it began to taste like how it smelled. And it's smell remined me of a sheep that Dad and i had to shift that had died and layed in the sun for three or four days, at the time i was close to throwing up, and this haggis put me in a similar position. Nevertheless i finished three mouthfuls of the stuff, so i can say that i've tried it!

Madam Tussauds and Monty Python

I met my Yankie pals early in the morning and we decided to walk to Madam Tussauds Wax mueseum, which took us up along Baker street, the same street where Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's famous Character Shirlock Holmes lived in the late 19th Century. After getting our tickets checked by the Australian man at the entrance to the wax mueseum, we busseled our way into the main viewing room along with a mass of other people. The models were all very clever, and it was easy to mistake one for an actual person as they were all just planted around the room, i was pretty impressed with Samuel L. Jackson and John Travolta, but i was dissapointed to find that just like my mate Tom Cruise, i would also be too short to date Nicole Kidman... We then walked through a couple of other themed rooms - pirates of the caribean, more celebs, sports people, royals, house of horrors, and then a history of the mueseum. Apparently, Mary Tussaud was commissioned in France in 17 hundred and something to make death masks of the French royal families who had been decapitated after the revolution. She kept copies for herself and went touring the country showing them to people, and slowly expanding her collection. So this light hearted attraction has a bit of a grizzly beginning.
After this we walked down the immensely busy Oxford street to get to Londons West end where we were going to see the Spamalot musical show. The street was so packed as a result of christmas shopping that we had to walk in a row behind each other just to make any forward progress. The musical was fantastic, losely based on 'the search for the holy grail' Monty Python movie, but with other fantastic additions such as a line of men doing a Russian dance that yelled 'Hay!' when an old lady dragging a cart of straw walked accross the stage. Classic stuff.

From Suffolk to Seppos

On the 27th i took a coach back to London and stayed at my Great Aunt Alison's place. The following day was my birthday and Emma my Dad's cousin came around and we had a marvellous big breakfast. I then ventured into Bayswater, a suburb in London to meet up with my American friend Andrea and her boyfriend Adam. I met them no probs at the hostel that they were staying at and we had an all you can eat pizza lunch for only £5 down the street, before i took them on a walk all accross London. Having spent about a month in this massive city i was just like a tour guide, which felt a little odd, but i think i did a good job. We walked through Hyde park, past Buckingham palace, the Guards avenue, Trafalger square, along the Thames opposite the London eye, past Big Ben and the houses of parliament and over Westminster bridge where we bought some roasted nuts. By this time my Seppo* pals were quite exhausted having been up for 18 hours and were a bit jet lagged, so we called it a day and went our separate ways. When i was back at Alisons i had a fantastic bath with almond oil, the lights dimmed, a good book, and rain tapping on the skylight - what an ace way to finish a 20th birthday!

*slang term for Americans (Americans are often called yanks which rhymes with tanks, septic tank = Seppo)

Wet not white Christmas

I stayed with my Great Aunt Betty for the week up to Christmas in a small farm house in Suffolk. We spent our time sitting in front of the tele drinking cups of tea, knitting and talking about family, English culture and the past. It was fantastic, i really enjoyed having a time to just vege out after all the travelling around.
For Christmas we opened pressies (Donnie got me some slippers to wear about he house, they are fantastic old mans ones in rich red and some other fun goodies) and then had a great big lunch at Kate's place (my 2nd cousin) of turkey with all the trimmings. I ate an aweful lot. After dinner we watched the Queens speech and a bit of tele, had a walk outside and then Donnie and I went back to her place and did a bit more knitting. All in all a most enjoyable day.
Apart from the obvious temperature differences between Australian and England Christmas' there are also a couple of other ones. As a result of the seasons Britons spend more time inside and therefore watch television on Christmas day. I have never done this at all before. The stations get right on board showing favourites like 'my fair lady' and the 'great escape' every year as well as more kiddy friendly movies. The English also play cheesy christmassy songs on the radio like Maria Carie, Cliff Richards and the Pogues. They are terribly catchy. Becky gave me a CD full of them so i can play them all when i get back home - hooray! I both love and hate them at the same time - but they will always bring back good memories.

Oh and it rained not snowed.