So it's day two at work, there are a million things to do and everything is still super quiet in the office. Everything apart from my tummy, of course.
Because Krusty wasn't happy just making my brain explode by dragging me up a mountain, he has also given me a terrible stomach bug that made a really good impression in the office.
I ran to the bathroom a total of 15 times, including once after having just come back from the toilet, and then, at 3pm, I just had to announce that I was going home. I just couldn't stay and live through the torture. Without mentioning that I was making a million mistakes because I couldn't concentrate...
But the fact that I'll have to go into work tomorrow trying to ignore the stares and that I have had to cancel and therefore lose a great freelance job is not the worst thing about this situation - on the way home, in the middle of the Sheung Wan market, I had a little 'accident'. Perhaps it was the smell of the dried seafood, perhaps it was the illness, whatever - it was the most embarrassing thing that has happened to me in connection with my concentration camp of a job.
I'm off to find a cave in which to hide.
29 April 2008
28 April 2008
First day at work
I officially got my visa on Saturday, so today I went to the office without checking to see if the visa police was following me. The day went a bit like this:
8am: Get ready, get set, go
9.15am: Cry a little in the toilets after realising how much work I had to do
11.50am: Cry some more to Krusty over the phone
1pm: Announce I was going to have lunch to a completely silent office
1.20pm: Run back to work feeling guilty I had taken a whole 20 mins to eat
1.25pm: Realise that no one has left the office for their lunch yet
2pm: Stare in disbelief as people were still silently working
3pm: Try to choke my third batch of tears as people start eating in front of their screens
5pm: Start to relax as the end of the day approaches
5.05pm: Start to cry as my boss tells me it's going to be a late one
7pm: Stare in disbelief as no one leaves the office
8pm: Stare in disbelief with bulging eyes as no one has moved yet
8.30pm: Sip the glass of champagne that the boss has finally decided to open to toast my first day
8.31pm: Get back to work, we're not here to have fun
9.30pm: Leave the office, exhausted
9.45pm: Received a call from freelance job no 2 asking me whether I can come in and work a shift until midnight
9.46pm: Laugh in disbelief and postpone the shift until tomorrow
9.50pm: Cry with bitter laughter at the pace of life that awaits me
And now, at 11.45pm, I have finally finished working on my "bit on the side" and am ready to go to bed before tomorrow's workathon. Repeat the mantra: work hard, play later, work hard, play later, work hard, play later...
At least I have a lovely home office to come back to now, as the rubble has been cleared away to leave the path open for the door that has been knocked through. I leave you with some pictures of the birth of our second room. Ta ta and bonne nuit.
8am: Get ready, get set, go
9.15am: Cry a little in the toilets after realising how much work I had to do
11.50am: Cry some more to Krusty over the phone
1pm: Announce I was going to have lunch to a completely silent office
1.20pm: Run back to work feeling guilty I had taken a whole 20 mins to eat
1.25pm: Realise that no one has left the office for their lunch yet
2pm: Stare in disbelief as people were still silently working
3pm: Try to choke my third batch of tears as people start eating in front of their screens
5pm: Start to relax as the end of the day approaches
5.05pm: Start to cry as my boss tells me it's going to be a late one
7pm: Stare in disbelief as no one leaves the office
8pm: Stare in disbelief with bulging eyes as no one has moved yet
8.30pm: Sip the glass of champagne that the boss has finally decided to open to toast my first day
8.31pm: Get back to work, we're not here to have fun
9.30pm: Leave the office, exhausted
9.45pm: Received a call from freelance job no 2 asking me whether I can come in and work a shift until midnight
9.46pm: Laugh in disbelief and postpone the shift until tomorrow
9.50pm: Cry with bitter laughter at the pace of life that awaits me
And now, at 11.45pm, I have finally finished working on my "bit on the side" and am ready to go to bed before tomorrow's workathon. Repeat the mantra: work hard, play later, work hard, play later, work hard, play later...
At least I have a lovely home office to come back to now, as the rubble has been cleared away to leave the path open for the door that has been knocked through. I leave you with some pictures of the birth of our second room. Ta ta and bonne nuit.
A wheeley, wheeley bad day. Almost as bad as that pun, in fact...
So far, my experience of cycling has been a few long rides out into the marshes of the infamously flat Ile de Re and a 10-minute adrenaline charged daily ride to work in London. I thought I had a good idea what cycling was from that, and until today, I thought I had a pretty good idea what a mountain bike was for.
I hadn't.
I should have known that the day was going to be a bad one when Krusty stormed in saying, "come on, get up, we're going to be late!" When I asked him what we were late for, he informed me that we were going to be joining his colleague as he went over to Lantau Island to do some cycling. This was the first I had heard about this plan, it seemed, until Krusty reminded me that in an elan of self-belief the previous night, after a few glasses of absinthe, I had indeed suggested that we join him on his trip. That's absinthe added to the increasingly long list of alcohols I will never drink again, then.
So we caught the ferry to Mui Wo and rented some bikes. Some mountain bikes. The trail started really nicely, and I started to get my cycling legs back. 10 minutes later, we were at the bottom of a flight of stairs, with the increasingly worrying colleague saying, "and now we carry our bikes up." It was midday, we hadn't had any lunch, it was a white migraine-inducing day of 30 degrees with 110% humidity, the stairs were steeper than those that usually make me look for the escalators, and I was supposed to carry my bike?! I assumed this was just to get to the trail so I (sort of) happily lifted it up and skipped (yeah right, I mean slugged) up the steps.
The trail began nicely, we learned how to climb over rocks and then ride down them, gradually gaining confidence and having more fun. Two hours later we were at a tiny village near a reservoir, thinking that this was actually worth it. And also secretly thinking "yes, that will do nicely, now where's the nearest restaurant?" But no, we had only come one third of the way, we were told. There was no turning back really, and only more of the same to come, only with a "little more of a workout" as described by the man who thought that the crazy all-terrain course we had just done was actually just a warm up. It was like being taken to the top of a piste noire in the Alps, without actually knowing how to ski. Or as if someone had invited us for a light jog only to tell us half way through that we were actually running a marathon and could not turn back.
But hey, we're not the kind of people who give up (and to be honest when you are at the top of a mountain surrounded by mosquitoes with a rocky path behind you, you don't really have the option anyway), so on we went.
Of course, the more tired I got the more scared I got, and the more scared I got the more tense I was, until it was almost impossible for me to do anything right. The boys had trailed ahead as I slowly made my way between ravine and boulders, and then it happened. I was going at a snail's pace, but still, as if in slow motion, I fell over the front of my bike, ripping my trousers and scraping my arms and legs. As I shouted out in pain, I heard Krusty shout too... Was he making fun of me? I finally caught up to find out that he had fallen over at exactly the same moment as me. Even in the direst situation and without even seeing me, he still manages to be romantic, bless him.
There was of course no short cut to the nearest chemist, so on we went again. By this time some vessel must have popped in my head because my brain felt like a shriveled prune, my temples were pumping and my headache was so bad that my eyes kept closing, blocking my vision of the very present obstacles in front of me. I felt like I was going to throw up, I was crying, and yet here was this guy telling me I could "do it". And the last thing I wanted on top of all my pain was to lose face and look like a sissy. Although at the next set of steps I did let him take a bit of weight off me, watching him run up like a mountain goat with one bike on each shoulder...
At least I was colour-coordinated with my pain, my red trousers picking up the tint of my grazed knee quite nicely, providing an accent of colour to remind the purple tones of my face. Fashion forever.
So we finally arrived at Pui O beach, Krusty exhausted, me crying my eyes out and the colleague all spritely suggesting we cycle back because he didn't feel like he had had enough of a workout (I had kept him from shooting off, poor guy). We did see some stunning scenes, though, which almost made me forget the suffering. There were more butterflies than I have ever encountered in the wild, tranquil waters with just the sound of cicadas, no jackhammers, and a rock at the top overlooking an abandoned beach...
It was on this rock that I asked the colleague where he got the scar on his back from. Turns out, this guy who climbs mountains as if he were on a conveyor belt was born with a condition that meant that he had to have one of his lungs removed at the age of 20. He was running on half the lung capacity we had!
Back at the ferry, we got some Tiger Balm to rub on our booboos. It felt great and, following the instructions to rub it wherever it hurts, I started massaging my temples with it. Until some got into my eye... As if I hadn't had enough pain already, I effectively managed to mace myself, making it impossible to see anything for the next 20 minutes. I told you; I had a feeling when I woke up that this was a day I would have been better off spending in bed...
But at least I had my pride. I had finished, after all. I hadn't been a 'girl' and told them to carry me and my bike home. I had soldiered on, with blood running down my legs and pumping in my brain. I was just as good as the colleague, really.
That's when he told us, casually, that he had actually been out the night before until 7am, having effectively had only 3 and a 1/2 hours' sleep.
Next time Krusty wakes me up to tell me that his bionic colleague with one lung has been out partying and wants to go cycling, I'll know what to say: "It's OK I already have the photos of that part of Hong Kong, let's go and visit one of the cinemas, instead"...
I hadn't.
I should have known that the day was going to be a bad one when Krusty stormed in saying, "come on, get up, we're going to be late!" When I asked him what we were late for, he informed me that we were going to be joining his colleague as he went over to Lantau Island to do some cycling. This was the first I had heard about this plan, it seemed, until Krusty reminded me that in an elan of self-belief the previous night, after a few glasses of absinthe, I had indeed suggested that we join him on his trip. That's absinthe added to the increasingly long list of alcohols I will never drink again, then.
So we caught the ferry to Mui Wo and rented some bikes. Some mountain bikes. The trail started really nicely, and I started to get my cycling legs back. 10 minutes later, we were at the bottom of a flight of stairs, with the increasingly worrying colleague saying, "and now we carry our bikes up." It was midday, we hadn't had any lunch, it was a white migraine-inducing day of 30 degrees with 110% humidity, the stairs were steeper than those that usually make me look for the escalators, and I was supposed to carry my bike?! I assumed this was just to get to the trail so I (sort of) happily lifted it up and skipped (yeah right, I mean slugged) up the steps.
The trail began nicely, we learned how to climb over rocks and then ride down them, gradually gaining confidence and having more fun. Two hours later we were at a tiny village near a reservoir, thinking that this was actually worth it. And also secretly thinking "yes, that will do nicely, now where's the nearest restaurant?" But no, we had only come one third of the way, we were told. There was no turning back really, and only more of the same to come, only with a "little more of a workout" as described by the man who thought that the crazy all-terrain course we had just done was actually just a warm up. It was like being taken to the top of a piste noire in the Alps, without actually knowing how to ski. Or as if someone had invited us for a light jog only to tell us half way through that we were actually running a marathon and could not turn back.
But hey, we're not the kind of people who give up (and to be honest when you are at the top of a mountain surrounded by mosquitoes with a rocky path behind you, you don't really have the option anyway), so on we went.
Of course, the more tired I got the more scared I got, and the more scared I got the more tense I was, until it was almost impossible for me to do anything right. The boys had trailed ahead as I slowly made my way between ravine and boulders, and then it happened. I was going at a snail's pace, but still, as if in slow motion, I fell over the front of my bike, ripping my trousers and scraping my arms and legs. As I shouted out in pain, I heard Krusty shout too... Was he making fun of me? I finally caught up to find out that he had fallen over at exactly the same moment as me. Even in the direst situation and without even seeing me, he still manages to be romantic, bless him.
There was of course no short cut to the nearest chemist, so on we went again. By this time some vessel must have popped in my head because my brain felt like a shriveled prune, my temples were pumping and my headache was so bad that my eyes kept closing, blocking my vision of the very present obstacles in front of me. I felt like I was going to throw up, I was crying, and yet here was this guy telling me I could "do it". And the last thing I wanted on top of all my pain was to lose face and look like a sissy. Although at the next set of steps I did let him take a bit of weight off me, watching him run up like a mountain goat with one bike on each shoulder...
At least I was colour-coordinated with my pain, my red trousers picking up the tint of my grazed knee quite nicely, providing an accent of colour to remind the purple tones of my face. Fashion forever.
So we finally arrived at Pui O beach, Krusty exhausted, me crying my eyes out and the colleague all spritely suggesting we cycle back because he didn't feel like he had had enough of a workout (I had kept him from shooting off, poor guy). We did see some stunning scenes, though, which almost made me forget the suffering. There were more butterflies than I have ever encountered in the wild, tranquil waters with just the sound of cicadas, no jackhammers, and a rock at the top overlooking an abandoned beach...
It was on this rock that I asked the colleague where he got the scar on his back from. Turns out, this guy who climbs mountains as if he were on a conveyor belt was born with a condition that meant that he had to have one of his lungs removed at the age of 20. He was running on half the lung capacity we had!
Back at the ferry, we got some Tiger Balm to rub on our booboos. It felt great and, following the instructions to rub it wherever it hurts, I started massaging my temples with it. Until some got into my eye... As if I hadn't had enough pain already, I effectively managed to mace myself, making it impossible to see anything for the next 20 minutes. I told you; I had a feeling when I woke up that this was a day I would have been better off spending in bed...
But at least I had my pride. I had finished, after all. I hadn't been a 'girl' and told them to carry me and my bike home. I had soldiered on, with blood running down my legs and pumping in my brain. I was just as good as the colleague, really.
That's when he told us, casually, that he had actually been out the night before until 7am, having effectively had only 3 and a 1/2 hours' sleep.
Next time Krusty wakes me up to tell me that his bionic colleague with one lung has been out partying and wants to go cycling, I'll know what to say: "It's OK I already have the photos of that part of Hong Kong, let's go and visit one of the cinemas, instead"...
18 April 2008
Rage against the machine
I can confirm that 'boom boom boom' is a completely accurate description of what has been going on in the flat - and in my head - for the last two days. Onwards...
16 April 2008
Like being bashed over the head with a meat cleaver
Had my first full day of work in the office today. I can't say there was much of a team spirit in the office, or any sign of merriment for that matter. But the boss was unbelievably nice to me, which is a real relief because his kindness does NOT translate to his emails... So at least I know he is human after all.
The job, however... Hmmm... I feel so confused, because it is a relatively easy job that I am finding really difficult to do. I haven't figured out why yet. Is it because it is so easy that I am bored? Or because I am scared to be told off again? Or because it looks easy but actually is very hard? I am leaning towards the latter at the moment, only because I can't seem to hit the mark yet. I suppose it's good to work for someone with high standards. And I finally understand the whole Devil Wears Prada thing...
Anyway, after my 9am to 7pm day (I announced I was leaving although everyone was still in the office, I don't want to set a precedent of leaving really late. And I had finished what I had to do of course) I got home to my second job - freelancing. Not sure how this is going to work out really, but I could use the work today anyway as Krusty is away in Korea and the whole flat has been covered in sheets in preparation for tomorrow's boom boom boom. Yes, boom boom boom. This is officially what our contractor calls hammering a giant hole in our wall that leads to our new room next door.
It's just a shame I am working from home tomorrow. Today I feel like my brain has been smashed with a meat cleaver all day. What will it feel like after listening to 12 hours of thick concrete wall destruction?
The job, however... Hmmm... I feel so confused, because it is a relatively easy job that I am finding really difficult to do. I haven't figured out why yet. Is it because it is so easy that I am bored? Or because I am scared to be told off again? Or because it looks easy but actually is very hard? I am leaning towards the latter at the moment, only because I can't seem to hit the mark yet. I suppose it's good to work for someone with high standards. And I finally understand the whole Devil Wears Prada thing...
Anyway, after my 9am to 7pm day (I announced I was leaving although everyone was still in the office, I don't want to set a precedent of leaving really late. And I had finished what I had to do of course) I got home to my second job - freelancing. Not sure how this is going to work out really, but I could use the work today anyway as Krusty is away in Korea and the whole flat has been covered in sheets in preparation for tomorrow's boom boom boom. Yes, boom boom boom. This is officially what our contractor calls hammering a giant hole in our wall that leads to our new room next door.
It's just a shame I am working from home tomorrow. Today I feel like my brain has been smashed with a meat cleaver all day. What will it feel like after listening to 12 hours of thick concrete wall destruction?
15 April 2008
Such a strange day
After spending the day on a boat with a wrinkly old man and his yellow teeth telling me about budgie smuggling and the girl who licked the flip flop in India to lose weight but then died, I didn't think my week could get any stranger.
How wrong I was.
Monday morning started like any self-respecting Monday morning: with an email from my boss telling me how "godawful" my recent work had been. Encouraging. As I moped around, a freak accident led to me managing to pull out the pyrex jug from under the counter armed only with a plastic bag, leading it to crash to the ground and smash directly on my foot. Now this is the second thing I have smashed in the flat in a week... I am starting to get a little worried. Not least because if you follow the superstition through these things are supposed to come in threes... What's next?! And will it also happen on a Monday? I must consult the stars...!
Actually, I should consult something, because that wasn't the only bad thing to come. In fact, at the precise instant that the Pyrex jug smashed on the floor and injured my foot, Krusty was receiving news that the buyers of his flat were getting cold feet and wanted to reduce the price of the sale. Poo. Just when we thought we were out of the dark and the sollicitor's had upped the ante, here we are finding out that there might not even be a sale after all... Then again, I reminded Krusty that if the sale falls through he still has a flat left that he can sell again; it's not like he has cancer or, like my friends, a two-month premature baby that's in ICU and has only just opened his eyes after two weeks... But that's another story.
Anyway, when Krusty got back from work we decided it might be a good time to go out for dinner and forget the day's news, so we staggered along our street to the "Sheung Wan Cooked Food Market", which had been intriguing us for a few days. Turns out it's just a hawker centre with incredibly cheap food stalls arranged around some tables. We chose the Nepalese stall, and we did not forsee what a huge international incident that would result in... The kind lady took our order and told us to sit where we wanted so we chose a table with two chairs just to the right of her stall. After our first sip of tea, a Chinese guy with a bad teeth and a cap came to us, screaming "this my table!" At first we just thought "fine, we'll just move", but our Nepalese hostess ordered us to stay put, scowling at the guy and telling us that these tables belong to everyone. Obviously there was a territorial history there, but we were just left white in the middle of the tiny but incredibly tough Nepalese girl and the tower of insults that was her agressor. After a while a heavily tatooed guy came to moderate the discussion, and we were just left with a room full of diners pointing and whispering at us. Scary!
We dragged ourselves home, exhausted from the excitement of it all, and just as we were turning the key in the door, we heard loud shouts coming from the roof. But of course the day wasn't over, what were we thinking?! We got up there to find Joseph, a Phillipino man from over the road, feeding a cable from the next building to our roof to get better reception. We asked him if he thought that was an OK thing to do on our property, but he proceeded to point out all of the other satellite dishes and long, long wires leading from our roof to all the neighbouring ones. Hmmm... Well, he was relaxed about it, the guard downstairs was relaxed about it, who are we, "office sharing" in a commercial building to complain?
So we finally went in and changed into our PJs. Krusty started telling me about his day and a company he had been reading about on the internet as I pulled on my trouser bottoms. Something was wrong though, like there was a breeze somewhere behind me... I touched the back of my trousers as Krusty continued his story. As soon as he said the company's name, Rearview, I found a GIANT tear in the back of my PJs through which my rear could be viewed by all. What an incredibly well-timed punchline to an incredibly long and ridiculous day!
I wonder what today will bring. The contractor is coming to knock a hole in the wall leading to our second bedroom, so I can only fear the worst...
How wrong I was.
Monday morning started like any self-respecting Monday morning: with an email from my boss telling me how "godawful" my recent work had been. Encouraging. As I moped around, a freak accident led to me managing to pull out the pyrex jug from under the counter armed only with a plastic bag, leading it to crash to the ground and smash directly on my foot. Now this is the second thing I have smashed in the flat in a week... I am starting to get a little worried. Not least because if you follow the superstition through these things are supposed to come in threes... What's next?! And will it also happen on a Monday? I must consult the stars...!
Actually, I should consult something, because that wasn't the only bad thing to come. In fact, at the precise instant that the Pyrex jug smashed on the floor and injured my foot, Krusty was receiving news that the buyers of his flat were getting cold feet and wanted to reduce the price of the sale. Poo. Just when we thought we were out of the dark and the sollicitor's had upped the ante, here we are finding out that there might not even be a sale after all... Then again, I reminded Krusty that if the sale falls through he still has a flat left that he can sell again; it's not like he has cancer or, like my friends, a two-month premature baby that's in ICU and has only just opened his eyes after two weeks... But that's another story.
Anyway, when Krusty got back from work we decided it might be a good time to go out for dinner and forget the day's news, so we staggered along our street to the "Sheung Wan Cooked Food Market", which had been intriguing us for a few days. Turns out it's just a hawker centre with incredibly cheap food stalls arranged around some tables. We chose the Nepalese stall, and we did not forsee what a huge international incident that would result in... The kind lady took our order and told us to sit where we wanted so we chose a table with two chairs just to the right of her stall. After our first sip of tea, a Chinese guy with a bad teeth and a cap came to us, screaming "this my table!" At first we just thought "fine, we'll just move", but our Nepalese hostess ordered us to stay put, scowling at the guy and telling us that these tables belong to everyone. Obviously there was a territorial history there, but we were just left white in the middle of the tiny but incredibly tough Nepalese girl and the tower of insults that was her agressor. After a while a heavily tatooed guy came to moderate the discussion, and we were just left with a room full of diners pointing and whispering at us. Scary!
We dragged ourselves home, exhausted from the excitement of it all, and just as we were turning the key in the door, we heard loud shouts coming from the roof. But of course the day wasn't over, what were we thinking?! We got up there to find Joseph, a Phillipino man from over the road, feeding a cable from the next building to our roof to get better reception. We asked him if he thought that was an OK thing to do on our property, but he proceeded to point out all of the other satellite dishes and long, long wires leading from our roof to all the neighbouring ones. Hmmm... Well, he was relaxed about it, the guard downstairs was relaxed about it, who are we, "office sharing" in a commercial building to complain?
So we finally went in and changed into our PJs. Krusty started telling me about his day and a company he had been reading about on the internet as I pulled on my trouser bottoms. Something was wrong though, like there was a breeze somewhere behind me... I touched the back of my trousers as Krusty continued his story. As soon as he said the company's name, Rearview, I found a GIANT tear in the back of my PJs through which my rear could be viewed by all. What an incredibly well-timed punchline to an incredibly long and ridiculous day!
I wonder what today will bring. The contractor is coming to knock a hole in the wall leading to our second bedroom, so I can only fear the worst...
07 April 2008
Full time, over time, all the time
I have been working like a DOG recently (do dogs really work that hard?), managing to get jobs on a bank holiday and working on weekends, too... And Krusty didn't complain once, bless him.
So after all of that craziness, I was really pleased to take a 'personal' day today to welcome the arrival of our boxes from London! After almost two months of waiting, they arrived safe and sound and, I am proud to add, with not one item broken.
The boxes were full of stuff that I had completely forgotten about, which just goes to show how little you actually need to live comfortably. And strangely, because I am so used to living in the empty-ish flat, not it almost seems too full and all of the things from my past home seem out of place in my new home. Strange!
Thankfully I managed to make a little room by, ironically, trying to make the flat beautiful - I framed Stan's great pic of Tower Bridge that I had just had printed, and then put it behind the lovely antique Chinese chess set that I had bought for Krusty. Of course, I was assuming that I had become 'stylish homemaker' gitane, and not the usual 'clumsy dimwit' gitane that I am. So of course as soon as I turned my back it all came crashing down... Time to stop proofreading for 12 hours straight and start getting some rest...
So after all of that craziness, I was really pleased to take a 'personal' day today to welcome the arrival of our boxes from London! After almost two months of waiting, they arrived safe and sound and, I am proud to add, with not one item broken.
The boxes were full of stuff that I had completely forgotten about, which just goes to show how little you actually need to live comfortably. And strangely, because I am so used to living in the empty-ish flat, not it almost seems too full and all of the things from my past home seem out of place in my new home. Strange!
Thankfully I managed to make a little room by, ironically, trying to make the flat beautiful - I framed Stan's great pic of Tower Bridge that I had just had printed, and then put it behind the lovely antique Chinese chess set that I had bought for Krusty. Of course, I was assuming that I had become 'stylish homemaker' gitane, and not the usual 'clumsy dimwit' gitane that I am. So of course as soon as I turned my back it all came crashing down... Time to stop proofreading for 12 hours straight and start getting some rest...
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