The Attendant

Housebound for the next few days, I'm being held captive by my ankle- or what used to be my ankle and now resembles a rainbow Pufferfish minus the spikes.

Some rather eventful occurrences have taken place since I last checked in.

Firstly, and most importantly, my darling best friend Natty P has had her baby. Welcome to the world Maddox Benjamin McGregor! I am so very looking forward to meeting you beautiful boy. If I were face to face with you now I would say something like this to you.

“I promise to love you, lie for you and teach you all manner of things cheeky like good Aunty's should.” And then I'd follow it up with “Scout's honour” or some other equivalent as I'm not, nor have I ever been, a Scout. But you get the point.

Now when I heard this news, it was approximately 7pm and I had just spent a whole 5 hours basking in the warmth of the sun in the park (we call them “Commons” here) with some new friends. Drinking, eating a picnic lunch, napping and playing ball (the latter of which led to my right leg's demise) was definitely an ideal way to spend the afternoon.

So after a (mostly) idyllic afternoon, I received wonderful wonderful news and proceeded to sob with furiously happy tears all the way down the street.

And now the serious backdating begins....

Friday night we caught up with the Zanas crew and a few extras at an outrageously cool venue called Hootenannys in Brixton. As if the ska/reggae music with a live 11-piece band wasn't already painting my kind of atmosphere, the beer garden itself contained no less than 300 people from all walks of life just hanging out and intermingling.

I was in my element! This place was so in tune with culture that everyone was mixing- parking their bums beside a stranger for five minutes then wandering off to the next group for a chat. If this had been Australia, you'd have had Aussies in the blue corner, Lebs in the Red, Asians on their little piece of turf and Blacks staking a claim anywhere else.

There'd have been no idle conversation at the late night Taco Tent because each group would have insisted on their own private one.

Ok, I know this is a massive generalisation, but the point I am trying to make is that being here at this particular venue really highlighted to me the difference in attitude towards different cultures and races. I'm learning that racism here is still in existence, but I personally feel as if it's on a much smaller scale in comparison to Australia.

Maybe the fact that everyone was so chilled and open at this place had a little something to do with all the spliffs being passed around freely, but I was thoroughly enjoying the free love that night. More of it, I say.

Ooh! It was this eve also, that I came across another little interesting quirk about this side of the world. Inside the female bathrooms, there is an “Attendant”. That isn't their official title as far as I'm aware, but it's the closest thing I can think of to describe them.

Hairspray, Bobby Pins, Lipstick, Mascara and Snickers bars cover the bench area in front of the mirrors. There is a little tray with coins on it beside all this, and there in the midst of it all, The Attendant sits. You want a little touch up? You donate.

Upon exiting a cubicle and washing your hands, your glassy eyes search fervently for a blowdryer or paper towels. Just as their appears to be none, a wad of blue hand towels are thrust in your face by our friend, The Attendant, who is exclaiming “Make me happy, make me happy!”

Bewildered by such passion, you take the towel thankfully, and exit with a befuddled smile.

Once outside you may be approached by another patron who witnessed this exchange, who explains the rudeness in your actions. It is customary to tip. Yes, even for just accepting the wad of paper towel.

Ashamed by my naivety, I make a point to drop a pound in the saucer next time I visit the bathroom. When The Attendant jumps to her feet, a smile from London to Tassie brightening that beautiful face, and I'm enveloped in one of the genuinely warmest hugs I have ever been given, I know that I have made the right choice in embracing this tradition.

I'm going to sign off with a few points which I have noted throughout the week.

1. Pork here is cheaper than veggies and tastes simply divine.
2. Store bought crumbed fish gives my mouth half an orgasm.
3. London houses more tall people than I have EVER seen in my life. In an average day I will generally witness at least three, and when I say tall I mean over 2m.
4. Most of the tall people I have seen have been women. I'd like to call them Amazons except I cannot overlook the fact that these women are all stunning and slight of frame. Bloody European models...
5. Jeggings. There appears to be a huge obsession with them over here. They actually have big signs and shelves dedicated to the things. Taryn Ryan, eat your heart out.
6. I don't care how cute your butt is, tights are NOT an acceptable substitute for pants !

Unicorns and Chilli Sauce

I'd like to start by saying that the reason I haven't checked in for a while is because I've been on a week long bender fuelled by partying, sex, drugs and a lot of booze.

I'd also like a unicorn but I hear they're extinct.

Actually I've been surprisingly well behaved on this continent thus far- the last few days have been completely about me sorting out/editing my audio and show reels. It's been long and stressful and I've barely left the house. I stink of three day old underwear and there's food in my 'stache but I'm staying optimistic... there will be all the time in the world for mischief and mayhem in a couple of weeks, so now is the time to be productive!

Speaking of productive, I've already lined myself up a job. Working in promo again, but hey- I'm overqualified and it's instant $$$. MY GOD! That reminds me- I'm going to take this opportunity to warn all of you back home just how low the wage is here for the standard person. I'm on 10quid/hr base... but keep those jaws tied up because apparently if you work behind a bar it's less than that, and I know landscapers working up their heatstroke for 7Quid. Ok, permission to drop jaws now.

The plus side is that food and clothing works out cheaper than on our little island.

Still, if you have a “skill”, they are in high demand constantly for you over here, and boy do you get the big bucks. So... contemplate it.

I've been having a blast staying with Gareth (I like to call him Gaz but I sound like a bogan when I put it in writing). Already I feel so well educated. I know that, given the choice, I should buy booze from an off premise and not the supermarket. At our local corner store you get 6 for 6 (cans for pounds) if you pay cash. It's mix and match beer and includes cider! Just to compare, I can buy three ciders at the supermarket for 10.99...

Gareth has introduced me to this incredibly tasty hot chilli sauce and I'm slowly becoming addicted (who'd have thought?!). There's a great little Vietnamese restaurant nearby which serves the stuff. We've been there twice this week! In fact just last night it was like a Zanas reunion (minus some of the key players.) Flop and Jay Jay have just arrived on holiday, Nick has lived here since Feb, and of course there is Gaz and now myself. It makes you pause to marvel at how people weave in and out of each other's paths in life. I wonder who will twist around me next?

Last week I had a chance to walk around London. Wow. I only hit the tip of the iceberg but so many gorgeous buildings with such history! I can only imagine how my mind will be blown throughout Europe... And those who know me well will understand the impact that being in West End had on me. I'm not admitting to anything, but is it foreseeable that a person MAY be overwhelmed enough to evoke that icky wet salty stuff? I mean, hypothetically of course. I have this friend...

Strolling along, mouth agape, I recall experiencing a strong sense of deja vu. Fleet St, The Strand, Pall Mall, Covent Garden, Bond St, Mayfair, Park Lane.... it was just like being in a Monopoly game! Screw being the bank- I'm the ultimate playing piece! Who's gonna want the shoe now?

Ha. That reminds me. There is a Monopoly Pub Crawl. No, I am not kidding. What fun! It seems one starts about 10am and finishes at dawn the following morning, hopping from pub to pub at each location on the board game. Of course, things run behind, and it is inevitable that a shot will have to be had at certain venues instead of a whole drink. You know, just to get back on top of things.

Being a fellow Aussie, Gaz understands the importance of undertaking such a rite of passage, and is assisting in my training. One must be pub fit after all!
Which meant that I recently spent 8hrs at the pub, and I wasn't playing pool. Actually a lot of my time was occupied being chatted up by a homeless lesbian (former Amazing Race participant) from South Africa.

Great news is that I got a free massage and I didn't have to take her home.

Better news is that I went drink for drink with the boys and wasn't sick.

This is a fantastic solid start to training. Shoe, wheelbarrow and thimble- Look out! Lola is in town...

St. Paul's Cathedral

Fleet Street

Me, Gaz, Flop, Nick, JJ and the London Bus

The Heathrow Injection

Typing this from my lounge room bedroom apartment in Clapham, I'm thinking back over the events of the past few days. When last I checked in, I'd barely landed.

Today marks my fifth day (is that all? Gosh it feels like so much longer...) in London.

I was greeted at the airport my Aunty (sorry Sue... :s) Sue, which was rather fortunate actually, as my hybrid brain of fog and mush would scarcely have been able to navigate the tube.

Aaah, the tube. They have this wonderful train/tube/bus system here where entering and exiting the stations is as simple as a swipe of your “Oyster Card”. It's genius actually- everyone has a card that you can top up with credit. It is automatically deducted depending on the distance between swipes. It's ridiculously easy to use. Plus it makes me feel like an important business person every time I get to swipe my card.

Sue and Neal really took me under their wing- I became settled rather quickly, and then the lessons on London life began. Drinking and eating and drinking and eating and drinking are favourite past times here- I have an inkling I'm going to blend in rather soon!

I can't quite believe my luck, but the weather has been splendid the whole time thus far- I'm, typing this today in a t-shirt and shorts!

Sue, Neal and I spent a great deal of time sitting out on the garden patio, bathing in the sun like lizards and whistling along with the birds. I managed to witness the resident fox with the mangy tail, and a cute, grey squirrel up close as well!

After a few fun filled days, it was time to free load on my friend Gareth Burner. Arriving Sunday afternoon, and resigning to bed at approximately midnight, he confirmed the London lifestyle of eating and drinking (though I must admit much more of the latter was achieved on this eve.)

Apparently there is this... disease... called the Heathrow Injection. Basically it's like visiting a plastic surgeon and being injected with collagen ALL OVER THE BODY. Yep, it's the fat disease- caught mostly from people who hang around in supermarkets, restaurants and pubs.

Starting to wish I brought my running shoes....

I have to say though, Clapham is a pretty awesome area. We live about 40seconds walk from the High St, which is complete with restaurants, bars, supermarkets and the Superdrug. (Don't worry mum and dad, it's just a pharmacy chain.) There are a couple of tube lines and a HUGE park within walking distance. Yesterday was so toasty that I grabbed my book and my lunch and went to read in the park. I stuck out like a sore thumb because I didn't take my shirt off.

People become very excited on warm days- the minute the sun is out it's off to the park (as there is no beach you see) and blankets go down, picnics come out and clothes come off. Lots of ladies sunbathing in their bikinis.

This evening I am off to see a friend of mine, Eliza Anderson, in a production of The Last Five Years. I can scarcely believe that all this life, culture and theatre is at my fingertips. Time to start scratching the surface.

View from apartment. Not in Kansas anymore!

In transit

It's funny how time seems to stand still on a plane. In the lead up to departure it's a mad rush-

-last minute additions to your suitcase, keys, ticket, passport, out the door to the car, back inside for that essential item you've forgotten and then a frenzied dash to the airport because you've left half an hour late and there's roadworks.

Then there's the airport waiting time which, no matter whether you're starting your trip or at a stopover, seems to go backwards.

But when you're on that plane, 11-12-13 hours could pass and it seems like it's just one small part of your day. Like you are simply squeezing it in between making the bed and cooking dinner.

In numbers it seems like such a long time to spend flying, but in reality, it just feels... suspended.

Perhaps it is the knowledge that your time is well spent, that when you step off that plane you will be on the other side of the world from where you began.

Whatever the reason, it certainly makes for an interesting observation and potential conversation topic mid flight.

I've just looked at the on screen map and notice that we are currently flying over Poland!

I tear my eyes from the screen, rip up the window blind and press my face so close against it that if the glass were not so thick, I'd be freezing my nose at -16 C.

I cannot quite believe that I am here, looking down above European countries with more history than I could ever read about in my lifetime.

We are almost at the border separating Poland from Germany.

I am very aware that not so long ago these lands that I am looking down to from the safety of my plane were rife with war, and survival weighed high on the list of priorities.

Events like the 2^nd World War have been chiselled away in the minds of every Australian from Primary School. I've heard so much about it, read personal accounts, seen horrible footage, but we've always been kind of removed from the whole thing.

I'm feeling suddenly a lot more connected from here.

The cloud has thinned, and the paddocks and fields have somehow in the last ten minutes transformed into buildings and roads!

Apparently we are 90mins from London. That's Sydney to the Sunshine Coast!

Thrills of excitement have definitely begun invading my body now. I'm trying very desperately to remain inconspicuous to my neighbours, but I suspect that my quick breathing and frequent exhalations between cheshire cat grins is giving me away.

Up, up and away!

As I type this, I am sitting at the Brisbane International Airport watching the people wander by carrying their suitcases, backpacks, surfboards and babies (although there's not a lot of the latter this time of night). I wonder where they are all going; what sort of journey they are on. It's my birthday and I'm 25 today.
Hitting a quarter century is a milestone. Shouldn't I feel different? Where are all the fireworks? The champagne? The raucous laughter of my friends and family?
It's strangely silent as I sit here alone, contemplating what lies before me once I board that plane.
Rife with mixed emotions, I am certain that the predominant ones are those of excitement, anticipation and whatever the word for "Shit why did I decide to do this am I ready I have no idea what I'm doing i can't believe you are doing this on your own oh well too late to turn back now suck it up and go for it" is.

I'm thinking back quickly over the last 25 years- my complete existence to date- and weighing up the things that I have achieved against those that I had hoped to by this age. These years were my foundation, my building blocks. It is the next 25 in which I get to shape my future and create a masterpiece of a patchwork quilt life.
What does my future hold for me? Which fabrics will I choose to weave? As I sit here, I can't help but feel as though I'm on the right path to finding out.

Oh! It's time to board.
Hello new chapter, I embrace you with open arms and only very minimal trepidation.
It is time. I am in good spirits.

The Time Draws Near...

Hola. Konnichiwa. Buongiorno. Hello!

Welcome to my travel blog. It is my wish that by writing this you can travel around the world with me, and perhaps I won't feel quite so alone to know that you are here.
But be aware! Our adventures together, though fun and enthralling most times, will be challenged with perils on occasion. This journey is not for the faint-hearted or close minded.
I say, "Bring it on!"

Oh, and feel free to educate me with your comments. Tips, suggestions and funny anecdotes are most welcome.

Much love,

Lola xx

Lola's Travelling Circus