Roberto 's Dandelife : The story of Roberto's life

I found out my Y-Chromosome genetic heritage. My Ancestry.

Roberto — Wed Jan 30 17:48:13 UTC 2008

I sent off to Ancestry.com for a genetic test. Which I receieved and sent back before Christmas last year.

Got my results back.

So, from my fathers side, as the Y-chromosome is only transfered from father to son, that part of my family belongs to the "I1a" haplogrou. This particular mutation is roughly about 22 to 23'000 years old and is associated with "Gravettian"culture of Paleolithic Europe.

I1a is common among Icelandic populations and generally indicates Scandanavian or Anglo-saxon ancestry.

Mmm... fascinating. Now I want to know my mitochondrial dna, to see where my mothers half of it comes from.

30 revolutions of the sun.

Roberto — Sun Jan 06 07:14:57 UTC 2008

30 years old today!

It's all down hill now, apparently. According to those who are more aged than I.

A brief brush with fame.

Roberto — Wed Apr 18 14:06:29 UTC 2007

This morning, whilst filling the drinks fridge I looked to my left and saw two people who seemed very familiar.

"Was that Liam Gallagher and Nicole Aplleton just there?" I thought to myself.
I looked over and sure enough it was.

Hmm.

Then herself walked over to me and asked "Excuse me, do you have any humus?"
"Yes, it's right over here" I said as I walked her round to where it was.
"Oh, thank you." She replied.

That was that. My very brief brush with those more noticeable than me.

She's also smaller than me whilst himself is a bit taller than me.

Two phones, two alarms, one right, one wrong.

Roberto — Fri Apr 06 17:27:13 UTC 2007

I have two phones. My old one, which I no longer use. My new one. They are both the same model. There's a few differences but they are to all intents and purposes identical.

I'd set my alarm on the one I am currently using, I'd also set the alrm for my old one. The reason I did this was to see if my old one worked, so I wouldn't need to leave my new one on. As people have a horrible habit of wanting to get in contact with me after I have gone to bed. Despite my many "please don't call after 9pm, I'm in bed trying to sleep" no one really pays much attention.

So, into my own hands it goes.

What I'd forgotten however, was that the time and date had reset itself on my old phone. Due to not having been used in about two years.

I'd set both alarms to go off for 5:15am.

As today is good Friday and a bank holiday I had an extra hour in bed, which was wonderful. Although I'd forgotten to change the alarm on my old phone.

So I then had my new phones alarm going off at 6:15am and the old one at 5:15am.

I turned the old one on, just as I was going to bed. Ah. As the time wasn't set, it started from 00:00. Therefore It was due to go off in just five hours and fifteen minutes. Around 1:30am, those wonderful 5 hours and fifteen minutes later.

I woke up hearing the alarm and reached up, everything was still dark, as I've grown accustomed to in my now morning ritual. I reached up and grabbed for the phone and stopped the clock. I looked at the time on it's face, sure enough it said 5:15am, so I had an extra hour of sleep, I lay down and allowed myself to drift away.

I next remember coming to from a worrying dream. I reached up and grabbed for one of the phones, I got hold of my current one and looked at the time.

1:45am

Buh. Wuh? Huh...

It then all clicked into place and I remembered that the time wasn't right on my old phone. I'd gotten confused in my nightime activities.

It was weird. I'd almost felt like a time traveller.

Would you Adam and Eve it.

Roberto — Wed Feb 14 11:00:06 UTC 2007

I looked at the calender on my mobile phone, the one I use for all the things I have to remember. I'd schedueled in my appointment with the nurse for my ear syringing not two minutes after I'd booked it with the receptionist.

I am certain that the time I had was the time she gave.

I got my things together, put on my coat, grabbed my door keys and headed out the door into the bleak dull wet day. It took me about 15 minutes to walk to the doctors. I went up the steps and pressed the buzzer.

Nothing, not a sound.

Hmm...

I pressed it again and then looked down at the front door. I saw a notice partly stuck onto the inside of the glass door.

Monday : Open 9am to 1pm closed open at 3pm till 7pm

Tuesday : Open 9am to 1pm closed open at 3pm till 7pm

Wednesday: CLOSED open at 5pm till 7pm

WHAT?!?!

Hang on a minute...

WHAT!?!?!

I laughed to myself on the step and the old man walking by looked at me to take in this strange bloke laughing to himself.

WHAT!?!?!

Closed? But I was told to come at this time, so I am here. I'm standing here, in the bleakness, I thought to myself. Unless I'm sadly mistaken and I genuinely made a mistake. What!?!?!?

Closed, how? Why? Why am I being cursed with one ringing ear? Is there a reason? Is there a purpose to it that I am unaware of. Is it meant to be? Has God garned me for some special thing that only a man with one ringing ear can possibly do anything about?

Why?

Why?

I just want the ringing to stop. Please. Please... It's been going on since last February...

It Snowed!

Roberto — Wed Jan 24 09:12:59 UTC 2007

It's also my day off today.

Not really a story, but I love snow. So it's worthy of note.

Thumbtacks on a chair.

Roberto — Fri Dec 22 11:17:57 UTC 2006

They were intended for me, back when I was at North Westminster doing my GNVQ.

I'd procured the only seat in the class that had a nice soft cushion on it, the rest were all plastic and cold to the touch, not at all pleasant to sit on, unlike my chair. Me and my mate Amir had had to go downstairs for something and whilst we were gone, the class trouble maker and cohort had had a special idea.

Normally placing a thumb tack on a chair would mean simply placing one on the surface in the hope that the intended recipient doesn't catch sight of it.
However, this worked a little more deviously. The cushion on my chair had a slice at the back, which meant that you could put stuff underneath the the top layer of material.

Yep, you're right, but they didn't put just one under there.

We came back from our errand and I was just about to sit down, when my mate put out his arm and stopped me, without pause he sat right down on my chair, at virtually the same instant he leapt off the chair "ARGH!" his arms and legs were almost spring loaded. I had to stifle a laugh.

"What the hell!"

"AMIR!" Our teacher shouted thinking he was acting up.

"Someone's put tacks on my chair!!!"

The two who did it, got up looking very sheepish, and noted that "someone" had put tacks in the cushion.

I watched them take all of them out.

1 2 3 4 5 and 6.

Ow.

My friend was really really angry, I was just pleased it wasn't me that sat down. Guiltily I even still have a chuckle remembering how high he leapt in the air from sitting on that lot.

Sleep talking in a hostel in Beijing.

Roberto — Wed Dec 20 20:45:33 UTC 2006

The room I had in Beijing had 5 other guys in. One of whom was Chinese born in America. A small chap, nice bloke.

Aside from 2am in the morning.

"WAKE UP YOU GUYS!!! LET'S HAVE A PARTY!!!"

My eyes shot open and I sprung up. "What?!?!?..." I leaned over the top of the bunk bed and looked down at him below me. He was sound asleep.

A few days after it happened again.

"Michael, firstly, I don't eat greasy food, secondly, I don't eat slimy food and thirdly, I don't eat greasy slimy worms that have come out of my leg!"

Brilliant.

I lay there and drummed that into my head so I could write about it the other day on my blog.

Pleased I did. People say the weirdest things in slumber land.

The Bus Bar.

Roberto — Wed Dec 20 20:22:28 UTC 2006

This was my first months holiday and the majority of the teachers decided to go to Beijing, me included. It was really nice to be travelling with friends. We were also going to be meeting up with a friend who had been teaching at our school but moved to Beijing and started teaching at a university there.

Whilst there, we were to sample many of the wonderful delights of Beijing, the Forbidden Palace, the Sun Dome Plaza (nice starbucks), Beijing Zoo (poor elephants), Beijing Aquarium, an American styled diner (fantastic all day breakfasts) and the Bus Bar.

It was a bus. It was a bar. I really really really hated the darn place. It was embodied with the worst of laowai could offer. The most obnoxious weird off their faces foreigners I've ever had the displeasure of sitting in the same room with.

It was our friends idea to go here, after which we'd go to another club where he knew the owner.

The second I walked up the stairs the horror began. I pushed past a few guys and the bar, had a look round the place. It wasn't very wide, just enough to have a few tables and such. I saw various cultures and peoples in there. There was a Chinese guy behind the bar who was very very generous with the drink. There were some Americans, some bald headed guys, very toned and ripped lets say. They weren't European as far as I could tell, but that was the best I could manage, somewhere around that part of the world they came from. There were also a few Canadians, as I was later informed.
There was the dance floor to our right next to the bar on which the other side the toilets were. A few people were getting down as it were.

I wasn't interested in dancing so walked to the left following everyone else I came with. A Canadian guy was holding onto a very drunk Chinese girl by the shoulders and he stood her up by the wall and said "You stay there" very firmly. As I walked past he said to me "Don't you go near her". "Hmm..." I thought, I just kept quiet and kept my head down and proceeded to my seat.

Which turned out quite a clever thing to do

This had left me feeling pretty nervous, I'm not a tough guy, I fold quite easily. So I sat, drinking my beer, wondering if I could even muster up the nerve to cross back through the throng, across the dance floor to the toilet Especially after my little run in with the Canadian bloke.

During these thoughts our mate plumed up and said in a low voice, "Be careful of that guy. He's the kick boxing champion of Canada. I didn't want to say anything, but stay well out of his way. He beat up a couple of guys pretty bad once. I think he put them into hospital" (I wish I could remember the whole conversation better than I can now. It was long and horrible and didn't paint a nice picture)

Great. My tension level rose a little bit. What else I thought. My answer came soon enough though.

One of the bald guys had seen me get a talking to by him and came over. As I was sat down, he reached down and put his left hand firmly on my right shoulder and spoke something into my left ear. All of which was in a foreign language. He thought I was from his country.

I just looked at him blankly and shrugged my shoulders. It was after that, he looked at me said something more and realised I wasn't one of his flock and slowly moved away.

I sat there, for a moment and wondered why this stuff usually happens to seek me out. It happens quite a lot. As I didn't know exactly what he said my mind raced around and came up with a dozen or so horrible solutions.

I wasn't happy. Within as many minutes I'd been bothered by two unsavoury blokes.

So I buried my face into the throng of my friends. I'd noted that I was now getting a few stares from other people, probably because of my brush in with those two.

As time drew on I had had a few more beers, my bladder was getting kind of tight and uncomfortable. There was no way in hell I was going to get up, walk back past the bald guys, Canadian kick boxing champion/jerk/nutter/violent person and try to use the loo. I've gotta hold this and I don't know when we're going to be leaving here either.

All I wanted to do was to return to the hostel and go to bed.

However, to cut it all short the evening panned out and I survived, nothing more came of it. I managed to hold it all in (you know what) until we got to the next club, which was a lot nicer with a decent bunch of people. So much happier. I even felt happy enough to strut my funky stuff on the dance floor.

I was very pleased to see the back of the Bus Bar. But Before we were due to leave Beijing, we'd have one more visit there. Much to my protest and the others "get stuffed moby."

Fabby, although it was completely different to the last time and yet still horribly horrible...

How to avoid a cross language misunderstanding.

Roberto — Tue Dec 19 11:06:40 UTC 2006

There were two places we the teachers in Jiang bei would often frequent when it came to eating out. "The village", which wasn't a village, just a place where the workers who were building houses would come to eat and drink and the "strip". Just the long road behind the school with restaurants all down one side of it.

Eating out was done everyday, food is so cheap in China it doesn't make any sense to stay in and cook. You also get to do a lot of laughing and socialising and get drunk. Fabulous. Although, we were always on the look out for new and exciting places to eat. Occasionally someone would find a real belter. Like the Indian Kitchen off of gugeli dajia. With real Indian Chefs, making real Indian food. God I miss that place.

Anyway eating out saw me through a difficult first week living abroad and beyond.

One day one of our flock discovered another place to eat. So with much excitement we were all going to head out and sample some of it's delicacies.
He called the place "Village 2", because it was pretty much next door to the other village. Just a walk Northwards by about 20 minutes.

I went, my large Irish mate went, Ganbei master was there, the Northerner, Tom, Leroy, the polite English teacher and the Australian.

I doubt if any foreign blood had ever been to this part before. We were pretty much all stared at most of the time. We walked down a dirt road, aside it trenches, I think to let water run off. Cars and tuc tucs were running up and down the street and we obligingly moved out of the way, rather than be run over.

We found a place to eat, some way down the road. There was a large picture of fish and other animals over the front of the door. The usual accompaniment of fluorescent external lighting was in show.
We made our way in, were shown to our seats and ordered a dish of nearly every animal you could care to think of, with rice and then beer.
A table of Chinese workers was off to our left and they invited Tom over to chat with them.
Tom was Chinese, but was born in England and couldn't speak any Chinese fluently, but had learnt a few words since coming over.

We were all having a great time, good food, beer and laughs.

This was about the time Tom decided to try and teach the guys some English.

"Wo" he said, pointing to himself, then said "I".
Then he pointed to the guy sitting in front of him and said "Ni" The guys at the table didn't do much eating after that, they just stared at Tom.
"Ni, is you" he said some pointing at him.

He reiterated it again for them.

"Wo" pointing at himself

"I" Pointing to himself.

"Ni.... you" pointing at him.

The fuwuyuan (waitress) came over to us quite worried and said something to us and pointing to Tom in the corner with his new friends.

Ganbei master suddenly clicked turned to us and laughed "Is he telling them he loves them?!?"

We all looked at one another and burst out laughing.

wo I ni (我爱你) means I love you. So Tom had been communicating something other than he thought to the bloke.

Which was more or less at the point we were bundled out of the restaurant and into a guys white van. We were being driven home, nice I thought, although Ganbei master joked that it was probably for our safety. That probably wasn't too far from the truth either. The guys looked pretty cross on leaving.

Moral of the story. Don't teach a complete Chinese stranger to say "I" and "you" in English. You might be telling them a little more than you mean to...

Drinking before work. Not a good idea, but what the hey...

Roberto — Sat Dec 16 10:05:47 UTC 2006

To refuse an offer of drink, from a Chinese person, in China, when you're a foreigner, is very rude. Some people will get very cross if you don't have one on them. It's terribly impolite to say no.

Add that with you being the novelty item in a country and place where there aren't many foreigners and you're going to be drinking a lot when you go out to eat.

I had finished teaching my kindergarten class in Harbin and headed across the road to my favourite place to pick up some 'kimbap' for breakfast it's a Korean dish, rolled vegetables and rice in seaweed. Delish.

I entered and spoke to the fuwuyuan, I was a regular each week and they began to remember what I wanted. The I heard from my left.

"Ni hao, ni hao. Ni he pijou?" (Hello, hello, you drink beer?)

This was at about 10 in the morning by the way. It was two guys, with beers, sat at the table with a load of food between them.

"wo bu keyi, wo xueyao jiao wode xuesheng." (I can't, I need to teach my students.) I had to repeat this a couple of times before they understood me.

"lai lai lai, he pijou, he pijou." (Come come come, drink beer, drink beer)

"Wo bu keyi"

"lai, he yibei pijou, yibei" (Come, drink one glass beer)

"hao le" (ok) I replied and sat down with them. Chinese will grab you and shake you until you give in. so it pays to be strong inside if you're ever there.

Of course, we "ganbei'd" a glass. Down in one. They drink from small glasses, I miss it actually, the ganbei'ing and glasses.

Then of course, I'd downed one glass, they asked the follow up question.

"he zalai yige" (Drink another one)

"Wo bu keyi, wo xueyao jiao wode xuesheng"

Him and his mate just waved this off. "He pijou" They said some more and I gave in. "Hao lo, hao le, he pijou."

So we all had another ganbei. This went on for five more big bottles. That is, five for me, five for one of the guys, and five for the other one. Harbin pijou being a nice 5.6% proof.

During the drinking of which, they offered me some of their food to eat. They got the waitress to bring another plate and chopsticks. I began tucking into a dish. It was brown, with meat and slightly spicy. Not bad at all I thought.

"Zhe shi shenma?" (This be what?) I asked them.

"Gou rou"

"Shenma?" I asked.

"Gou rou" He replied more clearly.

I looked at him quizically "Gou rou?" and I lfted my hand and made the wagging tail of a dog and barked. "Ruff ruff ruff"

"Dui le, gou rou." (Correct, dog meat)

Ah.

I've been eating dog. They thought it was quite funny, they know we don't eat dog. But as I had been and was now ever so slightly pissed, I thought what the hey and continued eating. I wouldn't ever do it again knowingly. How did it taste, if I remember rightly, something like lamb, but it was so heavily dressed up in sauce, that I couldn't tell for sure.

We spoke about loads of things and I was quite happy to be able to actually answer them. Although, the guy sat to my left began to get a little angry when I didn't understand some of his questions. His mate tried to relax him, and succeeded in part. But it was clear he was an angry drunk. Not long after, the fuwuyuan (watching all this of course, laowai are not common and worth their weight in entertainment value) interjected and got his mate to leave. I don't what was said, but it was sufficient for him to go.

Oh, by the way, I had my camera on me and I had some pictures taken of me and the two guys. I have to find them though. They exist somewhere...

She'd also thought I was Russian, despite the numerous times I'd been in here and told them I wasn't. Fortunately my new friend cleared that up and once they thought I wasn't, they were much much nicer to me.

It was agreed that he would phone a friend to come and pick us up and take me back to the school. I had to teach in about an hour. After consuming about 6 pints of beer more or less, each bottle being a little more than a pint. Yeah... I had no idea of how I was going to sober up.

His mate eventually arrived and my new friend paid for the beer and food. Very kind of him. Chinese can be extremely generous, it's quite touching. Before I knew it, I was sat in the back of a car hurtling back to Jiangbei to teach a lesson, utterly smashed and of my face.

I sincerely recall taking three pictures of myself in the car on the way back. The next day, when I put them on my computer, I discovered that I'd taken about 100 pictures on the way back. Ooh, I was drunk I thought to myself.

Anyway, I was driven back, and I looked at my mobile, 20 minutes before class. There was no way, no way, I was going to be sober for the class.

This, was also coming toward the end of my stay in China, and it proved to be my most stressful time there. I was sick with stress. It was this day that helped me keep steady and level and not go completely doolaly.

I sat in my room, partially worried that I was still drunk and not really wanting to go in and teach. But I had to. No choice. I drank some water, got a bit of food in me and walked out.

I remember entering the class and I started explaining to my students everything that had just happened to me, in Chinese. I told them how I couldn't refuse because it would have been insulting. I told them everything, on and on I went.

One of the students eventually piped up. "Speak in English" Normally, when I'm not drunk, I make better decisions.

So I looked at her and said "You want to speak Englsh, let's speak English." and I fronted her. Quite directly. "Come on, speak English." She didn't like this confrontation at all and got up. I moved and stood in front of her, she backed of I followed.

You can see where this is going. I followed her round the classroom in a game of chase. I thought it was great fun, she thought it was hell and ran out of the classroom.

Oh dear.

I turned to my students and I asked them not to say that I had been drinking, I knew she had gone to talk to the new headmaster. The one who I did not get along with at all. A complete "C U Next Tuesday".

He turned up. Oh Balls. Then he asked the students had I been drinking.

My heart sank. But much to my relief, every one of them in the room said I hadn't. Every one.

It wasn't the best thing that's ever happened to me I have to say. I was pissed and was far from normal decision making ability. It wasn't until the afternoon that I'd sobered up that it dawned on me what I'd actually done.

Although I have no regrets about it. I was being treated badly in many other instances in this school, none of which I was truly to blame for, but ultimately held responsible. Being able to have that drink with those two guys and have a laugh kept me sane for a bit.

Things got worse after that. I was dragged through the gutter, all for things fictional in creation.

Anyway, never drink before work. It ain't clever.

Me, some nutter and the holy water.

Roberto — Fri Dec 01 18:28:45 UTC 2006

I used to work for a charity Christmas card shop. It was for the few months leading up to Christmas. I'd worked for them a total of three Christmases, it suited me nicely between other jobs and stuff I liked to do.

The shops themselves were a collection of "metal cages", where the cards were stored and displayed, a till, some lights and the shop assistant, me.
We would set up shop in Churches and other public buildings, I'd ended up in a church out in Ealing, west London.

I loved it, most days, because it was a fairly simple job and no one breathed down your neck every two minutes. I organised everything and simply waited for my external shop signs to draw the customers in.

However, there is one thing that most people will never tell you about churches. For some reason, they have the special ability to suck in all the weirdos and all the crazy people from the street.

Without fail.

I was sat off to the left of the entrance in my own little part within the church. The holy water was just over there, about 8 feet away from me and as people came in they'd dip their fingers in and make the sign of the cross then enter. I watched them a lot, it was another side of life that I rarely get to see.

I was sat there one day, a really quiet day, nobody was in the church but me, so I grabbed the chance to read Harry Potter. Which we were not allowed to do, but no one was there to stop me. I was quite entrenched in my book, when I noted a man walked in. He was fairly tall, slightly balding, wearing lots of leather. A leather jacket and trousers with a rucksack over his shoulders. He walked to the holy water and dipped his fingers in and then vigorously made the sign of the cross back and forth over and over. I'd stopped reading at this and was watching him over the rim of my book, his back was toward me, but I didn't want him turning round and my staring blankly at him.

Then he began to fiddle with his trousers.

I couldn't quite tell what he was up to as his back was toward me. He looked like he was struggling with something, then I heard a loud "ZIIIIPPPPPP!" he'd pulled his fly down and then his trousers followed suit. They were down round his knees, he pulled at his pants, I'm pretty sure he whipped out his old fella and then dipped his fingers in the water and made the cross on that too in much the same fashion as before.

After that I really didn't have the heart to tell anyone that some guy had blessed his one eyed trouser snake in the holy water. How on Earth do you begin to tell people that a guy had blessed his wee nipper?
So I had to watch, as person after person after person, dipped their fingers in it and splashed the water over themselves.

It was slightly amusing and disturbing all in the same instance.

A very cold night and another brothel.

Roberto — Sat Nov 25 21:10:42 UTC 2006

Me and my mate were out over the weekend, I think we'd been drinking, what am I saying, we had been drinking. As was the way of things, we ended up at a night club, a dingy little place. I remember there being a glass floor with stones and sand beneath it. We were having a dance and my mate was talking to the owners in some very broken English.

I was dancing and noting that there were about 12 guys and 2 girls. The two girls were paid to dance there. The guys running the show were making them dance. This was around the time I'd begun to appreciate the fact that the Chinese never get a day off unless it's a holiday. No weekends. They also tend to live on the premisies, no homes to go to as not many 'fuwuyuan' can't afford to get a place. I looked at their faces, one was having quite a nice time, the other was simply going through the motions. I was quite pleased to be a foreigner, but sympathised with the other girl "dancing".

As is the case in China, unless you're married, physical relationships are a no no. So as I often got to watch during my English classes would be the guys mucking around with each other, not much, but pretending lets say. Not something you wanted to watch on a day to day basis but there you go.
So the guys in the club, were all dancing around, with their tops off, crossing their hands under their genitals as to emphasize them at me and I really wasn't having a good time. But all the while this was going on, my mate was sat down on the glass chatting to the owners. He was buttering them up. He was doing this because we decided to pop off to another brothel, the only trouble being we didn't know where any were. They knew, and if they thought that they would get something from us, as we'd both suddenly become big business people with lots of cash looking to expand business to new places, they'd help us out.

Which they did, at around 2am in the morning.

We got to leave, I waved off to my new friends the shirtless guys, thankfully. Then the two of us were bundled into the back of a white van and driven off into the very dark frigid night. The temperature was down to around -40 degrees celsius.
Me and my mate chatted about the prospect of being taken off to some unknown place with no idea of where we were at all and getting the heck knocked out of us.
I kind of recall a left, right, left right, left direction on the way there, but to be honest, with no street lights, no sign posts, even if there were some all written in Chinese anyway I had no real idea of how to get back home.

We turned down a dark lane and went past some houses and it's kind of thrilling to be taken on a mystery ride to god knows where. I recommend it. The walls of houses lit up as we passed by and shadows stretched across the snow. We pulled up under an overhang leading to some parking spaces in front of a large building. The guys got out and told us to wait in the car.
Both of us sat there, now getting pretty cold, It had been warmer during the day and I hadn't needed to wear that much. Much the same as my friend. The cold seeps into you at those temperatures and it's hard to stay warm for long. One of the guys came out and waved for us to come. This was it I thought.

We opened the door and inside there was a front desk with about three guys standing there, studying the two 'laowai' who'd entered. We were shown to the showers through a door on our left, where we were told to wash. One of the guys from behind the desk came round and dropped some pajamas next to where we left our clothes. When we were clean and dressed we went back to the front desk, they then gave us the ground rules.

Our two guys chatted to the others and then we were told,

"Touch, touch ok, but no (he gestured a thrusting movement.) To show he understood my mate copied what he did. "Ok, touch, but no..." "hao le" (ok)

We were then taken upstairs. I thought we'd end up in the same room, but fortunately not, I doubt I could have done anything with my mate sat next to me. Our rooms were seperated by a very thin wall.

"This is good fun, eh mobes?" My mate said through it.

"Yeah, it's an interesting experience alright" I replied studying my surroundings, the t.v., the bed I was sat on and the window to my right.

A few minutes past and a guy came in and asked if we wanted anything to drink. We got some more beer. Not long after opening that they came back again, my door opened, two guys were stood there, and then one reached to the side and pulled this lady out in front of the doorway and said,

"yao, bu yao." (Want, not want?)

I hate to say it, but until you're in that situation you really have no idea how you're going to act. I mean, to be honest, she was as ugly as a pile of rotten halloween pumpkin heads. But she was stood right in front of the doorway, there, right there, and I didn't want to say "no" to her face. Looking at her, I realised she'd just been asleep and they'd obviously just woken her up. As much as I didn't want to be nasty, I couldn't stomach the thought of trying to do anything with this lady. She was ugly.

"Bu yao." I replied feeling terrible about just rejecting this person like that, and at the drop of a hat another one was stuck in front of the doorway.

Yao, bu yao"

This time, I have to say, it was much easier, to give a response, and I felt really guilty about that. I still do. It's easy to refuse another person. Someone with feelings stood right there, with a life and everything. It wasn't a nice thing to do I thought. But it was much much easier this time.

"Bu yao."

Thankfully, the third one dragged out was pretty nice. "Yao" I said, needing no prompt this time and that was that. I was left with her. Quite what I would do now, I had no idea.

"Ni hao" I said, she nodded and said "Ni hao" back, probably surprised that I spoke some Chinese.
She sat down beside me, she was wearing a white loosely knit top and white trousers.
I thanked my lucky stars she was pretty and we had gotten to chose which lady we wanted. Really a terrible thing in some respects, I've experienced women being treated like bits of meat. Not the best of things, but that's life I 'spose. It happens.

I tried drumming up a conversation with her and making her laugh, which I managed. Well, the laugh bit, conversation was restricted to the very few words and expressions I knew. I tried doing something with her but she wasn't interested. She offered to give me a back rub. Which I thought might lead onto more. No, it didn't. I tried for something else, but she wasn't forth coming and I really didn't want to push it any further.

"HEY MOBES" came through the door, "I've had enough of this, they keep coming in and disturbing me, we're going"

"Huh?!?" I could hear him storming out so I grabbed my stuff and followed.

We got changed and my mate started haggling the price for our "night of passion". Even though neither of us had actually "got any". I recall them asking for a huge sum of cash. My mate was furious, but we were out manned by quite a bit. A few more guys had appeared from some place, as they do.

We reluctantly handed over the sum they wanted and walked outside. It was at this point we realised we were outside and it was flipping cold and our driver had gone!

We looked at each other, turned looked out into the black of night nicely contrasted with the white of unspoilt snow. It was cold, it was so cold. At those temperatures the inside of your nose freezes up and you can crack it. Nice.

We both knew, that without a ride, we'd be walking back home. Neither of us knew where we were, and we had no idea where our driver was. It also occurred to the two of us that we never checked to see if they were coming back anyway!

It was cold and the conversation moved to whether or not we'd survive the walk back home, if we could find it. It might take us hours, by which time we'd probably be dead. Because the school we worked at was in a developing zone and pretty much all around was farmland and huge fields. So no where to call on if we got into trouble.

So we walked, it must've been about 20 minutes and, yeah, you know, we were cold but much to our lucky stars and bewilderment the white van and driver turned up again. We waved him down and got a ride home.

Safe, sound and warm once more. A night I'll never forget.

Job interview.

Roberto — Sat Nov 18 11:17:42 UTC 2006

I applied to work for a particular well known shop the other day.

I made it on time, I'm pleased to say, the trains were delayed that morning and I had a very real chance of being late despite leaving very early.

The interview consisted of a role play and review of said role play afterwards. All in all it lasted about 30 minutes. I was fairly nervous, I've not had a proper interview in over two years. Namely being an English teacher the last couple.
I was led to a room and shown instructions for how the role play would proceed. There were two interviewers, one had bright red lipstick, the other was quite plain, one to mark the roleplay the other to play the part of a customer with specific needs.

I think I read somewhere in the instructions that some cards would be handed to me, these represented the items for sale. I needed to familiarize myself with them as she would be asking questions about the products my shop had. There were also 6 sections within my care and other information. But on reflection I reckon that most of this was erroneous fluff, to test my minds memorizing ability or to make things a little harder for interviewees.

While I waited for them to give me the items I had to familiarize myself with I reread my instructions a couple of times. During which the lady with the red lipstick came back into the room and fiddled with some papers just beside me. I was going to ask her for the cards, but I thought better of it, she'll probably give them to me in time. I was just getting a while to read over the instructions, so I thought.

More time, passed by and I was beginning to wonder if they'd ever give them to me or had they forgotten? I could hear muffled chatting coming from behind the door. Which then swung open, the lady with the red lipstick looking off to the left of my left shoulder said "have you looked at your cards yet?"

I followed her eyes and nearly leapt out of my seat.

The room was loaded with them. There had to be at least 60 different things all over the back of the room. How the heck I managed to walk in and not see them, I'll never know.

She looked at me with stern eyes and my heart sank, she turned and as the door was closing behind her she said,

"You're right, he didn't look at them."

ARGH! Darn it! Flip!

I'd well and truly shot myself in the foot within the first five minutes. In my mind flashed the image of me sitting my bum back down in the job centre for another age of time desperately seeking that allusive job. My heart sank.

Although, as is said, every cloud has a silver lining. Which mine did.

Even though I'd messed up such a crucially obvious thing, my performance during role play was pretty flawless. I noted some key things, like not being able to cook raw chicken in a microwave oven. Which is all the 'customer' had at home. I also correctly offered the things which were suitable for her situation.

The role play ended and they went outside to discuss things for a few minutes. I got my elementary Chinese reader out and started to study to get my mind off waiting for the result.

A little while later they came in. The plain lady said "Congrtulations, you've got the job!"

Excellent. It's going to be nice working at home again.

Being driven to Cork Airport.

Roberto — Mon Nov 13 09:29:36 UTC 2006

Me, my large mate, his wife and the baby all in the car, I'm headed home and their taking me to the airport.

I'm in the back, sitting next to the wife, he's in the front with their baby. He loves to have the music up loud in the car, she doesn't, I'd also prefer it a little quieter.

The music's quite loud, then he turns up the volume some more, it's a little uncomfortable.

This is how the conversation went between the two of them, man and wife.

"Will you turn that down a bit." She asks.

"What?" He replies.

"Will you turn that down a bit. "She says.

"Did you ask me to turn it up?"

"No, can you turn it down a bit."

"What I can't hear you" He says.

"Sorry, I can't hear what you're saying" She replies.

"What?"

And that was the end of that, music still blaring and me chuckling to myself.

Nanowrimo.

Roberto — Fri Oct 27 15:12:38 UTC 2006

I'll be participating in the nanowrimo this year. I've missed it the last couple of years, as I've remembered toward the end of November, D'oh! Which is far too late to write anything near to 50,000 words.

So as I've caught it in time, I'm giving it a go.

http://www.nanowrimo.org/

I've also no idea for plot, story, characters, title, nothing. Not a jott. This will be an interesting writing challenge for me.

Step, step, CRACK, OWCH!

Roberto — Sat Oct 21 21:17:16 UTC 2006

We'd finished a nice evening of imrpovisational performing.

The school we use has the class room on the fifth floor, so we have a lot of stairs to walk up and down on Thursdays.
Most of the class had gotten down before me and I was busy taking one of the dirty mugs down, it's not very polite to leave the drama room in a mess for the other classes to use the following day, so we all chip in tidying up.

I was happy and looking forward to going to the pub for after class drinking with the guys.

I was just coming round the last bend in the stair case, I was chatting to one of the guys behind me, I took one step closer to the ground floor, the next step to the last one before the ground floor, I remember smiling about something they said, my left foot touched the ground and I heard,

CRACK!

The next thing I know is that I'm on my knees, watching the coffee cup flying towards the guys with an incredibly bad pain in my left ankle, all in slow motion.

The cup came to a stop by their feet and I knew what had happened. I hadn't broken anything, but I had sprained my ankle. Flip it! I thought, as this had happened to me a few years before, it took me 6 months to heal properly.
The next half a year of my life went before my eyes, accompanied with a limpy left leg.

The guys looked at me in that awkward "Oh s**t he's hurt himself and I don't know what to do!" face.

"Are you ok?" They asked.

"Through clenched teeth and furrowed brow, "Yeah... I think I've just sprained my ankle though..."

I managed to stand up and limp around a bit while they looked on helplessly. It's not a nice feeling that you're hurt and nobody does anything. No assistance, nothing.

I sat myself down and took my shoe off had a look and a feel. I'd definitly only sprained it. Thankfully. A break would have been far worse.

So I sit here, having sat down for two days straight with my leg raised. A nasty purply baige-ish discolouration around my ankle bone.

Looking on the bright side, if I hadn't hurt myself and been stuck on my bum for a couple of days, I'd have felt very guilty not doing anything. But I learned my lesson years ago. When you get hurt, take it easy.

Which is what I'm still doing now. God, I want to get out of the house! I get cabin fever bad...

What really annoys me though, is that I wasn't even doing anything wild or fun when it happened. I could have been playing and gallavanting wildly and then get hurt, in a customary fashion. But no, fate stepped in and it had to be dull.

Poop.

Boxing match.

Roberto — Tue Oct 17 17:28:38 UTC 2006

My large Irish mate bought himself some boxing gloves whilst out in town one day.

I knew, when he told me, what would be intended for these gloves, he's no sit down and do nothing guy. We, that is most of the guys, would now be boxing. It was decided at the top, that is, those who wanted to do it, that there would be a series of boxing matches. I knew that there was no way I would be getting out of this one. Once my mate made up his mind, I was in no matter what.

Although my gung ho attitude saw me through most of these times as I just thought to myself "Ahh, f**k it! Lets just do it."

It was arranged, me and the big Irish man would be having fisiticuffs outside in -20 degrees celsius. He'd already been boxing with the Australian teacher and they both had a pair of frozen lungs. Not literarly frozen, but cold enough to cause pain, bleeding from the back of the mouth and breathing difficulties if I recall correctly.

The day came "Moby!" He bellowed, "come on."

Right, this is it then, I thought doning my shoes. I was really afraid he was gonna beat the seven shades of doop out of me, I was also worried about my nose as I can get quite bad nose bleeds. Although, my Irish friend would have no excuses.

We were out and about, he gave me my gloves and I put them on. It's quite difficult to fasten the last glove to go on. You have to use your mouth to put it on.

I stood there and he bent down and took up the boxers stance, I just kind of leaned back from him. Even bent over he was still a little above my head height and I felt very intimidated by this, especially as I'd never boxed anyone ever prior to this day.

He was just sizing me up at first, testing my reactions to certain lightly thrown punches. He was boxing smart, also I noted, a little bit curtious, I think he realised if he let go and gave me the full brunt of it I probably wouldn't be standing up for long.

As he was testing my reactions, I grew more comfortable and tried geting him back, but he's a big guy and I had to get right in close to him, which is when I was vulnerable too.
My swift volley was countered by his.

Whack!

I felt pain in my nose that spread to my ears and to the back of my head. He'd caught me full face on with a whopper left jab.

Ow! As I spun round. I checked my nose, no blood. Phew!
Back in again I flung myself, the cold in my lungs begining to sting a bit now.

We had made a nice circle of snow just outside the appartments and unbeknownst to the two of us, the teacher from North England had noticed we were boxing and got out his camera. He filmed the two of us going at it. (Yes, I will get it up here. It lacks a bit in the middle when we pose for a photo, but the end has a nice slow mo)

The second half being filmed followed more or less the same progression as the first half, but with more "Moby, stop leaning back, lean forward." Which was really hard to do, as I was afraid of getting another bash to the nose. Although I didn't have to wait too long for that to happen again. He came in with a few jabs, I returned fire with a ferocious volley and just at the point of no return he shot a left jab out of nowhere and caught me on the nose again.

Ow! I spun around, stopped for a bit, and then he pointed to my face and said "You've got a bit of blod splatter on your face there Mobes."

I pulled my sleve up and ran my arm along my face, sure enough, blood.

That put a stop to that boxing match there and then. Much to my relief. We then posed for a few photos for his wife and we were good to go.

So, end score, Moby nil, big Irish guy 2.

Excellent.

Identity Theft.

Roberto — Tue Oct 17 16:52:18 UTC 2006

Two letters for a member of my family have been fiddled with. One a while ago, which wasn't enough to get any suspicions up. The other happened recently. It had been opened and resealed.

This kind of stuff makes me feel sick to my stomach, especially when I found out that it takes 467 days on average for people to find out their identity has been stolen.

I found this helpful website.

http://www.identity-theft.org.uk/protect-yourself.htm

Hmm, grumble.

Hopefully, all the things that need to take place to protect ourselves will be beneficial.

We shall see.

First Love?

Roberto — Sun Oct 15 22:27:19 UTC 2006

We used to have a caravan down south, my parents would pack us all up and we'd spend weekends and holidays in the caravan away from London.

It was where I got my love of the countryside from. I hated the journeys, but I loved being there.

Not far up the road from our caravan there was a park for the kids to play in. There was a really high slide, a shorter slide, a see-saw, a roundabout and a climbing frame.

Me and my brothers played there a lot, we often met other kids there too. Some nice, some not.
I cannot recall that much about this time, althoguh writing this will get the brain juices flowing I'm sure.

I'll always remember the disapointment and frustration I had there. Namely due to my pain in the rear brother.
There was a girl there, probably the same age as I was, about 8 or 9. Long blonde hair and a giggle that I still remember. Funny what stays with you over time. I also recall that I didn't mention it to my folks, or anyone actually, and I only ever saw her there if she just happened to stay at the caravan park at the same time as me. It was rare. So when both of us were there it was something I was very happy about. I didn't have this anywhere else in my life.

The one and only time that I can recall with greatest clarity was the one with my brother hanging around ruining things for me as usual.
I was playing with her on the climbing frame. She kept trying to kiss me on the lips, which was new to me but I quite enjoyed. I remember thinking about how all the boys thought it was disgusting to kiss girls and how I should probably hold back because of that. I didn't pay that much attention.

But my brother was there and was well aware of what was going on and him, being him, wasn't going to leave me in peace. In fact, what 6 to 7 year old would?

So there I am, trying to enjoy my first moments of intamacy with a girl, who could be considered my first love and my brother isn't letting me.

Not a great story, but it's stuck with me for years. Nice to get it out. I often wonder where she ended up...

I'll never know.