Today marks the end of my second week in the Year of the Kiwi–an international/dual-cultural phenomenon locals are calling “What?” and “That’s not real”– and what a week it has been, amiright?
This installment sees our heroine (me) nab a job at a beachfront cafe due completely to the fact that my new flatmate might be the reigning mob boss of northern New Zealand. [ED. NOTE: This claim is unsubstantiated by science at present…] Copious fish&chips™ have been eaten, the term ‘jay-walking’ has been chopped from my vocabulary, cute Kiwi boys have been smooched. I even took part in a thrilling escapade to convince the landlord a cat does not live here! MY!
Things weren’t all sheep and hobbits, though; this week has been chock-a-block with paperwork, applications and, in general, ADMIN. I also remain in a Mexican standoff with the Auckland transit system which will not allow me to be on time (or even on the right bus.) Satisfying progress on the flat’s 3rd jigsaw puzzle and the
ridiculous soothing sounds of 95bFM radio’s Freak the Sheep and Amelia Discrete are the only cure.
#Live, Laugh, Louvre, my friends! Xoxo, Em-the-Phlegm
If you haven’t read Week 1, you can catch up here.