Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Back to the Gold Coast - Daily Notes - Collection II

Friday, 2nd March 2007

NIGHTISH – KJ came down from Gladstone. We caught a screening of Guillermo Del Toro’s Pan’s Labyrinth. Think a darker, Alice in Wonderland for grown-ups. Enthralling.

Saturday, 3rd March 2007

MORNING – Inspected the “2 bedroom fully furnished unit for rent” in Southport which was really the converted 2-car garage of a family home (with the family living in it). The ad said “a short walk to uni” but what it meant was “a kilometer long walk to uni across a darkened, forest-y/bush area where hoods and predators may hide in the shadows and jump you at any given moment.” And there wasn’t a bus stop nearby. And one of the first things you see is a sign that says “NO SMOKING OR RISK IMMEDIATE EVICTION” followed by a framed poster of Donald Duck on the wall along with Donald Duck sheets and a skinny iron bed that looked right out of a correctional facility. I refuse to live in a suburban garage shrine to Donald Duck. A non-smoking one at that! Didn’t Donald smoke a pipe?

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REST OF THE DAY – Attended St. Jerome’s Laneway Festival in Brissie with KJ. I know I said being stuck at a music festival with all the sneering indie-hipster kids in their floppy hair, thick framed glasses, skinny jeans and i-haven’t-bought-a-new-dress-since-I-was-9 glory was my worst nightmare but KJ paid for the tickets. I’m a grateful free-loader. Lots of drunk, underage-looking kids running around with red plastic cups and Jack Daniels cans with bits of cookie in their hair. Caught Youth Group, The Walkmen, The Sleepy Jackson, Peter Bjorn & John (plus a duet with the chick from Camera Obscura)and Yo La Tengo. While I’ve never thought much of Sleepy Jackson, I have to say I love musicians who seem to be enjoying their show more than their audience is (syok sendiri). Seriously, if you’re going to go up on an elevated stage and appear as awkward and uncomfortable as the rest of us, then you might as well not be on it (The Walkmen, I’m talking to YOU!). Peter & Bjorn brought some Swedish humor to the proceedings – “Hello Brisbane! I was…..hello……yes, I was. I was born that way.” Yo La Tengo lived up to their reputation of being the ugliest band ever – when they came onstage, I couldn’t help but think, “Jeebus, what is that?!!” – still, they had moments of musical brilliance which I would’ve enjoyed thoroughly had it not been for the fact that they were the last people to go on and I’m ageing rapidly and I need my rest. My mom called my mobile while I was at the event yelling, “What’s that noise?! Where are you?! Why are you at a music festival? Aren’t you supposed to be out looking for a house to live in?!!!!” Yes. Except it is 10 p.m. and which shady real estate agent is open at this hour?

Sunday, 4th March 2007

Waved goodbye to KJ in the morning. Crashed on the couch and decided that I’d rather watch some corny, American dog movie on TV than be productive. Despite the fact that I find all movies featuring clever animals rather irritating (perhaps, because they make me feel inferior). A dog that can fold a napkin while outsmarting the baddies? Wow-wee, Beethoven! They’re always showing a movie about some kind of wondrous dog on Sundays. I think it is part of some underground conspiracy to punish the people that don’t go to church or play footie in the park.

In the afternoon, I was manipulated by Zher and SD into attending a poolside barbecue at M’s place (You might remember that M was the guy in the chicken suit and the bling necklace from last Halloween) out near Carrara (but further). It’s a nice, shiny, new, two-storey house, huge yard, decent-sized pool facing a snaking, river canal, rolling greens and a (golf course?). Bob Marley was playing on the stereo and a German guy they call “Scheiße” was barbecuing fish he had caught himself in the morning. I don’t know how I feel about eating something cooked by someone who has been nicknamed after the German word for shit. And I hate being conned into socialization. I was trapped in conversation with P (the guy with the silver face mask on his crotch from last Halloween) for a while. He was talking about how he went to Phuket & Bangkok and all the girls he met were hookers (well, he is a white boy hanging out at all the touristy places) or they used to be boys and now they were girl hookers. He said the experience made him uncomfortable. There are only so many hookers a man can take before wanting to have fun for free, I gathered, although P tried to phrase it in a way that would make him sound as if he just wasn’t into hookers. Please. You’re probably just cheap. P asked me what the girls in KL were like. Well, not all of us are hookers, for a start. “I don’t know, they’re like me, like Zher, I guess,” I said. Yes, I was boring myself in this conversation. “You mean, hot?” P asked. Uh. Yeah, sure whatever. But yes, Zher is hot. (Alas, I’m either ‘alright’ by association or hideous by comparison). In other conversations, Grandma C (dubbed “Grandma” because she’s loud, she nags, she bakes killer cakes and keeps harping on about how young we are as compared to her grand old age of 27) talked of her tendency to catch diseases that have been largely unheard of since 1939.

Posted by Maryam at 4:01 AM | |

Sunday, March 11, 2007

Back to the Gold Coast Daily Notes (Collection 1)

Tuesday, 27th February 2007

NOON TO 9 P.M GOODBYES AROUND PJ & KL - I’m flying back to Oz tonight. Uni started yesterday. Heck, nothing important ever goes on in the first week of the semester, eh? (and sometimes middle and sometimes end and sometimes throughout). In light of my imminent departure, The Mother has graciously decided to sign a treaty to end the Cold War between us; a battle for supremacy which was sparked weeks ago after I had the audacity to park in a parking spot not of The Mother’s choosing while driving her around. Kere, The Mother and I went out for lunch where the drinks flowed more smoothly than our conversation which consisted mostly of Kere and I saying back and forth: What are you eating? I don’t know, what are you eating? I don’t know. I love Dean. Sure you do. So what are you eating? And then my mother finally piped in, after a long period of I-haven’t-completely-forgiven-you-yet silence, “I want hummus. Does anyone want hummus?” To which Kere and I said no but when the hummus came, we ate it all anyway. And mid-way through the meal, my mother said, “That girl, at the table behind you; she just gave me a bitchy stare…” Kere and I considered the possibility that perhaps, my mother, unconsciously gave the girl a bitchy stare first and she was only responding in kind. My mother firmly said, “NO.” Then I said it’s probably because she’s jealous of our stunning presence. Laughter all around. The sound of cutlery clinking on eachother.

The Alia came by in the afternoon and scared the living infantile slacker in me by talking about marriage and babies and insurance and work. If there’s one way to relief my anxiety over flying tonight, it is to start talking to me about babies, joint savings account, mortgage loans --- can you hear me hyperventilating?

The Cousin won’t stop calling asking if I was free to hang out. I say, “Dude, I’m flying back to Oz tonight.” She says, “Ok, when?” I say, “Tonight!” She says, “So are you free to hang out now?” and I say, “I haven’t finished packing and my flight is tonight!” And she says, “Alaaa….why are you flying out tonight?” and I say, “Uh, cause uni started yesterday.” Then what does she say, “Ok, then why don’t you meet me at O.U. now?” and of course I have to say, “I can’t. I haven’t finished packing.” And then she says, “I really want to hang out with you again before you go. It was so fun the last (and only) time. How ‘bout later tonight?” and then I huff and I puff, “I can’t. I’m flying out tonight!!!!!!!! Get it?!” And she says, “So when are you free to hang out?”

This cousin, she’s really a nice girl; she’s younger, she’s impressionable and best of all, she’s under the (false) impression that I’m cool or something. I’m flattered and at the same time kinda annoyed, it’s like that stray kitten that decided to follow you home after you petted it on the head once and now sits at your front door, mewing loudly and constantly, scratching the door and biting your ankles everytime you try to leave the house.

A couple of friends call to tell me to have a good and safe flight. As if I have much control over how safe and good my flight is. Do I look like a pilot, or the weather, or God to you? One says, “Okay, have a good and safe flight,” and then, “Wait a minute. Aren’t you afraid of flying? Oooooo……ooooo…..” and hangs up.

Ju, the maid, started shedding major tears when I said goodbye. She does this everytime I go somewhere for more than three consecutive days. The Mother says she can’t understand why the maid would be upset at the thought of my absence. Because everything I touch apparently turns to Mess, The Mother thought my maid should be rejoicing with song and dance. The Daddy said, “She was probably crying tears of joy.” At my absence? What are you talking about?!! In the words of Dean Winchester, I’m a joy to be around!

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10 50M3TH1NG p.m.-KUALA LUMPUR INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, SEPANG– Zher and I are on the same flight together. Which is good. Some time ago, I came to realize that I was a sheep. I hate being involved in most things unless I can have at least one friend/sister there with me. If I were to die in a fiery plane crash, I’d feel more comfortable if I had a friend on the plane with me, sharing the same deadly fate.

We left my dad and her boyfriend chatting away at the airport. My dad brings his work everywhere with him and I told Zher, “I bet you my dad’s talking to F about his company’s solar dried bananas. I bet he’s saying, “You like bananas? You want to try’s uncle’s bananas? Maybe your mom would like to try my bananas?” And don’t forget the solar-dried mangoes. I bet he’s giving F the recipe for making his special Mango Mint Tea. F later confirms that my dad was indeed, asking if F and his mom wanted to try his bananas. And he now has the recipe for Mango Mint Tea.

Kere’s parting words had something to do with Dean, complete with an awkward bloke-hug thrown in. My mother’s were over-the-top as usual, “In case anything happens, know that I’ve forgiven you.” What the?!!!!!

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I’ve got three words for you: DUTY FREE CIGARETTES. It’s like music to a girl’s ears. Must buy them and smoke them before boarding. The smoking lounge was a skankpit though. I wonder whose bright idea was it to put 2 dozen nervous smokers in a carpeted, fully air conditioned room with no open windows? It’s sad and at the same time, poetic that we find smokers trapped in a room filled with smoke with nothing to do but smoke; like a pig living in their own filth.

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11.30 p.m. TAKE OFF Strapped to my Seat in the Damn Plane – I feel reasonably calm for someone stuffed into a giant aluminum can and shot up 25 000 feet into the sky. I settle down by reading Farish A. Noor’s The Other Malaysia – interesting collection of essays but I got distracted by the thought that at any moment, someone was going to accidentally turn their mobile phone on and cause the plane to crash.

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Wednesday, 28th February 2007

1.00 a.m. UP IN THE CLOUDS BUT FEELING ONLY SLIGHTLY BETTER – Dear children, if you plan to one day travel the world which undoubtedly requires more than a couple of flights unless someone has invented teleportation by then, make sure that you don’t ever grow above 4 feet tall as airlines do not provide enough leg room in Economy to comfortably accommodate anyone above aforementioned height. If you do end up being over 4 feet tall, better hope you’re rich enough to afford First Class plane tickets or risk having your knee cap pushed back to your pelvis because the person in front of you keeps reclining her seat waaaay back. If this happens, you can proceed by lightly tapping offending passenger on the shoulder. “Excuse me,” you can politely say, “Could you help me? I can’t feel my legs!”

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3.00 a.m. – My legs might be asleep but the rest of me can’t seem to. I’m itching for a cigarette or some kind of tranquilizer. Heck, at this rate I’ll even try lavender pillow sprays and chamomile tea. Somebody give me something so I can sleep this boredom away. In-flight entertainment did little to alleviate the psychological pressure of being stuck in a giant flying aluminum can. There’s a lot of turbulence going on. The fasten seatbelt sign keeps lighting up. I tried to distract myself by watching Dreamgirls. The movie made me feel like I’d rather be killed in a plane crash right now than watch the movie the whole way through. What tops my fear of flying? Talk of babies and now, Dreamgirls. The movie put the fear of Diva in me.

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7. 50M3TH1N6 a.m. – Too late to sleep now. Sun is up and the cabin is buzzing with hunger, bad breath, a sore neck and potential DVT. A lady walks along the aisle carrying her crying, wailing baby up and down the cabin. Do you notice that in every public bus, train and plane, there has to be at least one crying baby? Companies actually plant them there because they secretly hate their customers for always being right. They served us recycled paper modeled after cheese croissants for breakfast. But it’s alright. I’m a smoker. Everything tastes like airline food to me. I want a smoke. Right. Now.

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8 50M3TH1NG a.m – We’re constantly reminded that Australia is free of rabies and other funny ass animal and plant diseases. But recently they had something funky break out (I think it had to do with cows). That’s why the flight attendants started bug spraying us shortly before landing. I wonder how many countries could get away with ordering all incoming visitors and tourists to be bug sprayed like a bunch of fruits before setting foot into their country.

The Captain made the usual pre-landing announcement. Except he said in that we were to arrive on schedule at Sydney International Airport. Twice. Except this is supposed to be the flight to Brisbane. It took him a while to realize it and correct himself. I wonder if we should trust this pilot…

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9/ 10 50M3TH1NG a.m.- ARRIVALS, Brisbane Airport- So landing was crap but at least we’re alive and at the right airport. Immigration Man is yelling into every foreigner’s ear, “DO YOU UNDERSTAND EVERYTHING ON THIS CARD??!!!” while waving the disembarkation/declaration card thingie in front of their faces. I feel tempted to yell in his ear, “NO! BUT I HAVE RABIES. RWARRRRR!” Haven’t slept in over 24 hours. Feel light-footed but heavy-headed. I’m trying my best not to look like a suspicious character. Customs Man eyes my luggage with suspicion as he makes a move to lift it onto the conveyor belt of the x-ray-thingie. “Is it heavy?” he asks. “No,” I said. He didn’t look as if he believed me but he lifted it anyway and was pleasantly surprised. “It’s light! Where’s all your shopping?” he asks. I didn’t think he cared to know the answer. If he did, he would have learned the following things:

a) I didn’t do much shopping because

b) I’m convinced that I have a skank-shaped body and no item of clothing I buy will remedy the hideous skankiness of my natural or unnatural body shape. A skank-shaped body is a taller Lil’Kim with no breast implants with a dose of Britney’s barefoot, cheetos-eating, trailer trash, teenage mom of two infants with a deadbeat husband aura.

c) I nearly died of shock while shopping for eye cream. I had so far been nicking my mom’s L’Occitane one. But I thought it was time for me to get my own bottle. The salesgirl told me that the cream would, “reduce puffiness and dark shadows around the eyes and great for soothing it after staring at the computer all day.” Yah, yah, I said and she said something about cucumber and mountain blabla leaf essence and I said yah, yah and she said, “It’s RM168” for a tiny tube and I choked, “WHAT?!” How much are cucumbers these days?

d) I’m a Sagittarius and I love long walks by the beach.

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ALMOST 1.P.M – BACK IN THE GOLD COAST – Our house in Labrador looks like a small-time drug dealer’s den. Two cheap neon plastic & aluminum lounge chairs sit on the lawn, the grass is overgrown and the landlady had put up a scary, ghetto-looking wooden fence around the compound. It doesn’t help that Labrador is known as one guy put it, “Labrador, Lock-Your-Door”. Every time I tell someone I live in Labrador, I am met by an expression of horror and disbelief. “Seriously?” They’ll ask. “Yeah, it’s just a 20 minute walk to uni,” I’ll say. And it was cheap. And the interior of the house itself was fully furnished in relatively passable taste (except for a huge white painted clay bust of a Romanesque woman sitting in the living room, a couple of garden gnomes out back by the bathtub-masquerading-as-a-pool, and a gold-framed painting entitled “Mr. Will Long on Bertha”, a naughty-sounding title that could’ve easily passed off as a porn flick).

The house has been slowly emptying out. Last winter saw AA and SS return home to the States while C, the hairy, neo-hippie alternative medicine post-grad student moved to Brisbane. At the start of the past summer holiday, SD moved to Surfer’s Paradise – it’s closer to her workplace. Z and I are the last remaining occupants and we’ve actually been talking about moving out for some time now and came up with the pros and cons of continuing to reside at our current address:

Pros

Cons

Cheap – fully furnished incl. cutlery, linens, wireless broadband, electricity, juicer and a collection of all the Mel Gibson, Robert Redford, Barbara Streisand and Tom Cruise movies.

Other places don’t come close to being this fully furnished and definitely not at this modest price. Can’t stand Tom Cruise. Can’t stand Barbara Streisand but The Way We Were rocked. No, seriously.

A short walk to uni and close to public transport (the bus stop!) Apparently, it’s also close to all the drug dealers.

But we wished we had a car. Any car. Ghetto neighborhood with apparently, a high crime-rate. Might get stabbed when walking home late at night. A bunch of kids stabbed a man for no reason at the nearby shopping mall. And rumor has it that a man living in Labrador chopped off his own balls during a psychotic episode on Ice last year.

Spa and food storage benefit. When it’s hot outside, the house turns into a sauna and when it’s cold outside, the house turns into a fridge. Solar-powered water heaters make hot showers cost-effective and environmentally-friendly.

Heat exhaustion, dehydration, hypothermia.

Oh and if you plan to take a shower to cool off, watch your head! The shower head is set too low that you risk bumping your head on it. Brain hemorrhage, concussion, death.

Despite all the reported crime going around the neighborhood, our street feels rather peaceful and quiet. Like a euthanized dog. It’s alright, I did commit to a life of quiet, hermitude a couple of months ago.

In the event of a social occasion on the livelier side of town, hardly anyone will be happy to give you a ride home after hearing that you live in Labrador. Not even after you’ve been charming all night.

In the end, Zher and I decided that it would be nice to move out. Except we never did. The lazy outweighed the pros. Once you go ghetto, you can’t get off the couch. But that was before today. Today, we arrive home to find a note from our landlady on our kitchen counter:

Dear Z & Maryam, As you know, due to my personal circumstances (her husband and her are separating and he’s not paying for the mortgage) I have had to put (the house) up for sale… The new owners have not bought it as an investment; they are going to live in it… Unfortunately, I have to give you notice to vacate the house by Sunday March 18th. I will be in Singapore until March 5th. Regards. That’s right, you’re supposed to give one month notice for these things – she cleverly dated the note February 18th.

Questions arise: How are we going to find a new place at such short notice? How are we going to get a place this late into the semester? The freshies would’ve snapped up all the cheap, decent places weeks ago! How are we going to find another furnished place for this cheap??!!!!!! What’s on TV?! What’s for dinner? Why do I exist? What is the meaning of life? Is there a God? Why is the sky blue?

I suppose the Cosmic Order has a way of snapping people into action. Sort of. Zher and I said, yeah, right now we really have to commit to finding a new place, a nicer one. Tomorrow.

We sat on the couch for the rest of the day in a cloud of smoke and contemplated the nothingness of things.

Posted by Maryam at 4:17 PM | |