Random Jibberings

I'm worried. I think I may have flees. Seriously. I crossed over to the North Island yesterday and am currently in Wellington, which is just about as far removed from the outdoors as one can get in New Zealand, yet I'm still being bitten. I asked a pharmacist whether Wellington had any sandflies and he looked at me as if I was a dumb blonde. Maybe I am. But SOMETHING's biting me.

I used to know what flee-bites look like, as my ex-dog had a major infestation one hot summer in Lisbon, but the experience was so enjoyable I removed all trace of it from my memory and now I simply can't be sure. And it's not like I can just walk up to people and ask them to validate my potential flee bites. Anyway... I'm throwing all my clothes in the laundry tonight in the hope of drowning whatever creature it is that is besieging me.

On a different note entirely, I saw this sign up in the hostel's kitchen this morning:

And then this is what my current room looks like:

I think most of us tread the room as we would a bombshell site: with utmost care. You never quite know what might be lurking in the mess. Actually that's not true... I do know what's lurking in this mess. It's a korean guy called Chang. He's on my top bunk and he's managed to seriously confuse me about global etiquette. I always assumed that when you notice someone changing out of their dayclothes and into their jimmy-jams, you discretely turn away to let them get on with the undressing in peace, even if conversation is still ongoing. But, yesterday as I was getting undressed, Mr.Chang's head suddenly popped down from the top-bunk and stared right at me while I was taking off my bra. And it stayed there for an unnessecarily long time, eventually making me leave the room to get undressed outside. Is that the Asian way of doing things?!?

An even weirder thing happened to me at the Te Papa museum this morning, when a complete stranger suddenly grabbed my arm and announced that she was going to hold onto it for the duration of her visit, as she was afraid of heights and quite a few exhibits were on suspended platforms. So, my intended solitary visit to the museum turned out to be reluctantly spent in the company of a nervous addendum. I really should become more assertive, but I think I can be forgiven for having been baffled into complacency by her move.

Off on yet another tangent, it seems my accent is sliding rapidly. I keep being mistaken for Irish. Even by Irish natives. I'm not sure why that is, as I've not conciously altered my intonation or speech. A while ago, I was making a heartfelt complaint at the dinnertable that I had yet to meet someone from my own country, to which an American-sounding girl replied: "What on Earth are you talking about, you Irish are everywhere?! I'm the one that should be complaining!! I've met no one from back home!!" To which I replied: "I'm not Irish and besides what are YOU on about, there's tons of yanks around!!"

To cut a long story short, we eventually sussed out, much to the hilarity of the other guests, that we were both Belgian and that our hometowns are literally 5 minutes apart from each other. The story appears to have become the hostel legend, for when I returned to the same hostel after doing the Abel Tasman track, I overhead a conversation between two new guests: "I heard a funny story the other day about two Belgians meeting in this hostel...". Ahhh... part of NZ legend at last ;)

- A girlie night dying hair at the hostel -

Well... the post WAS titled Random Jibberings. I think that's what you got. Catch you all laters ;)