Existing Member?

Are we there yet?

A lot can change in three weeks.

AUSTRALIA | Thursday, 5 November 2009 | Views [851]

Two non-Germans try to fit in by looking more drunk than German

Two non-Germans try to fit in by looking more drunk than German

I'm back in Broome. My house is full of strangers. The weather is a hot liquid overcoat. I am no longer a underwater porcelain technician. All of these facts painted a rather scary picture on my return home. Particularly with the financial freedom of a penniless ascetic. Fortunately my job was actually upgraded to a cook's position, possibly the first person to ever be promoted while holidaying, and a pay rise accompanied the change.

The new head chef liked the cut of my jib, as I had dressed it up for the occasion, and decided anyone as old as me shouldn't be doing menial cleaning jobs. So instead he got me doing menial slicing and dicing jobs. I had a brief crack at the pass, a job that required sending the wait staff to the right tables with the food. That was easy enough when everyone stopped competing amongst themselves to see who could make the stupidest mistake.

Salad plates were a secondary responsibility and had I not sent about four caesar salads out with the wrong dressing, no anchovies and no croutons, I would have said I excelled in the role. My vegetarian skills were also called upon to inject a few more animal friendly options into the menu. My first two attempts were all different kinds of wrong and got catalogued in the 'would taste okay to people nearing starvation' file. I am yet to be asked for further ideas.

So the change hasn't been a smooth transition, and the days pass dreaming of my next move. For now I am only entertaining thoughts of further changes to my vocation, and a job offer as a pizza chef was a timely reminder that there are always other doors open if you want to throw caution to the wind. I've got plenty of wind and no caution when it comes to throwing doors open, so fertile soils are being prepared for new possibilities.

The wet season has come to the residents of Broome specifically, even if the clouds have not yet delivered on that promise. I sweat trying to turn the air conditioner up more. I sweat just thinking about it. I sweat more because I am sweating. The pool is a few degrees above toddler-piss warm all day and night. Until I can figure out a way to chop vegies while partially submerged, I am not going to be able to spend as much time in there as I consider necessary though.

Thankfully passing the time getting to know new flatmates is always an interesting way of finding out there is no such thing as 'normal'. A constant change of personal since has not left anyone here long enough to get to attached to. They all chose to move on due to reasons too numerous to mention without trying to justify my frequent outbursts of nudity. One who has endured is Alex, JJ's younger brother and a fellow lover of inhalable happiness. While my intake remains an infrequent garnish on the day to day paradise that is Broome, Alex needs it like hippies need tye-dye. With half of Broome's female population already in his black book, this weapon of mass conception must use weed like a cologne made of rhinoceros semen, or some similar aphrodisiac.

I should have got to see its effectiveness first hand when Alex joined me at Matsos for Oktoberfest. I probably did see it but my vision had been severely compromised by certain aspects of the day. As everyone jumps to the conclusion that I had my beer-goggles on, I will state that it was actually the uniforms of the staff. As saucy and curvaceous as the women looked in their long socks, suspenders and cleavage promoting tops, all the guys looked like they were auditioning for 'Brokeback Mountain 2'. Perving was fraught with peril should a wandering eye miss its busty bullseye and land instead on some creepy sort of hairy anatomy. Eventually beer did get the better of me, and in keeping with Oktoberfest in Australia, I played up like a drunk idiot where plenty of behavioural similarities could be made with a typical Germans celebratory style. What they were exactly I am yet to find out as people tend to blush whenever I seek an explanation for what actually happened that night. Probably a good sign that I should be apologising to more than just my liver.

Tags: friends, work

Add your comments

(If you have a travel question, get your Answers here)

In order to avoid spam on these blogs, please enter the code you see in the image. Comments identified as spam will be deleted.


About homeless_harry

A new profile picture was well overdue

Follow Me

Where I've been

Favourites

Photo Galleries

Highlights

Near Misses

My trip journals


See all my tags 


 

 

Travel Answers about Australia

Do you have a travel question? Ask other World Nomads.