Archive for June, 2010


Oz: Rain in Melbourne

It’s raining in Melbourne today. For some reason it seems to me like nobody here really expects rain, at least not the city administration. It rains for 10 minutes and all the streets are flooded. As it turns out, my shoes are not water-resistant. It’s cold, too, and windy, and while most people are wrapped tightly in big coats and scarves and Ugg boots, some still walk around in shorts and T-shirts, or short skirts, hoping that summer will come back. Well, good luck with that. We will probably move on to Perth soon, and I hope it’ll be at least slightly warmer there. And drier. We’ll see.


Oz: Still in Melbourne

It has been forever since I’ve last written into my English blog, as you no doubt noticed, but what can I say? I used to get paid for translating stuff, so I’m not too keen on doing it in my spare time! Well, I’m just too lazy and most of the people following my exciting adventures in Australia do speak German. So you’re out of luck. However, there’s always Babelfish. :D

There isn’t too much to report. I had work for two weeks, earning some money as a milkman (or milklady). It was a cool experience, even though I really wasn’t crazy about the job itself. Instead of delivering milk, I had to go from door to door to try to convince people to get their milk, bread, eggs and other fresh produce delivered. It is a great concept, actually, and it does help Australian farmers and all, but door to door sales aren’t fun when people are mean. Now of course, if everyone were lovely and friendly, it would be a cool job. But some people were mean, like that one woman who just said, “No, no!” before slamming the door shut and who then, AFTERWARDS, put a handwritten note on her fence saying, “No hawking or canvassing.” Like I’d knock on her door twice that same evening. Because my first encounter with her had been so enjoyable. Some people…

However, there were others that were nicer, like the lovely family that made me a hot chocolate while I took their order. The old lady who let me in for tea and biscuits because, according to her, I was “such a nice Irish girl”. The Canadian-born woman who didn’t order anything, but who thought I was Canadian, too. Or the guy with all the Ned Kelly paraphernalia, who ordered something because he pitied me, and who offered me a beer or a cognac, neither of which I accepted. But those people were the nice ones, the ones that made the job fun.

At any rate, I quit when my base wage ran out, as I wasn’t particularly good at selling stuff, so it wasn’t exactly profitable. And now I’m back to square one, looking for another job. Maybe we’ll leave Melbourne by the end of June and have a look at the west coast, see if there are any jobs there, or just travel. Life is good. The world is my oyster, the road is my home.