My Weekend or How I Got Screwed by the French

The bags were packed, the plans had been made and it was all systems GO for the mega meeting of summer camp friends in Madrid. Yes, I had planned to take a chance on the "3 months advised" rule hoping that my UK work permit and the fact that I had not one, but TWO jobs to come back to would sway immigration in my favour. Then, the Air Traffic Controllers of France went on strike and my outbound flight was canceled forcing me to put the kibosh on that adventure. That was the first screw-over.

Not wanting to totally miss out on a vaykay, I called my friend Drama in London and asked if I could come crash at his for the weekend. Fortunately, it was simple enough to change my return flight from Barcelona into tickets to London and back. After a delightful dinner catch up with a T Dot pal in Chinatown, it was off to Soho to meet up with Drama at a mutual friend's birthday do.

That night, I must confess I went a little party-mad. It wasn't just the birthday boy who was at the receiving end of complimentary rounds, I was not doing too bad myself. A chance encounter at the bar had lead to some flirty chit chat with a tall and handsome blue eyed stranger. The five minutes at the bar turned into flirty chit chat for the rest of the night once we realised that we were both there for the same birthday party! Huuuum, what are the odds? When we said goodbye at the end of the night, I figured that was it. So it was pleasantly surprising (and quite flattering) when the birthday boy texted me the next morning to ask permission to pass on my phone number to Blue Eyes. 

One text message and phone call later, we were meeting up that evening for dinner, drinks and much more flirty chit chat. And that was the night I got screwed by the French again. Only this time, I didn't mind as much.

Take That Slamming Door!

The reason I had been so skeptical about the meeting with True's manager was because there had been so many others in the past who had taken my details to pass on to their friend/manager/boss/ etc and nothing had come off it. My lovely friend, the beautiful (and totally mentally unhinged) Tigger had also passed on my deets to her manager-lady, but I'd long since heard that standard response Thanks, we'll be in touch. 

Then yesterday I got a call from Tigger's manager-lady inviting me to an interview. Again, I went with little expectations. Again, I was thrown a curve ball as we had a simulation exercise mid way through the interview after which I was offered a job!

Its not anything grand; over-the-phone market research, minimum wage. However, the great part is that I can pick my work days which means that I can still schedule things so that I'm working about 32 hours a week and still have 2 mornings/afternoons off to continue with my research for the G Town tours.

Perhaps I'm mistaken here, but it truly feels like the Universe is finally playing on my team!

Doors Slamming, Windows Opening

It's only the very foolish who would think that once things start to go well, nothing but good will follow. There's still going to be things that will go askew. Its a cosmic reality. 



Being a tour guide was supposed to be my dream job. A combination of history, storytelling and being touristy; would anything else fit as well for me? It was all I had ever wanted in a job.... and then some. I worked hard to get in and spent countless hours doing research, putting together the perfect script, tapping into the inner actress to hone my storytelling skills. It was a proud moment when I lead my first group and I was so excited that I could barely stand still!

But not all was sunshine and lollipops. The company had a strict minimum 20% repeat rate that every tour guide had to maintain. The higher the repeat rate, the better the shifts you commanded. Also, living in G Town and having to commute over an hour to Edinburgh each time was also taking a toll. Both physically and financially. There were days when I'd travel there but the tour wouldn't run. Other days, I'd bust a gut for a group, but they wouldn't bother tipping, so I'd run at a loss. And let's not even get into the joys of having to lead a walking tour during a Spring downpour! Still, I persevered and gave it my all. Even so, my repeat rates were hovering dangerously close to the minimum threshold; I was in danger of loosing the one job that I'd wanted more than anything else. When I left for England at the end of June, I wasn't sure if I would be coming back to guiding. I was right. On getting back, I tried to contact the manager and team leader to ask to be put back on the rota. Emails, text messages, phone calls... all went unanswered. After two weeks of trying, I gave up. A few months ago, such a blow would have reduced me to a blubbering mess of tears, but not now. I took it as a sign that it wasn't meant to be. I'd given it my best shot and I'd truly enjoyed the 2 months that I'd spent as a guide. Also, I wasn't quite sure I wanted to continue working for a company that wasn't even professional enough to call and let me know that there wasn't a spot on the rota for me. That was just plain bad business manners.

Fast on the heels of that disappointment, came the Spanish debacle. A meet-up of friends from summer camp had been planned for Madrid and I was to head off to San Fernando and Barcelona after that. But that too t'was not meant to be. First there were problems with my passport as I had two months left on validity and the Spanish Embassy's website stated that it was "preferable" that there were three months validity. This would mean that I'd be at the mercy of the immigration officer upon arrival, and we all know just what wonderful souls of humanity they are. The last straw was this morning when I got an email from the airline stating that my outbound flight has been cancelled due to a Air Traffic Controllers strike in France. Flights scheduled to fly through French airspace have been diverted and those that cannot have been cancelled. I'm taking it as another sign.

That's the doors slamming part. Now, for those slowly opening windows.

Firstly, I'm going to get my documents together and apply for a new passport. I've saved the money on the outbound flight as the airline gave me a full refund. I've taken the money from the return flight and applied it instead to a return ticket to London for this weekend. If I cannot have a full on holiday, I'll take a mini break for a fun weekend with my pals. Also, I have a friend from the T Dot who's currently visiting London and it will be nice to catch up with a homie!

As for the dream job, well, I have a bigger and better plan. It may sound totally crazy, but here it is: I'm going to start my own tours right here in G Town. I already know that there's a huge gap in the market for walking tours aimed at the backpacker population. None exist. I've looked online, spoken to hostels and hotels and spoken with the tourist information services. There's the hop-on-hop-off bus tours, but that's it. I already know much of the history of the city and Scotland in general. Friends who have visited me have already benefited from a rough version of a G Town tour. I know I can do this. I WANT to do this. It will take hard work, long hours and loads of patience on my part, but I'm ready for it.

I'm taking charge and I'm making sure that the window opens. Heck, I'll bust a new one into the wall if I have to. This is one dream that will not be allowed to just slip away.

You're Patience is Requested

Dear Readers,
I do apologise about the random nature of my recent posts. I've been trying to catch up, but there's been a whole lotta crazy that's happened right through the summer and also after I got home. There were a bunch of posts that I had to abandon half way through as I fled to deal with some sort of crisis... or merely to the staff room for a (few) pints. Reading over my notes, I am loath to just delete those posts as I feel that they best capture my raw emotions over the summer experiences. However, remembering what I meant by often cryptic words half strung together in a random grouping is proving harder than I thought!

And so, I ask that you please put up with me for a wee bit longer as I try to untangle the threads of the past and catch up with the present all at once. I'm not posting them in chronological order, so sometimes you may have to go two steps back in order to go forward! (A fine mirroring of my life, don't you think?) But, do stay tuned; this will all be sorted soon enough.

Sincerely,

Pixy

Another Milestone

Today marks one year since I moved into my twee apartment here in G Town. Through the last year, its been the one constant of goodness. Literally, my place of refuge. And of course Rain Man, my very mental, very sweet and totally crazy flat mate who (amongst other things) introduced me some of my best pals, given me a hug and kind words when things have been down, helped me settle into the city and just generally been an overall great candidate for the Flatmate of the Century award!

Leaping Capasity

There were a flurry of meet-ups after I got back. Lunch dates, coffee dates, movie dates, random walks through Kelvingrove Park dates. For a single girl, I was sure dating a lot! One of those dates was with a friend True, who I hadn't seen a long long while. She had volunteered for the two charity projects I'd helped organise and we'd kept in touch. Over coffee in Ashton Lane, we caught up on the past few months. On hearing that I was back to job hunting, she offered to pass on my CV to her manager. I thanked her, but didn't think too much about it. After all, there had been so many people who'd said they be able to help but nothing had ever come off it.

Even when a few days later I received a call from True's manager inviting me to a meeting at their offices, I assumed it would be a quick chat about my CV and past work experience followed by the customary statement: Thank you for your time, but we don't have anything right now. We'll be in touch if something comes up. I wasn't expecting anything more.

Imagine my surprise then, when I was introduced to the HR Director who was going to sit in on the "meeting". The surprise turned into abject horror when I realised that this was no mere meeting over a cuppa. This was a full scale interview. One that I was scant prepared for. Other than glancing at the website, I hadn't really done any proper research into the company or their product. Somehow I blabbed my way through the questions; an whole hour of them! And even then, it wasn't over. They asked me to do a test! Fortunately it was a relatively easy typing and word speed test. Feeling rather weary by now, I headed back to the meeting room. A beaming HR Director shook my hand with frank exuberance and before I could even comprehend what was happening, I was being offered a job. Twenty hours a week; part time, but a permanent position.

When I headed out this morning, I hoped for nothing more than a chat over coffee and potentially making a new contact. Somehow, I've now returned home with an offer of employment and I start in 3 weeks.

Back in June I wrote about my lost mojo. The fact that I had allowed the events of the past year to beat me into submission and alter certain basic features of my personality. I had chosen to forget about my otherwise fearless capasity to leap into a new situation; take a chance, make a splash. It seemed at the time, that my spirit had taken a royal beating and old friends like Curly, Penguin Pal and The Blonde One who know me well implored me to at least try and "find my way" again.

Well, its taken some time but I can truly say that I feel like I'm back. The real me. The old me... with some new and (hopefully) improved aspects.

A new job, a new start, a new lease on life, a new beginning.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I am back at Leaping Capasity. Bring on the World!

A New Chapter

An eight hour train ride home is the perfect opportunity for me to take stock of the weeks gone by. There are many things that will forever be linked with my memories of life at summer camp. Some good, some not, but over all its been one helluva crazy roller coaster ride. Its only been a few hours, but already I'm missing the hustle and bustle of camp life. True, over the past two weeks our numbers had shrunk and a lot of the staff left last week, but even so, there were still enough people around. Its going to be very strange being on my own again. I wonder how I'm going to like it.


Looking out the window, I see mountains. We must have crossed the border into Scotland some time ago. Not too long to go before I'm home. I'm not at all sure what the next few weeks will bring me. I don't even know if I'll be calling Scotland home for much longer. What I do know is that I'm no longer the same person I was when I left here seven weeks ago. Being away from G Town and let's face it, being well out of the way of Beans has been a very good thing. The time away has helped me refocus on what's truly important - ME. In a few short weeks I have gone from being a sad and lonely dumpee to a happy, carefree and vibrant being who's even managed to have herself one hot  (HOT) summer fling!

Yes, I'm going back to a quiet home. Then again, after having to share a life with 400 odd other people anything will be quiet in comparison. But its not going be a lonely life. There are friends that I've missed over the summer and who I cannot wait to see again. Talk to, do some much needed catching up. There are job applications to send out; not the most pleasant task, but it has to be done! There are still so many places in and around G Town that I want to explore; the traveller in me will never rest.

Only another hour or so and the train will pull into Central Station. I will take my bags, step off the train and head off. It's time for me to write a new chapter, and I hope you'll come back and read along with me.

After the Drought comes the Thunder

I love my job and I love my colleagues, but 24-7 with the same people in a confined space is enough to make you want to kill even your bestest pal. Which is why, on my days off I usually flee the boundaries of campus at the first available opportunity and spend the day as far away from anything and anyone work related.

Today was the first time I broke that rule. Still, if you could spend extended periods of time in the company of this fine specimen of mankind, wouldn't you stick around as well?

French group leader. Artist. Musician. Boxer. Body of a minor Greek God. Studying law. Knows how to move those hips VERY well. Doesn't snore.

The rain poured down all day today. Indoors as well, a storm was raging. Thunder, lightening.... the works.

Book Review - The Tained Relic

A random stop on one of the shopping trips with the kids took me to a book sale where I just couldn't resist a 3 for £5 deal. One of the books I picked up was rather interesting in more ways than one. A murder mystery that not only spans several centuries, but one that is written by multiple authors.

The story begins in the year 1100. It is the time of the First Crusades and the Holy City of Jerusalem has just been recaptured by the Crusaders and their zest to avenge Christianity results in the slaughter of innocents within the city walls. One of these innocents is the man who had been entrusted with protecting a very special relic - a piece of the True Cross stained with the blood of Christ. As he dies, he curses the invaders and the relic that brought about his untimely death so that anyone who touches the relic will die a horrible death as soon as the relic leaves their possession.

Five different authors tell the story of the relic and its path of destruction through time from the walls of Jerusalem to Devon in the later 12th century, Oxford in the early 1300s then back to the Devonshire city of Exeter before heading to Cambridge in middle of the 14th century and then finally winding up in London at the time of Will Shakespeare. The prologue ties things in to modern times just before the millennium.

Although not the finest example of crime writing (what can I say, it takes a great deal to live up to Christie), I found the mix of history-mystery mix to be quite entertaining. Even better was that I had recently visited some of the places that were described in the stories and it was fun to go back to look at my photographs and imagine the buildings and streets and locations during medieval times. 

Its not a keeper book and I will probably trade it in to a second hand bookstore soon enough. But it does make for good light reading; if you consider a little murder and deathly curses light that is. A good carry along for a plane ride or holiday at the beach. 

Boy Town

 

Not only were the lads at camp more knowledgeable about hair care, apparently their expertise also extended to club wear, accessorising and make up! I certainly have miles to go before I can hope to catch up!

Heat Wave

The south coast of England has been experiencing one of the hottest and driest summers in recent years. The same can be said for life on campus. Things are heating up.

Last week, I had to add condoms to my list of centre related weekly purchases. This comes after not one, but two emergency runs to the clinic for the morning after pill. After being hauled out of bed at 5 am by a near hysterical 17 year old boy to intervene on his behalf with the group leader who was probably going to go ballistic on him (and rightly so), I threw the rule book out the window and decided that we should start being safe rather than sorry. I figured it sort of count as an on campus activity if enough kids were participating. Heck, as far as I knew, it was probably the best attended activity of them all. Also, I didn't even want to consider the amount of paperwork involved should any of those damn "kids" have a woopsie!

Its not just the kids though. The adults seem to be going sex mad as well. Perhaps its the fact that we're stuck in a remote location and contact with the outside world is minimum; or perhaps its simply the case of what happens at summer camp, is forgotten anyway because we were too damn drunk to sort out the tangles the morning after. Of course this leads to more drama since erm... "overlapping" is bound to occur.

Yep, its been a hot and dry summer. All around me people are on sexual fire, while sadly I've been experiencing a long and very frustrating drought.

Summer Trends: The New Black

The reasoning behind the colour for our uniforms was sound. We needed to be easily identified in a crowd. With a violent shade as this, I'm pretty sure that if you check satellite footage we visible from the moon, all of us in a row like some human Wall of Activity Leaders.

We didn't have a choice. The dice was cast and the colour of summer 2010 was orange. And so we did the only thing we could, given the circumstances.

We made it look good!

Fashion Fix - The Summer Camp Edition

When I packed for 7 weeks of summer camp, I included all sorts of practical wear that I figured would come in use for activities involving kids. Stuff that would bode well with arts and crafts sessions involving glue guns gone wild and for days at the beach where I would probably fall over into a pile of soggy seaweed. Jeans, shorts, a couple of scraggy tees and a tank top or two for those extra hot summer days. Same with the shoes - runners, a pair of sandals and flip flops for the beach. Heck, in fact when finally zipped up my bags I was convinced I had in fact over packed!

Turns out I was very wrong. Apparently the memo about after work shenanigans was lost in the mail and so I ended up being the only person on campus who didn't come prepared for multiple nights out at one of the local clubs on (aptly named) Messy Mondays. My colleagues were further shocked to also find out that I hadn't even brought a hair drier and hairbrush; the former on purpose, the latter an oversight. The shock turned to abject horror when they realised that I wasn't too concerned about the lack of hair equipment and declared that my fingers would be fine enough combs. After all I figured, who was even going to be looking?

My colleagues on the other hand had not only got the memo, they'd anticipated all sorts of events including, I believe a Papal visit and planned accordingly. Only that would explain the multiple bags that most of them had brought along. All of this made little sense to me especially since most of the time we were all garbed in those hideous orange t-shirts that passed for a uniform!

After dodging going out for the first few Monday nights by crying poverty, I had little choice after we got our first pay cheques. Fortunately, I had been scheduled for a visit to Portsmouth with a group and a quick poke around the sale bins found me appropriate club attire. But even that wasn't enough. Apparently, my total lack of fashion sense (and sensibilities) and my indifference to doing anything to rectify that had instigated an intervention. While they simultaneously did my hair, tweezed my brows and dabbed on makeup, I came to realise just how bad I was at being a girl. There were at least four of my male colleagues who could not only wield a hair straightener better than me, but also owned their own and most of the boys owned up to being in possession of more hair and beauty products than I even knew existed!

Readers, the kids weren't the only ones getting an education at summer camp. And judging by what I learned that Monday night, I had miles to go before I was going to be able to graduate from the school of Being A Girl.

"Vengence is Mine", said the Activity Leaders

Given our relatively isolated location, it has become quite common for the staff to send along a shopping wish list with anyone going on an "Asda run". The most common items that top the list are of course alcohol and sweeties, both being absolutely integral to getting though long and tedious 15 hour work days. There's nothing better than knowing you can head over to the staff room for some post work pints and unwind and forget about any messes from the day gone by.

Imagine our collective surprise and dismay when we woke up this morning to find out that someone had broken into the staff room and cleaned out all of our supplies. After we'd gotten over the first shock, the anger set in. It wasn't an "outside job" as the coppers would have said; only someone living on campus would have known the location of the staff room and the fact that we had recently stocked up. There were close to three cases of beer that had been stolen and it didn't take much detective work to figure out who the culprits were. The red rimmed eyes, glazed no sleep gaze and hangover faces and not to mention the fact that they couldn't meet our eyes was evidence enough. And that was even before we found the stack of empties behind their residence block. Still, we didn't have direct proof and we couldn't accuse them of theft without anything conclusive. Yet, something had to be done. If nothing else, we had to send the message to the rest of the kids that such blatant disregard for the rules and shocking behaviour was not going to be tolerated. We were painfully aware that they outnumbered us 10 to 1!

And so, it was with particular glee we gathered all the kids together later that day to make a special announcement. We explained that the campus management had been getting increasingly frustrated with the growing amount of litter on campus. Repeated appeals didn't seem to have worked and we needed to take things one step further. Which was why, effective immediately the kids were going to take responsibility for their own surroundings. Every day, a random group would be chosen to assist the campus maintenance staff with clean up duties thus ensuring that the campus remained litter free at all times.

The collective groans from the group quickly changed to covert snickers and sly nudges when the names of the first group of clean up helpers was announced. Every single of the (assumed) guilty party stepped forward to collect their clean up tools from a broadly grinning member of staff who had suffered the heart wrenching loss of stolen alcohol.

Three hours later when they trooped back to the office, we had a spotless campus and a properly chastised group of children who we knew would think twice about crossing swords with the ALs again.

Mission Accomplished.

Makeover

In keeping with the general theme of new beginnings and new experiences of this summer, I've decieded that the blog itself was in a state of a much needed upgrade. A revamped look to match my current sentiments.


The new design templates available is fantastic allowing techically challenged wonders like me to make changes without having to deconstruct HTML coding and the such. But the options are vast and I soon got very confused.

After 4 hours and multiple edits, this is what I finally decided on.

So, waddya think?

The Popular Vote

Summer camp is lovely; but it can also be a flash back to the high school type atmosphere of groups and cliques and the ever lasting battle between the cool kids and the rest of us mere mortals.

Within a few days of arriving here, I'd sussed out that there were various sub groups forming. Alliances had been made and while some hold all the right cards, there are others who will remain on the outside. By some miracle, I was admitted into the inner circle; but only just as I remain hovering near the edge. It is my inability, or rather my unwillingness to give in and just go with the flow; I ask too many questions, I refuse to let certain things just slide, I don't abide with mediocrity. All this made some people uncomfortable.

Some of my colleagues have been doing this for a number of years. It makes them experienced, but in many respects it also makes them lethargic. They've gone to the same museums, been on the same day trips and facilitated the same activities so many times that they're now running on auto pilot. On the other hand, there are other ALs who although cannot cite years of summer camp experience under their belt, are in fact quite happy and very eager to actually perform the duties for which we were all hired! But, just like in high school, if the "in" crowd isn't doing it, well it just ain't cool for you to go ahead and do it anyway.

Yesterday on a day trip to Brighton I was paired up with one of those cool kids. He made it very clear to me that I was to follow his lead and that meant giving the groups a quicky tour of the pier, pointing them in the direction of the shops and setting a meet back time. This would mean hours of free time for us to go off and do whatever we wanted. It wasn't like he was shirking his duties, just that I know we could have done so much better with pointing out the sights and sounds. And so I made a snap decision and announced to the group that I was heading off to the famed Pavilion and would be happy to take anyone who wanted to go there with me. More than half the group joined me. My colleague didn't say anything, but as he walked off towards the beach I knew he wasn't pleased. It hadn't been my intention to make him look bad, it just that I really wasn't comfortable with the situation.

I hadn't really prepared a walking tour and most of what I knew about Brighton and the Pavilion I had read on Wikipedia the day before! Still, at least it was something and I really do think the kids and the group leaders had a good time. Once done with the Pavillion, the consensus was for shopping and so I left them to it. Even after the additional tour, I still managed to have two hours to myself.

On the bus ride back, I got teased for being a keener. Perhaps I am. Perhaps I will be the butt of many jokes in the staff room. Perhaps I won't be on the next round of text messages inviting people to post work drinks.


Then again, I never did belong at the cool kids table. So I guess I'm ok with that after all.

Thoughts on an Anniversary

Today is my one year anniversary living in the UK.

I was super excited when I arrived. That quickly disintegrated into long months of grief and loneliness. But I hammered through that, and now its in the past. It won't be easily forgotten, but it will be something that I can learn from.

Happy One Year to me.

Bring on the next 365 days!

Man Candy

About the only drawback about my time here at the summer camp, has been the total and utter lack of man candy around this place.

My male colleagues are a nice enough bunch, but none that would warrant a double take; at least not for me. Besides, they're all way to young. Not inexperienced - if we are to believe all that is said during the various drinking games - but just too young for me. There are a few kids who are drop dead gorgeous. I've counted two lads, a Frenchie and one Italian. But they are all no more than 18 and really I feel a bit pervy even just mentioning them. That being said, I did ask the one if he had an older brother. Discretely of course. I managed to make it into an exercise in English: I have brothers and/or sisters. They are xxx old. Their names are....

Of course the one piece of awesome man meat that was to be found here left. The former Centre Administrator was one very (very) sweet specimen of manhood and I'm just gutted that my good luck at landing the promotion had to come at the price of his leaving. Knowing that you, dear Reader would want to judge for yourself I did manage to take a few shots at the football tournament last week.

Mmmmmm, yummy is my thought. What do you think?

A Love Affair

It was supposed to be 3 weeks of a summer job. Plan activities for the kids; teach them some new skills; take them on walks, trips and excursions; keep them out of trouble; make some friends and hopefully have a good time in the process.

What I did not expect was to become a teacher, mentor, friend, counselor, mother, big sister, vengeance angel, hall monitor, centre administrator and general all round go-to girl.

Over the past two weeks, I have yelled at kids one moment, then comforted another lot the next. Dealt with every type of teenage aggro - smoking, drinking, fist fights, bullying and truancy to name just a few. Just when I want to take the entire lot and drown them in the harbour, they turn around and do something wonderful and caring and so I let them live another day.

There have been water fights, walks to the beach, football tournaments, cross dressing discos, X factor style talent contests, movie nights, moonlit walks, all nighters, heart-to-hearts, stomach aching laughter, some tears, one kiss and more hugs than I can remember.

My contract here has been extended until the end of the month. Perhaps for longer should the need arise. Oh sweet summer, how I am loving thee!

Mind That Language!

Last year as I packed for my relocation to G Town I was very conscious of the fact that I was moving to a place where although people claimed to speak English, it was a far cry from the English that I knew and loved. It was a garbly-goo version that drew perplexed looks even folk on the other side of Scotland. Still, I persevered and after much random smiling and nodding during my first few months here, I eventually tuned my ear into the melody of Weegie-speak. We will ignore the fact that I probably agreed to all sorts of unmentionable stuff in the process of being lost in translation.

There was a lot that I was nervous about as I packed my bags to head to England for this summer, but one thing that I didn't think would be a problem was, language.

Well, it should have been.

Other than four Irish folk, the rest of my colleagues are all English hailing from as far north as Newcastle and as close by as Portsmouth itself. All of them claim English as their first language. Yet, I'm having the darnedest time with comprehension. The accents are broad and varied, the phrases they use totally alien and the words don't seem to have the same meanings that I am used to.

And so I've resorted to the tried and tested coping mechanism of smiling and nodding. Again, I'm not sure what I have agreed to or promised out. I'm sure I'll find out over the course of the summer!