follow your feet

Friday, May 6, 2016

Super lazy

I am super lazy. Although, in other ways, I am marginally less so. So, ying and yang. Good cop, bad cop. Whatever. We can’t have it all. Why do good things happen to bad people?

I would just like to take a minute to acknowledge all of my recent achievements. I have been exploring my own backyard. I have been stepping outside my comfort zone. I have also been overachieving at work.

Let me explain.

The last few weekends, I have been out and about falling even more in love with this beautiful country that I call home. I have been climbing mountains, fording raging torrents, fighting off [the New Zealand equivalent of] of bears. My tramping wolfpack consists of three people. It’s exclusive. However, the third wolf, I think it would be fair to say, is not as experienced in the Great Outdoors as the other two wolves. Therefore, not knowing what to pack, this shewolf brought with her a preposterous 3 pairs of bedsocks on our overnight tramp. Although, I will claim full responsibility for, rather conveniently, forgetting to tell her that the track went straight up a large hill for over three hours. But things get better than the ‘3 pairs of bedsocks’ incident. Her confidence the rest of the wolfpack was not diminished, despite the lack of communication about the track being a vertical climb which, in hindsight, should have raised alarm bells. Needless to say, the next time we took her tramping with us, she decided it would be a good idea to fall down a bank and sprain her ankle. Up a gorge. With no track. Or avenue for help (don’t you hate the sinking felling of watching someone you care about disappear off a ledge?). At which stage the wolfpack had do some pretty quick thinking as to how we were going to get that one wolf back out down the gorge. With no track. Or avenue for help .

Our logo

So we did what all normal wolfpacks would do. We made her walk out. On her own two paws. Because she was a strong independent young wolf who don’t need no man.

Buckler Burn

Mueller Hut

Oh hey there, pal!

On her own two paws

Not a tramp without a fire

Hooker Valley

Aoraki

Now, stepping away from the wolf pack situation and into a much more terrifying situation…

What could I possibly be more terrifying that watching a wolf from your very own wolfpack disappear over a small bluff? Ah, yes. You guessed it. Attending dance classes. And, as many of you know, I don’t dance. Like at all. Unless I am exceptionally inebriated. And even then, it’s usually more of a drunken sway that could be mistaken for an attempt to walk in a straight line. But no. Now, every Tuesday night, I put myself through an hour of voluntary torture and mortification just so that I know that I can do it. And if I can go to dance classes, I can do anything. Including graciously receiving compliments from my dance partners such as, ‘you could be worse,’ ‘that wasn’t terrible’ and ‘keep trying.’ Although there is always that one guy who refuses to dance with me, because I’m terrible at following.

Lies.

I’ve been achieving things at work, too. Well, actually, the majority of my calculations are wrong. But that’s neither here nor there. I get paid for trying. But this week, my friend, office buddy and partner-in-crime (one person) and I stole (I use this term loosely) 4 garden gnomes from a careers expo. And, as all normal people do, we have spent the rest of the week painting said gnomes as caricatures of each person in our research group. Including our boss. It’s actually very meditative. If you are feeling a bit stressed, try painting a garden gnome. None of this adult colouring book bullshit. We just took the adult colouring book idea to a whole new level; added an extra dimension, if you will.

Like this. Except less weird.

Kinda.

Aside from that, I am starting to wind down and focus on getting paper work sorted for my imminent departure from NZ in less than a month’s time. But I wouldn’t want to spill the beans and tell you where I was going. Because then I would have to clean up afterwards. And I hate cleaning. And I hear cliffhangers are the best way to keep people reading.

The million dollar question.

Saturday, March 5, 2016

Canines

This week, my flatmates got a puppy. As in, a canine. Another one. They thought a puppy would nicely complement their full time jobs, twelve partridge, seven budgies, three daughters, two properties, 300 000 bees and other dog. Of course, just after she arrived, they promptly left me and the slightly-more-mature-but-still-not-very-mature dog to puppy-sit. With full care and full responsibility. Therefore, we took it upon ourselves to wreck havoc, live life by our own rules and have no regrets. Especially the canines. Actually, entirely the canines.

The old and previously 'outside' dog has recently decided that she wanted to be an inside dog. However, she reached a new low when she threw up all over the flatmates’ Moroccan carpet. Luckily, there are, quite literally, six more of these carpets where this one came from. To my everlasting relief, she ate it all again too. To her credit, she did hide the evidence rather well. But what the flatmates don’t know about their Moroccan carpets won’t hurt them.

Ziggy also reached a record low, despite having only been here for a week. You know that nursery rhyme:

‘One, two; buckle my shoe,

Three, four; open the door,

Fix, six; pick up sticks…’ etc etc etc.

Well, Ziggy rewrote the first line:

‘Number twos; in your shoe…’ To be continued next week no doubt. We shall wait with baited breath to hear what Ziggy has to say about ‘three, four.’

As to which shoe it was, I’ll never tell.

But mostly, I just wanted to spam you with cute photos of her, because most of the time, she is just that – cute (psycho, but mainly cute).

Ziggy "Marley" Lambie-Bryan

Ziggy "The Domesticated" Lambie-Bryan

Ziggy "The Pyromaniac" Lambie-Bryan

Ziggy "The Upside-Down" Lambie-Bryan

Ziggy "The Great Adventurer" Lambie-Bryan

Ziggy "The Dead" Lambie-Bryan

(ft. Rosie Lambie-Bryan)

Ziggy "The Big Eyes" Lambie-Bryan

Ziggy "The Friendly" Lambie-Bryan

Ziggy "The Tired" Lambie-Bryan

Ziggy "The Shameless Selfie" Lambie-Bryan

Thursday, February 11, 2016

'Lambie Classics'

Most people that have ever thought of visiting New Zealand have heard of the ‘Great Walks.’ If you haven’t heard of them, they are a series of multi-day hikes around the country, from the deep deep south to the north. They are very popular among tourists and locals alike. These ‘Great Walks’ make spending time in the wilderness easy, pleasant and more or less a breeze. However, they are just that – great big walks. I have never done a ‘Great Walk;’ my family has their own version. These holidays are called ‘Lambie Classics.’

Setting the scene

All ‘Lambie Classics’ are wilderness experiences, however, not all wilderness experiences with my family are ‘Lambie Classics.’ You see there are a number of requirements that need to be met in order for a wilderness experience to qualify for the title of ‘Lambie Classic.’ First and foremost, the trip needs to be organized by Papa Bear. He is the only member of the family mad enough and capable of organizing a ‘family getaway’ in quite this capacity. Secondly, there needs to be at least three members of the immediate family (the original Famous Five). Three members of the family is the minimum required for the personalities to clash just enough to create noticeable tension (on a good day). We also need a token ‘outsider’ to help diffuse said tension and make sure that all the family members are on their best behavior. Granted, best behaviour is still not very good. In stark contrast to the ‘Great Walks’ the ‘Lambie Classics’ usually involve little to no track. What track there is usually consists of man-eating bogs and woman-eating sink-holes. Of course, it also goes without saying that the sandflies are an ever-present feature, keeping the underlying irritation levels at a low simmer. The final, most entertaining and invariable feature of the ‘Lambie Classic’ is one member of the three in the immediate family completely flipping their shit, throwing the baby out with the bathwater, and denouncing the rest of the family.

Papa Bear

Two family members and a token outsider

I got back from a ‘Lambie Classic’ yesterday.

All requirements were well and truly checked off.

There were man-eating bogs, with Papa Bear disappearing to mid-thigh. There were woman-eating sink-holes, I discovered first hand, as the ground fell out from beneath my feet. There were sandflies. For Africa.

How quaint

And Mama Bear completely flipped her shit and refused to go any further. She claimed she was never going ‘Lambie Classic’ ever again. I have heard this before, however, the problem with ‘Lambie Classics’ is that you never know if your wilderness experience is going to be a ‘Classic’ before you go. It’s the risk we all take. I should, though, take responsibility for my own theatrics on Day 2, when I played my role as the moody, sulky and sullen teenager particularly well. A little too well, perhaps. Maybe. Especially considering that I have supposedly outgrown this stage of my life. Although, recent experience would suggest otherwise…

Moody, sullen and sulky weather to get me in character

There were good parts too though. Like the stars. Like the glow-worms. Like the sunshine. Like the mountains. Like the 4 am wake up from the pitter patter of rain straight through the trees onto your face. And the cup of tea and gingernuts that followed. At 4 am.

Sunshine

4 am cup of tea

It wasn't all bad.

‘Lambie Classics’ make the best stories. That’s the only reason I go on them.

Saturday, January 16, 2016

Reflections on the New Year

Happy New Year! Because that happened… Another year, another minute, another second closer to death. But I guess that’s every minute of every day, isn’t it? Oh, happy days!

The New Year is normally a reflective time of year. Or at least, it might be, if you’re that way inclined. I’m not one of those ‘reflective types.’ I don’t own a mirror. The end. No, actually, I lie. I do own a mirror. I didn’t make time to ‘reflect’ this year. But I did have a fleeting realization that I actually managed to achieve one of my 2015 resolutions. Which was a shock; I felt quite clammy and faint for a while afterward. I, slightly ironically, managed to kill two birds with one stone by seeing my resolution through to the end. The first bird that I killed was by making the resolution a ‘thing’ and actually managing to do it. Not only that but I killed a second bird by fulfilling my life long dream of actually sticking to a New Year’s resolution. I feel that Tony Robbins would be proud of me! I am quite happy to minimize the details of the other five things on my ‘2015 resolution list’ that did not get done including, but by no means limited to do a be a nice person, eat healthily, stop taking your parents for granted and so it continues.

And just while I am blowing my own trumpet about getting things done, I want to talk briefly about today, Sunday 16^th Jan, 2016. To date, it is the most successful day of 2016 because today, I got my priorities back in order. I made a list of things to do today and in the number one spot was ‘have a nap,’ with number two being, ‘baking.’ So, yes, finally, after the chaos of China, the time in Taiwan, the near miss with the fucking tourists driving on the wrong side of the road up past Lake Dunstan on the way to Central and learning how illogical logical computers are after my first two weeks at work, life finally has had some order restored.

Anyway, back to the ‘reflective types’ while I wasn’t reflecting, a though occurred to me about 2016. I decided that seeing as in 2015, I had actually completed one of my resolutions and achieved a life goal of completing a New Years resolution (a life goal I didn’t know I had until after I had achieved it – the world works in mysterious ways) that in 2016, I would not set any resolutions. A wise person once told me that if you aim low, you can never be disappointed. Another close and personal friend of mine who likes to lurk in the shadows rather than in the spotlight has resolved not to make any changes to her current way of life. Her reasons are far more noble than mine. She reasons that this year, her resolution is to be thankful for what she has and where she is. Which is beautiful and noble. Just to clarify, both of these people are real. Not imaginary. Anyway, I too have decided not to resolve anything this year because I have no fucking clue what I am doing or where I am going. Which is fun, but not conducive to New Years resolutions. How can I resolve to be nice to people, if I don’t know who I am going to have to be nice to? Because, just being honest here, I really struggle to be nice to people that I don’t like and I don’t want to make a resolution that I can’t keep. Not any more. Not now that I know how great it feels to complete and achieve!

Sunny bliss /Central Otago, Home

Ooh, and I managed to make it out of China alive, which is fantastic! And I’m still more or less in one piece. I know that travelling is supposed to make you a more understanding and better person, blah blah blah. Think what you like, but I will say this, travelling to China has most definitely not made me any less racist. I have attached some photos after the long drought, now that my blog is not illegal an my internet works sufficiently.