Chasing Down the Prime Minister, Like a Blood Hound

It has been a while since I could really find funny stuff, hence the break in the blog, but last week our school held a Wearable Arts Show which stretched across 3 nights and it was awesome!!!  We painted the windows to black out our hall and had a rocking stage, with up lights and two spot lights and frankly, it was professional and incredibly good!

It was although, at times, a little fraught not only when the hugely successful restaurant next door to our school was miffed when all the parking was taken up with people attending our show.  On the first night I went over to mollify them with promises (which I completely forgot to execute the next night!!) so when I arrived on night number two, I was forced to frantically try to get cars moved and make people feel some urgency, when in fact it is public parking........

The owner of the restaurant reported two large tables cancelling the previous night because there was no parking and they had had to walk through the rain.  I felt remorse,  I really wanted to make it right and when the owner told me our very own PM John Key was to be there, I felt the collective weight of TGS star struck swooning.   We sent some cones over (which works incredibly well for us when we want kids to stay away from an area) and these were placed around the car parks out in front of the restaurant.

I was happy to let John Key have his dinner, but some of the staff found out he was to be there and I was guilted into going out and asking the man to present our Wearable Arts Awards, because I felt like I was letting the staff down when they had done the spade work of chatting up the security staff to find out what time he would be there and whether it was possible he would front.

One of the teachers staked out the carpark, so the message arrives ‘the Eagle has landed”  from the one who was out in the carpark with her poor child,  no doubt committing any number of child neglect offences by standing in the freezing cold,  with her wee child inappropriately dressed for the weather.  She was positioned to check the on in-coming headlights and she had watched the car move into the specially coned of John Key parking spot and sent the 'eagle' message. 

I channeled my inner Usain Bolt and raced away from the show,  out of the hall and across to the restaurant, with every joint forgetting to creak and grind.  I arrived at the car in the carpark next to our school, puffing like someone who had been snorting anthrax just as the occupant stepped from the vehicle.  I was ready with my pitch (after all he did just give us 22 Mil for a total rebuild of our school) I even held the door open

…………………………………… an expectant look in my eye



…………………………………..only to start my pitch on



………………………….  the woman who had just arrived to pick up her takeaways!!!!!


As it turned out, JK was going to be half an hour late (typical!!) so we collared Judith Collins, our local member and although I suspect she didn't have ANY desire to come over and present our awards, she did so graciously and even made a joke about how comfortable she was being John Key.  Most appreciated!!  (joke and stand in)

I cannot report anything about how the woman went with her takeaways, but I believe the restaurant now has to have staff open the car doors, because some sort of precedent  seems to have been set.

Driving in Egypt.

This is a recording of a car ride we had in Egypt, travelling to the Valley of the Kings.  The van looked pretty okay when we hopped in and drove, without strange noises, for about 15 minutes then, after a cracking BANG and a bit of a shake, it started to make some dodgy noises, then full out knocking built up.  We all hopped out and had a look, thinking it was a tyre, or a mudflap, or a lump in a tyre..... but no!  It was just a van ride in Egypt :)

Defining the Rules

 

If only we could all know that the rule is 'do not fire, please' , that would help when you start a job.

I might have had a crack at how you can be washed in the tub, until I saw you would be washed 'into' the tub.  That sounds painful.

Life should be simple when everything is laid out clearly.

Love it!

Thank you for your vigilance.

When French is Better Than English......

Hawkers in Egypt are pretty tough to shake off.  It is not like other countries, where you can say 'no' or put your hand up in a stop gesture and they move away.  In Egypt, they get right in front of you, block your path, grab you, and generally give you such a hard time, you can't escape.

When we were round the Pyramids, a 'sales person' came up and started trying really hard to sell a plastic pyramid.  I shook my head and kept walking, then put up a hand and said 'No' once again moving round the seller.  He then tried to get some interest from Ian, who also stepped round him.  The seller was rabbering on in broken English and had changed the price about 15 times. 

All our polite Kiwi actions were having no success and I was feeling quite intimidated and a little trapped.  Suddenly, I channeled my inner French person, figuring that the hawker had been harrassing us for long enough and because it was all in English, I thought possibly he didn't speak French..

I burst out with an angry "Collants ne sont pas  pantalons" and a flat hand 'stop' gesture, to which the hawker, a little startled, completely melted away.  French people clearly kick arse (and blow up boats in other peoples harbours) but it worked and I was happy.  

Ian caught up with my furious French stomping and asked in a rather bemused way 'what was that?'  to which I replied " its the only French I know and it means.......... tights are not pants"  (because that makes sense????)  He's use to me, he just nodded and moved on........probably also really happy they had backed off!

Thanks Jan for the translation- and reader, you are going to have to go back through this blog to find the time last year in Europe, where 'tights are not pants' was used to ward off scammers.  

I love a universal statement!  Just never thought it would relate to a rather bad fashion statement!

Making Friends With The Locals

On our first day here, Iron made me get measured for a leather jacket.  We found this cool little leather shop and looked around, finally selecting a style that I liked.  The poor wee Turkish man measured me up and we discussed, in broken English, what happens when you grow up in New Zealand and do a bit of swimming along the way.  Suffice to say, off the rack was not going to cut it.

I had a beautiful jacket made and I love it, picking it up before we went off on the big tour of Turkey. The shop owners were a husband and wife, him with very good English- her, no so much.  When we picked up the jacket, we spent probably an hour having coffee and just chatting about ANZACs etc and they were lovely and quite fun.

Coming back into Istanbul after our big roadie, we saw them and I waved out, discovering they were like my new best friends when you consider the reaction we got (either that, or they were really bored when we passed)

When I took Vicky to the shop to have a look, then ultimately buy, we again got the big rush and had a very friendly reception.  I asked if they had kept my measurements, so I could order online, he told me 'of course'. Iron made disapproving noises about being able to order at will and as soon as his back was turned, I got this huge stage wink from our tailor, which cracked me up, no end.  Definitely a man that gets it!

Later, the following day, we met the wife coming down the street and she exclaimed 'Susannah.....' and proceeded to kiss me on both cheeks, like we were old buddies.

I've got mates in Istanbul, you know!

Finally Finding Our Way Round Istanbul

We have had two days to ourselves in Istanbul and we have definitely covered some miles.  After being in Turkey for two weeks, we have finally got the lay of the land in Istanbul and have found all the shops, museums and interesting little alleyways that I wish we had had more time to explore.  Iron is a master of saying 'lets get on this bus/tram/ferry and see where it goes' so man! We have seen some stuff!

Yesterday we went onto the tram and found ourselves down by the ocean.  We crossed the bridge and went up to Galatta Tower, which was built in 1348 and is the tallest building in Istanbul, at 219 1/2 m tall.  It also sits on a hill, which ensures it looks out over the city.  We bought a beautiful handmade throw for our bed, which took over six months to finish.  This morning Iron got up and went for a massive walk and found an underground mall not far from where we were staying.  It runs under the road and under a mosque.

The trams deserve a special mention because they are packed!  I have not stood that close to people in my own family and definitely not for that length of time.  The tram stops and the few people getting off move first, then the six million getting on move in!  People have no problem oozing into an almost gap and it's okay to carry huge parcels and not worry too much who has to climb over your stuff.  The cool part is that people are very respectful of older people and hop up out of their seats and also no one is smelly (because that would suck in a closed in space like that!)

This morning we headed out and managed to find the Archeological Museum.  Well worth a look around, but then again Iron and I might well be Museum junkies!  The bit that most excited me were clay tablet letters from around 4th Century and one was said to be the oldest love letter in the world.  They are clay tablets, with some about the size of a pack of cards, with script on them and some even have envelopes!

There is also the worlds oldest written peace treaty, which was between Ramses II and the Hittites and was written somewhere between 1279 and 1213 BC.  There is a copy in the UN head quarters, which I think is very cool, considering the age.

We then walked for a bit and found ourselves back at the spice markets, which really feels like something from the Silk Road. The spices sit in large baskets and the whole place smells......rich and exotic.




We had to be back for our airport pickup, so got back on the packed to the gunnels tram and now we are sitting pretty in a hotel in Dubai.  Jet setters, huh?

Chunuk Bair

This  was the highest point the NZ soldiers got to during WW1 and is a hilltop from where you can see the Aegean Sea and the Dardenelles. NZ soldiers only held it for five minutes, but it is heaps higher than the Aussies highest point...not that it's a competition.....

We had allocated seating for the NZ commemorative ceremony and we were in the C stand.  As it turned out, C stood for
Crappy
Can't see anything
and- Considered leaving!

You know I am not one to moan, but the cenotaph stood in the middle and all the mics, seating, dignitaries etc were all on the other side of the brick column and we in the C stand could see bugger all!

When Prince Charles and Harry arrived with our own John Key, much laughter and excitement was happening and we were not even connected to it!  In fact our whole stand failed to clap with the collective at one point because we had NO idea what was going on.  It didn't help our cause when, lacking stimulation, many of us proceeded to fall asleep during the service and a few loud snores escaped from those disconnected throats.

I pondered the layout and I have to consider that their priority may have been security from a potential sniper, as we were almost the highest point, but the screens and stands made it impossible to get a shot into the area.  So we were the price it takes to keep those people safe.  I'm ok with that.