i polled 5 people about my date late night. i do things like this because i have this odd ability (ability?) to ignore the warning signs and red flags that present themselves in the moment in order to... continue to have a good time? because i dont allow myself to see the ambiguity or lack of boundaries? idk what the reason is, but things always become much clearer for me the next day.
last night, i had a great time on a second date with a good guy. we shall call him the macrame cowboy. he did some odd things, and said some odd things, but i ALWAYS second-guess myself and my internal reactions in my personal life. i always end up thinking "nah, im sure its fine", "nah, im sure he didnt mean it how it sounded", "nah, im just being sensitive"...
anyone who is familiar with postmodern feminist arguments and whatnot will see my internal process as society's influence which has led me to ascribe faults to me that are not mine, and that i have been taught to doubt my own intuition.
ok. enough of that. back to the cowboy.
Macrame cowboy strikes me as odd, but this is not because he is a particularly strange person. i spend every day, all day, looking at/ watching/ listening to other people. my job is to hear what people arent saying by "objectively" taking into account their behaviors and words and surmising who they are and what they need from me. its complicated in my head, to say the least.
so, i spend all day critically observing others, and yet i cannot get a good sense of who the macrame cowboy is. he has his hands in so many projects, and has so many hilariously diverse (and often dichotomous) interests, that i have no idea what his deal is. walking in his bedroom, i had the distinct idea that the person represented by this room would be wearing a cowboy hat, yet his drivers license picture has him with a mohawk. when he is talking about himself it often seems like i do not exist, but when he looks at me it seems like im the only thing that exists. i dont know what motivates him, or what he wants from himself and others.. its hard to explain.
this phenomenon of being incapable of finding my intuition about an individual never bodes well. the relationship usually ends in chaos or the revealing of a personality disorder on their part. ugh.
naturally, im intrigued and will continue to pursue this man if only to satisfy my curiosity and... for entertainment. sometimes i like a little chaos in my life. it makes my life so much funnier and more exciting.
Thursday, January 9, 2014
i cannot accurately describe the situation that is my hair right now. i havent cut it since i got back from Bali... almost two years ago. i should also tell you that i do not regularly utilize what is traditionally known as a "brush". i just comb through it with my fingers in the shower, spray some products on it (maybe), and call it a fucking day.
the natural texture of my hair is more traditionally known as "beach" hair, "JBF" hair, etc., so sometimes i really believe that i can get away with doing the absolute minimum. but most of the time i just dont care.
now its getting to a stage where i quite literally scared myself when walking into the bathroom this morning. there was a terrifying moment when i thought this might have finally been the morning where my curly dreads really dont comb out and i would have to cut my hair super short again. let's just say that that style hasnt worked out for me in the past.
that, and my mother gently (HA) keeps asking me when im going to "get my hair done". she also gave me a gift certificate for a haircut for christmas. (my mother, as you probably now know, is not known for her subtlety)
so i believe that the time has come. i am hoping that i will only need to cut off about 4 inches...
why do i do this? is it because i have no money for things like personal grooming? is it because i have no patience for paying exorbitant amounts of money for some coiffure that would cost $30 for a dude? is it because i would rather spend my money on wine? is it because i just dont care? do i just make use of my JBF hair excuse?
ya, youre right. its all of the above.
and i apologize for the long post on hair. it seems so trivial now in the rapidly diminishing wake of panic that came from brushing my mane just now.
the natural texture of my hair is more traditionally known as "beach" hair, "JBF" hair, etc., so sometimes i really believe that i can get away with doing the absolute minimum. but most of the time i just dont care.
now its getting to a stage where i quite literally scared myself when walking into the bathroom this morning. there was a terrifying moment when i thought this might have finally been the morning where my curly dreads really dont comb out and i would have to cut my hair super short again. let's just say that that style hasnt worked out for me in the past.
that, and my mother gently (HA) keeps asking me when im going to "get my hair done". she also gave me a gift certificate for a haircut for christmas. (my mother, as you probably now know, is not known for her subtlety)
so i believe that the time has come. i am hoping that i will only need to cut off about 4 inches...
why do i do this? is it because i have no money for things like personal grooming? is it because i have no patience for paying exorbitant amounts of money for some coiffure that would cost $30 for a dude? is it because i would rather spend my money on wine? is it because i just dont care? do i just make use of my JBF hair excuse?
ya, youre right. its all of the above.
and i apologize for the long post on hair. it seems so trivial now in the rapidly diminishing wake of panic that came from brushing my mane just now.
Monday, November 4, 2013
Taryn's Tips for Asking if Someone is Gay
whew! its been a while, my pretties! LOTS has happened, but nothing that i could talk about without whining, so i refrained from straining your pretty little ears with my trials.
recently though, i have encountered a new phenomenon that i just cant keep quiet about any longer. this is that thing where someone asks you if you are gay simply because you vehemently support LGBT rights. anyone else have this happen to them?? i doubt i am the only one.
in light of this, i decided to publish Taryn's Tips for Asking if Someone is Gay. this is just a helpful little guide based on my personal experiences.
1. another person's sexuality is THEIR business, NOT YOURS. if they choose to answer your questions, it is entirely up to them. remember that you are essentially asking them who they are sleeping with. is this a question you want to be asking?
2. if initial questioning doesnt get you the answer you were looking for, DONT ASK AGAIN LATER. repeated questioning isnt going to get you what you want and it will just make them mad. repeated questioning also makes you a bully. dont do that.
2a. YOU DO NOT HAVE A RIGHT TO AN ANSWER.
3. ask yourself WHY you are asking. if it is it because you are just curious, because you have suspicions, or because you simply want to know, THOSE ARE NOT VALID REASONS.
4. are you planning on doing this in the presence of other people, particularly your ultra-conservative spouse or the individual's parent? im gonna go out on a limb and say that this is probably not a good idea.
5. are you the individual's boss? if so, DONT ASK. period.
6. understand that an individual may not know whether or not they are gay. they also may not believe that they fit into the sexuality tertiary (homosexual, heterosexual, bisexual). SEXUALITY IS A SPECTRUM. if youre going to ask, youre not allowed to judge. be ready for an answer you didnt expect.
7. they do not hold the burden of explaining their sexuality to you. again, THEY DO NOT HOLD THE BURDEN OF EXPLAINING THEIR SEXUALITY TO YOU. if they choose to do so, it is your privilege to hear about the intimate, personal life of another. keep that in mind as you keep your mouth shut but your ears and heart open.
8. again i reprise statement #1. asking someone about their sexuality is a delicate business. as a general rule, just dont. its none of your business, and it shouldnt change how you feel about them in the first place.
9. are you a family member? this can create even more pressure on the individual to answer a particular way, and can make them EXTREMELY UNCOMFORTABLE given various family situations. is that the environment in which you want them to reveal their sexuality to you? does that read "safe" to you?
10. relax. it's none of your business.
here's the skinny: if you have created an environment between the two of you that is not nuanced with bigotry and prejudice, the individual will/might come to you on their own or just drop the knowledge willy nilly. until then, sit tight and refrain from giving little tests to see how they react, try not to be an asshat, and for the sake of the universe just treat them with respect and the right to privacy.
the end.
recently though, i have encountered a new phenomenon that i just cant keep quiet about any longer. this is that thing where someone asks you if you are gay simply because you vehemently support LGBT rights. anyone else have this happen to them?? i doubt i am the only one.
in light of this, i decided to publish Taryn's Tips for Asking if Someone is Gay. this is just a helpful little guide based on my personal experiences.
1. another person's sexuality is THEIR business, NOT YOURS. if they choose to answer your questions, it is entirely up to them. remember that you are essentially asking them who they are sleeping with. is this a question you want to be asking?
2. if initial questioning doesnt get you the answer you were looking for, DONT ASK AGAIN LATER. repeated questioning isnt going to get you what you want and it will just make them mad. repeated questioning also makes you a bully. dont do that.
2a. YOU DO NOT HAVE A RIGHT TO AN ANSWER.
3. ask yourself WHY you are asking. if it is it because you are just curious, because you have suspicions, or because you simply want to know, THOSE ARE NOT VALID REASONS.
4. are you planning on doing this in the presence of other people, particularly your ultra-conservative spouse or the individual's parent? im gonna go out on a limb and say that this is probably not a good idea.
5. are you the individual's boss? if so, DONT ASK. period.
6. understand that an individual may not know whether or not they are gay. they also may not believe that they fit into the sexuality tertiary (homosexual, heterosexual, bisexual). SEXUALITY IS A SPECTRUM. if youre going to ask, youre not allowed to judge. be ready for an answer you didnt expect.
7. they do not hold the burden of explaining their sexuality to you. again, THEY DO NOT HOLD THE BURDEN OF EXPLAINING THEIR SEXUALITY TO YOU. if they choose to do so, it is your privilege to hear about the intimate, personal life of another. keep that in mind as you keep your mouth shut but your ears and heart open.
8. again i reprise statement #1. asking someone about their sexuality is a delicate business. as a general rule, just dont. its none of your business, and it shouldnt change how you feel about them in the first place.
9. are you a family member? this can create even more pressure on the individual to answer a particular way, and can make them EXTREMELY UNCOMFORTABLE given various family situations. is that the environment in which you want them to reveal their sexuality to you? does that read "safe" to you?
10. relax. it's none of your business.
here's the skinny: if you have created an environment between the two of you that is not nuanced with bigotry and prejudice, the individual will/might come to you on their own or just drop the knowledge willy nilly. until then, sit tight and refrain from giving little tests to see how they react, try not to be an asshat, and for the sake of the universe just treat them with respect and the right to privacy.
the end.
Saturday, January 5, 2013
christmas day
my previous christmases have generally been either in CA with my immediate fam and family friends, or in MI with my mother's entire american extended family. either way its a potluck where we laugh, we drink, we eat turkey with 3 kinds of stuffing and ham and pumpkin pie, and we argue over whose marinara/stuffing/turkey/spanakopita is the best. and we often play hilarious games.
last year, i spent christmas day with a few wonderful men that i had met a some weeks before, and another man with whom i had been traveling for a while. we ate pizza, drank lots of beer, and danced the night away in a backpacker bar. amazing.
this year, i spent christmas eve at the family beach house of one of the men with whom i had the pleasure of spending christmas last year. the Australian and his family were incredibly hospitable- especially because, like i have said before, i am my mother's daughter, and as such i only know two ways to get new people to like me: get them drunk or clean up the kitchen.
i REALLY wanted these people to like me, so i chose both ways.
christmas eve i decided to make sangria. its not a tradition i usually import, but i thought, "hey, its got something for everyone!" i failed pretty hilariously because Aussie's mom doesnt drink, and she had never heard of sangria. she looked at me like my presence was a mistake. i decided to remain positive and sell the idea that sangria is really more of a fruit punch (... right?).
naturally when you really want/need something to be tasty, something always goes wrong, right? this time i spiked the punch with a little too much brandy, so Aussie-man, his dad, and i proceeded to get drunk and kill the entire pitcher between the three of us. then we put up christmas lights and took photos. this tradition seemed much more familiar to me.
the next day i shocked everyone when i went for a workout after helping consume so much booze (success!). we all scrambled in the shower, got ready, and headed out to the middle of the frickin australian bush on some station (ranch) that had to have been 50km (35mi) from anything resembling a town, and at least 10mi from the nearest house.
a house arose like some strange oasis in front of us that had cows, dogs, steer, a random donkey, about 15 both abandoned and currently-in-use cars and pieces of farm machinery... as well as 15 of the Australian's family members. we arrived and i felt all eyes gravitate towards me as i exited the vehicle.
"...i get the feeling no one ever brings outsiders to these family events," i whispered loudly to the Australian.
"nope."
fuck.
i was introduced to each member individually and then i immediately snagged a beer and prepared for the long day ahead.
luckily, the Aussie's family is loud and hilarious and appropriately silly and welcoming. we all got along just fine, although i believe that this is in part due to my love of whiskey (all the uncles approved) and my extreme appreciation for the two-dinner situation the seems to be working in this country. theres "christmas lunch" at about 3pm, and then everyone either naps or goes on a walk until dinner at about 730pm (my family would normally be napping or making a 3rd plate of seconds).
i decided that since there was an unacceptably large swarm of flies in the yard where i would have napped in the sun, i decided to take a "walk" with some of the Aussie's cousins through the cow paddock. initially this started as a drive down to the lower pastures to see the donkey, and for Aussie this meant "lets torture taryn and show everyone how she's got a secret fear of cows!"
joke was on him because im not afraid of them, exactly... i just dont like how to look at me with their eyes. i can never tell what they are thinking...
anyway. we headed back to the house and joined the rest of the fam on a proper walk that went around the sheep shearing shed (now a birthday or other event space), through the bulls paddock, and up to the top of the hill that overlooked their entire property. it really was a spectacular view on a perfectly warm and sunny day that would have been slightly more spectacular had it not been dampened by the fact that most of us had been walking through the COW fields with SANDALS on. ill just let you imagine...
we ambled on home happily trudging through the scrub and cow shit until Aussie's aunt screamed and he grabbed my arm really hard and pointed at an unassumingly-colored, medium-sized snake. his uncle took off, tearing into the shed a few dozen yards away and reappeared with a large shotgun. i followed excitedly with ears plugged and watched the Australian's uncle literally shoot from the hip and blow the snake's head clean (?) off. that's when they all told me that that snake was an eastern brown; the second most-poisonous snake in the WORLD (a fact they are scarily proud of).
i am reminded at least once a day that this country is out to kill its inhabitants.
i turned to the uncle with the shotgun and asked if he was going to put the dead animal in the trash. he laughed and told me, "nah. the dogs or the vultures will get it."
and thus i was reminded how aussies will always succeed in beating nature back and laughing in her face. with a shotgun. color me impressed.
after the snake incident we decided we all needed a little more excitement, so we chose to go spelunking in the cave system that resides on the property. its a large network full of stalactites and stalagmites as well as a skeleton of a sheep (just in case you forgot that you were in a deep dark hole in the ground). we stayed down there for a bit and told ghost stories. i told the story about how a few minutes prior, their uncle/father/brother had told me to take the ladder down into the cave more slowly.... mainly because he was standing under it and i was in a skirt.
time passed quickly and that was the only relevant story i had.
we surfaced, and i convinced the pervy uncle to let Aussie take me home on the dirt bike. i rode the back of that thing in my miniskirt like it was my fucking job. and Aussie was pretty smoking hot too.
we arrived back at the house, had dinner, and i immediately started experiencing a stuffy nose which lasted about 5 days.
the rest of the Australian's and my time together at his parents' house was full of tissues and extended naps... which suited me just fine.
last year, i spent christmas day with a few wonderful men that i had met a some weeks before, and another man with whom i had been traveling for a while. we ate pizza, drank lots of beer, and danced the night away in a backpacker bar. amazing.
this year, i spent christmas eve at the family beach house of one of the men with whom i had the pleasure of spending christmas last year. the Australian and his family were incredibly hospitable- especially because, like i have said before, i am my mother's daughter, and as such i only know two ways to get new people to like me: get them drunk or clean up the kitchen.
i REALLY wanted these people to like me, so i chose both ways.
christmas eve i decided to make sangria. its not a tradition i usually import, but i thought, "hey, its got something for everyone!" i failed pretty hilariously because Aussie's mom doesnt drink, and she had never heard of sangria. she looked at me like my presence was a mistake. i decided to remain positive and sell the idea that sangria is really more of a fruit punch (... right?).
naturally when you really want/need something to be tasty, something always goes wrong, right? this time i spiked the punch with a little too much brandy, so Aussie-man, his dad, and i proceeded to get drunk and kill the entire pitcher between the three of us. then we put up christmas lights and took photos. this tradition seemed much more familiar to me.
the next day i shocked everyone when i went for a workout after helping consume so much booze (success!). we all scrambled in the shower, got ready, and headed out to the middle of the frickin australian bush on some station (ranch) that had to have been 50km (35mi) from anything resembling a town, and at least 10mi from the nearest house.
a house arose like some strange oasis in front of us that had cows, dogs, steer, a random donkey, about 15 both abandoned and currently-in-use cars and pieces of farm machinery... as well as 15 of the Australian's family members. we arrived and i felt all eyes gravitate towards me as i exited the vehicle.
"...i get the feeling no one ever brings outsiders to these family events," i whispered loudly to the Australian.
"nope."
fuck.
i was introduced to each member individually and then i immediately snagged a beer and prepared for the long day ahead.
luckily, the Aussie's family is loud and hilarious and appropriately silly and welcoming. we all got along just fine, although i believe that this is in part due to my love of whiskey (all the uncles approved) and my extreme appreciation for the two-dinner situation the seems to be working in this country. theres "christmas lunch" at about 3pm, and then everyone either naps or goes on a walk until dinner at about 730pm (my family would normally be napping or making a 3rd plate of seconds).
i decided that since there was an unacceptably large swarm of flies in the yard where i would have napped in the sun, i decided to take a "walk" with some of the Aussie's cousins through the cow paddock. initially this started as a drive down to the lower pastures to see the donkey, and for Aussie this meant "lets torture taryn and show everyone how she's got a secret fear of cows!"
joke was on him because im not afraid of them, exactly... i just dont like how to look at me with their eyes. i can never tell what they are thinking...
anyway. we headed back to the house and joined the rest of the fam on a proper walk that went around the sheep shearing shed (now a birthday or other event space), through the bulls paddock, and up to the top of the hill that overlooked their entire property. it really was a spectacular view on a perfectly warm and sunny day that would have been slightly more spectacular had it not been dampened by the fact that most of us had been walking through the COW fields with SANDALS on. ill just let you imagine...
we ambled on home happily trudging through the scrub and cow shit until Aussie's aunt screamed and he grabbed my arm really hard and pointed at an unassumingly-colored, medium-sized snake. his uncle took off, tearing into the shed a few dozen yards away and reappeared with a large shotgun. i followed excitedly with ears plugged and watched the Australian's uncle literally shoot from the hip and blow the snake's head clean (?) off. that's when they all told me that that snake was an eastern brown; the second most-poisonous snake in the WORLD (a fact they are scarily proud of).
i am reminded at least once a day that this country is out to kill its inhabitants.
i turned to the uncle with the shotgun and asked if he was going to put the dead animal in the trash. he laughed and told me, "nah. the dogs or the vultures will get it."
and thus i was reminded how aussies will always succeed in beating nature back and laughing in her face. with a shotgun. color me impressed.
after the snake incident we decided we all needed a little more excitement, so we chose to go spelunking in the cave system that resides on the property. its a large network full of stalactites and stalagmites as well as a skeleton of a sheep (just in case you forgot that you were in a deep dark hole in the ground). we stayed down there for a bit and told ghost stories. i told the story about how a few minutes prior, their uncle/father/brother had told me to take the ladder down into the cave more slowly.... mainly because he was standing under it and i was in a skirt.
time passed quickly and that was the only relevant story i had.
we surfaced, and i convinced the pervy uncle to let Aussie take me home on the dirt bike. i rode the back of that thing in my miniskirt like it was my fucking job. and Aussie was pretty smoking hot too.
we arrived back at the house, had dinner, and i immediately started experiencing a stuffy nose which lasted about 5 days.
the rest of the Australian's and my time together at his parents' house was full of tissues and extended naps... which suited me just fine.
Sunday, December 30, 2012
day 3
day 3 of my trip was cause for alarm. the Australian and i were heading to visit his family in south australia, and i had no idea what to expect. after a two-hour flight (which lands you in a 1.5 hour time zone because apparently Victoria is a bitch) and an initially awkward 6-hour car ride with the Australian's brother (that is, until i implemented a game that sam selfrige taught me called "hey cow/sheep/emu/kangaroo". thanks, sam!), we had a great comfort-food dinner in mt. gambier at the brother's house and proceeded on to Australian's parents' house.
right before we arrived at his parents' house, i had awkwardly seen that Australian's ex-girlfriend had texted him. i may or may not have lost my mind for a hot minute, but managed to pull it together to meet the parents of the man of my dreams.
later that night, we managed to talk about what happened, and im glad we waited a couple of hours and had some wine in us, because otherwise i would have totally lost my shit.
Aussie's parents are farmers through and through. they live on a vineyard that is 20 miles from the nearest town, and that has been in the family for at least 3 generations. they have also intentionally left 80% of their land as natural bushland. so frickin rad.
in the morning Australian and his dad took me on their version of a safari through the vineyards and to "have a look through the scrub." this tour included all of us straining to find the resident koalas, bitch about the kangaroos eating the veggies from the garden, and watch all the predatory birds circling in the sky. Aussie showed me here that one of his many talents is the uncanny ability to name almost every native bird/plant/animal he sees. i say again: so frickin rad.
i am clearly my mother's daughter, so when we got home i tried to make myself useful to Aussie's mom by offering to pick oranges from the trees outside the window. she looked incredulous. i reiterated that i would love to help in any way i could. she then handed me a longsleeve tshirt of dubious durability, gloves ("because they have prickers"), and a hat ("in case the ants fall on you. be careful, because they bite pretty hard.") oh, ok thanks! wait... what?
yes, the orange trees had ants the size of your fingernail that bite the bejeesus out of you when you try to steal their food. i was unaware of this when i offered myself for this job. awesome.
everything turned out ok and i didnt fall off the ladder and ants didnt fall on my head or down my shirt. great success.
then we all packed up the cars and headed out to the family beach house in kingston, which somehow reminds me of what santa cruz would have been 20 years before the hippies arrived. its a really charming little place.
the next few days were a blur of driving long distances to meet friends and family members of the Australian. luckily, hes a good road trip buddy, and his family is totally sweet.
ill post about christmas tomorrow. its so good it deserves its own entry.
right before we arrived at his parents' house, i had awkwardly seen that Australian's ex-girlfriend had texted him. i may or may not have lost my mind for a hot minute, but managed to pull it together to meet the parents of the man of my dreams.
later that night, we managed to talk about what happened, and im glad we waited a couple of hours and had some wine in us, because otherwise i would have totally lost my shit.
Aussie's parents are farmers through and through. they live on a vineyard that is 20 miles from the nearest town, and that has been in the family for at least 3 generations. they have also intentionally left 80% of their land as natural bushland. so frickin rad.
in the morning Australian and his dad took me on their version of a safari through the vineyards and to "have a look through the scrub." this tour included all of us straining to find the resident koalas, bitch about the kangaroos eating the veggies from the garden, and watch all the predatory birds circling in the sky. Aussie showed me here that one of his many talents is the uncanny ability to name almost every native bird/plant/animal he sees. i say again: so frickin rad.
i am clearly my mother's daughter, so when we got home i tried to make myself useful to Aussie's mom by offering to pick oranges from the trees outside the window. she looked incredulous. i reiterated that i would love to help in any way i could. she then handed me a longsleeve tshirt of dubious durability, gloves ("because they have prickers"), and a hat ("in case the ants fall on you. be careful, because they bite pretty hard.") oh, ok thanks! wait... what?
yes, the orange trees had ants the size of your fingernail that bite the bejeesus out of you when you try to steal their food. i was unaware of this when i offered myself for this job. awesome.
everything turned out ok and i didnt fall off the ladder and ants didnt fall on my head or down my shirt. great success.
then we all packed up the cars and headed out to the family beach house in kingston, which somehow reminds me of what santa cruz would have been 20 years before the hippies arrived. its a really charming little place.
the next few days were a blur of driving long distances to meet friends and family members of the Australian. luckily, hes a good road trip buddy, and his family is totally sweet.
ill post about christmas tomorrow. its so good it deserves its own entry.
days 1-2
days 1 and 2 of my trip were absolutely wonderful. the Australian is an exceptionally caring and attentive man who alternately let me sleep off my fijian frustrations and showed me around brisbane. we did laundry, drank rose wine in the backyard, made dinner, and napped excessively. it was perfect.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
flying to AUS
the flight to australia was hands-down the worst flying experience i have ever had. cyclone evan delayed my plane by 12 hours, but none of the passangers were informed until about 2 hours before the flight. un/luckily for me, Queen Chrisann had just dropped me off at the airport and wished me bon voyage not 10 minutes prior to some airline employee casually walking by me mention that "oh, if you havent heard, youre going to be delayed 12 hours." so i quickly called the Queen and she swung back by to take me home, because ill be damned if im going to be this close to home and sleep in a shitty motel by the airport.
so i finally got on the 915am flight to Nadi, Fiji. the 14-hour flight really wasnt that bad, and the airport itself looked pretty much unchanged from the last time i was there- last year.
so i hurried up and waited in the trasnfer line for a layover that i knew was going to be 14 hours. clearly, i was thinking that this is going to give me plenty of time to walk outside the airport, take in a couple of sights, have soem local food, etc.
no.
i was dutifully informed- after waiting an hour in this line- that i needed to go back downstairs, outside the airport, to the front desk and rebook my flight because even though there was a cycone, i apparently missed my flight. i rushed downstairs to rebook the same flight that i was already booked on.
i start this comment by saying that i recognize vast cutural differences in a number of suddenly obvious ways. fijians live in a wonderful time/space continuum called "island time", where western definitions of work ethic just cannot be applied. there is quite literally no sense of urgency, and oftentimes there will be 5-8 other employees wandering around and admiring the mayhem occurring around them.
this would have been highly entertaining if you werent the one waiting in line FOR 6 HOURS to rebook your flight with the 100 other people who needed to do the same thing. this would not have taken 6 hours had they simply turned on another computer and had more than one person working the front desk. because of "island time", the other workers stood around, watching all of us miserable passengers pleading for their help, and all of them saying that it wasnt their job.
it actually is hilarious looking back on it now, probably because i know that i will never vacation to that country and probably never use it as layover destination either.
all turned out well in the end, because since i was the very last person to be helped at 1130pm (i had arrived in fiji at 2pm), the only hotel with room still available on the entire island was a 5-star resort. so i spent my last 5 hours on fiji, sleeping, in a stunning, beautiful room on the beach... with non-fuctioning AC... because its "island time".
so i finally got on the 915am flight to Nadi, Fiji. the 14-hour flight really wasnt that bad, and the airport itself looked pretty much unchanged from the last time i was there- last year.
so i hurried up and waited in the trasnfer line for a layover that i knew was going to be 14 hours. clearly, i was thinking that this is going to give me plenty of time to walk outside the airport, take in a couple of sights, have soem local food, etc.
no.
i was dutifully informed- after waiting an hour in this line- that i needed to go back downstairs, outside the airport, to the front desk and rebook my flight because even though there was a cycone, i apparently missed my flight. i rushed downstairs to rebook the same flight that i was already booked on.
i start this comment by saying that i recognize vast cutural differences in a number of suddenly obvious ways. fijians live in a wonderful time/space continuum called "island time", where western definitions of work ethic just cannot be applied. there is quite literally no sense of urgency, and oftentimes there will be 5-8 other employees wandering around and admiring the mayhem occurring around them.
this would have been highly entertaining if you werent the one waiting in line FOR 6 HOURS to rebook your flight with the 100 other people who needed to do the same thing. this would not have taken 6 hours had they simply turned on another computer and had more than one person working the front desk. because of "island time", the other workers stood around, watching all of us miserable passengers pleading for their help, and all of them saying that it wasnt their job.
it actually is hilarious looking back on it now, probably because i know that i will never vacation to that country and probably never use it as layover destination either.
all turned out well in the end, because since i was the very last person to be helped at 1130pm (i had arrived in fiji at 2pm), the only hotel with room still available on the entire island was a 5-star resort. so i spent my last 5 hours on fiji, sleeping, in a stunning, beautiful room on the beach... with non-fuctioning AC... because its "island time".
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