All Holidays Come to an End, I Suppose

So it's a workin girl I am. After about 4 months of retirement, I have rejoined the workforce, somewhat begrudgingly. Today is my first day alone at the hostel - 12 hour shift to start things off. All is good so far. This job is really a joke compared to the average day at Foley though. First of all I'm not allowed to leave the reception area vs the 10k run done in an average Foley day. Second of all, well... frankly that alone dictates a massive difference in the amount of work in one day. No laundry, no cleaning, no buzzer, no showing guests around, nothing.

So I like this job, it's easy. It's a filler. I think the hardest part will be to NOT say "at the hostel I used to work at, we did ..." This is a nice place, particularly considering the location and competition, but it's no BBH. NZ ruins its backpackers by spoiling them like crazy. To go anywhere after is a bit of a let down really.

In the meantime I continue the hunt for a day job. I would half like to get into a real job where I had to like, you know use my brain like. It would be a lot easier to search for one if I had any idea what I wanted to do with my life... Would you like fries with that?

Other than, no real adventures to report. I was walking home one night and saw a police blockade ahead, but didn't see any action, so kept walking towards it. There were 'bobbies' all around but nothing happening. Then I figured it out... they were in front of a rather regal building with numerous ritzy cars circling and the Union Jack & Italian flags flying (some Italian dude's in town) ... Lizzie was having a party!!

After seeing the glitz, glam and absolute fortune being spent on security alone, I continued walking to see numerous homeless people making their beds for the night. In doorsteps, behind cardboard boxes, in stairwells, anywhere warm. The contrast of the two was extraordinary in a truly awful sense.