Airbnb: A Nightmare in Thailand

I haven't had to share a dormitory with other people since my 20's. But there I lay, kicked out of my Airbnb at the end of my month in Thailand, all for cutting short a call from an Airbnb host on an anonymous number, after he condescendingly talked over me, whilst I was miles away from his (perfectly average) residence on tour with some elephants. 

Expensive sanctuary elephants. I'm on holiday, I'm doing Muay Thai, I'm touring, I'm busy, I'm trying to make the most of what should have been a once-in-a-lifetime experience. 

Oh yes, this will only happen to me once. I am certain of this, and I hope this never happens to you. 

I don't think bullies like this often get stood up to, I think in general when you stay in someone's home you give each other good reviews; people tend to avoid conflict in any shape or form and want good reviews for themselves in return. 

However, bullies should not be allowed to exploit vulnerable travellers, so I am telling this story to warn others. What else can I do? Does psychological abuse count as a crime in Thailand? Can I obtain a protection order against someone in Singapore who harasses me on three different tech platforms? When will international law be able to enforce cyber-bullying? Not today.

There are three parties responsible here: my host, Luca. The mega-company that has flourished from Silicon Valley. And me.  

I blame myself. I hastily booked in between wedding planning before departing NZ. I did a quick review of a host in Chiang Mai, looking at the star ratings and didn't read the personal accounts of abuse, lies, theft and harassment that guests had endured before me, from Hong Kong to Chiang Mai, dating as far back as 2015. 

In situations involving three parties where one has the least power, the powerful have an advantage and rarely will the least vulnerable see a fair outcome. I can't change my outcome but I can use my voice to tell the real story here. 

The story of someone who should have never been allowed to legally make money from people unfortunate enough to stay in their homes.

So this is what happened. Moments after requesting a booking for 13 days in Chiang Mai, my host said that the quoted price was too low and requested another $75 USD. Whatever. I agreed. I paid. 

I then caught word it was crop burning season in Northern Thailand. Air particulates were so harmful that several independent websites recommended evacuation from Chiang Mai, or to wear a gas mask and stay indoors with air conditioning and sealed exits. My expat Kiwi friends were literally running from the area. Scary stuff. 

I contacted my host, who said he would only provide a 50% refund if I cancelled, according to his strict cancellation policy. I then contacted Airbnb, expecting this to be an extenuating circumstance, to be told that I had to get sick before being provided a full refund. 

Anyway, it rained, the danger of lung poisoning went down, problem solved. Lack of adherence to customer safety displayed. 

Within days at the property an element on the stove shorted out all electricity in the condo and the fridge wouldn't shut. I defrosted the fridge and left a warning sticker on the guilty element dial. Problem solved again. 

Until a week in, when I was surprised to receive extra charges for electricity from my host. So his appliances malfunction, I foot the extra electric bill. $13 NZD. No big deal. 

Except it was a big deal. A huge deal, in fact. I received 34 messages from my host on the Line and Airbnb app within the space of 24 hours. And a 10:00 am call from Airbnb the next day supporting the host's request for extra cash. Despite paying this pathetic amount within 18 hours notice I also received threats to be kicked out and repeated demands for videos of the functioning fridge. Post-stay, he tried to charge me $75 USD for the stove element I "broke".

Maybe if I were renting a property for a year, maybe a month, but not for less than a fortnight lease would I check everything in a house. I might next time though... Even when you rent, as many of us do, it is not our responsibility to pay for existing broken things. But Airbnb were complicit in this, with their highly trained phone diplomats, taking no action to prevent or warn a bully of his unreasonable harassment. 

Then my phone breaks on holiday. I struggle with the new cheaper one to send a video of the fridge door opening and closing. The threats and messages continue. Apparently I am liable to damaging his precious fridge. Thirteen messages on 26 April from the host saying that the damage is my responsibility. The harassment is again reported to Airbnb, again no action is taken on my behalf. Except for the advice to keep communication within the Airbnb app for transparency's sake.

Luca is very displeased with my requests for communication through the official Airbnb app. He requests phone calls and continues to harass and send messages both through the Airbnb and Line app. I politely give him my reasons for my preferred method of communication. 

And eventually I learn to live without aircon, in daily highs of humid 40 degree (celcius, obvs) weather. 

On 30 April, the day before checkout someone from Airbnb must have contacted Luca and I, surrounded by happy elephants, receive the disgusting phone call from the anonymous number. It's the nightmare host. Knowing that this phone call was not recorded, I thank him politely for the sentiment to "clear the air", briefly listen to his one-sided rant and apologise quoting legitimate unavailability whilst he continues to scold me in a condescending tone. 

If I thought I was getting harassed before I'm really in for it now. 

'Hey Pamela 

I was in the middle of a sentence and you hang up on me.

I nicely call you to talk about the issue and clear the air nicely. 

You are my guest remember that.

You cannot treat me like that. 

you hang up on me?! Are you kidding!

You are staying in my home dude!'

My response:

'Thank you for your call Luca - sorry I had to leave - I'm in the middle of the tour!!'

'Bullshit'

'I am not available 24/7 unfortunately. No offense intended. Have a great day.'

'You are one rude person and what you did was unacceptable'

'Would you like to see some photos of some elephants? Do you require proof that I am on a tour? Thanks for the sentiment of the ph call and I hope all is well with you. I will send you photos of the condo tomorrow. Best regards.'

'...cut the crap and stop your bullshit. 

you  were on loudspeaker and my wife next to me heard all your rudeness.  I was very nice and calm trying to clear the air beofe (sic) check out and you could have just said I call you back soon sorry i am busy, but instead you engage in the conversation, made a point and cut me off and hang up! so, Whatever! 

I am so a freaking hotel (sic) and you are staying in my home! 

do you get it??!??

I am cancelling your reservation right now so you can leave your tour and go back home now to pack up and leave because you cannot stay anymore in my condo.'

(Astounded by his lies and regretful I don't have call recording technology):

'That is exactly what i said. I said i had to go. And then apologised. And I thanked you for calling me. This is why it's best to communicate in writing, in the app, so that there is no room for error - much like the complete mistruths you stated above. 

Again, I am sorry if i caused you offense. 

Kind regards

P'

'You are full of it.'

'You must leave now my condo'

'Get out'

'You must leave'

'I'm on the phone with Airbnb and cancelling'

'4pm my agent is there to clean and make sure you are out'

Two hours later I am given two hours notice from Airbnb to leave the property (while I am still one hour's drive away). I finish packing on arrival (some sixth sense made me pack and start cleaning the day before anyway - yes I'm obviously a little slow to catch on, all things considered). I clean like my life depends on it. I know that I am in for the first bad Airbnb review of my life, but I do believe in leaving the homes I stay at in good condition. Scared that some agent is going to come charging through the door, I stack the TV cabinet against the door after double locking it. I discover some gross things under the cabinet, no need for details here...

Fifteen minutes after arrival I receive a knock. I politely reply (though terrified) that I will be ready in 30 minutes. OK, ka? Cleaning ensues, I won't bore you with tedious tales of sparkling white porcelain and fresh smelling sheets, but I manage to achieve both. I do wish to tell you the more interesting story of what I wanted to do to the condo, but that would not be helpful or appropriate. 

This awful experience was punctuated by phone calls and messages from Airbnb and the host. 

'Are you out yet?' 'Are you out yet?' - Airbnb

'Get out. Noe (sic).' 'Now.' - Luca

And more knocks at the door. I take photos and videos of my masterpiece. To Airbnb's credit they promise to cover the 500 baht cleaning fee, a harassment expert called me a week later, but this HE IS STILL HOSTING. 

I just know that no matter what I do this lying host is going to find some reason to screw me over. He's probably on the phone to them right now, harassing some poor call centre staff member into banning me from the app. 

I finally open the door and look into the eyes of two lovely Thai women. With people like this, it would be a blessing to not comprehend the vile language directed at hurting you. Oh yeah, I had received a racist message from Luca weeks ago telling me who was the better English speaker, 'just between us.' My heart genuinely goes out to these women, working directly under someone who should not have authority over anyone - but I will not diagnose him here. I'm just a humble Airbnb guest with a great track record. 

Finally, I'm out. Far later than I should have left, which was as soon as I saw the warning signs. A few weeks ago I only would have only taken a financial hit. I'm now left with new costs of a taxi and new accommodation to pay for. I'm left with the promise of one night's refund in 5-15 business days. I'm left in tears and anger that I allowed someone to ruin what should have been a beautiful holiday in a spectacular city.

I'm left thinking that surely someone else has gone through this experience. I google many things. Airbnb must have some excellent SEO (Search Engine Optimisation) experts on board, most of the search content is suited for the audience of a host, rather than a guest. Now, that doesn't statistically make sense, does it? Surely there are more customers than hosts?; how else would Airbnb arise, glorified, from the Valley of Silicon? 

According to research by a former Airbnb user, Asher Fergusson, 'the severity of “Airbnb nightmares” varies from extremely unsafe living conditions or poor customer service to cases of scams, sexual assault, and in 2016 alone nearly 80 million Airbnb stays turned into a problem for travelers.

- Jun 10, 2018

Link

But if you search words such as 'Airbnb nightmares' and 'is Airbnb safe?' many links lead back to Airbnb's own pages and buzzwords, such as 'Airbnb Trust & Safety - Your safety is our priority.'

So out of the three parties, how did I fare?

After contacting Airbnb over ten times before, during and after check in with my concerns...

• Airbnb informed me that I had to get sick from air particulates in Chiang Mai (literally in the air at the time) before receiving a full refund
• Airbnb facilitated harassment, bullying and intimidation from a host for four years
• Airbnb requested unjust extra electricity charges of $11.98 AUD due to appliances that were faulty upon discovery
• Airbnb didn't block my host from further harassing me
• Eventually, in 5-15 business days I will be refunded $13.67 AUD for the trouble of being kicked out early with half an hour to pack and clean
• Airbnb on 1 May had not escalated my request to make a formal complaint, nor did they provide a time frame in which this would happen (it did happen yesterday - 10.05.19)
• Airbnb have to date not stopped Luca from hosting properties thus failed to protect vulnerable travellers in future
• To Airbnb's credit, their "empathy" for customers on the phone is on point. For example, on 1 May they said that 'I understand that you are looking in to pursuing legal process (sic). If I was in your position, I would feel the same way.'
• To Airbnb's credit, their escalation team called me on 10 May and listened to my story. They advised me that due to privacy they could not let me know the outcome. Today, they stated: 'We’ve taken appropriate action to further protect the community and it wouldn’t have happened without you.'
• Airbnb still allow this host, to host. 

Farrrrrk that.....

Maybe Airbnb's CEO should get into politics. Vague yet comforting language on point. Oh wait... they are already more powerful than any politician; a Silicon Valley giant. Unaccountable, financially and ethically, to no one. 

I wouldn't bother using this app if future if I were you. But in particular, do yourself a favour and stay away from this host:

Link

I've collated some of the more detestable quotes from his previous reviews below. 

Do enjoy, read the small print and take care on your next holiday. Stay safe.

Arohanui. xox

• 7 documented accounts of communicating and host insisting on communicating outside Airbnb app
• 4 documented escalations to Airbnb
• 4 reports of dangerous dogs in area of residence 
• Over 10 extremely concerning reviews.

(translated from Mandarin)

‘Host was extremely rude and not flexible to treat his guests. Booking was required to be confirmed in 24 hours prior arrival that meant I need to risk the 3400 baht penalty but for nothing. No one can response in timely manner, I have nowhere else to raise my complaint! The house is old and broken, it’s really ruined my holiday! It was extremely terrible to stay there!’ – Runmeng, China, Apr 19

'Communication was really hard ... I had trouble with the main door key ... sent car locksmith instead of door one ... took 300 baht which host never returned to me ... he was sending his rules in capital letters and demanded a group chat (outside of Airbnb app) ... there were other things and I don't want to go into the details.' - Stefan, Plovdiv, Bulgaria Feb 19. 

'I have just endured one of the most horrible experiences of my life. Dealing with Luca and having any contact with him has been so unpleasant that I'm left completely in shock. The problems started before I even arrived ... when he didn't hear a response (7 days before arrival) the tone and content of the messages became more angry ... my flight was delayed ... I didn't appreciate his anger towards me for something out of my control ... (after asking if an additional guest could stay) ... he said I'd be kicked out immediately if my friend stayed. He then started SHOUTING IN HIS MESSAGES. He told me he'd had enough of this conversation and to stop it IMMEDIATELY ... over the next 36 hours I received about 12 messages from him and Airbnb saying that if my friend came to stay I'd be kicked out and lose any monies paid ... what made the situation nasty is when Luca said he would authorise my friend's stay if I paid nearly $120 / night just so a friend could stay. It made me question many things about his character as this seemed he was almost enjoying being so unreasonable ... lots more messages ... I then agreed to talk with Luca ... the whole conversation I hardly said anything as he just talked over me ... after maybe 30 messages over two days I paid $50for my friend's 2 night stay ... after four weeks he asked me to show the condo to a potential buyer ... he then used this to tell me that it was my responsibility to clean the condo and I get in contact with the agent to pay for it to be cleaned if it was needed. This was offensive as the condo was cleaner than when I first moved in ... then he used this to send me more unsavoury messages ...' - Allan, London, UK, Jan 19

'I would have been very, very sad if I was staying for a short time and wanted to see the city. Luca continues to rebut reviews that suggest so (that the residence is close to Old City, Chiang Mai) ... I would not suggest renting from this owner. He is verbally abusive and controlling. I felt quite attacked and unsafe. He repeated insulted (sic) me calling me sad, miserable, pathetic etc. Luca often states that his reviews speak for themselves. I agree. Please look at how he talks to and about people when he rebuts his reviews. This will give you insight into his personality, and should steer you away.' - Kristie, St Paul, MN, March 18. 

'Unfortunately, there were problems with the acquisition of previously agreed cost and Luca showed little insight.' - Markus, Karlsruhe, Germany. 

'Luca as a host is very controlling. Whilst I am OK with no shoes and handwashing upon entering the flat, there was mandatory showering upon returning to the flat ... there was also the curfews ... at 9:30 / 10:00 pm I was told that I needed to return by 10:30 so as not to wake Luca (because of the mandatory shower) ... I missed the curfew ... (arrived back at 11:00 pm). I was told that he had to be up at 7:00 am so I would be woken at this time "so it would be fair". Upon my arrival back I was given a stern talking to ... if you are OK with comments suck as "I'm fucked". "Please shower ASAP I'll be back soon", and "I'm fucked dead" (yes: I got that a few times) then this is a perfect location. However, I found it so bad that I left after 5 days.' - James, London, UK, Dec 15

'The negatives far outweighed [the positives] ... Luca is unreasonable / dishonest - after this incident (existing hair blockage in shower) he requested that I pay him $35 for a plumber to clean the drain even though it was his fault in the first place ... I then refused to pay and told him about the hair being in the drain and he accuses me of lying ... I do, however have photo evidence of this hair ... I would NOT recommend this place or for anybody to stay at Luca's other listings.' - Dan, Camperdown, Australia, Oct 15

UPDATE: only fair to provide his response (lol).

“in 7 years of hosting probably the WORST EXPERIENCE i have ever had. I kicked her out of my condo and Airbnb was on my side. I won the case and i received a big bonus from Airbnb for putting up with her and her lies. Pamela's communication was the worst and created a million problems to me and to my agents. I called her the day before check out to make sure we were in good terms after her messy stay, out of good will I tried to reach to my guest and clear the air in person over the phone. She was on loudspeaker with my wife next to me that heard the all conversation. Pamela hung up on me with total disrespect and tried to lie to Airbnb about it. I called a supervisor (for the third time) and i kicked her out. Again, Airbnb stayed on my side (for once). I would never recommend to anybody a person like Pamela to any host!. She cost me stress and so much time wasted over phone calls and messages with Airbnb and 2 cases opened against her. She is very tricky and do not get sidetracked by her nice way to talk to you, it's all facade. I wish guest like this were banned from Airbnb for good.”

167 days - London edition

Photo courtesy of Google images. Thanks, Google images!

167.

Is a pretty random number! But that's how much time has passed since my last post. Did you miss me? I certainly miss you all from London. 

The process of writing never fails to make me feel better, but let's just say I have an on again, off again relationship with it.  

It's been an eventful five and a half months, after all.

Strasbourg, Amsterdam again (no dayumm this time), Brussels, Stuttgart, Oktoberfest. Hever Castle, a week in Kent, a crazy vegan AirBnb, an extremely grim AirBnb, Prague (where you must promise me, once in your life, to visit at Christmas), New Year's in London, finally joining a fight gym, organising a Hen's (oh dear do we get a topless waiter or a stripper?), a new volunteer role which, as it so happens, requires me to write. Three new contracts, currently on my third. 

I plan to write about all those places, but tonight I want to talk about the experience of living in a different country. 

...

Some of us moved a lot as kids. Changed schools, followed the army, been at the mercy of landlords. It can be unsettling. Unsettling describes the experience of hauling your arse to a different city and trying to settle in.

Then when we grow up we have all these choices - some of us travel. Some of us are adventurers, some of us prefer that to being responsible (but holy heck travel has definitely given me more of that). 

Some of us are professional escapees. I have been that escapee. What I failed to tell you in Every journey begins with a humble step is that this Kiwi left for Sydney because I was running from something... whoops! In the grand scheme of things, I'm so glad my hopes at that time weren't met. Every step can lead to surprising heights. 

Or, TBH some WTF, WTAF, some NSFW or for me, an entire government department of acronyms and all the typical project management buzzwords. Yay?

Living in a new country is a humble experience (says she who is blogging about it). But I find myself at the mercy of the universe, recruitment consultants, the weather, my own personal challenges, my bosses, economic insecurity and an expiry date on my visa. Typing this makes me cringe, because these are FWPs.  

All I can do is just soak it all up, and try and be grateful.

In these days of Facebook flashbacks, we are becoming very good at documenting our lives. Moving elsewhere has never made the past go away for me - whether it's Snapchat, FB or Google, it seems like every day is an anniversary of the past. Yes, I'm aware I can change my settings easily but it's so addictive, isn't it? 

Life in London has a routine to it now. I've been a bit busy making connections and am very grateful for the amazing friends I have made and the awesome person I live with. (I live 15 mins away from work!) There are connections here for me, some from the past and some from the present. My whānau and I have been sending gratitude lists to each other most days. This helps a lot.

I have kept doing the project management stuff, even with all the changes in contracts I never thought I would be able to have the opportunities I have had.

But on living in a new country, it isn't always easy.

There have been tears, liars, incredible homesickness and that feeling of being a planet away. What's hardest is the bittersweetness, the not really knowing of where I should settle down. Melbourne, Auckland, London? Dublin, Sydney. For an emotional person, I probably shouldn't be giving a piece of my heart to all these amazing cities. 

What have I learned? 

Treasure is measured in units of love.

The experience of accepting loneliness and finding peace.

Life can be ordinary, wherever you are.

That I'm grateful to be visiting Grantham this weekend, where my family is from. Just casually picking up a convertible. 

Life can be extraordinary, wherever you are.

Muay Thai bruises your legs a lot. 

Uncertainty is scary, but exciting. 

I didn't know you could get bone bruises from Muay Thai, but you definitely can.

London is totally fine during winter.

Traveling is worth every moment. 

To be careful what I wish for.

xx

Decidedly not English

What can I say, it's been an English kinda month. A whole season, in fact, as my time here ticks over the three month mark.

A whole three months of offending British sensibilities, translating communication attempts that 'beat around the bush' and making enemies both on public transport and in the workplace.

I've been thinking recently, I thought I was English before - after all, it's my ethnicity and cultural heritage. But I am, decidedly not. 

Getting more localised, Londoner I am not. Yet.

First of all I need to give you my interpretation of what being English means:

1. Massive amounts of people pleasing. You will never hear an English person let on that they are unhappy with you leaving the teabag in their sink, for example (and no I never do that). You will never hear an English person tell you that they want to go home as that's their last drink, when you have just ordered a large Long Island Ice Tea (yes, I do this), and you are going home together. You will rarely hear an English person tell you to do something directly, even when they are in the middle of delivering devastating news e.g. 'erm, so would you, you know, be OK with moving out in ten days?' (This happened to me when my flatmate wanted her boyfriend to move in)

Moving on...

2. Hello postal service. Greetings, Snail Mail. Make friends with your Mailman / Woman. I had the displeasure of opening another account with HSBC (a business one). And I had to register for VAT (GST). I received a total of four envelopes preparing me for the fact that I would be registered for the Taxman / Woman. It went something like... "Dear Albino Kiwi, we have registered you, be prepared for the preparation." "Be prepared for the registration." 

I'm sure you get it. Tedious. Uneccesarily slow. Unnecessarily paranoid of email and hacking. Maybe I'm too attached to my Gmail?

3. My accent. It is miles apart (oh gawd I've left the metric system already). But seriously, some people here have no frigging idea what I am saying. England interprets the English language completely differently from the Antipodes. My vowels are still weird. I still can't ask for a pen without getting confused looks. 

So I guess those are some of my initial impressions of what it means to be English. 

What do we have in common? A sense of hospitality. I have been treated like a Queen in newfound friend's homes. 

That's once I get inside the door. If I'm lucky. 

I was stuck next to an old man on a bus the other day, trapped by the window. Said scuse me and tried to get out at my stop. He didn't move so I squeezed past, tripped over his feet and then stepped on one of them. 

"What the fuck was that?!?" He exclaimed, spittle flying out of his mouth in rage. 

"I'm so sorry sir, I didn't mean to, are you OK?"

[WTFery I just tripped over you because you didn't get out of my way]

"Are you drunk? How dare you?"

Of course I wasn't drunk. If I was drunk I would have been ubering. 

"I'm so sorry," etc etc and much embarrassment and shame. 

And this, would never happen in New Zealand. 

I have never met such self-entitled folk in NZ. 

So. To summarise. I am not as English as once thought. 

The culture I come from is a straight-up one and we never treat strangers like that. 

Or at least I hope. 

It's good to get some identity behind this crazy path of the Albino Kiwi. And surprising, though not unpleasant, to learn that my supposedly British culture can be distinguished from where it originated from in the 1800's. 

Heh. You learn something new every day. 

London vs Down under

25.07.18

Where does the time go? I've been here almost three months now. The last month has all blurred into a routine, a routine which I got out of while I could. 

I have quit my new job already. 

And now I am seriously out of my comfort zone. I stayed four-and-a-half years in my last role. 

Testament to how bad work is for me (for us all, I'm sure), I haven't written anything since Amsterdam. I've been so tired. Summer in London is like a sweltering humid sweat cloud that seeps under your clothes and wakes you up at 5:15 am. All the energy has been squeezed out of me in this heat. I haven't found a new Jiu-jitsu gym (but luckily there has been some training), I haven't got around to updating this thing and I haven't got a new job yet. All I want to do is sleep and drink chilled soda water. 

But here I am, all suited up for lunchtime interviews today, tomorrow and Friday. And despite technically not having a job I am headed to Strasbourg, France via Amsterdam this Friday. Vivre au présent etc.

I've been meaning to do a comparison between London and the antipodes, the colonialists and the colony. So the following is a list of things that contrast. I am referring specifically to Melbourne, Auckland and London.

Phone coverage

What. The. Actual. Where is the phone coverage in London? Because it's not on the Vodafone network in the CBD! Be prepared to hang up on your friends, colleagues and clients. Or get a landline and save yourself from misery. This applies to the tube, your bathroom, brick buildings and old colleges in the city made of stone.

Lack of directness with people you don’t know that well. Think “um, excuse me, but would it be OK if you possibly, you know, found a new job in the next couple of weeks? It’s just that, with some changes we had to go through a restructure.” (Don’t worry by the way, I didn’t get fired or anything.) Directness seems to be an Antipodean thing. Yet the British get away with being classed as polite. More like indecipherable? Haha, I’m kidding. Honestly, I am fond of them.

Speaking of class though, I know I was privileged enough to not have to deal with this growing up in New Zealand. Not much, anyway. You definitely get a sense of different class levels here, it can be picked up in the accents, the dress sense, the demeanor and the attitudes of people. 

Big City Life. So, I thought Melbourne was a big city. Not even close. There’s also more space in Melbourne and even more in New Zealand – Auckland is a lovely seaside village compared to this. London is a country all on her own. At least one hundred different cultures all squished together in a sardine can with a river through the middle. And on the tube, some are in a sour mood indeed. 

Food – maybe I haven’t tried enough, Melbourne still wins here. Not by far though. London is full of a huge variety of different fresh foods. Plant-based diets seem to be more common, but they are carried out quietly, English style. In Australia being vegan is like having to say where you get your protein from almost every day. I have been delighted at the different types of vegan cheeses available in a typical supermarket, and although it’s only a rumour right now; apparently there are vegan Cornettos too. Be still my stomach!

Salaries – although I have been lucky enough to be interviewed for some roles that surpass my Melbourne salary, you get paid a lot less here for more responsibility. When job hunting, I never turn down any opportunity for an interview. There was one role I turned down yesterday though; they were simply asking too much for too little. On my fourth day of being unemployed, I regret this now.

Social life – harder to crack into, but I have made a couple of very good friends. 

Public transport – better.

Shopping – Melbourne better.

All in all, I’m willing to keep trying at this thing, this massive city, this experience. Writing helps me gain some perspective and I always feel better for doing so. So here’s to more London, and more writing. 

All that is gold does not glitter...

It was really hard to write something tonight, because I feel a bit fed up, a bit Thursday, a bit under-resourced project-managery.

I kept starting blog posts with no idea what to write.

Topics thrown around were:

1.       Brixton, London (where I live right now)
2.       Home (the concept of)
3.       Feeling lost (not all those who wander, are lost)
4.       First world problems (take 3)
5.       Connection
6.       Work (not appropriate)
7.       Crowds in London

8.    The gloom of living in today’s world and the lack of truth everywhere

Pickings are slim tonight. Also depressing. I’m exhausted, London is wearing me out, but like everyone is saying to me:

‘You have only been there two minutes Albino! Calm down!’

I’m adjusting, you see.

I’ve actually been inspired recently by The Catcher and the Rye. If you want to read a meandering, read that.

I picked up a 2^nd edition for £3 from a second-hand bookstore in Brighton and I read it really fast.

I love to read and I love to write, but there are many things I don’t care to read. Haven’t you noticed, how hard it is to read something that is badly written?

The Catcher in the Rye is a terrible book. No point, repetition, a lack of identification with the main character - who is inherently dislikeable.

So why did I read it?

Honesty. A stream of consciousness. It was real, no holds barred.

It talks about snot, about alcoholism, about being sullied by cynicism. Enhanced cynicism because the main character is sixteen years old. It is not likeable, but it is readable. Communication is complex, what can I say.

What can I say?

I’ve been in London five weeks and I just feel jarred. Maybe because I have a gorgeous, gorgeous home where I can relax in - my subconscious has figured out that now is a time to feel tired, finally.

‘Albino! Relax bro. Take a step back and just chillll.’

I am thinking back to times when I have had a huge holiday, only to come back home and get a terrible flu. I don’t have the flu but I feel a very tangible sense of exhaustion and weariness right now.

It is Thursday after all. And I do work in a fast-paced industry.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I’m struggling a little, but I think it’s completely OK to struggle right now. Thinking about the upheaval that my life has just undertaken, can you really blame me?

To put it into perspective: I just moved to the other side of the world (five weeks ago), gave up my well-paid secure government job for adventure and London. Via women-hating India and many mishaps. Only to take up work in an identical industry six days after arrival.

But I am here, I have a home, I have a nice job, I can buy nice clothes, I can complain.

That should say it all. Just that.

Here is what I know now:

…

Let me get back to you on that.

I may be meandering, this may be a wandering, but not all who wander are lost.

J.R.R. Tolkien.

Also a terrible writer, but a great message.

Wish me luck - one day at a time eh.

P.S. I guess number three won.

P.S.S. J.R.R. Tolkien may not be a terrible writer, because the above is an incredible poem. 

Amster... dayumm.

Go to Amsterdam, they said. You will have fun, they said. 

Firstly, sorry for the lack of posts recently, it's been insane this week at work and I was too busy surviving and partying in Amsterdam to blog-on-the-go, so to speak. 

I've been brutally honest in this post. I thought about omitting some things, but then I realised that I hadn't actually done anything wrong. I didn't break the law.* I planned and booked accommodation, I sent messages in advance from London. Let's just say: next time, I'll plan better. 

Taken last Saturday afternoon, reflective of the way I was feeling. 

23.06.2018

This adventure begins at Luton Airport, one of the crappiest airports in the world. A concrete wasteland an hour-and-a-half from London, one of those depressing places that you wouldn't bother visiting unless you were were a cheapass traveler looking for any way to visit Europe (me, everyone).

Speaking of those depressing places you would never bother visiting, I am reminded suddenly of this port in Bali where you catch boats to Gili Island. Pay-as-you-go toilets (bucket operated) and locals who both despise and depend on you. Awful.

Unlike Bali, Luton has this amazing Ted Baker store, its only saving grace. I purchased a graceful pantsuit that makes me look very European - we hope. I could have skipped the pantsuit and the whole awful evening that was to follow by not buying a budget flight and investing in a better one though.

The flight was delayed by so many hours that I stopped counting. Luckily, time passed quickly as the airport was bursting with gorgeous young Europeans up for a chat. I learned that Northern Ireland has not had a government for a few years (how the fuck did I miss that?) and I met an alumnus of the institution I work for. I tried on all the perfumes too.

Then it all went horribly wrong. On arrival in Amsterdam, half-starved (smelling great) and two hours into the next morning both my phones stopped working. No one around me seemed to speak English, including the signs. 

I approached the Sheraton across the road - fully booked. I was approached by a taxi driver who claimed to know the address of my AirBnB, he offered to drive me for €20. 

After a disorienting ride in a car driving on the right, we arrived on the street of the alleged AirBnB. 

As I was staring at the impenetrable doors of a deserted unfamiliar street, it suddenly occurred to me that we are way too reliant on phone apps. With AirBnB, kind of like Uber, you don't usually share your personal details with each other - even though I had provided my phone number to the host, she never called and I never received any messages because the roaming data wouldn't connect. I couldn't top up my personal mobile because the provider doesn't accept Amex and my HSBC card was still not activated. Batteries on both phones were running low and my chargers have UK plugs, not EU ones. 

Basically, I was screwed. I'm very aware now of what I could have done differently, and I would really appreciate it if you didn't point out what you think I could have done unless you do it really nicely, LOL.

By the way, my driver friend, Fatih, didn't speak many words of English, and me only about three French words (whyyy did he not speak Dutch, I don't know). Instead we communicated via the alien language of a silly Albino Kiwi lost in the Netherlands. 

We then tried to find a hotel (3:00 am local time). Everywhere was fully booked. Can I stress here that I always try dressing as respectable as possible for airports, so I wasn't being turned away because I looked like a lunatic, even though I felt like one. 

I re-booked my accommodation for the weekend at a computer in one of the hotels I attempted to stay in. 

I'll never forget; the second-worst moment of this ordeal was when I asked a reception guy what he would do in my situation. 

'Hopefully I will never be in your situation' was his worrying reply. 

By then I just wanted to get out of the hotel, out of the damn car to find a friendly bush that didn't talk back to me to curl up in for the night. 

Believe me, I really, really wanted to do this, but I also needed electricity to charge my phones, unless I wanted to be really screwed the next day too. 

So when Fatih told me I could sleep in his house for about the fifth time that evening, I had to accept. Luckily Fatih had a trustworthy vibe about him and the fact that he refused to let me fend for myself on the street made me very appreciative; duty of care and all that. 

Fatih brought me snacks and Fanta and I managed to sleep for a few hours. 

But before I fell asleep I saw myself from a distance. Lying on the possibly illegally-occupied floor of an attic room in Amsterdam covered with a blanket in a house with no running water, it wasn't a great situation. But I felt humbled by someone who had so little, would give a roof and snacks to me. 

Then suddenly a bowl was placed on the dusty floor next to my floor patch. Somehow in our alien language Fatih conveyed to me that I could pee in the bowl, if I wished. 

Fatih (in the same room) was to get up twice throughout the night to pee into a bottle. I heard every drop, on that dark, dark night. Horrifying, but the price of (possibly) free rent, I suppose. 

So there we have it, the first-worst moment of that ordeal. You can't make this shit up.

I write this on my walk out of there, phone sorted and body, mind and spirit relatively unscathed.** 

I guess I did break the law. *I peed in a nature park on the way to my new-and-improved hotel. **And got scraped by stinging nettle. 

Last night taught me that even if you are a French speaking African driver, you can still both save a girl's life and completely freak her out. 

An even bigger lesson: make sure your fucking phones work when you travel.

Today's goals are simple: visit a museum, buy toothpaste, go to a trance gig and smoke weed legally for the first time in my life. 

Let's face it. I need it after last night.