New Zealand Blog

It’s a strange feeling knowing you have no commitments and no responsibilities. Whilst having no exams, no school and no job seems like a desirable situation, I’ve found it to be surprisingly dull. Now both my trips to Herne Bay (no, I’m not kidding) and Venice are well and truly over, I’m left with a sense of depression as my weeks have become filled with bugger all and a trip to Sainsbury’s has become the highlight of my day.

The initial relief after the end of exams passed very rapidly and all I find myself left with is a sense of, ‘what the hell do I do with my life now?’ It’s terrifying in a way for I was very happy in my little school bubble (although I’m only realising this in hindsight). Now it appears that I have to make some decisions about where I go from here. The next four months (beginning Monday) will be filled with doing temporary work and saving any cash I accumulate to go towards my trip in November. It’s just these days beforehand where, instead of making money, I’m sitting at home in the PJs with only the ‘Gilmore Girls’ for company.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not all been bad. I spent a very enjoyable week ‘raving it up’ in Herne Bay at a club called ‘Talk of the Town’ no less. I use the term ‘club’ very loosely however, as realistically it’s Herne Bay’s version of Sittingbourne’s ‘Life’ (again, a name that speaks volumes).

Can’t complain really though, cheap drinks with drunken friends equals a surprisingly fun few nights. Additionally, making up two (yes, two) routines with a friend and then having a serious ‘dance off’ with two guys (who also had their own rehearsed routine – worrying) really made one of the nights.

Speaking of drunken nights, the best by far has got to be in Venice where walking became a serious issue and the pictures say it all about my sense of dignity (or lack of). Drinking bottles of wine priced at around 3 euros (possibly less) spelled disaster from the word go and walking through St Marc’s Square, physically having to hold onto friends to keep me up right, really was the turning point which yelled ‘classy girl.’

On the plus, our drunkenness encouraged us to befriend a strange old man, a few waiters and an odd Indian guy who I vaguely recall following around for far longer than we should have done.

The part of the evening that I find most amusing however, is when upon returning to our apartment, I bemoaned the fact that the room was spinning (to my poor friends trying to sleep) seemingly clueless about why this was the case. Thinking about it now, I have no idea how I got up our rickety stairs which I stacked it up when sober, and so can only imagine that in my drunken state, I developed super human powers which enabled me to overcome such difficult obstacles (ever seen that advert where the guy is drunk and thinks he’s a superhero saving balloons? – sums me up completely). I was pleasantly surprised however that in the morning I got away with a brief headache and some serious dehydration, whilst my friend, who always escapes the torture that is the hangover, was delightfully left heaving in the toilet with bread and water to hand.

I should take a minute to note that getting drunk was not all we did on our trip, so Venice was not completely wasted on us. In fact, my urge to travel more has only increased and now home, I’m counting down the days until I go away again.

Good luck Thailand, this ‘superhero’ will soon be making a potentially catastrophic visit… 

In the interests of keeping the irrelevant ramblings going, I’ve decided to post another instalment of the embarrassment that is my life.

There are been two shocking events lately that have left me incapable of even attempting to defend my actions (or idiocy). The first was at a friend’s 18^th, where a whole mass of us decided to go out dressed up in a ‘neon rave’ theme and the second was my final day of school, which ended both awkwardly and sickly.

Perhaps I should explain?

The ‘raving’ idea started oh so well…. Sure, we looked like idiots, but we were relatively respectable and capable of walking in a straight line. Pre-Maidstone drinks, a couple of bars and a gentle sprint through the streets later and well…all self respect gone out the window, we were a mass of glowing, brightly coloured imbeciles.

It seemed that in a moment of brilliance we had decided to write ‘rave’ on our faces in lipstick, which inevitably smeared in the most attractive fashion and after drinking for a good 6 hours, we all burned out ridiculously early. Fortunately, a kebab was close to hand and classy people that we are, we all poured in.

Now we were little more than greasy, smudged, glowing, brightly coloured imbeciles.

Lovely.

Moving on swiftly to the final day of school and you have a similar scenario. In fact, replace neon with ‘cops and robbers’ and glow sticks with yearbooks and essentially you have an identical scene.

Shockingly, sobriety did not hold for long and very swiftly did Spoons fill with a swarm of respectable (and not at all slutty) girls dressed in police hats and jump suits. The locals probably thought Christmas had come early until the drunken girls started bawling their eyes out in a manner that just screamed ‘self respect.’

I was not exempt from the crying - in all honesty I was an initiator. Fantastic.

It was only the following day that I remembered a conversation between a friend and I in which we discussed the fact that the way we acted on the last day would probably be how the people from our year remembered us in future.

For the love of God I hope that’s not true.

I feel that in a way I paid penance for my actions with the hangovers that left me in the uncomfortable position of violently heaving into my bin.

Yes guys, that’s the kind of girl you’ve been friends with for the past 7 years.

Lucky you.

After several months of leaving this blog untouched, I thought it was due for an update…even if I’m not leaving for my travels just yet. While technically this was made for my travelling exploits, until I leave I’m going to use it for my general ramblings.

Enjoy.

There have been many-a-moment I cringe about, many-a-morning where I curse obscenities under my breath before unsubtly screaming “fuck” when I look back on my own stupidity, but lately such moments have reached an all-time, all-worrying high.

Some could say that it’s all a learning curve, others could say you’re allowed mistakes …wiser birds would tell the cold hard truth and merely exclaim: “ Liz, You’re a twat.” I can’t help but agree with the latter.

You get the evenings that begin so innocently, so chilled out, a few friends sitting around, having a chat.

A few drinks later and things, well, things tend to deteriorate. A prime example would be a few months ago when having a spur of the moment “dance off” turned into a game of musical bumps…for which I can only be grateful that we were at a house party and not a public place.

It took my bum four days to recover and my head still hasn’t been able to repress the embarrassing memory.

Then you get the evenings with the family, the ones that in films would be so calm and civilised, but in reality are a mix of slurred words and drunken dancing.

Finally there are the almighty, unbelievably drunken evenings that throw all reason out the window, make you think you it’s a good idea to keep downing shots and lull you into thinking dancing like your limbs aren’t attached is actually incredibly sexy.

Not surprisingly, such evenings are followed by mother-of-all-hangovers, which last for at least a full 24 hours and leave you unable to remember why you ever began drinking in the first place.

After several of these ridiculously drunken evenings, hangovers from hell and being ‘tagged’ on Facebook the following morning, I took a vow not to drink for a while.

Shockingly, it didn’t deter my drinking habits for long and only last week did I wake up feeling suicidal. Now, clear headed and finally fully recovered, I can’t help but wonder why I keep doing this to myself. It’s a vicious cycle of drunken fun and blurry vision (both the night before and the morning after). I’m also very aware of the fact that during my gap year, such evenings will need to stop if I ever want to make new friends. After all, nobody wants to befriend the girl ‘rocking on’ to Queen, spilling her beer over bewildered onlookers.

Now that my flights are officially booked, I’ve also been thinking a lot about the full implications of travelling alone. There isn’t going to be anyone to reassure me and tell me that I didn’t make an utter tit of myself the night before. Instead, there will be newfound friends speaking plain truths about my idiocy - something that I clearly need to keep in check.

Still, drunkenness will surely be the least of my worries when I’m backpacking around Thailand, wondering how to ask for directions and quite possibly keen to come straight back home after a day of being there. It will certainly be a learning curve of a different kind.

I can’t help now but feel that I’ve done my first entry justice and rambled for a sufficient amount of time. Hopefully making some use of this site will show some gratitude to my brother who so graciously made it for my birthday (particularly as for his birthday, I returned the favour by buying him cufflinks…he was impressed as you can imagine).

…And as for now?

 I think it’s time to go teetotal.

Happy 18th Birthday Lizzie! You’re finally of legal drinking age!

Have a great day!