Saturday 5 May 2012

Living in a London Paradise; a trip to Paris; and the invasion of the Romanians in my home in North London.





Back in London, I found a London Paradise called Hackney Wick. There I subletted a room, until I found my permanent residence. I was living with an actor/beat-poet, a fashion designer, a singer and two crazy Italians. Next door to my place was a film-maker and a Dj for example, as there are people of all creative professions in this arena. It is an isolated community in East London, situated next to the revamped area of where the Olympic site is being built. It overlooks the new Olympic village across the Canal. This area is filled with factories and abandoned warehouses, as this is where much of London’s production took place when England actually use to make goods. Now it is filled with these creative people in the warehouses, who have transformed them into loft apartments. You have people in their 30’s who act like they’re in their late teens. It’s a good vibe, a cool place, removed from society where you can be forever young! It is also the cheapest, most well valued accommodation one can find in ‘London proper’ for such a large living space and a massive rooftop terrace. More importantly for me it is another slice of London’s amazing landscape that I’m happy I’ve experienced, and it is probably the most special.



Soon after moving into my new place in North London, I went on a trip to Paris to retrieve the last of my things in Europe to install into my new residence. I met with old friends. A sound engineer who had a liking for 20+ years aged Scotch whisky; a banker from a working class home; a film-maker who has a short film at the Cannes film festival this year. I stayed with couple made up of an soon-to-be Osteopath and a training Graphic designer. My ‘banker’ friend had college peers who were all from the upper echelons of society – he was not. He did not have connections, like for example one of his peer’s mother, was the daughter of the BNP Paribas chairman. Nonetheless this lad was extremely smart; he even did some study in China and picked up Mandarin, one of the many languages he can speak proficiently. He lived just by Place Monge, a very cool BoBo area where I went out for a drink with him. BoBo is the term for Bourgeois Bohemian. He was living with his girlfriend here. A BoBo he is not, a BoBo his girlfriend is for sure. BoBo is characterised by people who are upper-middle class, but vote Left Wing, buy organic food and generally care about the environment. It’s like a new fashion – people with money who have a conscience. He though likes money; he never had much money like your regular BoBo but now he has made it in a world of big bonuses and big pay-checks, why should he subsidize his income further when he had nothing to begin with. He accused me of being a BoBo – I found this to be absurd but I was not surprised. True I have the many makings of a Bobo – I’m a well mannered, compassionate, observant, 25 year old boy. Sure my parents have given me everything I’ve required and brought me up in an comfortable stable environment. BoBo though I am not. The main reason being, though my parents have the class and makings of a Baby Boomer Bourgeois couple, wealthy they are not. Wealthy in love, yes, in culture too, even in richness of experience, but never in monetary terms. So my mother teaches yoga and buys organic food; my father has pledges large sums of money to Africa; my brothers are vegetarian and don’t buy branded clothes; but this is all due to their morale code not because they want to adhere to a fashion. My family members are just ‘good’ amazingly caring people (for animals, for the planet, for the impoverished, for the world in general). Perhaps this social liberalism has rubbed off on me.



However since living in Europe I’ve become cynical about Liberal Cosmopolitanism for example. I’ve moved further to the Right. Though my family all vote for the Green Party (a left-wing socially conscience party from New Zealand), I feel I’ve moved to the Right. Voting for the Left is fine when you just have to worry about a population of 4.5 million people and there are enough resources to go around. But when the NHS (National Health Service) in the UK is hugely in debt for example, and you have to cut social schemes which are mandatory to the betterment of society – there is a problem. My experience starts when I initially lived in a housing estate in London. I saw (white English) families on welfare (for an eternity) and I didn’t like it. They were wasters; the 19 year old daughter had a kid, the uncle was a coke-head, and they were given a flat for free, while I paid an expensive rate for a box-room. In France, on my walk home from the train station I saw the same North African youths doing nothing, just hanging out on the same street corners smoking and drinking every day. Inspiring it was not. I have a problem with the EU – you have Europeans from Poland to Spain who come to the United Kingdom to claim benefits – though they have never contributed to the society or even have no resemblance of caring for Britain. This has put a huge strain on the more developed European societies such as the UK, Ireland, Germany and France to name a few. This is perhaps why Marine Le Pen, the right wing leader obtained nearly 20% of the vote at the recent 1st round elections in France. Yes the vast majority (probably 90%) of Europeans who come here such as the Polish and the Spanish, come to work, and only claim benefits to get a start in a position where they can care for themselves. All my Spanish, Polish, Romanian, and Italian friends work, as most of my friends here aren’t British, and I love the mixture of people that live in London. But I’ve seen and knew of many Jamaicans in the area of Camberwell (where I once lived) who didn’t have a job or were ever going to get one. They are afforded these things from the British, due to the exploitations by the Commonwealth Empire in years previous. BoBo I’m certainly not. A BoBo is someone who has lived in harmonious circumstances, and can smugly look over to the poor and care because there is a bit of guilt there and makes them sleep at night better, that though they drive a Prius or holiday in Greece regularly – they still give generously to charities. I on the other hand have not always had that luxury, once you’re thrown into the ‘deep end’ you see the absurdity of it all – that my tax dollars (on my miniscule wage) are making people better off who have never and will never work a day in their lives. They are better off than me. I believe in equality. I believe in democratic freedoms. But I don’t believe in supporting filth. I guess I’m bitter, as I’ve always worked low paid, low skilled jobs, but sweated my ass off, and have found myself in an inferior economic situation to people who have never worked. I see a whole in the system and I feel like I’ve been a victim of it!



Nevertheless, I love my life in London. I’m poor yes, but there are opportunities everywhere, and experiences to enrich my life every week. Acting has been my latest thing. I played a lead in a short film which was about a love triangle. I was in a commercial as an Extra for a Japanese beer. I played a French Policeman in a 1960’s Film Noir. I had a casting to be a Red Bull presenter, and also to play a small part in a Bollywood picture – neither role did I succeed in getting. Now I have an interview for a tour company; I’m going to be working on a Pakistani fashion show in Kensington; so I’m just generally getting myself out there in fashion, media, and film! I’m doing things, most things I’m not being paid for. But the more experience I compile, something will finally happen where perhaps I don’t have to work another low skilled, low paying job again!



To conclude this political diatribe, which can be characterized with the new people I’ve met in my life and the new place of residence where I find myself. I’ve made a very good friend, a man a couple years older than me, a Romanian. He has never worked a ‘proper’ day in his life. He has been afforded scholarships to continue his tuition in the USA, Belgium, Germany, and now England. This is because he is brilliant. Brilliant at bullshitting to be awarded such scholarships but extremely intelligent as well. And so the inspirational people I met on my latest London journey were all his friends, all of whom were Romanian. Now Romanians have perhaps the worst reputation of all European nations. It was also fitting that they were arriving on Mayday, workers’ day, the day that pays homage to all social unions and their workers; since my move from the Social Left side, I met a group of people who were not of this class or never needed such an implemented apparatus in their lives. All in their mid-late 20’s, they were brought up right after the fall of Communism and the end of the dictatorship in their country. This group of Romanians were the most intelligent company I’ve ever dined with at a BBQ. They were PHD students from only the top universities in the world, Harvard, Oxford, Cambridge, UCL, and one who would be attending Yale next year. Each person had a 3rd fluent language along with English and Romanian of course, be it German, French, Spanish, Russian; one guy spoke six languages. I was quite out of my depth. Even though there were two guys who were not academics, one was a proper theatre performer who was on a large salary with a theatre company whom he travelled with in France, and the other was a former successful painter, and now a fashion designer. These two guys were the real thing. Due to Romania and Bulgaria being the last two nations to enter the EU, they have been blacklisted making it harder for them to obtain a student allowance, to be accepted to universities, to study, to work and generally harder to get government assistance. So these two guys, from modest Romanian homes, squatted in Paris. Squatted, because they didn’t have the money to pay rent as they were not afforded any government assistance. Nonetheless, both have made it out of (technically speaking) impoverished circumstances. These two are the real ‘Beat’ generation, the real people ‘On the road’. 
See cliff-notes                                                                                                                                          *1*                                                                                                                                                       *2*


Conclusively however, my point here is that, these Romanian academics at the BBQ, are here in Western Europe because they have the intellectual capacity and determination to successfully be assertive and participatory in society as opposed to being a strain. The two Romanian former squatters, did what they had to, to make it in the society they found themselves. If you come to a country and don’t intend on bettering yourself I don’t believe you should be afforded a ‘free ride’. These two Romanians had no choice and look how successful they have begun. Now to be fair, these probably are exceptional cases, and there are probably many people who don’t make it and end up on the streets forever, thus causing more problems for society. Therefore the welfare state in the long-run does more good than the eventual harm that would ensue without it. Such as having people on the streets having to steal, beg and borrow, because they have to get by. So maybe my right-wing feelings are not as proven as I thought, and perhaps I should retreat to my Leftist routes... However, Europe’s most affluent major powerhouses – France, Germany, and the United Kingdom are becoming over-crowded and it is on the working class majority who have to pick up the cheque for those who come here with nothing. The philosophical question posed here is, is its one duty to take care of those who are in an inferior position to you even if they don’t have much in common with you (and are foreign). Should it be a moral obligation of yours? I’ll leave you with this question that I believe highlights the whole issue besetting Europe today.  

*1* - The theatre performer owes people lots of money for debts he has never covered because he needed money to get by in times of need; now he lends people money who are in the position he once was – so perhaps this is a vicious cycle in-itself. Whatever the case may be, he is a man who is experienced much, and is extremely generous because he knows what it’s like to have nothing. Another point is, he begged and squatted for many years, but obtained a Masters degree after four year of study – that is a legend!
*2* - The former painter prodigy sold works for several thousand Euros at 17 years of age in Romania. He now designs clothes; works in a clothing store in Shoreditch, and resides in Hackney, while he is preparing for his 1st year of art’s college. A legend in the making perhaps.

Monday 27 February 2012

Back in the ‘home-land’ after a 2 year hiatus



Not much really changes in New Zealand after two years. Sure a rugby world cup has been won surmounting to added pride of being kiwi; while a major disaster struck, an earthquake has decimated the country's 2nd biggest city. To me however it is still how I remember it. The air is still clearer; things are still cleaner; everywhere is generally cleaner; my friends still the same (just a bit more grown up); my family routine is the same; and most importantly my perception is still the same: NZ is a beautiful place but it is just too far from everything else, and though it doesn’t have the stressors of living in somewhere such as Europe – there just isn’t enough going on for me as a ‘young person’. Nonetheless it isn’t a bad place to be in the summer; even in Auckland the biggest city: beaches, forests, and other nature things are within a 30 minute (drive-time) radius. Moreover you have a pick of great art and music festivals, with the most incredible locations, in areas that are sparsely populated. WOMDAD (World Of Music And Dance), takes place on a lake in the town of New Plymouth, while I was lucky enough to go to the Splore festival for the 2nd time.


Splore a music and arts festival really was indicative of the beauty and open psyche of New Zealand. It takes place every two years at the amazing Tapapakanga National Park, with beaches and forests flanking the activities taking place in the various venues. Two years ago it was one of my last experiences before I initially left New Zealand. Now I’m leaving again but more the wiser and I appreciate New Zealand even more after being overseas. It is such a great festival to be at, while you feel most of the 10% of the Green voting electorate is here, New Zealand’s biggest small party and 3rd biggest in the country. You had families young and old, with punters and couples young and old – it was a festival that didn’t discriminate something for everyone. Dancing to great Djs of all sorts, and listening to great singers such as Eryka Badu was just one facet; there was yoga and meditation workshops; and live art sprawled everywhere.



Here is a video, whereby on the 0:15 second mark is a bunch of mimes that were promoting the ‘Fluxus Funhouse’, an event company whom my friend runs; I volunteered to get in to the festival at half-the-price to take part as well: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hGQzkr7cUfA&feature=share

Now as I write this in my parent’s garden with the birds and secadas chirping away, in North Shore surburbia, I know I’m going to miss facets of this beautiful place. There are many places in the world where New Zealand’s beauty can be matched but in different ways, but there are few places in the world with such a civilized small population that sparsely populates beautiful areas that are not commercial and over-priced. For example, unlike the Cote d’Azur or Lake Como Italy, we have beauty that can match such iconic spots, like Russel and Lake Taupo but in New Zealand they’re not nearly at the same market value whereas they are emptier in comparison. And it is this fact that I believe why New Zealand is special. Nonetheless, my next venture to Europe is for a five year period, as opposed to the two year period previous; this is what I’m looking forward to most, to make my mark and continue my euro adventure.

Tuesday 31 January 2012

First venture into Eastern Europe, the Balkan Region – Belgrade





It was Monday morning 5 am I had recently just said goodbye to my former work-mates, my staff party was over and I was to catch my plane from Luton, flying a Hungarian airline Wizz Air to Belgrade. Waiting for me was my good ol’ friend, like me he had immigrated to New Zealand at a young age, but unlike me he’d returned to his homeland, to be with his family, and friends’, both old and new.



We were staying in the centre of old Belgrade, the real Belgrade according to my friend. The road we were staying was nick-named Silicone Valley, because of all the wealthy women who frequented this road, with their augmented bodies from various surgery operations. This road was one of the wealthiest in the inner-city area, with a line of the priciest bars in the whole country situated here. The apartment we were staying is his father’s, but his father lives in New Zealand for 6 months of summer and then returns for the Northern hemisphere summer in Europe. So my friend has the place to himself. He loves this aspect of his life, and has turned it into his own bachelor pad.



I met all of his family, and even went to a small village town, for an annual traditional dinner, the Saint’s day of his mother’s brother. It is part of the heritage and the official name in Serbian is Slav. My friend told me when we were lost out in the countryside that, that it is these types of abandoned places where corrupt businessmen both kill and then get rid of bodies; I wasn’t too happy to be lost in such circumstances. But we finally found the place he was looking for; My mate is the type of person who just goes ‘freestyle’ (without a map-book or GPS) when driving to unknown places, because he usually has some idea of how to get there, and his philosophy wherever the road will take me – we finally got there in the end (after asking some policeman at some entrance to an industrial plant).




Over the next few days I saw many of the sites of Belgrade, from the football stadiums (of Red Star & Partizan); iconic buildings such as the St Sava cathedral; graffiti art; the pebbled stoned bohemian street Skadarlija where I ate pig brains while gypsies performed music and dance; Kalamegan Fort – one of the most important strongholds in European history, one that had never been successfully penetrated; and of course we visited the Military Museum as it a region that had been subject to war for centuries.



The night of the most action was staying at his father’s house-boat on Lake Sava. It was in the negatives on the lake that night, so we got the fire-place going! All the action started when we went out. Because Bogdan was drinking I was going to drive, something I hadn’t done for nearly two years. However more pressing was the fact that I’d only once driven on the right side of the road. This was going to be a challenge driving at night, in a foreign country. Nonetheless, before I could take the wheel he had to exit the security point at the entrance of the house-boat dock. This entailed my friend having a long discussion with the night-watchman who was trying to deny us leaving after curfew, it was more of an argument. Finally we made it through the checkpoint, just before turning into the main road, my friend pulled up and parked at the intersection and said now it is your turn, ‘take over’. At the precise time we were switching seats, a car the only one we had seen drive past, came by, but it didn’t carry on going straight on its route, rather it did a u-turn. It was a police car and it was coming straight for us. It waited, wanting to turn onto the dirt road where we were coming from. I was still trying to get my seat-belt on when the cop stepped out the car to survey what all the commotion was about. The next thing I know, my friend and the cop are having a huge debate in Serbian, I’m just staying silent (obviously as I understood nothing), hoping for the best. Later my friend told me that he’d said to the policeman I couldn’t speak English, so he couldn’t check if my friend’s story was valid by interrogating me in English. You see, my friend’s car would not past a safety check if it was properly examined by a policeman, for example it didn’t have the spare tyre that was required by state law. I sat patiently. Somehow the conversation got resolved and the policeman walked back to his car but still eyeing us; then my friend then says, “drive (home), go, go”. I had no choice: I reversed my way out so I could turn around and go back from the way we came. I did expertly surprisingly, but the cop followed us all the way till the entrance, where he stopped (to speak to the night-watchman). We got home safely, but the excitement of the night had just began.




The original reason for going out, was we were going to check out the bars along the artificial lake Ada, which was very trendy among the young people. We couldn’t take the car, so the only way was to ride through the forest in the middle of the night, going from one lake to the other. It was the middle of winter, you could barely see, and the terrain was muddy with many broken branches on the path. We both ended up falling over. I stupidly was wearing my nicest dress pants. By any means when we finally reached the lake, it was an idyllic sight, with zero degree temperatures – it was much different to the height of summer when it is usually slammed with people all day and night round. We had the path to ourselves and rode for 8 kilometres, coming closer and closer towards the newly completed impressive Ada bridge – it was our landmark point. Finally reaching the bar we sat ourselves next to two intelligent Serbian girls, I ended up talking about Russian literature with her, she knew much more about Dostoïevski, Kafka, and Tolstoï. My friend the king-player was chatting up the girl about much more carnal things - speculating about his conquests in life, and his amazing pads (such as the inner-city apartment and house-boat) that he had at his disposal - he had other things on his mind.



So that was Belgrade, but for our New Year's celebration as they use the Eastern Orthodox Christian calendar, we had a really big night out in a smaller but much prettier city - Novi Sad. And that capped off my mini Eastern European adventure. I'll be back this summer to visit the Dalmatian coast, with my only two New Zealand Serbian friends living in Belgrade.