getting it

3.22
The morning was off to a strange start, but I feel I've pulled it together. I woke up in my roach nest & splashed some cold water on my face. I grabbed my things & set out in search of the beach. Only problem : there wasn't one. I'm indeed turned around. What I thought (last night) was the roar of giant yawning waves turned out to be merely a big fountain in the town square. So I shifted gears & found a humble cafe (the only one open on a Sunday) & sat with a cup of coffee & a toasted bagel with fresh fruit & cheese. After a bit I was decidedly frigid & needed to move my jangly body around a little. I placed a couple of phone calls and arranged to (at long last) be picked up by someone from the winery. Ecstatic over the elements (as Sherlock Holmes once put it) "coming together" I treated myself to a Picnic bar & some agua fria & layed out in the sun.
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I'm seated now at the bus depot (once again) awaiting my stagecoach. I met a polite homeless man named Chris. Moved out here in '68 from Brighton, England. We shared a smoke & he recounted his one trip to Disneyland, which he said was in 1974, & this fact made me wonder about him...Chris didn't look a day under 70 (granted, he is a homeless dude, & when you're missing teeth & have long, withered talons for fingernails it adds a year or two...he looked a bit less like Walter Mathau, a bit more like Gandalf). Which means, if my math is correct (and probably isn't), he was quite possibly in his mid-thirties when he visited the Magic Kingdom. Who the hell was he then? Did he have a wife? A 9-to-5? A picket fence? Kiddos? Or was he just a homeless 34-year-old dude looking for the ultimate thrill on the Matterhorn? Curious...Nevertheless, he was very warm & chatty & I was glad for our rap session. OH! My coach has arrived!!
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After meeting a slew of other workers (mostly Americans, to my surprise, with the exception of one South African girl, one Frenchie, & the Chilean guy who allegedly spent the last eight years in Fresno). I'm finally settling into my place. The apartment is unbelievably hip, sleek, modern. Big living space, clean kitchen, all kindsa stainless steel, a bathroom the size of my studio back home. It feels alright to be here. It's welcoming. I don't feel lost here--or anyway, I'm lost in the company of others. I'm doing a load of laundry, fantasizing about a long hot shower with my brand new bar of soap. THAT'S RIGHT, Mom & Pop...SOAP.
Tomorrow I've got to wake early & hitch a ride to the winery to meet with HR and go over paperwork (exciting!!). I hope to try some wine as well...mmmmmmm.
I'll be an awkward transition, going from doing nothing but killing time to working 12 hour shifts every day, barely having leftover time worth killing. But I welcome the change.
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3.24
The late afternoon sun is out and I'm absolutely worshipping it. The shops are all slamming their glass doors shut, lights flashing out so quickly it's as if they were never open for business in the first place. We finished up early today & I had some ice cold local lagers with a bitchin' young couple.
Today has been a good day--a day I devoted to showing my colleagues why I deserve to be here. I also had my first driving experience on the left side of the road. Pieter, one of my supervisors, handed me the keys to his 5-speed HiLux flatbed & asked me to run into town with my co-worker Ham ot grab some supplies. Ham says "You drivin', mate?"
"Yeah, sure!" I responded with embarrassing self-certainty.
As we approached the truck I got a little nerve-y & said "Hey, why don't you drive in, I'll drive it back?" Somehow this seemed easier.
He took the keys & we climbed in.
"Yeah" I reassured us, "I think it'll go more smoothly if you drive in."
"I hope so," he replies.
"You hope so?"
"Yeah, well I don't exactly have a license."
Right.
A rocky ride & several stalls later we arrived at the hardware store unscathed. We got what we needed & then it was my turn. I settled into the wrong-sided driver seat. What the hell am I doing?!
I looked at Ham, "We're a three-ring circus, you & me, man."
He just smiled.
Off we went. I immediately began driving on the wrong side of the damn road.
"OTHER SIDE, MATE!"
Right. No, left.
"Okay, make a left turn here, mate."
I turned the windshield wipers on.
Make the turn, a-hole!
"OTHER SIDE, MATE!!"
SHIT!!!
I got the hang of it eventually. I felt like I was in driver's ed again. Every time we went through a goofy little roundabout Ham would say, calmly, "Give way to the right. Now signal out, as a courtesy."
Keep driving. Clutch, downshift. Windshield wipers--SHIT--Stop. Take a breath. Give way to the right, signal out AS A COURTESY.
We made it back in one piece. I felt like a golden god. A good thing, too, because I was sent into town twice more.
"No problem, man! I'm on it!"
VRRROOOOM! Give way to the right! Signal out, as a courtesy!
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Yesterday I opted out of writing for a shameful episode of lounge-lizarding. Beer, candy & television. I woke up in a puddle of my own slovenly drool & as I stumbled off to bed I muttered to myself "this can't happen again, Adam." I know it will, though.
I was rightfully exhausted. I showed up at work to fill out paperwork & instead was shipped out to the vineyard to sample some Merlot. It was a mild overcast morning & I jogged up & down the rows stuffing my mouth with underripe berries, shooting seeds out from my lips every few minutes. Somewhere in Block 28 I got turned around & couldn't seem to find the truck, or my partners. I roamed the vineyards aimlessly for 45 minutes or so & gave up , hiked it back to the winery--must've been two miles at least. I dropped off my samples in the lab & a blanket of guilt soon set in... I hiked back out to where I was to find my friends. I turned one random corner & there they were. Aparently I was only half-lost. They had moved the truck while I was out, which disoriented me. The slightly humiliating part was that they'd only moved the truck about fifty yards from where it was before. I just blonde-ly missed it, somehow. Why is it on first days--the days when we most want to impress--we always look our stupidest?
All in all, things are going swimmingly. I've just found out the Albert Hotel I crashed in a few nights back is one of the roughest places in town--well done, Adam--and my experience there has now circulated about Hawke's Bay & somehow morphed me into a sort of legendary figure. I'm just an idiot really, which is probably why I didn't get stabbed in the balls that night. Even criminals feel pity. Also, I've discovered a plethora of trailmix options in the bulk section of the local supermarket & this has greatly afftected my daily outlook.