Ca-Tash-Trophy - The year of May 2020

Here we are in the year of May 2020, and I am slowly pretending to adapt to a new way of life….

The 2019/ 2020 ski season is a distant memory as it appears even the snow was evacuated when that covert virus arrived. Restrictions are slowly starting to ease, and a while ago St Anton came out of quarantine after 40 days: naturally I was amused by this and cracked a joke to my bin about it being like a non-denominational Lent where the ski bums had to give up Jägermeister for 40 days. We found it hilarious.

Since the last blog post I have been quite lax with my writing as the purpose of this website was to share travel stories and photographs: not talk about what I had for breakfast. Sadly though, the universe is working against us all, and I am left with no choice but to tell you about not only what I am having for breakfast, but also other activities I have undertaken to distract myself from sporadic panic attacks fuelled by impending doom.

WHAT I’M HAVING FOR BREAKFAST

I cannot commentate on the aforementioned digressions with a straight face. There was going to be a flowery diatribe about how much I was missing travelling, and how I woke up one morning yearning for breakfast in one of my favourite cafes on Bondi Beach: I may have even started to conjure prose about the sidewalks and fresh sea breeze. Full disclosure: I cannot remember one single time I had breakfast at Bondi Beach when I wan’t either hungover, or still going from the night before.

During this whole fiasco, I have made poached eggs once: at 2pm in the afternoon (and that was only because I could not be assed to put a bra on to go to the supermarket). .

Yay me. I put some eggs in water. For the recipe, just google, “How do I make poached eggs”.

WHO ISN’T BAKING BANANA BREAD?

My newsfeed is filled with baking success stories, and I thought participation was key, because “we’re all. in this together”. Quite serendipitously I always have wonderfully ripe bananas: why was I the last person to find out that if you put avocados next to bananas it hastens the ripening process?

So using a dodgy oven with inaccurate settings and some apparatus you apparently use to make soups I made a lot of banana bread, and pretty much gave it away in hope of receiving something delicious in this new bartering system we got going on. Yep, my banana bread garnered me pies, cakes, face masks and so forth.

Even better, some of my neighbours (the family behind) seem to not mind it, and their young son kindly calls me “Nachbarin mit Banana Brot”. “Famale neighbour with banana bread” is so much better than “Crazy lady who sits in backyard staring at trees” - but I am not sure it is more apt.

Anyway, banana bread factory has been on a brief hiatus since that time last week when I put too much baking powder in, and the oven was left looking like a ´Gremlin had been nuked in the microwave.

Gave that one to my young neighbour.

AN OUTING WITH MY BIN

In the beginning a fair chunk of my time was spent incessantly scrolling through my news feed. At first the memes were funny, but after 3 weeks very few were even eliciting a mild guffaw. Aside from the “Bin Isolation Outing” group on Facebook. I mean, you can take the girl out of Australia.

One of my cousins suggested that this was right up my, ahem, driveway, so, again in solidarity I made a pun filled contribution.

I think that the weirdest part of this was that I was walking up the mountain with a bin, and no one I passed flinched. I am not sure if this is indicative of the Tirolean character or mine: I think I’ll go with the former on this one.

Told my bin about how I was feeling a little lonely at times from the social distancing, and he was like, “I so bin there”

She can’t….

But I, Trash, Can.

CLIMB EVERY MOUNTAIN

Naturally I have been doing boast posts about how “blessed’” and “fortunate” I am, and it feels so good to be able to “reach out” and other buzz words. I often get comments on my social media referencing The Sound of Music. I just thought I would clear this up. Most Austrians do not even know what The Sound of Music is, and have never heard of most of the songs.

Me on the other hand? Well, I’m half Australian and i go to town on it. I was talking to one friend whilst I was up the mountain and she even made me do a twirl, Maria style, and I happily obliged. Even threw in a few extras because I have no shame.

Again, no comments from the locals that saw me doing it. Peculiar.

Speaking of locals who have seen me “doing it” (and by that I am referring to my social distancing up the mountain) my neighbour who was mentioned in the last post (not the one hosting involuntary watch parties but his sister who has a tendency to squawk and gossip). She is always, ahem, enthusiastically inquisitive regarding my activities, and is never shy to vocalise her approval or disdain.

When I first started running the guest house, she was wonderfully helpful with tips on snow shovelling, and praised me for getting up to make breakfast for my guests at 0700 every morning. From that day forth I rose daily at 0630 to turn on the lights of the kitchen before going back to bed.

Being in a small village as a foreigner at the least is incredibly challenging, so it brings me great delight to report that my neighbour has seen me up the mountain on a multitude of occasions. As long as she sees me then the whole village is bound to know that I am staying fit and healthy.

A NEW STUDY

Now here’s a funny story. Ish. Kind of. Yeah, you’re right, it’s not great.

Everyone has a room which serves as a receptacle for rubbish/ dry stores/ etc. Mine is next to the kitchen, and in general the door stays closed.

I went one afternoon to simply clean the windows as I had banned myself from Netflix until sun down, which in hindsight was a bloody stoopid idea as it was around the time of daylight savings and the days are getting longer and longer.

Anyway, in summary, this also escalated and I learnt how to use a vacuum cleaner.

Please don’t ask where all of the clutter from the room went.

BURMESE STUDY

Somewhere around this time, i hit a wall…. I am pretty sure it can be traced back to missing Myanmar and the other half of my life. Perennially at this time if the year I am posting from an airport somewhere about how hilarious those Germans are when boarding a plane (I call the flight from Frankfurt to Bangkok the “Sex Tourist Express”).

But alas, not this year, but I decided that this was not an excuse to become lax with my studies. Luckily enough, when I hit the wall it was not a physical thing, so I actually had a wall spare. Why wouldn’t I build a map of my Burmese study on it? It was the only logical solution.

A work in progress.

And then the restrictions ended

First came family

It was a little confronting when the restrictions started lifting as I had become quite accustomed to my one man circus. When a sleepover with my nephew and niece was proposed, I am not sure who was more excited:: them or my sister…. Let’s call it a draw.

So the little munchkins were my first guests since March, and they were highly demanding: I don’t think that I would have received more than three stars from them on Air BnB as I had no soap and shower gel to offer them, then the stir fry got sent back as it had green stuff in it, and finally the bed were not deemed comfortable and the only remedy for this was to come and sleep in with Aunty Tashie.

The next day, I had another friend over with her two munchkins, and cheesy toast got sent back.

I think in the future that I will continue to host guests with a different vintage.: they are slightly easier to give schnapps to.

Apple Blossoms and Prosecco

My initial company after the lift of restrictions was definitely a G-rated affair full of bedtime stories, leopard print onesies and declarations of love.

Actually the garden party a few days later was not entirely dissimilar, but through a different lens. It all began in a civilised manner, with glass tinkling and flower arrangements. It’s all hear-say from there, but at some point, we may or may not have been dancing in the kitchen to “Proud Mary” when my neighbour joined in with jiving from his balcony and offered us table dancing jobs next season.

Venturing out into the real world

Whilst I am doing my very best to maintain a positive demeanour, there is no denying that this loss basic freedoms has taken a toll, which is why yesterday i jumped at the opportunity to take a day trip to Innsbruck, just over an hour away.

I am not sure what I expected from the “new” real world, but for a place I ´have been a million times it certainly seemed fresh and new.

The Ten Most Stupid Things I Have Seen Or Done In My Travels

Right now I am on the Pacific Coast of Mexico, clutching my stomach from food poisoning, acutely aware that I am not going to get any sleep, and I can't help but think that it was pretty stupid to eat the eggs at the cafe even though I knew full well that there was something funky going on. Then that got me thinking, could it be the stupidest thing I have seen or done whilst travelling?  Sadly, after heading down that rabbit hole I gotta say not even close. Not even top ten. Here are some highlights in no particular order.

• PRAGUE, CZECH REPUBLIC: GETTING TAXIS: I was on a spontaneous ten day break with my sister so I got some last minute tips from a friend who had lived in Prague. There was a lot of fun stuff to do, and great advice, but one rule was reiterated. Twice. "Do not get a taxi without asking the price". Of course it was raining when we arrived from Vienna, and there was a row of gleaming taxis beckoning us. It would have been rude not to. So we jumped in and gave him a piece of paper with the hotel name on it, and sat back. I still don't know how much we paid as it was a foreign currency that was new to me, but most likely enough for a nice dinner for him and the wife for the ten minute journey. Lesson learned. Later that night I was much wiser: I asked the taxi driver if he spoke English first. He shook his head, so we jumped in anyway, but it was ok, because he turned on the meter. In an out of the city we wove, until Mr. Taxi driver was bored. During that forty Euro cab ride we saw our hotel four times.  

• CENTRAL AMERICA: TAKING A HOLIDAY ROMANCE HOME WITH ME: So I met a nice (enough) guy in Guatemala (an American) who was travelling with his mother and sister, which indicated to me that he had strong family values, not issues. He was good looking enough, and I was bored, which may explain why I overlooked the fact that he was late thirties, never married, no kids. Huge mistake. It was three weeks of fun, laden with huge, bright red flags that I chose to diligently ignore. Not only ignore, but then I took him home as a souvenir, didn't I? Apparently negative traits are not so forthcoming in the Caribbean, and once he got to Europe it became an exercise in catch and release.

• ST ANTON, AUSTRIA: DRY HUMPING A WOODEN KANGAROO WHILST WEARING A GREEN LYCRA SUIT: Let's just say, 6am on New Years morning may have been a reasonable time to call it a night. What compelled me to stay in the bar and then go directly to lunch still has me flummoxed. I do understand though, that once I had made that decision to go to lunch I had no choice but to power through. And I did, but as my meal was forgotten I went straight to the shots. Incapable of skiing, we got a taxi to Apres Ski at the Krazy Kangaruh, where for some reason a friend had a green lycra suit in her handbag (as you do). So I put it on. Backwards. But that was not enough. Seeing that nobody could see me (aside from the fact that they could as they had seen me arrive and the bar was pretty much empty) I figured it was my time to shine by doing push-ups on the tables. Still not enough: finally I was winning at life, so I went outside and started dry humping a wooden statue of a kangaroo, proving that it was in fact I who was the Krazy one. Never. Lived. It. Down.

• LAKE COMO, ITALY: MAKING A LONG DISTANCE PHONE CALL FROM MY ROOM: I was lonely and a little bit drunk. I was staying in Como by myself and it was my first time taking a holiday alone. Dinner was horrendous: the waiter grilled me about my intention to dine alone. Luigi, the little fucker,  may as well have said, "Ha, do you feel humiliated yet? No? Well, let me give you a table in the middle of the restaurant where everyone will watch you and wonder why you would dine alone in one of the most romantic, scenic, overpriced places in the world. Got no friends huh? You sad reject." So in defiance I got drunk by myself, and increasingly lonely, so I went back to the hotel and called my sister. For an hour. Then I needed a cigarette, so I went and got one from the concierge, and smoked it, all the while without hanging up the phone in my room. Couldn't I simply have called her back? No, that would be too easy. The call cost more than my hotel room would have done for three nights, so I had to go home prematurely the next morning.

• BRISBANE, AUSTRALIA: PUTTING DUTY FREE BOOZE PURCHASES INTO NEAR EMPTY SUITCASE: I had to go back to Australia under trying circumstances at short notice during the middle of Winter in Austria. As it was such short notice, the only available flights had me up in the air for 38 hours. On the plus side though. it was the beginning of 2009 and the pound had just crashed, making Duty Free super cheap. So I bought two bottles of Bombay Sapphire Gin to accompany me. But when I got to Brisbane, I had to change to a domestic plane, meaning I couldn't have the booze in carry on. No worries, my suitcase was nearly empty, and what harm could come to two thinly wrapped bottles of Gin in an empty suitcase? When I got the the airport my mother queried whether I had been drinking the whole way, because I reeked of GIn. That little exercise cost me four hundred dollars in express dry cleaning.

• POMPEII, ITALY: SOME GUY TAKING PHOTOS IN THE RUINS USING A FLASH: So here we are, roaming the ruins in the ancient city of Pompeii, which is wonderfully preserved due to the fact that Mt. Vesuvius erupted all over it in 79AD. We were walking around what was a brothel, and some guy starts taking photos using a flash. There were signs and pictures everywhere in every language, making sure even a monkey could get the gist of no flash photography. Aside from this American monkey. I pointed out that it was forbidden, and he said that it was not for preservation as I stupidly  suggested, but for the benefit of the photographers as the flash may cause a reflection on the perspex ruining the photo. I dobbed on him.

• GUATEMALA TO BELIZE: BORDER CROSSING IN A BOAT WITH NO RADIO: This one gets the food poisoning mention as tonight's episode has me safely in my room feeling sorry for myself. So we were at the Hostile Hostel in Guatemala and couldn't wait to leave. I had been throwing up all night in the outdoor toilet from home cooked tamales, but a travel day was still better than staying there for another night. The first boat ride went without a hitch, but somewhere between sitting on a dirty dock that reeked of petrol fumes and getting on a speed boat to go from Livingston to Belize, I stopped paying attention to logistics and concentrated on not throwing up. I was only jolted from my alternate universe when we hit a log going at full speed and the boat stopped dead. Thinking we were going to sink, I waited for him to use the radio for help: but there wasn't one.

• ST ANTON, AUSTRIA: GOING OFF PISTE WITHOUT CORRECT EQUIPMENT (NOT EVEN I AM THAT STUPID): I gotta say, this is more stupid than all the things I have ever done put together. Not even I am The amount of people that come to St Anton looking for fresh powder days with the intention of getting first tracks when they have not prepared properly is Darwin Nomination worthy: a plugged in toaster in the swimming pool has nothing on this! I cannot explain the extremity of my head shaking was when some older, slightly rotund English men were all sad that their friend was in hospital from a heart attack. Not only had he been out til four o'clock in the morning, but then he got up and went off piste by himself without avalanche gear. Genius.

• BUDAPEST, HUNGARY: GUESSING WHICH CUP THE BALL WAS UNDER UP AT THE CASTLE: I met up with a friend whom happens to be a good lawyer (suggesting intelligence) and has a Hungarian wife which means he should have known better. Sure, he had been ripped off on taxis Prague style, and to be fair I could have said something but it is hilarious watching others go through it. But him paying fifty Euro equivalent for a three block taxi was nothing compared to what he did up at the castle. There were some lovely old men whom had seen it all, with two balls and three cups (nothing kinky). My friend threw down a large sum of money, which the old men took as soon as they had done some jibbity jabbity boo shit that was blink or you'll miss it. I was still laughing whilst he did it twice more, same result, meaning he could not even pay local price for a taxi.

• BROOKLYN, NEW YORK: WRONG PART OF TOWN STROLL: Recently in New York I was looking for an Australian cafe in Bedford-Styvesant that I had read about, and for my weekly travel writing assignment I was doing, "A Round up of Australian Cafe's in New York". Of course I had looked at the map and knew where I was going. I just didn't know that you needed coins for a bus, so the driver would not take me. I was like, "No problem, I can walk anywhere because Brooklyn is now expensive and gentrified". So here I was, in my chocolate brown Prada boots, a leather satchel with my Mac Book air inside, and—well, frankly anything of value I brought may as well have been on display. It was not until about ten minutes of moseying and looking in awe at the brownstone houses that it occurred to me that this was no Bedford Avenue. Not. Even. Close. At last count I crossed the road ten times, with eyes on me the whole way. In this case, I even surprised myself with my level of stupid.

Please put your own stupidity stories in the comments section below.

Tips on getting a job in an Austrian ski resort

St Anton am Arlberg, Austria

UPDATED SEPTEMBER 2019

So, you are thinking of working a ski season?

Hopefully you don't think that you are going to rock up when the snow starts falling, find a job, spend a few hours working each day for really good money, and then spend the rest of your time skiing or relaxing in your really nice pad when you are not out having drinks bought for you. There is not one part of that statement which is a reality.

However, getting a job is possible, even without speaking German (but German definitely gives you a strong advantage).

1. The sooner you get there the better

To be honest, most of the good jobs are already gone, and the competition is fierce for those that remain. You will be lucky to get anything, but the longer you leave it, the less likely it is.

2. Have a good resume

You may not get asked for it, but as you trudge around asking about work it would be very useful to have handy. And a professional one. A photo on it of you in a bra lying on the bar having Jägermeister slurped off your belly is not a "qualification." And yes, in Austria and Switzerland people have a photo on their resume.

3. Dress the part

Flannel shirts, beanies and boobies hanging out are not going to get you anywhere (both sexes). Actually, that is false, it will probably get you laid. A lot. But it won't get you a job. Actually, that is not 100% true either. BUT, just to be on the safe side, dress like you are meeting your boyfriend or girlfriend's mother, as many of the lady bosses, or "Chefins", in Austria are of that vintage. And you probably will bang their child at some point, so in a roundabout way that is exactly who you are meeting.

4. Be prepared to work

In St Anton the hours are long, jobs very hard to come by, and when you do, they are very hard work. Chances are you will be working 8-10 hours a day, six days a week, for a salary of 900-1500 Euro a month, but your employer will pay your health insurance.

5. Always ask if there is a room included

Some places provide rooms for their staff, in which case you are lucky. But don't expect it to be a room by yourself. There are normally 2-3 people in a room, and often these rooms are not in the village. In the case of St Anton it is likely to be in the nearby villages of St Jakob, Pettneu or Flirsch.

6. Talk to people

If you are there in November, there are not too many people around, meaning not too many bars open yet, so it is a good time to get to know the seasonaires and locals. In the case of St Anton am Arlberg, if you go to Jules or Fang House, there should be people that will tell you what is around and who is looking for staff. Same goes for rooms. If you do find a room before a job, take it. It is easier to find a job if you already have accommodation.

In this time in November, check out Gasthof Edelweiss in Pettneu as a base. Miriam and Dave are more than awesome, and are willing to provide a base for people at minimum rates (starting at 18 Euro a night). As Dave was a ski bum himself, and Miriam is local and used to work at the Tourist Office, you could not wish for better hosts.

7. Don't be an ass

Cannot be stressed enough for all of the above. And life. At all times keep your manners in check. You can't afford to be an ass when you are new to town: few people will tolerate it or want to help you.

8. Take sufficient money with you

Don't think that you are going to get there and money will start snowing down. You will need to shell out for a ski pass (in St Anton you will get some of that money back at the end of the season when you have worked a certain number of hours) and possibly accommodation. Even if you do get a job straight away, you will not get paid until the end of the month.

HOWEVER....

Doing a ski season is an awesome experience, and if you can, do it. It is something you will never forget.

When I grow up I wanna be Snow White

St Anton, Austria

I have a fascination with midgets, and I don't mean certified little people, I mean borderline: generally hovering around the 150cm mark (to get the piece of paper you need to be 147cm).

I am not sure when it all started, but a while back someone stopped me in a bar as I was on my way to the bathroom (the Jagermeister was not agreeing with me), and wanted to simply have a chat. Due to my level of inebriation I declared that I did not do Midget Porn, and moved along. As this vertically challenged man of Irish extraction was a friend of a friend, I found out that he was somewhat offended, and that apparently Leprechauns have feelings too.

My next encounter was a few years later, when a likeable chap who I swear I had never seen before approached me and told me that I owed him an apology. "What for?" I asked. Apparently I was very rude to him the night before. I informed him that I had been rather drunk and could remember very little and perhaps he could jog my memory. "You called me an angry ginger midget" he said. All I could do was burst out laughing, declare that that was hilarious, I could not apologise for that, and give my drunk self a high five. That was when I realised I had a problem.

From that day forth, I thought it were best that I let the short people make the first joke about their height and take it from there. Or alternatively high five them and watch them try and jump. Understanding these people, and acknowledging that they are just like normal people, only little, has paid dividends, as in the last few years I have made many friends of the vertically challenged variety. Six to be precise.

Of course the first one is the Angry Ginger Midget, and then my second little friend was Gordy. With much willpower, I refrained from patting his head and saying hilarious things such as, "Oops, sorry, I didn't see you there," for at least two weeks. It wasn't easy, especially when I tripped over him, but soon we established a solid friendship fuelled by booze, and such banter came naturally.

On one occasion when he and the Angry Ginger Midget were having a beer together I managed to exercise decorum and restraint by not saying anything (that would just be rude). But they understood, and knew how hard it was for me, so when the Angry Ginger Midget said what I was thinking, "No, it is not a midget convention." I saw it as a reward for working so hard at biting my tongue. It was then that I began dreaming of having seven of them in the same place at the same time.

Number three, Joseph, is the chef at my work. I have always been nice to people in the kitchen as they are more likely to give you scraps. Even though Joseph does not speak English unless he is drunk, we manage to communicate to the extent that I can articulate what I would like for lunch and we can make bets on Ski Racing. He calls me Old Hen and I call him Rumpelstiltskin.

Then there is the Rolling Monkey who has amazing dexterity in the cigarette rolling department. I ask him to roll me a cigarette, he does so and then taxes me a little tobacco. Once he asked if I knew his name, and I said, "Of course I do, it is rolling monkey". He is wonderfully useful, as is his partner in crime, a Danish man who, when wearing a certain hat resembles a Garden Gnome. He spends his day waving a towel for naked Sauna patrons in a ritual called "Aufguss" I don't think he wears the hat anywhere whilst he does it.

But my personal favourite is Craig. I call him Craig because he merrily morphs from a scampering piss head to a podium dancing Oompa Loompa in a matter of minutes, He will do anything for a shot of Jagermeister, and does not even flinch when I make him jump for it. In fact, he often comes back for more. Funnily enough the more Jagermeister I give him, the more willing he is to do tricks. Gyrating Oompa Loompa's are definitely a crowd pleaser.

Then at an end of season BBQ it happened. All five remaining vertically challenged men  (Gordy had sadly left the village) were in the same place at the same time, and at the perfect level of drunkenness where they could pose for a photo without puking on my shoes.

Two more and world domination is mine!

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• Awesome mugshots created by Marilen Adrover, who nicely allowed me to use it when I explained my cause. More Disney Mugshots are here.