Finnish'd

A Finnish girl and her broken hand move to Perth, WA.

[esbeus-blog]

Medicare Part 2: The Reckoning

1.8.2018

14:58

Leederville, Perth

I got a room.

Not a hostel room, mind you, but an actual proper-ass-room-for-rent room. This was the first place I looked at, and I didn’t really need to see any more. I haven’t lived in a house since I was a kid, and the suburbs are gonna take a while to get used to, but hey, at least I’m out of the goddamn hostel.

I’ve gotten a lot of stuff done lately. Tax file number, RSA licence (a must for a server), learned how to walk to the grocery store without getting lost. I even bought myself a hoodie, to help me survive the freezing winter of Australia. 

The only thing left to do.

Fucking Medicare Card.

A Medicare Card is, or so I’m told, really good to have in case you have to go to a doctor. Fine. We had a similar thing back home (Kela Card). So. First thing I figured, since I have a real address now, I might do it online. A quick visit to the website told me that nope, you have to do it in person. Fine.

Medicare Part 1: The Awakening.

As I don’t have internet on my phone (prepaid ftw), I checked the CBD office location on Google Maps, took a screenshot of it and headed out. The busride is quick and pleasant, about 10 min to Perth busport. I check the screenshot I took. Hay Street, near the Perth Underground. Alright. I walk to the corner of Hay Street, picking up a black coffee on my way. I walk along the street, looking left and right. Nothing. Can’t find it. I must’ve walked the street back and forth a hundred times, but I couldn’t find it.

Defeated, I headed back home and checked the location again on my laptop. But this time, I checked the streetview. I couldn’t believe it. I walked past the office so many times, completely oblivious. Goddamnit.

Medicare Part 2: The Reckoning.

This is today. I feel confident. I even put on a little makeup and wear my battlejacket. Aww yeah. This is the day. Busride, coffee, Perth Underground. The office. Hidden in plain sight. I walk in and am greeted by a pleasant man, he hands me the form I need to fill out, haha, yes my hand is indeed broken, no worries, I’ll use my left. So, filling out the form, nothing too complex, I have my passport with me, it’s all good, until...

Bank details. How the shit am I supposed to remember those? Oh well. I tell this to the man and he says it’s fine, I’ll just have to add that information online.I grit my teeth and force a smile. Why yes, of course.

So the Medicare saga continues, with the next part being called Medicare Part 3: Revelations. I just hope it remains a trilogy, with no unnecessary prequels that will ruin the canon.

[esbeus-blog]

I am so weird

29.7.2018

16:21

Northbridge, Perth

I am so fucking weird. On my first night, as I arrived to this city, I immediately took a taxi to my hostel (where I am now, as well). I checked in at the Coolibah Lodge in Northbridge, the receptionist took me to my room and I was so ready to crash into bed. But did I?

No. I grabbed my phone and went to the living room to do research. How to open a bank account in Perth? Do I need a travel card? Fees for travel cards? Where to get a sim card? What kind of deals there are for prepaid sims? Where is the local Medicare office?

And so on and on and on.

When I finally curled up in my bed and closed my eyes, I felt anxious. That wasn’t enough. I should do more. I have to get everything done.

NOW. IN THE MIDDLE OF NIGHT.

So the next day went with me doing nothing but running errands. My first day in this beautiful country, I spent waiting in a bank, in an Optus office, standing in line at Transperth info desk, went to look at a room for rent, getting as much shit done as I could. And in the evening, when I went to bed, it still didn’t feel like enough.

I’m trying to take it easier from now on, but it’s really hard. I’m trying to remain positive, but I constantly feel like if I’m not doing anything SUPER GROWN UP AND IMPORTANT, then I’m just slacking off. It’s stressful, especially when my hand is the way it is and I can’t even work yet. If I was working, I wouldn’t have time to worry about shit so much.

Oh well, onwards and upwards.

[esbeus-blog]

And a-waaaay we go

25.7.2018

18:00

Doha Airport, Qatar

My plane landed a few hours ago.

I stepped out of the chilly safety of the plane, greeted by the afternoon sun, the temperature 44 degrees. I hastily made my way to the bus, eagerly through security (even though I had to unpack almost completely), and found myself in a part of the world I had never visited, or even wanted to, for that matter.

The airport itself seemed, massive at first glance, a beautiful building filled with shops, cafeterias and restaurants, prayer rooms and smoking lounges, and business lounges for the fancier traveler. I, myself, made my way through the hallways, frantically looking for a sign with a little cigarette on it. It felt troubling to find how much I craved for one only after a 6 hour flight, when I still had an 11 hour flight ahead.

After indulging myself, all I wanted was to sit down. I felt dizzy and unwell, suspecting that the painkillers hadn’t quite settled right. I took a seat on some random benches, incredibly tempted by the airports in-terminal hotel. Instead, I tried to read.

I brought with me ”American Gods” by Neil Gaiman. While I am still new to Gaiman’s literature (only having read ”Norse Mythology”), I read through the novel pages eagerly, thoroughly invested in the narrative. Reading always makes me feel better, to see things more clearly. After two hours of Shadow’s adventures with Mr. Wednesday, I put my book back into my purse, and found a little cafeteria, where I am currently seated.

I drank a cup of chamomile tea, and it felt like a magic potion. I feel miles better, the staff is incredibly pleasant. I still have a long wait ahead of me, but I think through the powers of tea, music and Gaiman, I will be fine.

But now, my injured hand feels far too painful to write with. I will finish my drink, pack up my laptop and wander back to the smoker’s lounge.