The Master....

When I first arrived in Brisbane, there were two pressing questions I had to ask myself. One, where am I going to work? and two, where am I going to live?! Now, as you can see from my previous post, the latter is the question I am inclined to discuss on this occasion. As luck would have it, my good friend Ricardo who is studying English in Brisbane invited me to stay at his house for a few weeks to get myself sorted. I wholeheartedly accepted, and, without further ado, moved in, feeling like a crab with a new shell! I met his housemates, 3 Koreans with very limited English, and started to roam freely through the small complex. Over the next few days, I noticed a subtle change in Ricardo, but was so pleased to have hangers that I turned a blind eye to his nervous sweating and mutterings about his ¨master¨ finding out. Finally, on a pleasant Sunday afternoon, after Ricardo suggested I spend the night in the park reading rather then at the house, I asked him what the hell was going on. ¨My master does not allow women to sleep in the house..¨ was his reply. ¨Your Master?¨ Erk! ¨Who, or WHAT, might I ask is your master?! I barked, incredulous. ¨The man who keep the house!¨ He replied indignantly. ¨You mean the landlord?¨ I asked. ¨No, the master. The landlord?! What is this? A king?¨ To make a long story short (snicker) I discovered Ricardo's landlord - Jun - was not keen on me staying with him but did in fact have a room available in the house next door. Hmmmmm... I established, after further inspection, that this room was no more then a spare living room, converted into a bedroom with the help of 3 cubicle style walls no more then chest high. WANTED: One single bedroom. Must have excellent view of kitchen when standing. No walls or door required!! For reasons now unbenownst to me, I moved in the next day, paying 11o dollars a week. So far, and I'm being generous, my living situation has been undesirable. I live with 4 Koreans and 3 Taiwanese, all of whom treat me as if I am a giant hippopotamus trundling through their quarters unannounced. They are very particular about their things as well. I found this out the hard way after, finding the dispenser bare, I dug around under the sink for a roll of toilet paper and replenished it. The next day, upon entering the bathroom, I noticed the roll had been removed and in its place was a big ENGLISH sign which read: Please do NOT touch the others things which do NOT belong to you! The nerve! To make matters worse, I encountered my first cockroach under the sink the other day! He was clinging to a pot that I pulled from the cupboard and, before I had a chance to think ¨AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!,¨ he scurried round the handle and somersaulted violently through the air, along with the pot, into the sink. I proceeded to lurch around the kitchen, shuddering, ringing my hands and making guttural noises. I wanted to run from the room screaming and ripping at my hair but, with images of him creeping onto my pillow that night, I edged back to the sink, turned on the water, and standing as far back as I could, lifted the pot and peered beneath it. Then like a horror movie I saw his antennae emerge along the rim of the sink, as he scurried to the underbelly of the microwave. Man those suckers are FAST!! I can't say how long I stood, poised over the counter brandishing the flat end of that pot. 10 minutes. 2o maybe. Finally, he meandered out and I smashed the pot down on him. It took him several forceful blows to the head to die. I am still recovering. To add insult to injury, my landlord, after I have repeatedly asked him not to, continues to cook rice at 11 oclock at night. This wouldn't be such a big deal except for the rice cooker howls like a wolf in heat and keeps me awake until well after midnight! Sooooo... After a sauna, jacuzzi and pool session with my friend Dani last night, I am on the verge of reopening the ¨Where am I going to live?¨ question. Keep following to find out where I end up next!