Off the Record

I took this photo of my collegue. She thinks I'm really pro.

I’ve been working on the island for a few weeks now and it turns out I’m meant to be a photographer, videographer and reporter. If you’ve ever travelled with me you’ll know that my camera rarely comes out. I’ve either lost it, broken it or I can’t be bothered to get it out of my bag. I’ve never owned a video camera, and my computer skills could certainly be better.

Now I find myself being referred to as ‘the island photographer’. People ask me questions about cameras, lenses and editing programs. I’ve been trying really hard to look professional even if my photos and videos aren’t that good. Here are some of my tips on how to look like a pro photographer/videographer:

• Get down on the ground to take a photo
• Shut one eye
• Take photo, look at camera, press buttons, take another photo, look at camera. Nod.
• Talk about lighting
• Take a whole lot of photos really quickly. Nod.
• After filming, say ‘that’s a wrap’ or ‘yeah, we got it’
• Use a tripod
• Taking films from different angles
• Talk about editing programs, compressing files, transferring, uploading, downloading and converting

A few days ago there was a massive all staff pep rally and pool party. The general manager asked me to film his speech among other things to make into a short film.

I felt particularly pro that day. I had my tripod and a few different cameras. I got a shot of all the staff walking into the room with a plan to do a time lapse (how’s that for lingo). When the speech started I ran over and changed angles, zoomed in and out, panned shots of the crowd, swivelled, adjusted the tripod; I had it all going on.

I’ve actually learnt a bit about video cameras over the past few weeks and there’s a nugget of information I’d like to share with you all. When you film something, it’s good to do panning shots and keep the camera steady, zoom in and out, get various angles etc; it’s even better if you push the recording button first. Yeah, that happened.

2nd Best Job in the World

I’ve been a professional street performer for over a year now. It has to be one of the best jobs in the world. Playing my trombone in the sunshine at Sydney Harbour, people throwing money at me. Busking around Canada, Business trips to New Zealand, Canberra, Blue Mountains and Picton- it’s a tough gig to top.

Summer was golden. I was working 10-15 hours a week, getting paid more than most of my friends and not paying tax. The last few months have been harder. It got cold. Less people, less tourists, no cruise ships and it’s harder and less pleasant to play. I was going to have to find employment elsewhere. Now I find myself about to begin my very first full time job. You heard right; I, Maya Sebestyen, have a real job with a contract and leave and everything.

I bet you’re all wondering what else you can do with a Bachelor of Arts aside from being a street performer/ sailor/ hotel manager/ bartender/ bingo caller.

There was a job advertised a few years ago as “The Best Job in the World”. Tourism Queensland was going to pay someone $150,000 to live on Hamilton Island for 6 months, do all the cool stuff and blog/ vlog about it. I don’t have that job. I’m not getting paid $150,000 but I am getting paid. I’m not going to Hamilton Island, I’m going to Hayman Island which is slightly further north and I’m being employed by Hayman Island Resort not Tourism Queensland. Other than that it sounds pretty similar.

Got Questions?

Where is this place?

Hayman is part of the Whitsunday’s, a group of islands in the Great Barrier Reef. Far smaller and more expensive then Hamilton, this privately owned island is home to a luxury resort and that’s about it.

What exactly will you be doing there?

Writing blogs, making videos, taking photos etc. I will have a better idea once I’m up there, but I'm pretty sure I'll have to go snorkeling, sample the lobsters, test out the masseuse, jet ski....

How did you score this?

A girl I went to high school with hooked me up.* I made a 2 minute video (busking turned out to be an excellent topic) and voila!

*To all those people who delete people on facebook they “never talk to”, I say; think twice.

When do you start?

Training in Sydney this week. Fly to Hayman July 10th-ish.

Abracadabra- Now Disappear!

Be Gone!

I’ve been busking at circular quay for the last couple of months now. It’s the hottest busking spot in Sydney and has proved to be extremely profitable. The authorities are very strict here; not only do you need a license, there are designated spots depending on your act. For example you can only play in certain spots if you’re amplified, or if you are a circle act (a circle act is a performance that requires people to stop and watch e.g people that juggle chainsaws). I am defined as a non amplified, walk by act, which means I can play almost anywhere. I have found myself a lovely spot between ferry terminals 4 and 5, where only walk by, non amplified acts can perform. That pretty much leaves me and statues, so I’ve never had a problem.

The other day someone was in my spot. He was a magician. An amplified, circle act. In my spot. He looked about 15 with his top hat and slightly oversized suit. I waited til he’d finished his show.

“Hi are you finished for the day?” I asked

“Ummmm.. Actually I was going to do another show”

“Oh. Are you allowed to do a circle act here?”

“I’m not sure… probably not”

“mmmmmmm….”

“Maybe we could share the spot?”

“I’m pretty loud”

“Or could you play down by the restaurants?”

“Hmmm I don’t really play there”

I was not smiling.

“How about I do one more show, then you can have it”

“Fine”

In truth it was getting a bit late and I had to be going anyway, but there was no way he was getting away with being in my spot.

I waited til he started up again, then I called the ranger.

“Hello Circular Quay rangers, this is Ian speaking”

“Hi Ian, there’s a young man doing a circle act between wharfs 4 and 5”

“Is he amplified?”

“Yes, he has a microphone”

“Well he shouldn’t be busking there”

“…no”

Minutes later the rangers arrived. Minutes after that, the magician disappeared. Magic.

2 Days Later

Those of you who know me well, may have called me ‘Lucky Maya’ at some time or other. For good reason too; I tend to land on my feet, and quite often on a step ladder of sorts.

2 days after I wrote my last post, I got called over by my manager at work.

Sidebar: I got my old bartending job back.

My manager sat me down with a woman I’d never seen before.

“Hi I’m _________, I work for _________” she said

“Hi, I’m Maya”

“We’re doing a free hospitality training course for employees”

“Cool, I love free stuff!”

She smiled and continued. “It’s all on the job training so you don’t have to go to TAFE or anything; and at the end you get a certificate in hospitality!”

“OK” I started flipping through the forms. There was a question that asked if I was a ‘new employee’

“You count as a new employee because you’ve been away for more than 6 months” she said reading my mind.

“Does that make any difference?”

“Not really, it just means you’re eligible for a concession card”

“What?” I hadn’t heard right. There’s no way this could be happening.

“Yeah, you get a student card, cool huh?” she said

I slowly raised my arms towards the sky and looked to the heavens, saying a silent prayer of thanks.

“Yay, cheap movie tickets.” said the woman in mock excitement

“I feel like all my dreams are coming true”

Probably not what she expected to hear.

“Seriously” I said, resisting the urge to grab her hand, “you have no idea what this means to me”

OK, that might have been a bit intense

“Ha, well that’s good. Just fill out those forms for me…”

“Just to clarify- I don’t have to pay, in fact I GET paid, AND I get a student card?”

“Yes. And don't forget you get your Hospitality Certificate 3.”

"Uh huh.... so I get the student card for a whole year right?"

"Actually you have 3 years to complete the course."

“3 years?!?! Oh this is too much..”

“Yes, but it might only take you 8 months to finish.”

I laughed. “I think I’ll take 3 years thanks”

Poutine

My poutine. 

I've been back in Australia for over a week now. I've been to the beach, eaten Oporto, heard the kookaburras and gotten seriously sunburnt. Now I'm missing Canada. And when I say I'm missing Canada, what I really mean is, I'm missing poutine.

This delicacy of hot chips, gravy and cheese curds was my favourite thing about Canada. I was desperate to bring it back to Australia with me. The chips aren't a problem. Hot chips, or 'fries' as they are known over there, are similar enough. The only difference would be that a lot of the fries used for poutine are double fried (genius right?). The gravy isn't so hard either. Most poutineries use powder for their gravy, so my last day in Canada was spent buying every type of powdered gravy I could find. The cheese curds are the problem.

I spent hours researching where to get cheese curds in Australia, but alas, none exist. I've read discussion after discussion, posted by poor Canadians who have found themselves out in the big, bad world, without poutine. The most responses recommend finding substitute cheeses, the most common being mozzarella. Although the texture of mozzarella is probably the closest, the flavour doesn't quite cut it, thus haloumi is often mentioned. A number of other curd like cheeses are said to be substitutes; cottage cheese, paneer, quark, queso blanco. Any self respecting poutine lover knows, none of these are going to cut it.

I found some places you can buy it online in America, but they don't ship internationally. I toyed with the idea of sending it to someone in the US and getting them to send it to me. However, it was going to work out about $80 for 100g of cheese curds. Not only that, but the chances of a) it surviving the trip and b) getting it through customs, seemed slim to none.

The other day I had a brainwave; what if I could make cheese curds. I would like to thank the Internet once again for knowing absolutely everything. I found an article entitled 'How to make cheese curds for poutine'.

My dear friend Lynne was up for the challenge. Although she had never tried poutine, she has been fascinated with the concept ever since I described it to her.

We spent 4 hours making cheese curds, researching dairy of laws of Canada vs. Australia and trying to figure out why on earth we can't get cheese curds here.

I think we got to the bottom of it. Australian agricultural laws are insanely strict. Raw (unpasteurized) milk and all raw milk dairy products are illegal in Australia. I'm talking people sell this stuff on the black market, it's so hard to come by. The only way I found to buy raw milk legitimately in Australia, was if it was being sold as a bath milk, and costs about $40 a litre. Not ideal. Raw milk is also illegal in Canada, so how come they get away with having these delicious cheeses? Well it turns out Canada permits the sale of raw milk cheeses that are aged over 60 days, and in 2009, the province of Quebec modified regulations to allow raw milk cheeses aged less than 60 days to be sold. This may or may not have anything to do with why we don't have cheese curds here. I just wanted to show y'all how much I learnt about dairy regulations.

So how did the home made cheese curds go? Surprisingly well actually. It had a nice flavour, and was wonderfully fresh. The texture was a bit too creamy, it didn't have that squeakiness that is so important. I think this was a combination of not letting the curd refrigerate for long enough and not using raw milk.

Next we made the gravy, pretty simple using the powder I'd bought from Canada. We put the hot gravy in a thermos, the cheese curds in a plastic bag and headed to the shops to hunt down some appropriate chips.

We ordered large chips from a fish and chip shop in the food court, and asked them to fry them a little longer than usual. They looked perfect. We carefully constructed our poutine, trying to ignore the strange looks from people walking by. The poutine was delicious. 5 hours well spent.

My Luncheon With An Ex-Con

Because when I asked if I could take a photo of him he said: "Should I take my shirt off?"

I spent the last few days with my cousin in Fresno, California, also known as 'the armpit of California'. I decided to check out the downtown, but being me, I began walking the wrong way. After a considerable amount of time I resolved to ask the next person I saw for directions. Minutes later I saw a young man wearing a wife beater and a whole lot of tattoos. He looked kind of scary so I decided to ask someone else. I asked a guy a little further down the road who told me I was going the wrong way.

On my way back I saw the tattoo guy again. He asked where I was going. I told him downtown. He asked if he could walk with me. Usually I'd be up for it, but I wasn't really in the mood.

"I'd kind of prefer walking on my own" I stuttered

"Aw, I'm not after nothin'. I got out of prison yesterday, I just want someone to talk to"

Man! How do they always know exactly what to say? This I couldn't resist.

"Sure" I said, now grinning goofily.

We began walking together down the street.

"So, yeah, I just got out of prison" he said

"Oh cool" Not exactly sure if that's the right thing to say. "You must be happy. Ummmm How long where you in, ummm there for?"

"10 months"

"Oh OK"

I know you're all wondering what he did. So was I, but I've been taught not to ask, so you're going to have to wait.

We made small talk for a while 'where are you from? family etc' then drifted into silence. I wasn't exactly sure what questions were appropriate. He said he wanted to talk, so I took the opportunity to find out all I could about prison.

"So how was the food?" I asked

"Not bad. I mean, like, you got pretty full of it, but it don't got a lot of flavour, ya know?"

I knew.

"But prison ain't that bad. I mean people bitch about it, but like, if you don't got any other place to go, it's alright"

"Mmmmm. What did did they feed you on a typical day? Did you get hot food?"

"Oh yeah, Monday we got hot cereal, Tuesday was eggs, Wednesday- waffles"

"Oh yum I love waffles" I chimed in

"Thursday, ummmm, Saturday was pancakes"

"Wow, sounds pretty good!"

"Yeah, man, we have it so good in the US. There was a guy in there called Russia. Well I think his name was Eugeney something, but he was from Russia, so.... yeah. He said that in Russia all you get is 4 slices of bread and water and some cold potato soup. Everyday. That's it."

"Wow. That sucks."

"Yeah, prison here isn't that bad. What's it like in Australia?"

I thought about it for a second. I had absolutely no idea. Why would I? I’ve never been to prison. I don’t even know anyone who’s been to prison in Australia. In fact, I’m not sure I know someone who knows someone who has been to prison in Australia.

“I’m not sure…” I confessed

“Oh, yeah, right. Guess you’ve never been?”

“No”

More silence

“So what did you do during the day?” I asked

“1124 crunches, 123 push ups; diamond or wide….”

A million other exercise things I’ve never heard of…

“I also read books on anatomy” he continued “some guys waste their time in there but I like to make the most of it. Learn stuff, ya know?”

I nodded

“Tibia, jugular, fibula…” he said pointing to various parts of his body.”clavicle, jaw”

There was no denying it; the guy loved to list things.

“mandible, palatine, scapula....”

I wondered if this information would come in handy for him someday.

"....sternum, humerus, cervical..."

Wait. was he still naming bones?

"...radius, ulna.."

Yep.

“Wow” I said genuinely impressed.

“Yeah, I know. I also learnt some Spanish in there.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I can say ‘I know a little Spanish’, and ‘I just got out of prison’ and ‘Would you like to buy this from me?’”

“Wow”

We were getting closer to downtown, but I didn’t want our conversation to end. I decided to take Mitchell out to lunch.

He ordered a beer, and when the woman asked for ID, Mitchell piped up, “I only have prison ID, is that OK? I just got out of prison see, so…. Yeah”

Sometime during lunch we got onto the topic of tattoos. He took of his shirt in the restaurant to show me. One was his name, one was his mother’s name and one was a picture of a jester in memory of his friend who got beaten to death with a chains and a baseball bat last year.

Here are some other things I learnt over our 2 hour luncheon:

• 23 year old Mitchell got 8 months because he stole a car
• Then he got in a fight in prison and they gave him another 2. And they put him in high security for a couple of months.
• You don’t call someone a ‘bitch’ in prison. If someone calls you a bitch you HAVE to fight them
• Faggot, mutha fucka, nigger is OK
• Being called Caucasian, Oriental, African American or Latin is an insult, it’s White, Black, Asian or Mexican
• Trades happen in prison. For example, Mitchell would often trade his Monday, Wednesday and Saturday lunch meat for peanut butter.
• He would even trade his bread because ‘bread holds water’ and he wanted to get an 8 pack.
• It sucks when your girlfriend of 4 years send you a letter breaking up with you while you’re in the slammer
• She was a good girlfriend though, when Mitchell got shot, she held him, her hands covered in his blood, all the while a gun was pointed at her head.
• It’s really easy to get medicinal weed in California

We continued walking after lunch. He said he was going to show me around the downtown.

“Hey do you want to split a bottle?” he asked

“What kind of bottle?”

“A bottle of gin… or something?”

“Ummmm no thanks, I’ve got to get back to my cousin…. Sober”

“Awww come on…”

“Mmmmm, not today”

“You sure? We could get a hotel room or something?” He asked hopefully

I was wondering when this would come up. I was almost insulted he hadn’t asked me sooner.

“Ah no thanks” I said

“We could get one for like, $40”

“Tempting, but no thanks”

As we fell into another awkward silence, I began to question whether walking down a deserted alley with this guy was the best idea.

“Going once….”

“Yeah, no. Sorry” I said

“Awwww come on. I just got out of prison, show me some love”

“Hmmmmm, nah, sorry.

“Well I had to try”

“Yeah….”

Suddenly he had to go. He was ditching me. He was ditching me. Ouch. Anyhoo, that was my lunch date with an ex con.

Whycocomagh

I got off the boat and collapsed at a charming hostel on Cape Breton Island in Nova Scotia. I had my first shower in 11 days, and slept on land for the first time in a month. I was thrilled to be reunited with my trombone and couldn't wait to start busking again.

"Where do you think a good place would be in Whycocomagh?" I asked the hostel manager.

"Busk? In Whycocomagh? I don't think I've ever seen a busker here...?"

She looked at me doubtfully. Everyone in the hostel was looking at me doubtfully, I didn't blame them. Whycocomagh has a co op, a bakery and a population of 800.

I busked outside the co op for an hour and a half and came back with $96. Why would I busk in Toronto when I can busk in Whycocomagh?