Travelling is hard

So, as I told you before (well, I think I did, I do have baby brain, so I can’t really be sure), Hannah and I are going to the U.S. so she can meet my family for the first time.  I know, you’re thinking ‘but you’re pregnant, shouldn’t you wait until after you have the other baby so they can both meet your parents?’  Yeah, that seems like a good idea, BUT, then we’d have to pay 2 adult fares (because there is NO WAY I could handle 2 kids on a long flight and through airports all by myself), and a 75% child fare because Hannah will be 2 by then.  This way, we can get over there before the magical no-one-will-sell-you-travel-insurance 26 week mark, and it will be my parents turn to visit us next, so we’ll have many years to save up the enormous amount of cash it costs to fly a family of four overseas.  Hang on, it’s my parents turn to visit this time.  Hmmm….

Before we can travel, there were a few things we needed to take care of.   First off, I’m allowed to stay in the country, but I wasn’t really allowed to return if I left.  My visa expired….  Sigh, that means a trip to immigration, and a rather steep fee to get a Resident Return Visa.  Humph, I guess I should have just gotten my citizenship ages ago when I first took the test.  Oh well, live and learn.  Maybe I shouldn’t be so cheap.

I also had to get Hannah’s birth certificate so I could get her a passport.  Yeah yeah, I should have ordered a birth certificate when I registered her birth (as most people do), but that cost money, and I didn’t need it at the time, and I couldn’t be bothered filling out all the paper work.

Lucky for me, both the Births, Deaths, and Marriages, and the Department of Immigration and Multicultural Affairs (DIMIA) offices are in Parramatta.  I decided to get up early, and get to the BDM at opening time, 8am, then walk to DIMIA.  I was going to bring Hannah, but it was supposed to be ridiculously hot that day, so I left her at home with Grandma.

Getting the birth certificate was easy, I had it in hand by 8:10.  I walked to DIMIA, only to find that it had moved.  3 years ago.  Sigh.  Found the new office and discovered it didn’t open until 9.  Humph, I thought it opened at 8:30.  There were already 4 guys sitting in the only chairs available, waiting for 9am when we were allowed to go up the lift up to Immigration.  A security guard sat at a portable desk next to the elevators reading a magazine.  I assumed he was there to keep us foreigners out of the lifts before 9am, ensuring all the people who actually worked in the building could get up to their floors.  Not that he did a very good job.

A pair of immigrants came in and went in the lift.  I knew at a glance that they didn’t work there, but did the security guard say anything?  Nope, he was busy, reading his magazine.  They went up the lift and came back down a few minutes later, to loiter around with the growing number of the rest of us.

By quarter to 9, the lobby was pretty full of us immigrants.  I felt rather out of place being the only caucasian person, as well as the only person under 40ish in the entire room.  At 8:55, everyone suddenly made a mad rush for the elevators.  Not that we could go up yet.  There was nothing said.  It was just like BANG, and everyone rushed in.  I, of course, ended up near the back of the orderly-ish line, since I had been sitting near the chairs, not obstructing the path of the office workers getting to the elevators in any way.  A whole bunch of people were standing at the sides of the line.  The men who were there before me were also at the back of the line.  Seriously, what are these people thinking?  Why do they think they have the right to go first when some of us have been waiting for half an hour?

The security guard didn’t say a word.  His magazine was obviously very enthralling.

9am – the doors to the lift opened.  It was like there was a million dollars in the elevator and only one person, the first person in there, could have it.  Or maybe like a mosh pit when the band comes on stage.  Everyone surged forward.  The people at the sides of the line rushed in front.  Still, the security guard said nothing.  Instead, he started packing up, completely ignoring the chaos that was right in front of him.  All the foreigners were allowed upstairs now, there was no need for him, he could be on his merry way. What the heck did they employ him for?  He did nothing!  I wanted to yell at him.  I wanted to yell at all the rude people cutting in the line, pushing and shoving, desperate to be first to get up to immigration, to get in line there to take a number and do more waiting.

“Seriously people, I have been here for HALF AN HOUR!  And those guys over there?  Yeah, those ones.  They were here before me!  What makes you think you can waltz in here 5 minutes before opening time and shove your way in?”  Of course I didn’t say that because a) I’m a wuss bag b) I’m pregnant and didn’t want to be punched in the stomach, and c) they probably didn’t speak english anyway.  I HATE it when people cut in line!  It’s so rude!  Like when you’re at the bus stop and then the bus comes and a person who just got there jumps on the bus as soon as the doors open.  They of course get the last seat and you have to stand.  RUDE!  Lines people, it’s called a line for a reason. WAIT YOUR TURN!

Anyway, the immigration people were super nice to me and didn’t even look at my application form, opting instead to look at my passport, take my money and put in the new visa.  I was out of there before anyone else.  Haha suckers!

Then I had to fill out Hannah’s passport application form.  That was going well until I accidentally wrote my name instead of hers after filling it half way out.  Humph.  I traipsed all the way to the post office to get another one.  That one was going extremely well (haha, name box, you won’t get me again!) until the very end, when I witnessed Aaron’s signature and he witnessed mine.  Then I read that the witness has to be someone not related to the applicant, and not living in the same house hold.  Snap.  Guess I should read things before signing them.  I went all the way to the post office again to get a new form.

Third time lucky.  Finally, I got it right.  I went to get Hannah’s photo taken.  It looked pretty shocking, but whatever.  I went to pay. I rummaged through my purse.  Sigh, I forgot my wallet.  I told him I’d pick up the photos the next day and pay for them.  When I got home, I had a look at the photo guidelines.  Mouth must be shut, eyebrows must be showing.  Humph, her mouth was open, and her fringe was over her eyebrows.

The next day I went back.  I told them my concerns about the photos and the lady looked pretty annoyed.  Not at me, at the person who took them.  “You told him it was for a passport?”  “Yeah, I said ‘Hi, I need a passport photo for my daughter.'”  New lady was really nice and took better, acceptable photos of Hannah.  She had me put a little piece of food in her mouth so it would remain closed while she took her photo.

Phew, sent off the application.  I got it back today.  Yay!

I booked the e-tickets online.  When they hit my inbox, I nearly died.  Ok, not really, that’s an exaggeration, but you know.  The ticket said we get 3 pieces of luggage Sydney to L.A., but then none from L.A. to Seattle and Seattle to L.A.  What, was I supposed to haul everything all that way and then ditch it at the airport?  Sure, I used to work as a travel agent and know all about interline carriers and whatnot, but V Australia wasn’t around when I was a travel agent, and I remember clients coming in and telling me that they had to pay extra for bags in the U.S.  I’m pretty sure that those were separate flights, not all one ticket like mine, but I can’t remember, that was so long ago, and I have baby brain!

Many calls to V Australia later (they don’t seem to believe in holding until someone is available), and they told me it was a mistake, lucky I called otherwise Alaskan airlines might not have accepted our bags, and that they’d send me a new, correct ticket.  Awesome.  Still annoying though.

When I got Hannah’s passport, I had to apply for the visa waiver program for her.  Yeah, yeah, she could be a US citizen, but you know what?  That would mean I’d have to buy another passport, register her birth with the U.S. government, and get more photos taken (because the U.S. and Australia don’t use the same size photos for passports.  Annoying.).  Too much effort, too much money, no thank you.  She can do it later if she needs it for something.  The option is always going to be there.  Unless the U.S. suddenly hates Australia or something, but I don’t see that happening any time soon.

We now have all of our documents taken care of (well, I do need to actually print some things out, but I’ll do that later), and we will be on our way in less than a month.  Watch out Washington (state, not D.C., they are, in fact, different places, contrary to popular Australian belief), we’re coming for you!

Sometimes, I get ugly

Usually we go away with I and M (who do not approve of being named on the interwebs, so I will just use letters) for Australia Day.  Of course, usually we get a long weekend for Australia day.  Not this year.  This year, Australia day was on a Wednesday.  So instead, we went to I and M’s  house with Hannah for dinner, games, sleep (for some of us) and then breakfast, lunch, and more games.

Being a mom, I can now no longer stay up past 10.  Fine, I’ve never been good at that, but whatever, that is not the point.  9pm rolled around (I put Hannah to bed at 7:30, FYI), and I was already struggling to stay awake.

It probably didn’t help that I don’t really like the game we were playing.  Games with lore checks, this check, that check, and what have you (where you roll a dice to see if you can or can’t do something), bore the pants off me (not literally, don’t get too excited).  Sigh, they are so slow!  And when you have 8 people playing, it seems like 5 hours of people rolling dice before they can actually do something before it finally gets back to your turn, where you roll some dice, inevitably roll a 1, can’t do anything (or die), and then it’s someone else’s turn again.  Ugh, no thanks.  And I like board games. Most anyway.

No one could remember whose turn it was to bring drinks, so 2 whole cases of beer ended up coming, in addition to the home brewed spirits that Johno and Adrian brought.  Oh goodness, recipe for disaster.  Not for me of course, I know that drinking with a bun in the oven is linked to F.A.S., which I definitely don’t want my future child to suffer with it’s entire life.

Alcohol, and being quiet, don’t mix.  A lot of the people there that night are loud anyway, but add spirits, and bang, it’s like being next to a bunch of hyena’s who’ve had way too much catnip.  Eventually, I was so tired that I fell asleep anyway. Not a good sleep, a fitful, restless sleep that ended abrubtly at 1:30am when loud banging woke me up.  Not just me, but Hannah too.  Adrian was so drunk that he was banging his head on the table in attempt to be able think more clearly for game playing.

Hannah didn’t seem to mind being awake, she just laid in her port-a-cot next to the bed, rolling around, singing to herself and reciting her name.  I, on the other hand, laid in bed tossing and turning, fantasising about what I would yell at these loud obnoxious people if it were my house they were being loud and obnoxious in.

I don't mean for Hannah to shut up, I mean the loud people

Of course, I couldn’t tell them to shut their loud annoying mouths if I and M were there because that’s just rude.  I, wouldn’t like it if they came over to my house, and told me how to behave.  No, instead, I stewed in bed.  And I went to the bathroom because I have nanna pregnancy bladder and have to go at least once per night.  I did attempt to glare at them on my way out, but I’m not sure if they actually noticed since I wasn’t wearing my glasses and can’t see my own hand in front of my face unless I do.  Maybe they were doing an obnoxious ha-ha-we’re-going-to-keep-being-loud-and-obnoxious-all-night dance, I don’t know, to me they resembled blobs of fuzz, all meshed together.  I couldn’t even slam the door in passive aggressive annoyance on my way back in because I didn’t want to upset Hannah.

At 4am, they were really giggly and loud.  I wanted scream, yell, kick, bite, and scream at them some more.  How could they keep me up all night??  I listened in bed.  Hmmm….it seems I and M weren’t there anymore.  They must have gone to bed.  In the other house.  They would be sleeping soundly, with no interruptions from loud drunken people.  I could tell they were playing Telestrations (oh how I love that game.  So so funny).  Telestrations is always funny, but it sounded so much more funny when drunk (judging by the loud obnoxiousness anyway).  That was it, I’d had enough.  I put on my towel (it was 45 degrees celsius that day, there was no way I was going to sleep in clothes), went to the bathroom (nanna pregnancy bladder again), then I couldn’t contain myself anymore.

I marched up to the table (so I could see them a little bit) and let loose.  “Do you know what time it is?!”  I didn’t let them answer, I kept going.  “It’s 4am! FOUR AM!!! Do you have any idea how loud you people are?  Do you know how hard it is to sleep?  I went to bed at 10, and I have hardly slept all night!”  They all looked at me, like I was a lion and they were tiny little baby zebras, about to be devoured by me.

I pointed my finger straight at Aaron, “and don’t think that I’m going to watch Hannah all day tomorrow just because you stayed up all night!”

“Are you mad?”  He asked me.

“YES I’m MAD, I haven’t slept all night!  How can I sleep when you people are so loud and someone is banging his head on the table?!?!?!”  Everyone continued to stare at me like I was some sort of nutcase escaped from the asylum.

Then I huffed off back to bed.  And they packed up the games and went to bed too.

Sure, it seems really mean of me to point my finger at Aaron and yell at him like that in front of his friends, but at 4am after hardly any sleep and no good sleep?  No, it didn’t seem mean at all.

Tru Energy, are you really that ridiculous?

When we moved here from Willoughby, I called our electricity company, Tru Energy, to disconnect our service.  “No worries,” they told me, someone would be out the Monday after we moved.  I was a bit confused when we got our final bill.  In the very same envelope was a credit.  Was the credit applied to the enclosed final bill, or did I need to sub tract it myself?  Hmmm…  Not only that, but this particular company gives you a discount if you pay by a certain date.  The credit also showed a discount if paid by that date.  So if they paid me by the due date would I get more?  Not to mention the “discount” is supposed to be 3% and with the credit, the amount was much more than 3%.  What????

I did the only thing I could.  I called them.  I was on hold for about 15 minutes.  Argh.

“We’ll send you out a new final bill, we’ll apply the credit to the bill and there will only be one amount to pay.  We’ll extend the due date so you have time to get the new bill.”

Sounded ok to me.

The next week, a crisp white envelope bearing the Tru Energy logo came in the mail.  Awesome, I could finally pay the final bill, and not have to worry about it ever again.  I opened the envelope.  Where was the bill?  No, there was no bill.  Instead, the envelope contained a threatening letter.  Our payment was overdue  and they were threatening to send us to a debt collector.  Sigh, another phone call.

“I’ll put a note in the system, get the final bill sent out, and we will not send you to the debt collectors.”

I had to trust them, there was no other choice.  A short while later the bill came, I paid it, case closed.

Only it wasn’t.  A couple of months later, I got another bill in the mail.  This bill from for electricity usage from April and beyond.  Um…did the words “final bill” on my last bill mean nothing?  A deeper sigh.  Another phone call.  They must have so many unhappy customers, the hold time was getting longer (which of course made me more aggravated/annoyed).

“Oh, I can see here that you arranged to have someone come and disconnect the electricity on the 20th of April.  It seems no one disconnected it.  We’ll investigate the matter and send you a final bill if there is any more to pay.”

“I already paid my final bill.”

“We’ll have to investigate the matter, your final bill could have been incorrect.”

“That’s not my fault.”

“But if you used the electricity you will have to pay for it.”

I think I’m going to scream….

“I’ll extend the payment date until the end of August so there is time for the investigation and we’ll go from there.”

“Last time you extended the payment date I received a threatening letter.”

“That won’t happen again Ma’am.”

Skeptical inaudible sigh

“You also won’t get anymore bills until we sort this out.”

They annoy me every time I talk to them.  They have no idea what’s going on, who does what, etc.

Yesterday, I got another crisp white envelope bearing the highly annoying Tru Energy logo.  With an annoyed sigh, I opened the envelope.  Another bill.  This one is for June and beyond.  ARE THEY SERIOUS??????????  Oh, and not only that, but there was also a nice bold red section stating that the last payment is now over due and has been added to this statement.  Deep breath, calm down, time to call the ugly obnoxious ridiculous electricity company yet again.

DON’T USE TRU ENERGY!!!!!!!!!!!

P.S. I’m currently going through all of my old posts to add tags and make them readable (the text was white in the beginning when I used blogspot, so you can’t actually read a lot of my old posts at the moment), so I apologise to those of you who get my posts via google reader since all of my editing is showing up there.  Bear with me, and don’t freak out when you read a pregnancy blog.  It is old, I am NOT pregnant again.

Quite possibly the worst energy company ever