I have discovered the deliciousness that is not knowing what the time is. I relish in this, and my only real time gauge is when I am hungry and when the sun goes down.

As a mark of respect for my origin I have kept my computer on New Zealand time. This serves a couple of useful tasks. One; it makes communicating with people back home easier, two; it lets me say I am from the future.

Far from cultivating a casually disinterested look we are still garnering a lot of attention. This attention sometimes has a hidden agenda. There are three basic questions.

Where are you from?

How long have you been here for?

Where are you going?

After these questions are answered a canny salesman knows the following.

-Your native tongue
-How much local knowledge you have blogged about
-How much ’advice’ they can ram into you

Being a gullible Gulliver it has been far to easy to be truthful which leads to frustration. In my minds eye I have played out various techniques for dissuading the most agreeable adherent..

Start speaking gibberish from the outset. A hodge podge of dialect which not even a well programmed C3PO could translate.

Start asking questions. Pull out a survey board and ask for a few moments of the persons time.

Pretend I am a local. Very hard given that I am still mutilating my limbs on an hourly basis.

But I do believe I have the answer. I am from the future. Let me explain my reasoning.

-It is truthful.
-It is mildly mind boggling
-What on earth could you sell to someone from the future?( I hope I do not look like an intergalactic antique collector)

I shall try this today!

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