It was a momentous day today - my second haircut of Canada. It's in preparation for a visit from Kate - just half a day away!
Then we've got a packed couple of weeks, which I have already gone on about plenty. First, the skydive on Saturday, then Victoria next week. Mix into that lots of restaurant food, some Latin Jazz and a few more surprises, and it'll be an awesome fortnight!
So my hair is short for only the second time in 10 1/2 months. Just thought I'd let you know.
Thursday 28 August 2008
Monday 18 August 2008
Mooning and Cranx
Three days in Whistler, and I have returned to a rainy Vancouver city. I had visited Conor, Fran and Adam. They moved up to Canada’s premier ski resort in the end of May and love it. I can see why.
I began the 2 ½ hour journey from Vancouver on Friday night, after work. I was full of cold, and not particularly looking forward to a busy weekend in some ways. I didn’t feel very well, but I had already missed a trip North due to a landslide and wasn’t going to postpone any longer.
Adam met me at the bus stop, and we headed for the bar where Conor works. Whistler was very similar in style to the other ski resort I had visited in Quebec, Mont Tremblant. It had a very surreal feel, with mainly pedestrian streets, hardly a shred of litter on the floor, and all the buildings perfect and quaint. It doesn’t seem real and, at the height of summer holiday season, is packed with vacationers and therefore a very fun and carefree place.
On the Saturday, we were hoping to go to the first National Cheese Rolling Festival. It is basically a silly race, where a wheel of cheese is rolled down a steep bank, and everyone has to chase after it, causing hilarious pandemonium. Unluckily for us, a waitress incorrectly told us that the festival was finished, so we changed our plans, when actually it had just been moved to a place we didn’t know about.
It wasn’t a problem; we headed for the BMX competition – The Cranworx. For the best part of the afternoon we watched skilled riders pulling back-flips, supermen, front-flips and many more tricks I hadn’t heard of. It was spectacular, and we were cheering on a British guy who came a close second. The winner performed a ridiculous double back-flip, to the delight of a packed crowd at the base of Whistler Mountain.
Afterwards, we went back to the house. With a few beers to prepare us for a monumental night, we settled into the hot tub and relaxed. This is the life in Whistler! A few of Fran, Conor and Adam’s friends came round and we all got ready for the Full Moon Party. This is basically a party out in the middle of The Interpretative Forest, a few miles outside of Whistler. It happens once a month (at the full moon, surprisingly), and carries on all through the night.
The party was immense. We arrived well after midnight, and in the pitch black could only see a psychedelic projected screen, and a DJ booth on the back of a truck. People were dancing, the music was blaring and fire dancers lit up clearing that we were in. As the night grew old and the morning came, we sat on a log at a rushing river a small distance through the trees, and watched the sun rise from behind the mountains. It was quite a surreal experience, it can be said.
Needless to say, Sunday was almost a write-off. We did make it to Lost Lake, where families and groups of friends were taking in the scorching sun (it was hotter than the Mediterranean!), swimming in the water, playing guitars and just relaxing on the grass. It was a great finish to a fantastic weekend. I hope to go back again, work, money and time permitting.
In other news Mat was in Vancouver for a few days, passing through on a mammoth road trip. He had hired a car with some of his friends and driven across the breadth of the country. We went out for a night, and reminisced about the time we met. In reality, I have only known Mat cumulatively for only a few days, but we have kept in touch throughout the year. Before this weekend, I had only seen him once since last November, and it was great comparing how our paths had been made over the course of the year. It was funny how we had both started in the same place, at the same time, and had such different experiences.
I began the 2 ½ hour journey from Vancouver on Friday night, after work. I was full of cold, and not particularly looking forward to a busy weekend in some ways. I didn’t feel very well, but I had already missed a trip North due to a landslide and wasn’t going to postpone any longer.
Adam met me at the bus stop, and we headed for the bar where Conor works. Whistler was very similar in style to the other ski resort I had visited in Quebec, Mont Tremblant. It had a very surreal feel, with mainly pedestrian streets, hardly a shred of litter on the floor, and all the buildings perfect and quaint. It doesn’t seem real and, at the height of summer holiday season, is packed with vacationers and therefore a very fun and carefree place.
On the Saturday, we were hoping to go to the first National Cheese Rolling Festival. It is basically a silly race, where a wheel of cheese is rolled down a steep bank, and everyone has to chase after it, causing hilarious pandemonium. Unluckily for us, a waitress incorrectly told us that the festival was finished, so we changed our plans, when actually it had just been moved to a place we didn’t know about.
It wasn’t a problem; we headed for the BMX competition – The Cranworx. For the best part of the afternoon we watched skilled riders pulling back-flips, supermen, front-flips and many more tricks I hadn’t heard of. It was spectacular, and we were cheering on a British guy who came a close second. The winner performed a ridiculous double back-flip, to the delight of a packed crowd at the base of Whistler Mountain.
Afterwards, we went back to the house. With a few beers to prepare us for a monumental night, we settled into the hot tub and relaxed. This is the life in Whistler! A few of Fran, Conor and Adam’s friends came round and we all got ready for the Full Moon Party. This is basically a party out in the middle of The Interpretative Forest, a few miles outside of Whistler. It happens once a month (at the full moon, surprisingly), and carries on all through the night.
The party was immense. We arrived well after midnight, and in the pitch black could only see a psychedelic projected screen, and a DJ booth on the back of a truck. People were dancing, the music was blaring and fire dancers lit up clearing that we were in. As the night grew old and the morning came, we sat on a log at a rushing river a small distance through the trees, and watched the sun rise from behind the mountains. It was quite a surreal experience, it can be said.
Needless to say, Sunday was almost a write-off. We did make it to Lost Lake, where families and groups of friends were taking in the scorching sun (it was hotter than the Mediterranean!), swimming in the water, playing guitars and just relaxing on the grass. It was a great finish to a fantastic weekend. I hope to go back again, work, money and time permitting.
In other news Mat was in Vancouver for a few days, passing through on a mammoth road trip. He had hired a car with some of his friends and driven across the breadth of the country. We went out for a night, and reminisced about the time we met. In reality, I have only known Mat cumulatively for only a few days, but we have kept in touch throughout the year. Before this weekend, I had only seen him once since last November, and it was great comparing how our paths had been made over the course of the year. It was funny how we had both started in the same place, at the same time, and had such different experiences.
Tuesday 12 August 2008
Whistler while you work
I have to admit, I haven't managed anything of too much interest to the outside world recently. Mat was over from Toronto. He'd hired a car, driven for eight days, and stayed in a few places along the way. Of course, he had managed to test the extent of the nightlife and gambling in choice cities such as Saskatoon and Winnipeg.
Talking of nightlife, I have become a little reacquainted with the beast. Firstly, with the Irish contingent at work, and now with Mat visiting. I can stretch to these few nights recently but I won't make a habit of it. For a start, it means I have nothing to write on here! I am beginning to recall the vast expense that comes with entry to a club and the furore beforehand.
So a Friday night of festivities managed to waste the best part of my weekend, and create a dent in my bank balance too. Thankfully, I could revert to halving any dollars to figure out how much it could have been had I been spending pounds. This usually warrants a huge sigh of relief.
This weekend, I'll be back into productive mode. I have purchased my tickets to Whistler mountain today, and am looking forward to meeting Conor, Fran and Adam in their hot-tubbed 'castle' at the famous ski resort. Saturday will be the First Annual National Cheese Rolling Festival, and the weather forecast is promising, so bring it on!
It means a thankful break from writing, although I have to admit that launched my text-based assault on the world gives a fantastic feeling that I am actually doing something for once! As of today, I am up keeping two blogs (this one, and http://grahamcreid.blogspot.com/), writing two entries per week for http://www.vagablogging.net/, writing countless replies via email and Facebook, and the pinnacle of my life to come - my novel. I have definitely regained a love for the written word, after becoming disillusioned post-university.
Per the previous paragraph, tonight I am currently all written out, and this entry is merely a jotting down of the basics of my current existence. My throat is sore, my head is thumping, and I am due a hot chocolate and a bath to suit.
So, to celebrate my poor attempts at Gaelic this afternoon; Slán agus beannacht leat (Goodbye and blessings on you).
Talking of nightlife, I have become a little reacquainted with the beast. Firstly, with the Irish contingent at work, and now with Mat visiting. I can stretch to these few nights recently but I won't make a habit of it. For a start, it means I have nothing to write on here! I am beginning to recall the vast expense that comes with entry to a club and the furore beforehand.
So a Friday night of festivities managed to waste the best part of my weekend, and create a dent in my bank balance too. Thankfully, I could revert to halving any dollars to figure out how much it could have been had I been spending pounds. This usually warrants a huge sigh of relief.
This weekend, I'll be back into productive mode. I have purchased my tickets to Whistler mountain today, and am looking forward to meeting Conor, Fran and Adam in their hot-tubbed 'castle' at the famous ski resort. Saturday will be the First Annual National Cheese Rolling Festival, and the weather forecast is promising, so bring it on!
It means a thankful break from writing, although I have to admit that launched my text-based assault on the world gives a fantastic feeling that I am actually doing something for once! As of today, I am up keeping two blogs (this one, and http://grahamcreid.blogspot.com/), writing two entries per week for http://www.vagablogging.net/, writing countless replies via email and Facebook, and the pinnacle of my life to come - my novel. I have definitely regained a love for the written word, after becoming disillusioned post-university.
Per the previous paragraph, tonight I am currently all written out, and this entry is merely a jotting down of the basics of my current existence. My throat is sore, my head is thumping, and I am due a hot chocolate and a bath to suit.
So, to celebrate my poor attempts at Gaelic this afternoon; Slán agus beannacht leat (Goodbye and blessings on you).
Monday 4 August 2008
Sunday 3 August 2008
Up all night
My head aches. My eyes are puffy and red. My hair is matted and my skin is greasy and stinks. I'm sleep deprived. I'm hungry, but my stomach doesn't want to consume anything. It's dark outside - it was light when I went to sleep. My mind is still trying to comprehend the night I have just had.
It's not drink. Sure, I had a few whiskeys, and the beers were flowing around the Irish house party in South Kitsilano. Merry is the word. I love the Irish. With all my penny pinching, itineraries and travel plans, I think a good ol' knees up was exactly what I needed.
I had been planning to go to Whistler this weekend, but there had been a landslide that devoured the highway between there and Vancouver. The clear-up is still ongoing, so I have had to reschedule for a fortnight from now.
Maybe it was a blessing in disguise. My new pals from Computershare have reminded me that it doesn't have to all be about museums, sightseeing and effort. Sometimes just enjoying yourself, with a bunch of other people enjoying themselves, is just a fruitful.
I'm not too bothered that it wasn't Canadians that I was mixing with, either. With 90% of the party being Irish, I was launched into another culture that I am really quite clueless about. At times I struggled to understand a word of what was being said, and at others, people gave each other jibes about places I had never heard of. But it was fun!
I didn't go to sleep until 7am, and even then, I was on an unfamiliar sofa. That was after the music, the attempts at French as I tried to translate the slurred Irish babblings for a Quebecois man, and the brilliants singalong we had when one man broke out his acoustic guitar. I'll be honest, for a lot of the tunes I was murmuring half-words as I hadn't the faintest idea what they were.
The bloke on the guitar was fantastic. He even sang a song that he had wrote, about his time on Bondai Beach. I don't think I could imagine this happening with a group of English people. In a way it was disappointing, and at times I felt like us English are missing a trick when it comes to having fun. Live and learn, I suppose.
It's not drink. Sure, I had a few whiskeys, and the beers were flowing around the Irish house party in South Kitsilano. Merry is the word. I love the Irish. With all my penny pinching, itineraries and travel plans, I think a good ol' knees up was exactly what I needed.
I had been planning to go to Whistler this weekend, but there had been a landslide that devoured the highway between there and Vancouver. The clear-up is still ongoing, so I have had to reschedule for a fortnight from now.
Maybe it was a blessing in disguise. My new pals from Computershare have reminded me that it doesn't have to all be about museums, sightseeing and effort. Sometimes just enjoying yourself, with a bunch of other people enjoying themselves, is just a fruitful.
I'm not too bothered that it wasn't Canadians that I was mixing with, either. With 90% of the party being Irish, I was launched into another culture that I am really quite clueless about. At times I struggled to understand a word of what was being said, and at others, people gave each other jibes about places I had never heard of. But it was fun!
I didn't go to sleep until 7am, and even then, I was on an unfamiliar sofa. That was after the music, the attempts at French as I tried to translate the slurred Irish babblings for a Quebecois man, and the brilliants singalong we had when one man broke out his acoustic guitar. I'll be honest, for a lot of the tunes I was murmuring half-words as I hadn't the faintest idea what they were.
The bloke on the guitar was fantastic. He even sang a song that he had wrote, about his time on Bondai Beach. I don't think I could imagine this happening with a group of English people. In a way it was disappointing, and at times I felt like us English are missing a trick when it comes to having fun. Live and learn, I suppose.
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