The Travels of Graham Reid

Another lazy post

2008-09-15T21:30:00.001-07:00

Here's the second BUNAC entry, documenting the hectic fortnight with Kate here!

With Kate here for a fortnight, I just haven’t stopped, and I’m so tired! In a packed first weekend, we had skydived and gone to Vancouver Aquarium, and then for Labour Day Monday, we were off to Pacific National Exhibition Centre (PNE).

It was the final night of the summer festivities at the PNE, which include food stalls, shows, gymnasts, a casino and concerts. Add to that the rides at the fairground Playland, and there was plenty to do! There was a farm section with lambs, piglets, hatching chicks, thoroughbred horses and pig racing. There was Superdogs, a show where rescued canines show off their Frisbee catching, high jumping, dancing and racing skills. There was a market where there were hilarious demonstrations of ridiculous inventions. It was all very family orientated, but the Big Dipper was fun, and the entertainment well…er…entertaining!

I was back to work during the days, but once Friday came, we got the plane to British Columbia’s capital, Victoria. It was just like an English south coast town. I had to have the Fish and Chips, which had chips instead of fries for once! We took the floatplane over from Vancouver, which offered great views of the city and the Gulf Islands, and also only took half an hour. The ferry ride back was longer, but was great again for different reasons – very relaxing, and more landscape to observe.

In the city, we mostly just chilled out, drinking rose wine and enjoying the sunshine. I ended up like a slapped tomato, keeping up an English tradition! The government buildings were as old and decadent as you can get in Canada, and the bay was just beautiful under the setting sun.

Arriving back in Vancouver, and there was more mid-week fun with a tandem bicycle ride around Stanley Park, and we also took in the views of the city from the top of the Harbour Centre.

The weekend following and I surprised Kate with a trip to Kelowna – Canada’s wine country. I hired a car, which was the first time on the right-hand side of the road for me. It was strange driving in the passenger seat! About four hours, and we were in the picturesque Okanagan Valley. Blessed with more perfect weather, we arrived in the early afternoon, and made our way to a lake that my friend had recommended.

My friend had said, “take the country road to Oyama Lake”. In retrospect, she should have said, “take the rocky, off-road mountain track to Oyama Lake”. The tiny, cheap(est) car I had hired struggled up the side of the valley to the isolated lake, but it was worth it. Not only could we enjoy the fishing haven, but on the drive back down to Kelowna we were greeted by the best views I have seen in Canada.

The next day, we went on a wine tasting tour of the region. I was glad we were driving, because the tour was fast and furious. We visited a range of wineries, and were just taking back mouthful after mouthful! We received some instruction on the tasting, and I am now a professional wine taster – I will be to the annoyance of my friends back home, anyhow. The Mission Hill Estate winery included a tour, and was absolutely stunning. The buildings framed the valley around an amphitheatre, and the only winery bell tower in the world rang out to give the impression we were in a village in Tuscany.

The trip to Kelowna, although short, was a real highlight of Kate’s visit. Canada keeps impressing me with the scenery, and the Okanagan really was breathtaking.

Two hectic weeks

2008-09-15T21:24:00.001-07:00

Kate being here has been brilliant, but I haven't stopped! The eternal paradox is that the more I do, the more I have to write about, but the less time I have to write! So I am just adding my BUNAC entries, because it seems they will never get put on the BUNAC website (but I'm still getting paid, and that's the main thing!).

Here's for September 1:

After a quite couple of weeks, post-Whistler, Kate finally arrived in Vancouver. Amidst bankrupt airlines (which luckily she wasn’t booked on), and cancelled flights (which she was on), she completed her 9 hour flight just 9
hours late.

It wasn’t the best start to our action packed fortnight, but it soon got better. That was Friday night, and Saturday morning we were off to Abbotsford for a sky dive!

We caught an early(ish)coach out to Abbotsford, which is about two hours away. The way the bus schedule panned out, it was looking like we would have to hang around the airfield for something like four hours before we could get back to Vancouver, but we hitched in a taxi with two people who were also jumping out of planes, and who had caught the same bus as us. That meant we would jump a couple of hours earlier, which gave us less chance to build up our nerves!

I wasn’t half as scared as I thought I would be. Everyone around the airfield was really calm, which you would expect from seasoned pros. It was once we had been kitted out, done a quick training talk, and were squeezed into a small, camouflaged plane that the nerves began to come – no going back now.

As the plane climbed, I found out that it was me going out first, which didn’t encourage me. At 12,000 feet, the door opened, and I slid my feet out of the window. There was no chance to worry, because in a second I was freefalling! It was fantastic, the wind rushing past, and flying through the clouds. It seemed to last for ages, and gave me plenty of time to think about the small chance that I actually still might die. Well, I didn’t! Once the parachute was up, we could take out our cameras, and I got some great pictures of the view and the other sky divers.

It was definitely an experience I won’t forget, but I don’t think I need to do it again!

Back in Vancouver, and the next day was another packed one. We visited the aquarium in Stanley Park, which is definitely a must see. Quite expensive at $25, but it is a tourist attraction, so therefore a bit extortionate.

We got our money’s worth, and inside there were thousands of different sea creatures to observe. People gave talks on the sharks and otters, we saw the baby beluga whale (who was only born a couple of months ago) and took in the burping sea lions.

The highlight was the dolphin show. Three dolphins showed us their acrobatic skills, leaping ten feet out of the water, splashing spectators, and generally demonstrating their intelligence.

In the evening, I showed Kate Commercial Drive, with its great bars and restaurants. We had a Mexican, and then went and sampled some Latin Jazz.

It’s just the beginning of a packed fortnight, including a seaplane to Vancouver Island. Call back for more in a couple of weeks!

Hairy times

2008-08-28T21:17:00.000-07:00

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.

Mooning and Cranx

2008-08-18T19:37:00.000-07:00

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.

Whistler while you work

2008-08-12T18:41:00.000-07:00

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).

Vagablogging

2008-08-04T22:26:00.000-07:00

I am now blogging every Saturday and Sunday on Vagablogger, so go and check it out!

Up all night

2008-08-03T22:04:00.000-07:00

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.

Fireworkspotting

2008-07-31T20:41:00.000-07:00

Choose Canada. Choose a city. Choose an event. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big fireworks show. Choose English Bay, Olympics themes, fireworks shaped as poppies, and faulty sound systems. Choose good health, low cholesterol and travel insurance. Choose a Wednesday night when China organise the display. Choose a spot. Choose your friends. Choose not hanging on and waiting for freeloaders. Choose a route downtown with minutes to spare in a sea of fucking teenagers. Choose late nights and wondering where you are on a Thursday morning. Choose standing on that beach watching mind-blowing spirit-lifting light shows, neighbours stuffing fucking junk food into their mouth. Choose sliding away at the end of it all, edging last into your mediocre home, nothing more than an short conversation with the friendly, fucked-up stoners you have happened to live beside. Choose your fireworks. Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that?

...because it's fun! Yes, I know, I just couldn't be bothered to write my own post, so I copied and pasted an iconic 1990s soliloquy and changed the words a bit. What you gonna do? In English, I went to the Chinese night of the Vancouver Festival of Light. It was fantastic.

In other news, I went to a Blues bar with the French and the Germans on Tuesday night. It was pretty fun, it's a shame I won't see them all again! Maybe some cheap stays on the mainland, yes?

Don't stop moving

2008-07-26T17:30:00.001-07:00

These 6:30am starts are bad enough at my new job, without trying to run a social life outside of it! At the moment it is the Festival of Lights in Vancouver, where a three-way battle between Canada, the US and China takes place.

For a fortnight, there a grand fireworks nights in English Bay, where a million people gather to watch the spectacle.

On Wednesday, I went down with Anna, after I had been to the five year anniversary of my temping agency. It was quite surreal, going to the office straight from work, and finding all the chief execs of companies and organisations (such as the Vancouver Olympic Committee), sipping their Merlot or Shiraz. There were drinks, goodies and food, all gratuit. I appeared to be the only temping client there, with everyone else twice my age. I like to think I made good conversation for the bigwigs, and I enjoyed the party much more than I thought I would!

So I went from there to Vanier Park, in preparation for the fireworks. Anna, Laura et al picked a spot near the beach, where we could have a good view of the show. We ate popcorn and relaxed on the grass as kick-off time approached.

The fireworks were impressive by British standards, but I have to admit, the novelty of an expensive, choreographed fireworks display is wearing a bit thin. There seems to be an excuse for fireworks at every turn. Of all the displays I have caught in Canada (such as Canada Day or New Year), the baseball fireworks were by far the best. I think that because they were so close, and went on for much longer than Wednesdays show, they earn top spot.

Still busy, on Thursday night I was treated to a Lyle Lovett concert, courtesy of Anna and the strings that she can pull. It was a last minute decision, and I was apprehensive, as the one-time husband of Julia Roberts is a renowned country singer. In the end, it was not only enjoyable, it lasted for ages! They put on a really good show, with the cellist, guitarists, pianist, a ukulele player, two drummers, three old school R 'n' B showmen and a gospel choir all contributing to the fun.

Friday night and I was out again. After having a few drinks at the end of work, thanks to my new boss, I went out with my new colleague Catherine and her Irish friends. It had been a while since I had hit the clubs, and my body doesn't like me for it today. We all went to Catherine's friend's apartment beforehand, where I came in for plenty of stick from all the Paddys, but after a while (and some whiskey) I gave as good as I got.

Trying to keep up with an Irish gut proved challenging, and in the end we went to the aptly named "Blarney Stone", where there was an Irish folk band, and afterwards back to the apartment where we sat up until 5:00am (! I usually get up at 6:30am!). So I woke on a sofa in downtown Vancouver this morning, after four hours of poor sleep.

There are plans afoot to go to the fireworks again tonight, but I am not sure I have the energy, or enthusiasm for it. Maybe after a couple of Red Bulls...

Grouse Grind

2008-07-19T19:45:00.000-07:00

Back in the hostel, many of the inhabitants had gone on about the Grouse Grind, a hiking trail up to the summit of Grouse Mountain. It's free, and something that most travellers do. I had had it on my list, which is ingrained in my head, but keeps becoming usurped by special occasions, festivals, and energy.

Finally, I had this Saturday earmarked as the Day of the Grouse Grind. I could finally go and see what Vancouver's closest mountain had to offer. All prepared with my water, and even a book (it was going to be a breeze), I set off on the less-than-fun journey to the mountain. All by transit, of course, but involves changes from bus, to skytrain, to seabus and back the bus, before I arrive.

First thing I did when I got there, was go to see the wolves. I did this by mistake, just finding a track that looked like the beginning of a trail. It ended rather abruptly, but I was treated to North American Timberwolves. Another native of the continent to tick off that I had viewed, then.

When I eventually did find the start to the Grind, and soon began to wish I hadn't. After two minutes of traipsing up 'Nature's Stairmaster', I was sweating buckets, in desperation to keep up with the pace being set my German Michael, a fellow walker I had struck up conversation with.

He soon disappeared off into the distance (he does it twice a week!), while I pushed on. After forty minutes of ascent, I was ready to give up, and wait for a mountain rescue team to helicopter in and winch me to the summit. Apparently that wasn't an option, so I had another surge, trying to get away from a group of loud, smelly, excitable South American teenagers.

Minus half my weight in fluids, I arrived at the top, breaking out into the sunlight. It was a grand feeling. The views were fantastic too; if I looked hard enough I thought I could see Victoria Drive.

The day was far from over. The summit of Grouse Mountain is a haven for foreigners. For the first time in my whole time in Canada, I felt like a lowly tourist. The fact that it was summer season, and that Vancouver is a popular holiday resort, finally struck me. The phrase 'Bloody Tourists' had cheekily crossed my mind.

But it did mean shows. There was a bird show (which was quite boring, having been well educated in peregrine falcons back in Boughton House), and a lumberjack performance. The latter was very entertaining, with all the skills of a classical lumberjack being showcased. The highlight was the tree-climb, where the two competing 'jacks scurried up 30ft poles, in a race to ring a bell, before casually dropping back to the floor.

There was also more wildlife. The grizzly bears were fantastic, but the tourists (philistines) generally spoiled the moment. A massive crowd gathered around the animals. I hate to be included, but they were nevertheless magnificent. It did remind me of that scene in Free Willy where all the children are banging on the glass, terrifying the poor whale.

After filling up on beaver tail pastry(a Canadian delicacy), I got in the queue (tour-ists!) for the gondola back down. I had a refreshing rugby chat with a Kiwi, before finding out (after 40 minutes) that I was in the queue for the gondola, not the tickets for the gondola! I was fairly outraged, but there was no choice but to go and queue for my ticket then queue again for the gondola.

Now finally I'm home, and exhausted. Another one for the scrapbook!

Astrid shoots off, the Drive and Richmond

2008-07-14T19:12:00.000-07:00

With my new job now meaning I get up at 6:30 every morning, I'm finding it harder and harder to drag myself to the gym, or to fulfil a decent escapade every weekend. I leave it down to events to make sure I get out of the house, as opposed to lounging around the apartment catching up on sleep.

So this Friday I went to the Richmond Night Market, very much Chinatown's big brother. It was more impressive, but still filled with tat and worthless plastic oddities. So we stayed in the food area for the most part, drinking bubble teas, eating chow-mien and shrimps, and chomping on corn (Chinese?) straight from the cob, complete with large leaves. I wasn't impressed with the market, I never have been. It's hardly a cultural marvel. It's more Milwall than Great Wall. Shouting stall owners, cheap mobile phone covers, 'designer' gear, necklaces that turn green when you wash. Not too much to look at. But the company was good. I enjoy spending time with the Germans, and I wasn't careful of what I wished for.

Because two days later, I was overrun with Germans! No, I'm not complaining, apart from the fact that it was a celebration of Astrid leaving. She's the last survivor of the group that I met when I first got to Vancouver, and now, plus Erik, she is off to Whitehorse and Alaska in a camper van.

We hit The Drive on Sunday afternoon, into the evening. We had a great meal in the eclectic, South American oasis of 'Havana', drinking cider and light beers. I felt every inch in Cuba, with the faux-aged walls, Castro on the wall and a group of young revolutionaries, fresh from Europe, drinking to Astrid's health. The meal was good, the drink was better, the company was the best. I often find Germans to be the most friendly and comfortable people I have met, both from Berlin, through acquaintance, and of course, my family.

Inevitably, after a couple of glasses of wine, us Europeans were talking politics, past wars, and why we all hate each other so much. All in good nature, of course, but we're not wrong! In Europe, every country has fought with the next, and we all hate the French (sorry Damien!). I don't think the Canadians grasped our sarcasm, as they have never seemed to grasp that aspect. The banter between the Aussies and us Brits seems to fly over most of the North American heads I come across.

We all laughed, and drank (like Europeans, not British), and enjoyed the evening sun. It was a shame that this is probably the last time I will see Astrid, (apart from fleetingly as I give her the damned pictures she keeps moaning about!) until hopefully in the coming months and years where I take advantage of her close proximity to Munich, and the mountains!

I was home before it was too late, but I still suffered today. Alcohol always means a light sleep, and an early rise, for me. I was awake at 5.30am, which gave me an hour to kill before I officially had to rise! I hate those mornings, when I am clamoring for an extra ten minutes sleep, but my eyes don't want to shut - until mid-afternoon.

So I didn't go to the gym. I postponed it for a day. But I ate well (salad, again!), and drank plenty of water, and now I'll soak. Thoroughly deserved, no?

Work and Whitecaps

2008-07-10T18:02:00.000-07:00

After a week of enforced luxury, I am now very much back into the working life, and spoken for until at least midway through October - basically the remainder of my time in Canada. Gone are the days of drafting letters, organising meetings, feigning importance and dealing with expenses. Now I am learning about the world of stocks and shares. While my title is technically 'Administrative Assistant', I am doing nothing similar to what I had been doing at Mercer. Today was my first day at Computershare. My training included billings for business name changes, some basics in consolidation and the Canadian stock exchanges, and more encoding than one can shake a binary stick at. It promises to be entertaining and educational, but also gruelling, as I have to get up an hour earlier than I am used to.

To help fill the time on Wednesday, I undertook a one-off day working at Highland Transport. This brought back fond memories of CTC Trading, where I used to while away ten hour shifts with Matt by watching Football Focus, playing table tennis and driving to the takeaway. This job was just as demanding. All I had to do all day was answer the phone for Milan, by extraordinary supervisor, and tell clients that he wasn't there. This amounted to about 15 calls for the eight hour shift.

Milan, a tall, loud Serbian was full of laughs and close-to-the-bone jokes (some involving his Bosnian friends, and "that bastard" Slobodan Milosevic). He knew fine well that I was being paid for doing absolutely nothing, and was all the happier for it. "You going to enjoy yourself today my friend", he announced as I introduced myself to him. We spent the first hour-and-a-half messing around with my PC, attempting to add RAM to it, so that Windows would run faster. In the end, after plenty of half-hearted fuss, we gave up and I began to use his laptop for my internet surfing instead. A good, productive couple of hours.

As I got settled into my book, and occasional news checking on BBC, I began to find increasing interest in Milan's 'hectic' work schedule. He had said that, "I needed to help him with the phones so I can sort out this fucking pile of paperwork, my friend", but in reality, he invited some of his Eastern European compatriots into the office and nattered about 1990s politics, football and differences in their languages, for the FULL day. Not that I was complaining, I found this whole fiasco hilarious and one that I was glad to be getting paid for.

As the day winded down, another tough task was given to me. Milan offered me some spicy Indian tea, but I was required to put my own teabag in the already boiled water. Stress! A great day's work, I have to say.

It was finished off with a soiree I had half-setup, through Mercer. I had been planning to go to the Vancouver Whitecaps vs. Toronto FC 'soccer' game for a while now, and had had the ingenious idea of seeing if I could get a group from work to go along with me. Two days later, they informed me my contract would be up soon. So I hastily palmed off the organising to Gemma, who sorted out 16 now-ex-colleagues to go with. The match was as hilarious as the work had been. Everyone in the crowd seemed to know nothing about what they were watching, apart from maybe a couple of middle-aged woman a few seats back. None of us had any idea who was playing (apart from Lauren Robert, which I thought was just an addition to the hilarity), but of course we wanted Vancouver to win. The amount of crowd knowledge was complete when the line of (drunken) lads in front of me began chanting "M-S-L! M-S-L!" as a nod towards the fact that Vancouver should be in the top North American football league, the MLS, and not the subordinate league they are currently in.

The match turned out to be a good one, with Vancouver taking the lead, before Toronto went up 2-1. A last minute goal for 'Caps meant that the match was a draw, but the action had been pretty impressive.

A great day of chuckling, and even some outright laughter! Just a shame Vancouver are out of the running for the Canadian Championship.

Oh, Canada!....Day

2008-07-04T22:27:00.000-07:00

Another month begins, another celebration. Another friend gone, job finished, plan made and health-drive.

Because of my ridiculous, peeling sunburns on the right side of my chest, I have been forced to postpone my thrice weekly swimming sessions. Rather than my torso becoming reminiscent of a bronzed statue of Adonis, I have to be content with slapped, flaky salmon. So instead, I have since been to the gym, which is handily situated next door to the pool, and killed myself on the bike machines and strained myself on the weights.

Now I am not working, I can visit Templeton Pool & Gym during the day, which means I am not bothered by enthusiastic children and certain, strange Chinese men who switch on the changing room showers with their feet, clean between their legs while a heel is perched on an elbow-high shelf and only swim five lengths an hour (of which two are completely underwater, and three are performed using a pathetic, tsunami-creating front crawl). I could get used to the slacker life.

The honeymoon won't last long however, and some boredom is already beginning to set in. With no money coming in, I am reluctant to outlay any large sums either, so I am reduced to being both healthy, and lazy.

Returning to Tuesday, and the month starting with a bang. Many bangs, to be concise, as the fireworks rang out across the Burrard Inlet, spreading flashes of light and colour over the thousands of spectators who had gathered in Stanley Park, and in the city, to celebrate the country we were all sitting, standing, laughing in.

Earlier in the day, I had met Astrid at Canada Place, the origin of the firework display. There, they had put on bands (seems there is any excuse in Canada!) from all the provinces. Bagpipes from Newfoundland, and folk music from Quebec were two highlights. There were plate spinners, clowns, hot dogs and novelty VW 'Bugs' (that's Beetle's to you and me). Add to that face painting, flag waving, anthem singing, ice cream and magic tricks, and you can see how action packed the area was. It was definitely a family occasion, which made it heavy going through the crowds, as mothers attempted to keep their brood under control, tiny dots cried out for attention, and pretentious Grade 5ers recited all their knowledge and 'actuallys' to their glazed fathers.

Astrid and I caught the bus over to Jericho beach, which is well past UBC and out of town. The HI Hostel there was hosting a Canada Day party. The way it was advertised was much more impressive than we encountered. In truth, there were drinking games, but in the once again baking sun, I was in no mood for guzzling pints. There was no slip'n'slide, the food was poor.

The positives were hastily taken by me and my German buddy. This involved pear and mango cider - a hark back to my uni days chugging Kopperberg in Wetherspoons, free face painting (a Maple Leaf on each cheek please) and chilled music. As the entertainment turned to dance music, we moved onto the beach, which was perfect. I even dozed off under the shade of one of the giant trees just back from the shore. We stayed and relaxed on the sand for most the rest of the afternoon, before we headed back for the fireworks.

In the end, Astrid wasn't feeling too well, so I went and met another Bavarian, Anna. She was in Stanley Park with her friends from the jazz festival, on which she had been working studiously for the past couple of months. All of her companions were French, which gave me another chance to see how far I hadn't come with the language. Anything I had picked up in Quebec had been suppressed, and I was disappointed with my lack of understanding of the banter going back and forth. In my defence, the accents ranged from Southern French, to Parisian, to Quebecois and back again. As it shot across the picnic blanket (which, unsurprisingly, was littered with the remnants of baguettes, brie and M'n'Ms, a chocolate choice that every French speaker I meet seem to love!), the prose was fast, and colloquial, so I stood no chance.

Instead, I tried broken speech with Marseille native Laura, and with Anna. While quite capable of communicating in English, Anna is not near as confident in the language as her talents show, and she tends to back out of saying some things for fear of mistakes. It sounds familiar, as my French becomes much more vocal with a couple of pints of Dutch courage in me.

With my frustration in my linguistic inadequacies showing, I was partly relieved as the day dimmed, and the fireworks began. As with every North American fireworks show I have witnesses, it was très impressionant.

The boats were gathered in the bay, positioning themselves for the best view of the action. The sparks flew for almost half-an-hour, and the horns from the vessels all rang out with the final crescendo of the display. I envied some of this celebration, a show of unity in this young country. I know that back home in Blighty, a day such as this would not be enveloped so fully and sensationally as here. As with the music of the jazz festival, the celebrations of this country united people from all sections of the population. It was brilliant to see it in the faces of the crowds, including immigrants, tourists, natives, children, parents, teenagers, businessmen, homeless. Everyone was here. Well done Canada!

Solos of the Lams

2008-06-29T22:44:00.000-07:00

Another week, another perfect summer's weekend. My time at Mercer had come to the end, so I celebrated in time-honoured fashion of drinks at the nearest pub to the office. Gratefully, I didn't spend a penny as I was treated to a great wind down with a great bunch of people. Mitsubishi and coal mining awaits.

My luck with weather continuing, the sun blazed down on David Lam park in Vancouver's trendy Yaletown for the second installment of the Vancouver International Jazz Festival. Before I even reached downtown on Saturday, my skin was reddening. Maybe it was in preparation for the Spanish celebrations in Euro 2008 the following day. I set up my spot on the vast grass seating area, and whiled away the hours with the solemn trumpets of Zapato Negro, the folksy trappings of Newfoundlander Duane Andrews, the offbeat and disappointing African vibe of Ezeadi Onukwulu, before dancing the night away with the fun beats of Five Alarm Funk. If that wasn't enough, I could retire to the Festival Hall just a few short steps away, and hear Billie Holliday's old protege 'Red' Holloway on his fantastic saxophone, with John Grisham picking up any slack in between, with intermittent visits to the ice cream stall, and fish 'n' chip stand also in order.

More of the same for Sunday, please. And granted. Today I was joined by Astrid, Anna, and at times Laura and her Quebecois friend. We moved around much more, sitting on steps that slid down into English Bay, with the waves licking our feet, and the sun kissing our necks. When the fire spray relieved itself of pressure water into our relaxed corner, we were treated to rainbows and even more celebratory mood from the crowds gathered for the jazz.

As the evening moved on into the night, the mood once again moved towards the Southern Americas, and the salsa rhythm danced through the melody of people. All races of humankind were gathered together, demonstrating the full power of the unity of music, and in true Vancouverite style, many were letting themselves go with the beats of the drums, the power of the trumpets, and the joy of the vocals. Splashes of red, yellow and blue were spread throughout the day, as cars tooted their horns to celebrate Spain's win. I was spending the day with two Germans. But football was unimportant. Today was too perfect to upset.

Sax and the City

2008-06-22T19:59:00.001-07:00

Eclectic beats, ad lib notes, South American flavour and Rat Pack suits - the Vancouver Jazz Festival is in town.

With over 1,500 bands assembling in the city, it is a dream for someone like me, who loves the medium and pinches pennies at every opportunity. Walking down the steady slope into Gastown, the festival unfolded in front of me. I have come to know Vancouver for it's unpredictability - volatile and faceless one moment, edgy and relaxed the next. This Jazz Festival exposes the latter, and I love it.

At the top of Water Street, the pianist of English jazz quintet Empirical wafts out a mixture of chords and arpeggios, while his fellow entertainers jump in and out with scatterings of saxophone, trumpet, drums and double bass. The smooth grooves are only interrupted for a few short words just once in an hour, and spectators soak up the evening warmth as they lie back on the floor, drifting away with the music.

Along the road, there are the standard collections of hotdog stands, lemonade stalls and street performers, but the crowds gather at two ends of the street, where two stages are erected. After taking my heartbeat down close to flat-line, I picked myself up and made my way towards the opposite end of the celebration. A coffee and newspaper stop in between (I had to feel cool on a day like this), I arrived to the magical sounds of samba beats, Spanish song and South American salsa. A very different proposition from the Londoners preceding them.

Here, different races from Caucasian to Chinese to African to Latino were mixing in a fanfare of colour and energy. People danced with people they had never met, old with young, shy with extrovert, there was no-one left out. Here, the power of music was evident, as people embraced in the fun. The lead singer in this band spoke not a word of English, but he still had the crowd at breaking point, as he raised the temperature with his chants which, from what I could surmise, were along the lines of:

"Do you want this?" ("Noooooooooooo!" comes the reply from the crowd)

"So you want this?!" ("Ciiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!")

Another man was alive with dance, as he supported the lead with his own vocals. A hysteria descended upon the spectators as they moved in ways they probably never knew possible (me included!).

After offering great entertainment for two hours in an evening fit for a fiesta, the group finished off with a conga, South American style (I know what you're thinking, and there was no 'Let's all do the con-ga!'). The trombonist, trumpeters, drums, and vocals all seeped into the crowd, leading hundreds of people on a fantastic snaking line around the dance area.

The Jazz Festival has already impressed with only the first two acts I have seen. With over a thousand still to go, in the next ten days, the city will be sca-ba-bado-bob'ing for some time yet!

The Numbers Game

2008-06-20T00:04:00.000-07:00

My activities, divided by days, multiplied by friends and subtract one splash of rain, and there is a very positive result. It's been a numbers game these past seven days:

1 week, 2 sports

I knew I would be going to the 'ball game' for a while, as it was a SWAP organised event. As a sport, the American version of rounders is particularly dull. As it happens, the game we watched was a particularly dull example of a particularly dull sport. Luckily, baseball isn't about watching the game (which Vancouver lost), it's about drinking beer, eating popcorn and peanuts, and having fun with your friends! The match was followed by a great fireworks display, to celebrate the first game of the season. Also, as 114 SWAPers attended the event, Irish rowdiness was everywhere, and a group of Scottish rugby lads bounced off the IRA chants by removing their tops, crowd surfing and generally creating a fantastic atmosphere. The robotic chants (to music), and the fascist demands ("Make noise now!") of the Canadian supporters were sunk and drowned by the traditional European fandom.

After experiencing what I thought was my sport fix for a week, and was welcomed with a fantastic prize today- tickets to the BC Lions Canadian Football team!So, my second sport of the week.

Almost on the halfway line, the tickets I received from a prize draw were much more expensive than what I would have been prepared to pay to watch the CFL, and so I was ecstatic! I raced back home after work to pick up my camera, and then Maisie accompanied me to the game.

The BC Place stadium is an impressive, indoor, 60,000 capacity all-seater stadium, and we had prime seats. With American football being one of my favourite sports on this continent, I found the game of great interest, especially as there were some great plays and some great scores!

3 downs, 4 bases

The German girls (Astrid and Anna) had never encountered anything like baseball before, so it took some time to explain the rules. Gradually, through a mixture of my distracting explanations and Maisie's direct facts, the combination of pitchers, fielders, home runs and bases gradually became clear. It didn't make the game any more interesting, though. So we stuck to amusing ourselves with Mexican waves and loudness.

As for the Canadian football, it is different from the more widely known NFL, in the fact that it only has three downs to reach ten yards, not four. This made for more passing, a faster game and more excitement.

5 friends, 9 innings

The first couple of innings went pretty fast in the baseball, not least because the score was 0-0, with no hits, no runs and no errors after 5 rounds of pitching. Finally, it was Tri-City who broke the stalemate, hitting in two home runs and four altogether as they took a 4-0 lead. As it wasn't our team, we weren't impressed. I was lucky that I had some good company to help me through this hard time.

After nine innings, we were aching for the fireworks to start. They were marvelous. I had expected a five minute fanfare. Instead, we were barraged by a blitz of light and explosions. I struggle to think of a display that has matched it in recent memory!

20 cheerleaders

Just wanted to get them mentioned.

39-35, 5-1

Scores by which BC Lions won, and Vancouver Canadians lost respectively.

Lots of food, endless fun

Even though I have attempted to be healthy, I treated myself to a steak after the football, and chomped on at least two hot dogs in the past few days. Add to that popcorn, beer and peanuts and it hasn't been a wonderfully balanced diet. Now, I am shattered, and ready for bed. I need to conserve energy for swimming tuition with Astrid tomorrow, and then Jazz Festival on Saturday! Non-stop I tell you!

Easy Like Sunday Morning

2008-06-19T23:59:00.000-07:00

Picture a perfect Sunday afternoon. The sun is shining, the community is buzzing, the BBQ is flaming, the bands are playing, and there no work to do at all.

That is the Sunday I have just had in Vancouver. Perfect. Commercial Drive, the coolest, edgiest street in town, was holding a ‘Car-Free Festival’, where they closed off the roads, and replaced noisy cars with brilliant entertainment.

Every block there was a jazz band, country group, Latin dance group, Moroccan drums or Jamaican reggae. In between, there were stalls selling anything from headscarves to Indian Head Massages. Restaurants and cafés spilling out into the streets, offering grilled salmon, ‘smokies’, ice cream and fresh watermelon.

This year, the Car-Free Festival had spread from just Commercial Drive, to other areas of Vancouver, including Kitsilano and Main Street. Each location had its own style- and I visited Main Street later on in the day- but the Party on The Drive was head-and-shoulders above the others. In the park, as the reggae band floated out their relaxed and rhythmic Caribbean tunes, spectators laid back on the grass while others danced in front of the stage or took advantage of the hula-hoops laid out for people to use.

The added bonus was that we were enjoying our hottest day for a fortnight, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Laura (French), Astrid and Anna (Germans), Priscilla (Brazilian) and I (English- quite a mixture!) whiled away our afternoon on the Drive, enjoying the music, sights and sounds. Afterwards, Astrid and Laura made their excuses, so Priscilla, Anna and I headed over to UBC for some food and a drink. We found a nice pub near the University campus, where we sat out in the sun and enjoyed as much of the day as we could muster. I couldn’t have asked for a better way to end a great Sunday.

Vancouver Art Gallery

2008-06-10T20:54:00.000-07:00

Today, I took advantage of 'Donation Tuesday' at the Vancouver Art Gallery. Taking in the Krazy! exhibition, I managed to while away most of my evening in the grand old building on Georgia Street.

Find out what I thought at http://grahamreid.blogspot.com

Whiling weekends away

2008-06-08T22:27:00.000-07:00

It wasn't such an action packed weekend for me these past couple of days. To be honest, I just fancied lazing around for once! Plus, the sun has gone back into hiding again, like a timid mouse, peeping its head out for a second and then disappearing into the depths of the floorboards.

I did tick off one item from my list of tasks, which was the Chinatown Night Market. I was hoping for a vibrant celebration of Far Eastern culture, peppered with dragons, historical warrior dress and szechuan sauce. Instead, I was greeted with "Bra and panties for $10", some dry and sticky chow mein, and kitchen knife sets. The only promise of entertainment was a large stage erected near the bottom of Keefer Street, in the heart of the Chinese area of Vancouver. Set on the stage was a bronzed, lifeless pig. I had visions of an anti-Semitic, primeval sacrifice to the gods, but it wasn't to be. The only thing that was killed that night was the couple of hours it took me to walk from my apartment to downtown and back. I hung around a long as I could bear, and then headed home.

I was greeted with an proposition to hit the town from Jackie when I made it back to my room. Never one to negate an invitation, I changed into my only dress shirt and met everyone at Kris' house, which was surrounded by the now familiar sight of drunken hobos and vociferous crack-whores. Their apartment block was, to my relief, a beacon of light within the dingy neighbourhood it sat.

To cut a long story short, I was much too drunk, and I parted with much too much money. But I had a good time, and I don't go clubbing too often, so I am not too distressed. The most annoying point was waking up the next morning with a sore, bloody knee and torn jeans, the aftermath of a stumble on the way home. Oh, to be a proud drunk!

Tired wolves and treetop adventures

2008-06-01T17:43:00.000-07:00

I had been hoping to make it up to Whistler this weekend. Conor, Fran and Adam had said I could squeeze into their rental car as they moved up North for the summer. Alas, it was not meant to be. When they packed their possessions into their vehicle, there was no room for a small(ish) addition.

No problems, although all my pent-up excitement had to be spent somewhere else instead. I made a rush decision, and headed for Capilano Suspension Bridge. Tom and Astrid had already visited a few weeks ago, and had returned with glowing reports, so I thought it would be an adequate replacement.

It took four modes of transport, by land and sea, to finally arrive at the park, which was also well known for its Native influences. I caught the bus down to the Skytrain, which shipped me to downtown. There, I hopped on the SeaBus to North Vancouver, and then one more short bus ride finished the journey.

It was my first time on the SeaBus, which was amusingly named "The Burrard Beaver" (seeing as I have witnessed hookers on Burrard Street in downtown Vancouver). The journey over the Burrard inlet offered some great views looking back at the main city.

Once at Capilano, I had to use my pathetic blagging skills to convince the entrance clerk that I was a BC Resident. For once, I wasn't actually lying; but I had no proof of residency, didn't know my postal code and barely knew my address. Childish assurances on my part (like "I really am, honest!") seemed to do the trick, and I entered with a half price admission!

The Capilano Suspension Bridge Park had much more to it than I had anticipated. There were guides dressed in turn-of-the-century (20th, that is) attire, offering enthusiastic histories of the soil I was standing on. First, there was the colonial section, where I learned about adulterating Victorians, and wealthy prospectors.

Next, I met an aptly named member of a First Nations' tribe, John. He explained the way that Natives had come to give the park its name (Kia'palano, which means 'beautiful river'). He then educated us on 'story poles', more commonly named as Totem poles. There was one particularly interesting rendition depicted a fable of a tired wolf, and something and something (I admit, I can't remember what happened).

After Kia'palano, I experienced the main attraction, the bridge. It wasn't particularly terrifying, but it gave a great vantage point to see along the canyon, which it crossed. Many excited fathers rocked the bridge to the terror of their young children, and creaks were alarmingly loud in the centre of the structure. However, I have been assured that it can hold the weight of two jumbo jets.

The fun didn't stop at the other side of the bridge. Not only was I relieved I had made it with my life still intact, but I was amazed at how much more the park offered than I had expected! I strolled through the forest canopy on the 'Treetop Adventure' and walked along the Cliffhanger Walk.

After a couple of hours of exploration, I discovered that I needed to attain novelty stamps at all the sections, in order to get a Capilano Suspension Bridge Certificate! So I redid all the sections, and stamped my 'passport'. Some of the stamp stations were well hidden, and I imagined they were designed to test childish adults like myself.

In other news, I had my first Chinese takeaway in this, the most Chinese of all Canadian cities. It was exactly the same as Chinese meals I have had in England, to my dismay. At least it was half the price!

Land Before Time

2008-05-25T18:26:00.000-07:00

As I neared the end of my journey, tension was thick in the air. I had travelled for many minutes, over many miles (almost four) and passed many roadworks (three at most) to reach this place. Friends had come and gone (weirdos on the bus), and maybe trials had to be overcome (weirdos on the bus), but I was here. My re-enactment of "The Land Before Time" was almost complete.

The concrete wastes of Cambie Street, up towards Queen Elizabeth Park, had reflected the deathly sun into my eyes, and against my reddening skin. As I came over the crest of the hill, it was like a mirage before me. Gone were the grey streets of the city, and the weedy paths of the park. Now there was every colour imaginable in front of me. A waterfall trickled down the old quarry walls into the oasis of horticulture and greenery. Aging Indians (that's 'People of India', not First Nations) peppered the quaint paths and couples, flowery themselves with romance, held hands and strolled around the magnificent garden.

With 'The wee small hours' sounding blues from my iPod into my ears, I could have been Frank Sinatra in a 1950's talkie, strolling in slow motion around the park, on this most perfect of days.

After encapsulating as many plants as I could with my new found macro-photograph expertise, I had a look inside the Bloedel Conservatory, which overlooks the garden on Little Mountain, Vancouver's highest hill. Inside were a variety of tropical plants and birds, including Macaws. I was disappointed that they wouldn't say "Polly put the kettle on" or "Pieces of Eight" for me, but it wasn't through lack of effort!

Throughout the day, I was under the baking sun on this, the second proper summer weekend of the season. Today was no different, with the skies as blue as a baby's eyes and the sun as bright as the bleached snow-caps of Grouse and Cypress. I was content to don my 'thongs' (Andy should know about these by now) and flip-flop into town. I decided no harm could come of testing the walking distance from my apartment to downtown in these Mediterranean conditions, then sit myself in one of Vancouver's many parks.

Once again I soldiered through my Andrew Marr's My Trade which, although enlightening, has struggled to find a place into my routine during my travels in Canada. With the heat still sauntering through the streets of this West Coast city at six'o'clock, I was onto my second park, and still enjoying the fantastic weather. May it long continue.

Whale of a time cough

2008-05-20T19:07:00.000-07:00

What a long weekend it was. From a rainy, muggy week at work to a fantastic, sun-bleached adventure into the Gulf Islands.

SWAP had managed to organise their best meet-up yet, whale watching. I have to admit it was breathtaking. Tom, Astrid and I caught the bus from downtown early Saturday morning, and made our way to Steveston Quay. It was quite amusing to hear the tour-bus driver commenting on the ancient buildings as we were taken through the quaint fishing town (which, at one point, housed the largest fishing fleet in North America). I was aware that I had lived in houses older than the buildings that we were being shown! History in North America is all a bit more modern, I have found.

Once we had boarded the boat, it took us two hours to actually get to the location of a sighted whale pod. We actually ventured into United States’ waters, down to the south point of San Juan Island. On the way, we passed California Sea Lions, a cormorant breeding colony, and majestic Bald Eagles, who glided overhead and perched on the rocky shore.

Actually reaching, and seeing, the whales was the icing on the cake. Many trips venture out and never manage to find the fantastic orcas, and we were still a little before whale season, so I kept my hopes purposefully lower.

Once we found the pod, they put on a show of tail whips, spy-dips (sticking their nose out of the water so they can see the surrounding area), and rolls. It was almost as if they were showing off for us.

It took us a while to locate the patriarch, Ruffles. He was slightly separated from the rest of his pod, and not as energetic as the younger whales. When we found him, it was straight away obvious that he was much bigger than the other orcas. His dorsal fin was huge, and he came very close to the boat to show it off.

After this fantastic experience, I went to Kitsilano Beach to take advantage of the scorching weather a bit more. I met up with some Maisie and Howard, and we braved the sea (well, paddled for a bit), and then found a nice terrace bar near the beach. This weekend has had the hottest weather of the year in Vancouver, and a local resident told me it was hotter than any weekend from last summer.

While the weather didn't manage to hold up for my extra day off on Monday, I still managed to enjoy myself. I met up with Conor, and we ended up having another fish and chips (my second of the weekend). A few pitchers of beer later, and we went for a different experience.

Conor's friend Adam told us about Hookah. We arrived at a Persian-themed bar, where you can drink herbal teas and, more importantly, sample the "calming" flavoured tobacco of the Middle East, through the use of bongs. It was quite eclectic, with the Arab music in the background, drinking our teas and inhaling the smoke. I enjoyed it actually, but doubt I'll ever need to go back!

Afterwards, we got some wine and headed back to Conor, Fran and Adam's house. We watched this ridiculous cartoon called Drawn Together. Post-smoking and drinking, it was fairly surreal watching this weird adult comedy that parodies reality TV shows!

I didn't enjoy the walk home in the early hours of the morning, or the limited sleep before work, but I'm still enjoying everything else. Next week, Whistler hopefully!

Sunday funday

2008-05-11T20:52:00.001-07:00

When I came over to Canada, I had signed up to write a series of (bland, generic) diary entries for BUNAC, the student company who helped with my VISA, amongst other things. The main benefit of doing it, not least because I was getting some money for minimal work, is that it forces me to get out and do something in the two weeks between entries. I don't want to look like I'm just sitting on my arse and doing nothing!

Today was one such day, where I opened the increasingly battered pages of my Canada guidebook, and had a peruse at the different options open to me on this hot, perfect Sunday.

With 'Vankok' (or 'Hong Kouver') being up to 30% populated with inhabitants of Asian persuasion, I thought it was about time I paid a more in-depth visit to Chinatown. After touching base with home, using my brand-spanking new headset on Skype, I caught my usual 20 bus to the Skytrain, and then took the two stops to the Vancouver Canucks'stadium, not far from where I needed to go.

Walking towards the Dr. Sun Yat-sen Classical Garden, I noticed the change in architecture, with lampposts and bus-stops becoming red and oriental. Signs now included Han characters to signify the street names, and I had become a definite ethnic minority in this small area of downtown.

Before I made it to the garden, I stumbled across a park which included quaint stream. There were stylised stepping stones that were fun to walk across, climbing alongside the falling water that began at the top of a large slope, and resulted in a duck pond at the bottom. I spent a couple of minutes experimenting with the timer facility on my camera to try and capture the moment (see below), and it seemed to work quite well!

Once I reached the Chinese garden I paid the entry fee, accepted the positive comments about my t-shirt (not for the first time-thanks for giving it to me Sven!), and entered into a tiny haven in the metropolis.

The garden was split into four sections. There was a pond in the centre, which separated the more unkempt public side of the garden, and low walls, dotted with Ming Dynasty style windows boxed in the other areas. Gazebos offered great places to sit and relax, and a menagerie of horticulture native to China created a succulent aroma. It was all very relaxing.

In rooms of to the side of the main showpiece were an exhibition on bonsai trees, a typical writer's studio from the great days of the Orient (not Leyton- they never had any great days), and other assorted historical Chinese items. I spent a good hour and a half, strolling around the gardens, finding even more settings on my camera (macro-imagery, this time).

Once I had completed my tour of the gardens, I took a walk around Chinatown as a whole. It wasn't even nearly as desirable as the gardens were, so I quickly decided on another plan of action. The sun was still beating down on the West Coast, so I definitely wasn't returning home yet. I thought about where I could explore that wouldn't take up too much time and money.

I decided on Vanier Park, which is over the Burrard Bridge and into Kitsilano. It meant another couple of changed onto Skytrain and buses, but with every journey I take, my monthly transit pass becomes more value for money.

I arrived at the park around twenty minutes later. The main section of grassland in the park was taken up with the Vancouver Children's Festival. Amongst the clowns, bright colours and over-enthusiastic festival staff, I would usually be in my element. Today, I was in a calm, grown-up mood, so I steered well clear of all that.

There was Vancouver Museum, with a Space Section included. I took a look in the door, and was quickly put off by the price tag. I took a couple of pictures of the architecture and went on to the next sight. I had heard the Maritime Museum is quite extensive and interesting, so I opted to save that for a weekend in the future.

Instead, I was content with making my way along the beach and just admiring the fantastic views of the mountains, the city and the coast along Stanley Park. There are many places in Vancouver where you turn a corner, and you have to stop in your tracks and just admire what is in front of you.

By the time I arrived back at the apartment, I was spent. Even now, it is an effort keeping my eyes open and my brain concentrated for this entry.

Before I knock off for the night, and prepare myself for another week in the rat race, I must mention fete/market that I stumbled across yesterday. Coming back from a hard day of purchasing work shirts, my Skype headset and all my food for the week, I noticed something was going on at Britannia High School as the bus edged past. I could hear loud chatter, bagpipes and the smell of food was enough to make any person get off the bus there and then.

I had to drop of all my stuff at home first. I quickly hurried back to see what all the bustle was about. There was a small market, selling a host of homemade items, from brooches, to smoothies, to shiatsu massages. At the summit of the main hill, there was a group of musicians sitting in a circle, combining to make a vast mix of styles. They varied from folk, to some sort of reggae and then back again.

It had a real community feel to it, and I enjoyed browsing all the stalls. I have to admit, I am really enjoying the Commercial Drive atmosphere.

Peace at last

2008-05-04T15:10:00.000-07:00

Approaching six months in Canada, my travels have now covered over 5000 miles, eight American states, seven different months, five Canadian provinces and two apartments.

Finally, the tally of apartments has increased to two. I moved into my Victoria Drive room on Wednesday night, and lapped up the mixture of double-bed, laptop desk, cable television and private kitchen. That first evening, I took a quick exploration trip along Commercial Drive.

I had heard of the road, which is notorious for its restaurants and friendly, edgy bars. But not many of the travellers (from the hostel I stayed in, anyway) make the trip out to see it. Strolling along the street, just browsing, and looking for the supermarket, I was excited to see the places I could be frequenting once I’m more settled into apartment life.

With the warm weather, balconies were buzzing with couples, groups of friends and rushing waitresses. Along the railings, blue and red fairy lights created a relaxed ambiance. This is a place I could get used to.

On Friday night, Conor (from SWAP and Sunderland University) and I took a stroll along 'The Drive', looking for some decent drinking houses. After a brief foray into an Irish pub near Commercial and Broadway, we ended up in the Libra Room, a classy, funky bar closer to my end of the street.

A three-piece band was set up next to the window, playing background jazz, minus any vocals. It created a fantastic atmosphere for the relatively small area. A pyramid behind the square bar to the back displayed the vast array of spirits on offer, and simple, lighted blocks of green, blue, yellow and red added some character to the wall.

We ended up staying for the remainder of the night, before I returned home to my gloriously comfortable pad. An early start for Microsoft Excel training at work the next morning wasn't the perfect requirement for my aching body. I made it, with tired eyes and dry lips, and learned a vast amount of knowledge which can come in handy for my savings plans that I need to think about today.

Yesterday, Jen arrived from Montreal, via Vermont and Seattle. In the evening she, Tom and I took a visit back to our favourite Granville Irish pub, the Lennox. I recall we spent most of the night talking about topics as random and diverse as 1980s cartoons, the Falklands war (which began in 1982. I was wrong, apologies to Tom. You win, you are the king etc. etc.), the Boston Red Sox and the 'Grouse Grind'.

Today I enjoyed my first lie-in for three weeks. The fact that my body had become attuned to rising before 9:00am was quite annoying but, out of stubbornness, I remained in my bed until 10:30am before emerging.

I am relishing this lazy day, and am determined to keep relishing it, with minimum action, until I go to see 'Ironman' at the cinema later. Ah, the relief.

Handyman, shmandyman

2008-04-27T21:10:00.000-07:00

For over a week now, I have been pestering the front desk at the hostel, to make sure they know I'm leaving and to clear up how many hours I need to work to cover my rent. I must have been down the loud, tinny steps a thousand times to try and reach Tim, the manager. It was all to no avail.

On Wednesday, I had a note on my door telling me that I should be moving out now (I wish). I had explained that I would waving 'sayonara' to this decrepit place at the end of the month. So I trawled downstairs, yet again, to remind the person on the desk. Sorted- or so I was told.

A night later, and it was Thursday. There was a more urgent 'Graham- SEE DESK ASAP' note on room #210. Less than worried, I tore the note from the door, and stormed downstairs. Still calm, but obviously irritated, I demanded what was going on. The duty manager was none-the-wiser as to what my situation was (of course, being that this same one person was the main one I had been talking to).

"You need to wait for Tim, mate," he uttered, in a perplexed tone.

"Well where is he? When is he here? Can you make sure he knows I need to see him?" I returned.

"Oh yeah, 'course I will. Sorry about the mix up, dude. He works on Monday next, so come down on Monday, and he'll sort it out."

So, less that content that it wasn't sorted on Thursday, I dragged my feet back upstairs (P.S. this was one of the main reasons my run was so long, in order to use some adrenalin and cool off.)

Saturday was the beginning of my last working weekend at the hostel. After a relaxed, yet heavy night on Friday night, I was in no mood to roll out of my pit too early, so in an act of defiance I started work at midday. At worst, I would pay $30 at the end for the hours missed in the morning.

With minimum production, I forced my way through those five hours. I performed the usual procedures- relieving floorboards of carpet, staples and nails, painting some borders, standing around. I wasn't in the right frame of mind to help out any of the management who had been swinging me around the place like David and his sling.

Today, the last day of work, the Sabbath day. Again, I struggled against the establishment and clocked on an hour late. When I got downstairs, I gently inquired about whether anyone was looking into my predicament- am I covered until Wednesday? Will I have to pay up the difference? Is Tim definitely going to be in tomorrow?

"Oh, you won't see Tim, he's gone on holiday for a fortnight." (?!)

"Well what's going to happen with my room and everything then? Is Pete (the Assistant Manager) going to be around?" I mused, obviously shocked and disturbed.

"He'll be in later, but I don't think he'll be able to help you," came the reply, from the bespectacled gnome of a desk attendant, whose name was Elvis.

I would say I was reaching the end of my tether, but I was well past that point: "Well WHO is going to sort it out then? SOMEONE needs to sort it, because I've been trying to get this straightened out for days if not weeks!"

Elvis raised his hand in a gesture of calmness, seemingly anticipating a scene. I am incapable of causing scenes, but I was reaching my composed limit. I marched upstairs, and back to my work. Today, I was varnishing floors. The fumes from the Liquid Plastic sent me into a distant demeanor- which was for the best.

Finally Pete, who I had liaised with on countless occasions, arrived at the hostel. Out of everyone, I realise this guy is a nice bloke, and I have a lot of time for him, even though he has constantly been the wall between problem and solution.

"I just have to go on what Tim has left in his notes, dude. It seems that once you work this weekend, your hours keep you paid up until Monday. So you just need to pay two more days to keep to your room to Wednesday," he said. Once he was finished reading the notes, he looked at me in an apologetic manner.

He continued, "Sorry about the confusion, man. You can have those two nights on a discount rate, so it's only $16 a night for those."

Now there's a resolution. I had prepared myself for a $60 payout, as I had gradually come to the realisation that I wouldn't be able to cover all the remaining days with my working hours. From start to finish, this final exchange took all of about three minutes. It was done without the aid of the Tim (who seems fictional to me, I have never seen his face), and used notes that haven't been updated since last Wednesday.

I breathed a sigh of gratitude and relief. Pete had gone from zero to hero. Finally I have no worries about the room, outstanding payments and anything I don't need to have anything more to do with this hostel. Three nights left....

"Operation Athlete"

2008-04-24T21:02:00.000-07:00

Phase two of ‘Operation Athlete’ is in action. Gone are the pathetic 50 minute 10,000m runs, and in their place, mammoth 2 ½ hour marathons (well, technically, half marathons). This was my bright idea tonight, after finishing work with a runny nose and tired eyes. I was inches away from not even running altogether, but my will power shone through for once, and I took to the roads.

Usually I take a run along to the sea wall, up the shore to Stanley Park, then after reaching Second Beach (which isn’t particularly far), I turn around and head back along the dead straight, albeit slightly inclined, Nelson Street. It doesn’t take an hour.

Today, as I reached my turning point, I felt a surge of commitment to the Vancouver (half) Marathon on May 4. I did my power run up the steps to the Sequoia Grill, but instead of carrying on up the track on the way to the hostel, I turned back, headed down the steps and carried on along the sea wall.

This involves circumnavigating the whole of Stanley Park. To punish myself further, I took some detours into the park, up the massive hills (sprinting) and then returning back to where I left the sea wall to continue my jog.

Without my watch, I had no sense of time, but my legs weren’t too heavy as I came around the bottom of Stanley Park, so I made a conscious decision to take a similar route to the Sun Run, over the Burrard Bridge and back over Cambie. I knew that on Sunday, this took half-an-hour at the most. But on Sunday I hadn’t already been running for an hour.

As I neared the Burrard Bridge, I reminisced about the nipple agony I had been faced on Sunday. With the adage ‘Once Bitten Twice Shy’ in mind, I had cleverly covered up the offending nipple with a massive plaster that I stole from work. It was still a little bit uncomfortable as it came to terms with Sunday’s damage, but the ‘band-aid’ was doing its job.

Then my legs (and arse) had a say in the rest of the run. I had to stop momentarily at traffic lights, and suddenly my body remembered how far it had ran, and my legs muscles decided to totally seize up. I could have turned back to the hostel at this point, which would have taken five minutes- but I wasn’t going to be beaten.

I got myself over the Burrard Bridge and knew I had to brave the pain now. Triumphantly, I saw the clock on the Molson Brewery news reel. It was 7:15, and I had left the hostel at 5:25. Almost two hours. I had finished the Cransley Half Marathon in 1 hour and 49 minutes. I now know I can do the half marathon next week.

No walking allowed- that’s my long distance motto. I don’t care if I am jogging as fast as a turtle sleeps, as long as I am technically jogging, I am happy.

I was chaffing everywhere. Almost everywhere, I should say; my nipple was holding firm. I took a wrong turn along the sea wall, which meant I had to double back, following the Cambie Bridge away from the water until I could find some steps to get up onto the bridge and actually get across False Creek.

No walking allowed. Over the incline, up to the middle of the bridge, and I could feel the pain, but knew that I could make it.

One more stretch up Nelson Street, three blocks. It was uphill, but I dug in and sped up. The traffic lights played into my hands. Each crossing was flashing red so I had to sprint to make it over the road. It was an added incentive.

Suddenly I was turning onto Granville. I had done it!

It was when I stopped running that the pain really started. My muscles seized up, I struggled up the stairs to my room, and I slumped onto the ground. With the energy I had remaining, I attempted to stretch my muscles out somewhat. I caked them in muscle re-energizer that I had been given at the Sun Run fair. I wolfed down four Weetabix with two bananas chopped off.

I’m dreading tomorrow, and the next day. I envisage myself walking like a ninety year old. Was it worth it? ‘Cause it bloody was!

Normality almost resumed

2008-04-23T17:43:00.000-07:00

Coming up to a month in my new home, all the beginnings of a normal life in Vancouver are almost in place.

I rang my new landlord yesterday, to see if I could get myself into the room on Victoria Drive sooner rather than later, still no luck.

I'm tired from the hostel. It is hard to get sleep, after work I am greeted by noise and drunkenness (at 5.15pm!) every single day. All I want now, is my own space, my own room, a kitchen that isn't always being used. Only a few days left, and then life in Vancouver will increase dramatically.

Yesterday evening, I took advantage of SWAP and attended ocean kayaking. The weather was teasing us with clouds all afternoon, but the climate was warm, and as we took to English Bay in our tandem kayaks, it was calm, sunny and perfect.

We circled the water near BC Place, past the marina and under the Granville and Cambie Bridges. We took part in a race (which Conor and I were sabotaged in), and gave my pathetic arms a good workout. Afterwards, we went for a drink, and I managed to acquaint myself with a few more SWAPers. Conor, who was in my boat, is actually from my university, and knows my ex-housemates from my student days! Was strange, chatting about Manor Quay and the Wearmouth Bridge with someone I have met 11 hours flight away!

With the Admin job becoming more autonomous by the day, I have been searching for more responsibility. I hope to get in on the training that is offered, as well as potentially get my mitts on some communications work. Fingers crossed, and hopefully a career opportunity is in the offing.

So now I wait. I attempt to rest, even though I will be working seven days again this week, and still train for my next run- The Vancouver Half Marathon! I will be an athlete after all!

Nipples and Marijuana

2008-04-20T17:33:00.001-07:00

Yet another early start this Sunday. No lazy day, filling my stomach with roast beef and watching the Grand Prix. I was up with the sparrows, fit and ready for the Vancouver Sun Run.

I took some swigs of Gatorade, attached my number (#35548) and tightened my shoe laces. I was ready with intent. After meeting with all the other Mercer (work) runners, we made our way into the ring- the starting blocks.

I was inadvertently promoted to a green start (the non-elite runners were grouped in order of speed), which worried me because I hadn't been training as hard for as long as I would have liked. After the start, I wish I could have been promoted even further as I streamed past groups who had obviously chose green so they could be nearer the front!

Waiting for the air horn to summon the beginning of the race, I was pumped full of adrenalin. I felt like Georges Saint-Pierre must have last night as he delighted Canadians with his Ultimate Fighting Championship win. A Montreal lad, born and raised in Quebec, he topped the bill as the UFC came to the Bell Centre, and Canada for the first time. The Canucks go mad for this fledgling sport, and I have caught the bug.

It was a good weekend for sport. Joe Calzaghe remains undefeated in the boxing also, doing Wales and Britain proud with his dominance of now the Light-Heavyweight division.

So, brimming with British pride and determination, I stormed off the start, hitting the 2km mark before I knew I had even begun. Touching on the south side of Stanley park, the crowds bottle-necked, which made it tough to find a rhythm and/or space to stretch into any sort of decent jog.

A steep incline turned my legs temporarily to jelly as I strained to make my way up to the Burrard Street bridge . Once across, and nearing the final quarter of the run, I was in my pace. No problems to report.

Then the chaffing started. My nipples are sensitive at the best of times, but when the salty sweat comes between these delicate parts of my body and a rough shirt bouncing up and down with my jogging rhythm, it is like a cheese-grater has been taken to my chest.

I should have learned my lessons. Last year in the Cransley Half Marathon, I had secured plasters for protection against such a problem. With this race only being 10km, I thought I would get away with it. How wrong I was.

I braved the pain, and sped on to reach the Cambie Bridge. As you come over the centre of the bridge, BC Place Stadium comes into sight. Naively thinking that now I could see the finish line, that I could begin my sprint finish, I upped the pace. With 1500m to go at this point, I was close to sickness as I crossed the line. For some reason, I asked a fellow idiot (I should say participant, but putting your body through this is idiocy), to capture the moment in digital photograph form.

Another difference from the Cransley run, was that I hadn't attached my iPod to my arm this time. To solve this problem, the organisers had thankfully stationed live music acts at intervals along the route. It was a really fun carnival atmosphere, I want to do it again!

It was a glorious feeling, crossing that line. Coming away from the melee, hoards of leaflets were thrust into my hands; First Triathlon, 8km race, Vancouver Marathon. Obviously someone has mistaken me for an athlete. There is a first time for everything!

High on adrenalin, I sailed into BC Place, where there was free snacks, drinks, live entertainment and most importantly, somewhere to lie down. I was fairly sure I would be miles ahead of the rest of the Mercer contingent, plus I didn't want to be first at the brunch, so I took my time before I headed on.

I floated on to brunch with my Mercer colleagues, at the William Tell restaurant. Since becoming a temp at the massive international firm, I have been living the corporate high-life with meetings, brunches and all the clippings. Eggs Benedict and sausages later, I retired back to the hostel to begin domestic work. Washing and drying was a boring end to an exasperating morning, but it needed to be done, and I was in a healthy and efficient mood.

While I was painstakingly taking on the Vancouver streets in the Sun Run, my hostel comrades were busy slipping into drug induced stupors. It is 4/20 Day in Vancouver. A simple name for a simple festival. Marijuana becomes effectively legal in the city for the day, and 5,000 pot-smokers light up next to the Art Gallery to celebrate their wasteful lives.

A brief recce down Granville Street was enough to convince me that I am in a vast minority of non-marijuana smokers in this area, with a purple haze hanging over the low buildings of Vancouver's downtown.

The sun still shines in Vancouver. Snow was forecast for today (would I have ran if it had? I would like to think so!), and although a stiff breeze swirls against my skin, I can still go without a coat along Granville. I'm still waiting for summer to officially kick-off, and if I'm running in all these races that I have advertised in my hand, it is going to be a healthy one!

Fever pitch in BC

2008-04-19T12:32:00.000-07:00

Sun Run fever has hit town. After work yesterday, I made my way down to the Vancouver Sun Run fair, where I collected my t-shirt, timing chip (which I am apprehensive about) and as many extra free goodies as I could get my hands on.

There was a bustle of interactive games, competition draws, pens, magnets, muscle rub...the list goes on, and all of it was gratuit. Being the intrepid man that I am, I made sure that I got my money's worth! The only problem is that my thighs are a bit sore today from exerting too much effort on the virtual bicycle race!

The training is over- I took my last practice run on Thursday, giving myself enough time to relieve all the aches and pains, and save as much energy as I can for the big day. I will be running for an important reason; the quicker I run the sooner I can have the Mercer (work) brunch!

Last night I was a 'ring-in', as the Aussies say, on a Moose Tour night out. It is a little bit like SWAP, organising visits, sightseeing and drinking binges. Even though I was the only Pom in attendance, I had some real fun. The pitchers of beer were never out of arm's reach, the potato wedges kept coming from nowhere, and the company was vibrant, fun, and typically Australian! At one point, the snow began to tear down from the skies, and the whole bar (which was 90% Australian) cleared out to witness a weather they had never experienced before. After my four months in Montreal, I wasn't so enthralled when I saw the white stuff floating through the air.

It isn't a pretty picture today. Minimal hours of sleep, followed by an early start, preceded by days of work and Sun Run training. It is a tired old body that I inhabit at the moment. Another week of the same, then I can finally move out of this hostel, into my own apartment, into peace and quiet and happiness.

For now, I will sit across from the hospitable Frenchman from Lyon, the outlandish staff, the Habs supporter with the feral hair and beard, the Glaswegian who plays his guitar (but not very well) and the hoards of quiet readers, who never say a word to anyone (I think that covers me aswell).

Summertime, and the living is easy

2008-04-13T14:04:00.001-07:00

Finally, a day of summer. After months of snow faces, icy winds, bobble hats and numb fingertips, I once again wore trousers that didn't have to go to my ankles (I call them shorts).

The ingenious idea that Steve, Jonny and I had was to stroll up to Stanley Park, hire ourselves bicycles and then conquer the unruly terrain of the urban foliage north of downtown.

Apparently, everyone else on this sunny Saturday in British Columbia had had the same idea. The bike paths were packed to the nines as we made our way around the sea wall, down to English Bay, and then further.

We had planned to go around Stanley Park, and then maybe into the centre a little bit. In the end we scaled the whole of Vancouver, including Chinatown, Gastown (and the Steam Clock) and then finally back up to the park, and the longest, steepest hill I have cycled up.

After five hours of decent sightseeing and exercise, we finished with Beaver Lake in the heart of the park, where we saw Canadian Geese, cranes and even more beautiful panoramas. This city is the home of the landscape, where at some points you see the beach, the mountains and the city all in one capture. All stark in contrast, all gathered in this fantastically laid back place.

Is this the start of summer? If there is any justice, then the answer will be yes.

Billy Nomads

2008-04-09T21:42:00.000-07:00

Even though I have been seldom exploring, travelling and discovering recently, it is not to say that I haven't been busy.

It's been all jobs, places, contacts, money, sleep, running, enrolling, researching, planning, saving, eating, walking, writing, resume-creating, telephoning, inspecting, grovelling, enlightening and frustrating.

Travelling, in general, has been the length of Granville Street to the SWAP offices, to search for homes and jobs, to telephone prospective companies and to ask advice on everything from where I should live to what I should eat for dinner.

As I extend my house searching from online to metro and bus-line, I have seen more of Vancouver, gradually creating a picture of what is where and why and how in this soggy, horizontal city. Only two apartments have I seen in reality so far, and they are as varied as I think 100 apartments would achieve.

One is in a Chinese neighbourhood, with most signs written in Han (Chinese) characters. I would be living with three Chinese computer programmers, who barely speak a word of English, but keep an impeccable household, and cook amazing meals.

The other is closer to town (not 25 minutes on the Sky Train), and in a predominantly white-Canadian area. The flatmates would be someone 'involved in the movies', and another who spends five days a week on a luxury train passing through the Rockies, serving wine and steaks to wealthy tourists.

They're similar in price, similar in size, yet the difference between Zone 2 (Chinese house) and Zone 1 (Canadian) on the transit system means over $50 on monthly bus/ Sky Train passes. I think my mind is made up. Just watch this space to see if I get my deposit in on time...

Friendly faces

2008-04-05T18:22:00.000-07:00

I receive emails from Tim, about twice a month, recalling his hilarious and ridiculous adventures in South America and now Australasia.

In these emails, I hear about how he meets one person through a schoolfriend, does another ridiculous activity with another acquaintance, and then stays in millionaire mansions with friends of a friend.

Well it was about time I got away from the beaten track of tourism, and experienced some random, enjoyable, and promising events, thanks to someone I knew (of) at school.

So I met up with Jackie last night, and enjoyed her lasagne, Libby's (pickled) salad and also her delicious fruitloaf for dessert. It was a fun dinner party, inhabited by two Brits, two Canucks and two South Africans. So it was a healthy, cosmopolitan mix, and a really fun night.

I made some friends who I hope I can get to know better over this summer. I heard promises of softball teams, music festivals and basically just fun times ahead!

We headed to a club over the water from downtown, which was a welcome alternative to the endless queues and overpricing of the main city nightlife. It was also very homely and a relaxed place, and I had to bring out my dance moves! Hope I didn't terrify anyone away!

Cheers to good times ahead!

PS. I have also been working very hard! My new job as a maintenance man means ripping up carpets, varnished and sanding floorboards, and painting ceilings. This new found vocation explains the minimal entry I have made here, because I am absolutely nackered!

Big plans for big money

2008-04-03T17:00:00.001-07:00

Today involved a number of different things- laziness, risk, confidence, tedium and hope.

Laziness

In the last entry I told how I had gone from no jobs to two jobs in a matter of hours. Well now I am back down to one. I was in the SWAP office, pondering my choices. Looking at the pros and cons of my new employment, and then at the pros and cons of being able to go on the SWAP night out tonight, I came to a conclusion. It went something like this:

Thoughts:
'The bussing job will be quite good, as long as the trade picks up, and then the tips will be better.'
'I'm hardly the most suitable man for a maintenance job, with minimal DIY experience and even less drive to do painting.'
'But I do get cheap board.'
'And with the maintenance job, I don't have to work tonight and miss the SWAP night out, therefore missing out on a chance to broaden my social circle in Vancouver.'

Risk

This was where I took my risk. I called Larry at the Sequoia Grill, and told him I had been offered a job in the hostel that was going to work out better for me e.g. less travel (true), better pay (true if tips don't improve), less rent (true). The risk involved is that the maintenance job is just a two day trial. If I am rubbish at maintenance, which I inevitably will be, I could be jobless again. The bonus is that those two days covers a weeks' rent in the hostel.

Confidence

I can get a new and better job anyway. Look at me- I have a degree, experience across the board in pubs and restaurants, call centres and any other crap summer-type job you can think of, I'm good looking (Mum and Kate can back me up on that one, if not- there'll be trouble), and charismatic (as before).

Getting a new job should be easy!

Tedium

To my credit, I did put in some valuable man-hours today. I printed off a bunch of resumes to hand out to prospective employers, I sent emails, and I also had some feedback from previous emails.

One was for a bar downtown, telling me to drop-in with my resume and talk to the manager. It was a nice place. Classy but not too posh, pricey but not overpriced. It is a place where a young man can make a lot of tips (not as much as a young lady probably, but oh well). It is a place where a young man can have fun, and make friends with other young adults.

I used all of my English 'charm' with the person that interviewed me. I included all of the watchwords that I have discovered, during my time in Canada, the natives go weak at the knees for (this includes 'rubbish', 'lovely' and 'cup of tea', although I didn't use the latter!). It seemed to work, and the manager was quite enthusiastic. I am hoping to hear from someone tomorrow about that one.

Hope

I was head-hunted for the first time in my life. God bless monster.ca, which has earned me 'real' interviews at two 'real' jobs now. The first was as a marketing assistant in Montreal. The second is as a marketing assistant in Vancouver.

A lady had seen my resume on the fabled job-search site, and called my mobile, insisting that I apply for this marketing job. At first, alarm bells were ringing. All I could see was flashbacks of my time at Anglian Windows and Conservatories, being told to 'fuck off' before I could utter one word of sales patter to unwanting customers.

I was reassured by my friendly British Columbian head-hunter Megan that it wasn't a telemarketing position, that I would be utilising my writing skills (which are what attracted her to the resume), and that I would be meeting clients face-to-face to discuss products. All very grown up, and potentially all very well paid!

-o-

Otherwise, I took some photographs of some views around the city. I have been here a week and have been lacklustre in putting my camera into action. Watch this space for uploads.

Vanny Update

2008-04-02T23:09:00.000-07:00

Before I came over to Vancouver I was mainly worried about three things:

1. Would I be able to get a job before I ran out of money
2. Would I be able to make my money last until I managed to get a job
3. Would I be able to get a job?

Well, today I expelled all of those demons, with the beginnings of a promising career in being everybody's bitch (busser) at a delectable restaurant in the heart of Vancouver's beautiful Stanley Park.

It was an honest start to the working life over here. I would be making minimum wage, rely on meagre tips (the dregs of the tips that the main servers attain), and be able to live on for a few more months.

As if this fantastic and lucrative vocation wasn't enough, I was delighted to receive a voicemail on my phone informing me that I had actually managed to land myself another job! This one was maintenance work (i.e. painting, sanding, repairing) at the Samesun Hostel, where I had been staying all week. A couple of trial days on Friday and Saturday means I won't be paying for next week's stay at the hostel, which also buys me some more time to find better jobs. Ideally, bartending or as a server (waitress) in a restaurant downtown. People here live off their tips, which would mean saving money for travelling, soaking up sun, and capturing a ridiculous amount of scenic and enviable photographs.

But for now, I have these crap jobs. As Kate would say (in her mother-tongue): "Better than nowt, petal."

Beginnings on the West Side

2008-03-31T23:04:00.001-07:00

Nearing the end of day three in Vancouver, and I have purposely been taking it easy. Don't worry, I won't make the same mistake as Toronto and naff off before I get the chance to see any of the sights, I am fairly certain I will be staying in BC for the foreseeable future!

It has been a fairly productive first few days. There has also been plenty of sitting on my arse, messing around on monster.ca, and playing NHL 2002 which I downloaded, created myself and became the best hockey player in history.

Day One was when I was feeling most sociable. I sat myself down in the bar, watched the hockey (Montreal getting panned my Toronto, dammit!), and drank myself into oblivion. Three days on the bus with deprived sleep, and then minimal food that day did nothing to help.

Needless to say, the following day was a write-off. I did manage to limp up to Stanley Park and take in some of the scenery around Vancouver, which is amazing I should add. Today was the most productive.

Fresh and recovered, finally, from the first night's festivities, I set about creating my BC life. First of all, I enquired about jobs in the hostel where I am staying, which would mean free board and therefore loads of cash!

Then on to the SWAP offices, where I ended up enrolling in the SunRun, a 10km run that takes place later on in April! It is something to work for I supposed after a snowy winter of hibernation.

In this ilk, I made my way to a place where they arrange running clinics twice a week, signed myself up and bought some flash new running trainers! So I'll be back like Paula Radcliffe in no time!

Applying for millions of jobs has been the other task enveloping me at the moment. It has been a vast and varied menagerie, from journalism internships to bar jobs to odd-job bloke. Anything that keeps me alive is good enough to begin with.

So in Van, BC, it is all good. Apart from crazy Quebecois! In my room on the first night, was a guy called Simon. He seemed nice enough at first. He (voluntarily) told me his life story, about how he loves to rap and how he is in British Columbia to learn English and spread his word and skills further. Quite commendable, I thought.

Then things began to turn sour. There was signs of it in the first conversation I had with him. He did mention that he had been here a month and didn't like it.

A couple of hours later, and evidently about a dozen cans of some cheap alcoholic fluid for Simon, I returned to the room. There I found a completely inebriated French-Canadian with not much faith in life and people.

The dialogue went something like this:

Simon: "Hey man. You are a good man. You are a nice guy."
Graham: "Err....cheers."
S: "I am a bastard. A shit. I am shit!"
G: "Er-"
S: "A shit!! Spit on me! I am a bastard. Shit on me!"

It was at this stage I recoiled into my bottom bunk bed, and Simon stumbled out into the corridor, shouting expletives at anyone passing by.

I went to sleep.

-

The time is 2:30am. Now I hear voices, and the light flicks on. I am hoping and praying that Simon doesn't talk to me and/or vomit all over my bed (which is the only eventual course of action I could see occurring).

Then I heard other voices. I slowly, and cautiously, turned round. I made an effort to make it seem that I was still asleep. Through half-closed eyes I could make out the symbol of the Vancouver constabulary! To this day, I don't know what Simon did, but to cut a long story short, he managed to argue himself from a full refund and expulsion from the hostel, to no refund and a night in the cells.

So that was Simon.

Vancouver!!!

2008-03-29T10:10:00.000-07:00

YES! I am here! In Vancouver! After only two days, 22 hours and 48 minutes I have finally touched down on the West coast. To find out exactly how it all went down, check out the specially made blog at http://gcrontheroad.blogspot.com!

Part 1- Thoughts?

2008-03-25T19:55:00.000-07:00

The first stage of my life in Canada is complete. After arriving to Toronto in November 2007, I have moved to a new city, spoke a different language (in a fashion), seen two capital cities, travelled in two countries, and worked in two different jobs.

It has been an experience worth remembering already. I have made some great friends, who I will surely see again in the future, taken up a new sport and team to support and follow, and picked up some annoying words and phrases (cellphone, eh?). But what are my overall thoughts on French Canada, Quebecois, poutine, the Habs, customer service and simple Americans?

I definitely miss some of the creature comforts of home more than I thought I would. Some examples that stand out are Marmite, family (obviously), the weather(!) and just the good old English pound.

What do I like? The cost of rent is one definite advantage. Here I am paying half, if not less, for my apartment in one of the most sought-after areas of Montreal. In Vancouver it will be more, but still not a patch on what I paid for my digs at university, and definitely not on the prices people pay for similar flats in cities further south!

Of course there were some things that are different that I didn't appreciate. With the cost of living being lower, of course minimum wage is low. The Quebec government like to take a VERY healthy share of everything I earn too. That is something that I have heard will be less in Western Canada, so it is something I am looking forward to.

Also, there is always so much change in my pocket. In England, if you have £4.76 in your pocket, you know you can go to a shop and find something for as close to £4.76 as you can get (I believe in getting my money's worth)!

On this side of the pond, if you have $4.76 clinking away on your thigh, it is any one's guess of how much you will have to pay over the label price once you get to the counter with your hand full of shiny coins and potential purchases.

The snow does become much less of a novelty after Monday-Fridays every week trudging through foot-deep white stuff to arrive at the Metro station each day.

Overall? I wouldn't change a thing over the last few months. Every dime, toonie, loonie and dollar spent has been money well spent; every sight I have seen has enriched my experiences in life, and made me grow as a person(damn it I am sounding very righteous and American now- next comes the whining on about liberty etc).

Boredom guaranteed

2008-03-25T14:37:00.000-07:00

Maybe you can't see what is written on this extensive list, but let me fill you in on what it is.

This is LESS THAN HALF of the stops that I will be making on my mammoth bus ride to Vancouver. In fact, it is still showing stops in Ontario, the second province out of five that I will be passing through.

Unsurprisingly, I am not looking forward to the three days sitting in a cramped, poorly cushioned seat, but think of the rewards at the end- VANCOUVER!

American dreams, and back in CA

2008-03-20T14:45:00.000-07:00

Quite a relaxing few days to complete my American adventure, basically just wandering around and enjoying Boston. We took a look at the 'Cheers' pubs, which was a novelty, but for the most part Kate and I just drank coffee, took in the sunshine (!) and took advantage of the cheap American prices. I acquired some sunglasses for the equivalent of £2.50, while Kate fulfilled her shoe needs with a purchase of some new boots.

The bus back to Montreal, and then on to Quebec City, was a tough one for me. Again, the bus was pretty busy, and driving through the night was hell on earth. I couldn't get comfortable, didn't get any sleep, and then when I did shut my eyes we stopped for some reason or another which woke me.

Arriving in the capital of French Canada after about 11 hours was such a relief. Back in Canada, away from the craziness of the Yanks, and back to laid-back life.

Not so. We were greeted by metres of snow. The white stuff was smacking against our faces and we were freezing. Somehow, Quebec City still manages to remain beautiful. Its old buildings (it is one of the oldest cities in North America) are quaint and rickety, and the steep roads, battlements and Gothic architecture are all reminiscent of an Alpine village.

For the first day, we had our obligatory mooch around the downtown area. We saw the main buildings that we needed to see, such as some of the cathedrals, and the Chateau Frontenac. After a fantastic meal, we then retired back to the hostel- which is quaint and classy itself- for a beer (something Kate hasn't been legally able to consume for the past 15 days).

Today was a bit more energetic. We were up early for some skidooing (otherwise known as snowmobiling). It was quite nerve wracking, with a $1000 deposit on the line! Also, rather than be shown how to do anything, we were basically patted on the back and sent on our way! The tracks were confusing, we became stuck at least twice, took the wrong turn, and incessantly felt that we were going to tip the whole thing over. Other than that, the time spent on the machine was exhilarating! The course wasn't just a flat, easy track. There were turns, steep inclines and declines, and uneven terrain for us to manoeuvre over.

Thankfully, we didn't damage anything, so our bank balances weren't cleared out. We made our way back to the hostel, and now we have been recuperating back at the hostel. Quebec is a quiet city, and I think that both of us were ready for a less hectic place where we could gradually take in all the sights, rather than rush around trying to see everything.

So tomorrow it is back to Montreal, and then the worst bus journey of them all- three days to Vancouver.

Top o' the mornin'

2008-03-16T18:09:00.000-07:00

Actually, we weren't quite feeling "top o' the mornin'" when we woke up three hours earlier than usual this morning, to catch an early bus to Boston.

We had timed our visit to Massachusetts perfectly, because it was that popular Irish holiday- Saint Patrick's Day! The fact that we were in the Irish capital of America made it even better. No sooner had we dropped our bags off in the 'downtown' H.I. Hostel (which was in reality was a fair old subway ride out of the centre), than we were directed to 'Southie' and suddenly we were amongst hoardes of drunken Americans clad in Shamrock green.

The parade was fun, even if after the novelty of backflipping Leprechauns and novelty buses full of cheerleaders wore off we were just surrounded by wasted idiots. We had our fill of the fun, and then headed to Boston Common for some more relaxed pasttimes.

The city centre is a world away from the hectic climes of New York. Finally we could walk in a straight line down the path, without fear of being solicited or bumped into; we could hear eachother's voices without the sound of sirens of building work drowning us out; and we could buy a coffee and actually have somewhere to sit in the cafe we had purchased it!

New York was enjoyable, but for someone from the Midlands, where you turn the street corner and you are surrounded by a herd of cows or fields of corn, the in-your-face nature of the Big Apple can become a bit irritating after a while.

Boston seems a much more quiet and quaint place. It is also more upmarket. Most of the restaurants have valet parking, and the Common is littered with wealthy old couples walking their immaculately trained canines.

Both Kate and I have commented that we actually miss Canada though! We'll be back there in a few days, and it is strange, because it is a feeling of yearning for home that I have. I think I will enjoy Boston, MA, however, and am particularly looking forward to the 'Cheers' pub tomorrow!

Bye to the Knicks and Rangers, "hello" Celtics and Bruins

2008-03-15T18:13:00.000-07:00

Finally, the five days here in New York have come to a close, and I am back in the hostel preparing for my early start tomorrow morning for Boston.

The last couple of days have been less 'touristy', with yesterday being designated boredom day for me. Kate wanted a day of shopping and who was I to deny a bargain-hungry shopaholic?

So we visited all the retail highlights- which were 'enthralling'. Macy's, H & M and no end of handbag shops were our stops. In the end, however, it was me who spent more, stocking up on pants and socks and replacing my battered, tatty old shoes with a cheap replacement.

Today was more exciting. We stayed in one place- Central Park. The area is quite substantial, but we made a good effort to cover it all. I had the summer feeling, with the sun beating down, roller disco happening on the main promenade, and the sound of children's laughter throughout as they swung on swings, ran everywhere and played football with their adoring parents.

To try and take in as much of the park as possible, Kate and I opted to hire bicycles for an hour. We managed to cover the whole bike-track in the park, atop strange 'cruiser' cycles. They took some getting used to as the brakes were not on the handlebars, but to slow down you basically cycled backwards.

As we haven't exercised in what must be months, we were readily exhausted at the end of the cycle route. That didn't stop us having a mandatory break at Starbucks, and then (slowly) edging back down the fourty-odd blocks to our hostel.

We stopped off a what was advertised as "the best burger place in New York", and it seemed so!Brgr was a diner-type place, which promoted clean, local produce and tasted great!

I have to admit that I have had enough of the non-stop nature of New York now. The food is great, and the sights are fantastic. Could I live here? No. It does get frustrating that you can't walk in a straight line down the road; you are constantly dodging tourists, artists shoving their CDs in your face, promotion workers asking you endlessly if you like comedy and free beer, beggars asking for spare change; and on top of that always keeping an eye on your wallet to see if it is still there. If the amount of sights to see don't get you tired, then all the extra bother will!

I'm looking forward to Boston now. It is a little quieter, a little more pictureque, and hopefully the sun will keep on shining!

Biting the Big Apple

2008-03-13T21:19:00.001-07:00

Past halfway in my whistle-stop tour of the Big Apple, and this is the first chance I have had to take a breath (no, I won’t be featuring in The Colour Purple; it’s a figure of speech).

I have just got back to the hostel, which is small but has everything we need, after a fantastic night on Broadway. Following much deliberation, waiting in the cheapo tickets queue for two hours, Kate and I decided on teenage spectacular Rent. It was a tough choice, and taken with a heavy heart because of the disappointment of Les Miserables not being in town.

In the end the show turned out to be brilliant. The music, the voices, and the storyline were all captivating, powerful and, at times, heartbreaking. I will spare the details of the show, but I would recommend anyone to go and see it (especially ahead of overblown Disney theatre remakes).

Broadway is just a small portion of what we have crammed into the first few days in NYC, and still the activities are coming thick and fast. This city is like no other; it dwarfs anything I have seen before- London, Paris and Berlin included. You can’t cover downtown in a day or two, like in Montreal and Washington, and you can’t see all the buildings that you need to see over a weekend. We have given it a good effort, though!

Even on budget, we have been busy on our feet. We took in all the big sights, such as the Rockefeller Tower and Empire State Building-which offered magnificent views of the sky-scraper fest of Manhattan. The Statue of Liberty was also a Western world ‘must-see’ which has now been ticked off the list, and the sombre atmosphere of Ground Zero was somewhat a harrowing experience as we remembered the events of 2001.

So it has been a touristy affair in the Big Apple so far. One thing that we never saw coming was our attendance in the audience for one of the biggest TV shows in America- The Late Show with David Letterman! We were approached on the street by a typically over-enthusiastic Yank, who asked us an apparently simple trivia question about the show to qualify us for a seat the following day. With both of us having an inherent lack of knowledge about American chat-shows, we took a wild stab at the answer, and lo-and-behold, we were right!

So the next day, there we were in the CBS studio, within feet of Charlize Theron, Paul Schafer and Dave Letterman himself. It was great fun as a host of comedians ‘warmed us up’ before the show, and then they had us clapping to live music, and then over laughing to every joke that was uttered forth. It was strange, but the more I faked laughed the more jolly I became!

It has definitely been an action packed few days- again- and it will surely be another packed bunch of days as we head off to Boston and then onto Quebec City. In between the cups of Starbucks’ white chocolate mocha the photographs and holiday moments will be coming thick and fast.

Cheese Steak and Navajos

2008-03-10T20:19:00.001-07:00

Another day, another (few) dollar(s) in the U.S. of A.

The last day in Washington had promised to be a bit of a mooch, making sure we ticked off all the 'must sees' in the city, but instead it opened up a can of worms that we wish we could have seen! We took a walk along the other side of the Mall this time, and first of all we wandered into the Botanical Gardens. It was quite interesting, actually- I'm hardly the budding botanist but there was plenty to see.

The find of the afternoon was the American Indian History Museum. It was so interesting learning about all the tribes and how they now integrate into society. In the end Kate and I had to drag ourselves away in order to make sure we got the rest of the day done. We took a last look at the White House, and then prepared for another day of travelling to follow.

Today, we got the early bus to Philadelphia. All I knew we had to see was the Liberty Bell, and the Rocky Steps. First things first, I donned my grey jogging suit and charged up the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art with as much 'Eye of the Tiger' as I could muster!

When we had done messing about, we walked back into the centre of Philadelphia, where we embarked upon a history lesson about the United States. First we saw the Liberty Bell, and learned that it actually played quite a crucial part in the revolution, and in many movements since (e.g. Women's Suffrage, Black Civil Rights). Then we went on to see where the Declaration of Independence was signed, where George Washington himself had strode and won and beat the English etc. Philadelphia was actually a real find, and I wished we could have stayed longer.

We managed to fit in visits to the grave of Ben Franklin, the oldest inhabited street in America and of course we had to eat ourselves a Philly Cheese Steak Sandwich! It was so good, words can't even describe.

Now we're in the Big Apple, ready to embark on the next six action packed days of adventure!

Chillin' with George

2008-03-09T08:57:00.000-07:00

We arrived in Washington at about 11am on Friday morning. It was such a relief to be off that bus. Rather than take the metro to our hostel, following the direction we had been given, we took the lazy option and paid for a taxi instead.

We were glad for the decision, because our driver was a pool of knowledge. He told us which metro stops we should use, where to go for food, where to go for attractions- pretty much everything you could think of about the capital of the United States of America.

After getting to the hostel which although located in the outskirts of the city, and appeared to be a home for down-and-outs, wasn’t too bad for the price we were paying. It was just over the road from the metro into town, and the beds weren’t too uncomfortable.

On the first day we just went for a wonder around. We got off at the Union Station metro stop, and were bowled over with the grandeur of all the buildings. As we stepped out of the massive train station, and admittedly into the rain, we could see Capitol Hill. I was a bit building-struck (like star-struck but for famous buildings) and it was even more impressive as we got closer. We would have stayed longer to admire the architecture, but the weather was a problem.

As the rain kept pummelling down, we braved a quick look at the White House, where I was in awe once again, and also took some photographs of the Washington Memorial, which was striking with the lights and angry sky as a backdrop.

We stayed inside and tried out the American movie theatre experience. Apparently it isn’t rude to keep talking through films over here, and shout things at the screen like “dang!” and “oh no she did not just do that!”

We had an early night on our first evening, because we had so little sleep the night before.

Day two was more of the same. Finally we had some weather which wasn’t freezing or snowing, and we loved it! We revisited the Capitol, admiring all the spectacular government buildings along the way. We sat for coffee in garden of the National Gallery of Art, which left us in a relaxed mood with the sounds of jazz in our ears, and calm from observing all the sculptures in the garden, which surrounded a quaint ice-rink.

For the rest of the day we took in the entire Mall. It is the vast stretch of grass, monuments and lakes between the Capitol and the Lincoln Memorial. It doesn’t seem much when you can see from one end to the other, but it took us hours! The World War Two memorial was a sight. It had only been created in 2004, and symbolised all those lives lost in the war of 1939-45. We made our way up to the Lincoln Memorial, passing the pool of reflection, which looked like stormy seas in the wind.

We observed President Abraham sitting in his seat, with the words of the Constitution to his left and his own speech to his right. The view from the steps of his Memorial was enough to take in almost the whole city. It was a stark contrast to the high rise of New York, with no skyscrapers to be seen at all.

After we had seen all the memorials and buildings, we had to eat. As we sat with our ridiculously large portions of chicken wings, hummus, club sandwich and Caesar salad, we were amazed at what happened next. Wave after wave of policemen went past, closing off the road that was running next to the restaurant. And then there were black jeeps, police motorcycles (in pairs) and then a particular Presidential motorcade! It was quite a feeling to be close to the most famous (or infamous) man on the planet for just a brief moment!

Blackpool's Big Brother

2008-03-09T08:55:00.000-07:00

With disturbed sleep, and a slight alcohol headache, we decided to catch a later bus than first planned to Niagara Falls.

It was for the best in the end, because Niagara was a ghost town. It resembled Blackpool, with all the attractions cold and empty, waiting to be glorified by the summer and the hoards of tourists once again. The hotels and rides were also looking a little decrepit and rusty. Add this to the reams of souvenirs shops that appeared tired, and which were also closed, and the ‘Blackpool look’ was complete.

Once we had walked from the town down to the Falls themselves, we took all the mandatory photographs and then basically had about two-and-a-half hours to kill. We went behind the falls, but where we would have seen the might torrents crashing down, we saw bubbles of ice.

We searched for somewhere to get a coffee, but everywhere was closed. Eventually we got to Tim Horton’s, and even that closed it doors on us when it didn’t realise we hadn’t left yet! The highlight of that part of our adventure was that I actually won on the Tim Horton’s ‘Roll the Rim to Win’ promotion! Okay, so it was just another coffee, but it was a moral victory all the same.

Once we had surpassed enough time in Niagara to wait for the bus, we headed back to the station. The bus was nearly 1 ½ hours late. In the meantime we had to contend with a rude station attendant, a drunk, racist hick and a young, single mother. So the comparisons with Blackpool continue.

Once we actually got on the bus to Buffalo, we were finally on our way to America. Customs did their best to make us miss our transfer for the bus to Washington, and once we actually did arrive in Buffalo, the differences between Canada were obvious.

Instantly Kate and I felt a bit more unsafe, and even the bus driver warned us, “don’t go outside in Buffalo. I’m not saying it’s bad, but Buffalo is Buffalo.” We didn’t go outside.

The New York bus was absolutely packed. We managed to get a seat next to the sloshing noises of the restroom and the banging of the broken door. Also, there was motor-mouth Jones on his cell phone in the seat next to us, and a girl who was doing wonders for Britain’s credibility down the bus. She was a typical prima-dona with her inflatable neck cushion and eye-mask to sleep. Also, she marched around the petrol-station when we stopped half way like she owned the place. She got on my nerves to say the least.

The 16 hours that we spent on buses between Niagara and Washington was tough. We were cranky, sleep-deprived and insanely bored. However, it was all made worth as we came into Manhattan for our New York transfer. The sun was rising up on the horizon and all the buildings were silhouetted in a brilliant pink sky. It was a sight, and the first time ever that I was pleased that I was awake at six o’clock in the morning.

Back in Big T.O.!

2008-03-09T08:49:00.000-07:00

Plenty has happened since I left the shores of Ile-de-Montreal. I’m in a new country, new atmosphere, and new weather!

First stop on Kate and my marathon bus tour was Toronto. We had planned to see Mat and Caroline the day after we arrived, but as we came downstairs in the Global Backpacker’s Hostel, there was Mat (half-cut I think), and so we caught up for lost time that night! It was almost as if I hadn’t been away, even though I had only been in Toronto for a few nights the time before.

The next day was when we started our hardcore tourism (which is still continuing here in Washington, D.C.). First stop was the CN Tower, which had been my biggest oversight when I was whisked off to Montreal when I first arrived. The worst part about this attraction was a glass floor at the top, which you could stand on. Kate thought it was hilarious that I felt sick every time I placed a foot on it, and glanced down at the sheer drop (possibly to my death).

After the tower, we strolled along Front Street, past all the stadiums (Rogers Centre for baseball, Air Canada Centre for basketball and hockey), and then on to the Hockey Hall of Fame. Kate wasn’t too interested, as you can imagine, but I was in my element on the interactive games and looking at all the memorabilia. Highlights included the Wayne Gretzky section, the actual Stanley Cup, and the mock Montreal Canadiens dressing room.

In the evening we all went round to Mat’s house, which he had only moved into a few nights before. We ordered in two massive pizzas and met his housemate Patrick. It was a late night and Nanny Kate and I struggled the next day to get our bus to Niagara Falls.

T-minus deux jours!

2008-03-02T19:57:00.000-08:00

Another weekend of celebrations, and actually a tinge of sadness as I cleared my desk, Jerry Maguire-style (minus the goldfish), and began to pack my life back into the rucksack from whence it came.

I opted for overtime for the last three days of my working week. Incredibly, the task of selling cosmetic surgery consultations is surprisingly fun, and the commission I was racking up made it all the more enjoyable!

After I said my goodbyes to all the MyChoice Medical colleagues, I aimed to make the most of my final weekend in the snowy plains of QC. Saturday morning was spent watching Arsenal scrape a draw against Villa, the afternoon was whiled away by packing up my room, and then I saved the fun for the evening.

Down in Vieux-Montreal, far and away my favourite part of the city, was the second and final week of the Winter Festival. The fireworks began at 8:00pm; Allie, Erica, Marg and I arrived at 7:59pm. It was all tres impressive! Hot chocolate laced with Baileys, marshmallows roasted over the open fire (just like in the Cub Scouts), maple syrup lashed onto the snow (to create syrup lollies), and strange men dressed in ape suits crowd-surfing from the stage (don't ask, I didn't understand the French master of ceremonies and just accepted that this was normal French-Canadian behaviour)!

Also, savoured some more typical French-Canadian cuisine, including my last Poutine in this icy province, and a beaver tail. It has a definite Scottish flavour- it was deep fried- and smothered with banana slices and chocolate sauce. Gorgeous.

Kate, fresh from four whole hours of sleep the night before, came round on Sunday and we were back down to the Old Port. Important things first- hot dog combo. Afterwards, we got ourselves in the queue, amongst the hordes of Spanish, snow-ball throwing toddlers (and their parents). We collected our sleds and got ourselves onto that amazing ice-slide! My coxsix took a battering on the way down, it was so bumpy- plus I was trying to go as fast as possible. It was all over in a second, and we weren't queuing up for another half hour, so we got ourselves a well earned coffee, then continued with the festivities.

Further down the hill, past an overlooking Jacques Cartier (statue), we saw energetic South American women on their tam tams, a kind of bongo drum. We partook in this other strange photo booth thing also, which had strange accessories for us to wear. Kinky feather bowers, jesters hats and sequined, rouge top hats were all at our disposal for the apparently pointless exercise. It was free though, so we took advantage.

Another twinge of sadness once we got back to the apartment, after a gorgeous Boccacino's dinner (and cheap- gladly paid for by the Valentine's Day vouchers I had won). Marg and Allie handed me my leaving present. It was a t-shirt from a snazzy made-to-order t-shirt shop downtown. On the front it has a poutine, of course, and on the back, four numbers that will be immortalised forever- 6767 (Rue St. Denis).

I'm now on borrowed time in Montreal. Technically I am homeless after my lease ran out on the 29th of February. Tomorrow, I will finally go to the Jean Talon market- a place that was mentioned to me after about one day of being here- and then on Tuesday.......travels!

Time is slipping away

2008-02-24T16:33:00.001-08:00

With only a week and a couple of days before I leave Montreal for sunny climes of Vancouver, I am wracking my brains to make sure I have been to each and every place I can go in this great city.

So this afternoon I took a little trip down to where they held Expo '67 and the home of the Canadian GP- Circuit Gilles Villeneuve. For the circuit, there wasn't that much to see, just a layer of snow, but the architecture and pieces of work that littered the area were pretty interesting.

Plus the sun was just setting which glazed everything in a peaceful brilliance. Great pictures to be had! I'll be damned if I leave Montreal and then find out there is some amazing place that I need to go to!

More titbits of stuff I done (not to be mistaken for TimBits, the beautiful multipack of donuts from Tim Hortons)

2008-02-24T11:23:00.000-08:00

Had a little goosey-gander at the Winter Festival yesterday. It helped to take up some of my time on my day off, it got me into clothes that weren't the ones I slept in, and got me breathing air that wasn't stagnant and smelly.

It was actually a recce to see if it would be worth Kate and I having a look down in Vieux-Montreal next week, and I am pleased I went! I got to cook my own 'saucisse' over an open log fire, and I have big ideas for next weekend's outing.

There was a massive ice-slide! I don't care if it was mostly seven-to-twelve-year-olds queuing up for the chance to race down the 150m shoot, next week I'll be there as excited as the rest of them! Not least because it will be two days before America too!!

Here's a picture:

Criminal record?

2008-02-22T18:15:00.000-08:00

Paid my fine on Wednesday. And I won't pretend for one minute I'm happy about it. That's Empire State, Liberty Island, Boston Red Sox, White House, Niagara Falls, CN Tower money!

Commission, commission, commission!....errr, not that much yet actually

2008-02-22T17:31:00.000-08:00

A week of taking calls as part of the new job, booking the cosmetic surgery consultations, was full of promise. The dollar signs were in my eyes as I added up how many millions of bucks I would be making from a billions of sales- I have the silky English accent, how could it go wrong?

Well, it turns out you still need to be good at sales to make sales, you can't just rely on regurgitating the script and wait for the money to roll in. By Wednesday I had picked up on some better sales patter, mainly by copying Ashley 'Sales Machine' Ma on the computer next to me! So I got some credit scores under my belt ($5), some post dates (potentially $15 each) and then got that elusive 'Full Down' booking today ($20, with all the money down TODAY)!

So there will hopefully be a semi-sizable cheque coming my way when the commissions are paid out. This will be needed to cover my expenses next weekend when we celebrate Allie's birthday, and my leaving!

There is a Winter festival this weekend and next in the Old Port, which will be good, honest, cheap fun! Up until then, the weekly highlights have been few and far between. Lots of book reading, giving poor advice, and fumbled attempts at sales. Although I did find someone (Tonii) who has the same birthday as me!!!!! I'll tell you the full excited story over dinner sometime.....(naaat).

A week in the life of...

2008-02-16T09:14:00.000-08:00

This week resembled more of a normal week in the life of Graham Reid. For the most part, it consisted of catching the metro to work and back, and then to save my own sanity I made sure a spattering of fun was put in there.

I started training for my 'promotion' this week. So from being a lowly Customer Service Representative, I am now a consultation scheduler for cosmetic surgeons all over the United States.

It was a fun training- just a small group of five, and we had fun learning all the new software and about all the procedures we would be selling! Plus we managed to have plenty of unscheduled breaks thanks to set-up problems and the way the chips fell.

I was also lucky for prizes this week. Earlier in the week, I had won the work version of the gameshow Jeoperdy (questions about the job, obviously), which earnt me an extra break (on top of all the other extra breaks). Then on Thursday, I won the Valentine's day draw and won myself a cutlery set and $40 vouchers for a restaurant downtown! I was considering purchasing a lotto ticket, to see if this week of luck continues.

On Tuesday, the metro was so full, and it was going to take so long going back, that I decided to give myself an evening of entertainment. So I went to see Golden Compass at the IMAX cinema. It was cheap Tuesday, so I spent next to nothing, and the film was pretty good actually! There is a more complete review of my thoughts on http://grahamreid.blogspot.com/.

Then on Wednesday, I needed another break from the mundane, so Mark and I got ourselves out on the town for a few beers with the hockey on (this was after a few vodkas with lychee liquor at his apartment!). In the end it was a quiet affair but still good to get out of the house!

Lastly, I received a proper freelance journalist pay cheque this week for the first time in Canada! It was quite random really, but late on Thursday night I got an email from a bloke I had been talking to back in November, who wanted some copy editing and fast. It was a relatively easy task, and some easy money (which I desperately need!).

So here I am, Saturday morning(ish). I had got up early because I knew that Premiership football is on at 10am on Saturdays. But it's only the bloody FA cup weekend isn't it....

The BioDome and the Pancake Day from Hell!!

2008-02-10T11:49:00.000-08:00

I haven't been too busy recently, but when I get visitors (a recurring one, from Mont Tremblant, actually) I have to make sure we can do something fun, even on the shoe-string budget we both have!

So this time when Kate came back to the city, we took as visit to the last touristy place that I think I needed to see- the old Olympic stadium complex and BioDome. The Olympic stadium wasn't much to look at to be honest, just a garish 1970s architectural masterpiece, with an observation tower that wasn't much higher than the third-story apartment I live in.

The BioDome was fun, though. It was cheap, just $13, and we got plenty of good times out of it! There were four different climates, in four different rooms. In the first room, there was a rainforest awash with parrots, monkeys, crocodiles, fish and lush greenery. The small monkeys dangled down from the branches just above our heads, and some of the exotic birds invaded our walkway!

Room two took us into the forests of Northern Canada, where the Otters were the stars of the show. They glided through the water with brilliant grace, and then curled up in their hole and were like 'ikkle cuddly kittens!

Room three was a water one, which we soon got through because there were seagulls circling over our heads, and they looked like they were pretty full and might need to offload something pretty soon! So we moved onto room four in the Arctic where the penguins were brilliant! There was one which had gone mental because of the captivity we think, but once it stopped whacking its head on the glass it got to swimming and was awesome!

So we had a very busy afternoon! Back home in the house, Kate and I inspected the melted lino in the kitchen, which I had actually created the day before. Shrove Tuesday meant pancakes, and Kate bought all the ingredients in.....our mix was PERFECT, I promise! I blame the pan, but the mix just stuck to the hot surface and became a gooey pile. It still tasted good, but I am the only one that can vouch for that now.

So when I went to flip the gooey pile, the handle of the pan decided to make a break for freedom, and the pan when flying! After getting over the initial shock of the pan breaking, the secondary shock was that the blistering hot metal frying pan had stuck itself to the linoium floor!

Needless to say, I had some apologising to do when the others got back. Is that the thanks I get for trying to be a whizz in the kitchen? I'll stick to my beans and cheese on toast from now on.

Go Habs Go!!!

2008-01-31T18:39:00.001-08:00

Before I came over to Canada, I had endured a general disdain for Americans (that's the United States variety), and I had thought that maybe being over the pond would somewhat expel the preconceptions I had about the fat stupid Yanks. How could I be so wrong.

Now, I had never lumped Canadians and Americans together, so don't take offence any canucks! And also, I am not singling out any Americans in general, but I speak from experience.

Working at the only Anglophone place in the whole of Montreal (a pathetic call centre), I deal daily with American and Canadians who have, granted, been 'duped' into making payments for memberships they never had.

But where the Canadians who call up actually have some idea of what day it is and of whats going on in their bank accounts (i.e. the first anomoly they notice they call their bank about), Americans are forever not checking their credit payments and end up paying the memberships for YEARS before they notice!

PS The job is rubbish, but I need money to pay for my 2 week holiday in, yes you guessed it, America!

On a more fun and non-related note, I went and sampled a bit of proper Canadian culture on Tuesday.

It was the hockey, and the Habs (Montreal Canadiens) versus the Caps (Washington Capitals). After much impressive celebration and light-work before the start, the game was eventually underway. The Habs dominated and won 4-0. Kate and I were waving and cheering all the way through with our Gladiator-esque foam hands!

It was a quality Christmas present, and we had our hot dogs, massive 'soda' and then returned to Britishness afterwards with a pint of Tetleys and glass of wine!

My campaign to educate Kate and the world of film is now underway. In recent weeks she has been sat through Land Before Time and Sister Act, and there is a list longer than my arm of films she needs to see! It will keep me occupied until our three week holiday to America and then Quebec City, which we booked up yesterday!!!

In other news, I finally made it around the art galleries in Montreal. I've been in this brilliantly cultural city for nearly three months now, and I had been meaning to do it for so long! The art was very good. The Beaux (Fine) Arts Museum had much more to offer than the celebrated Musee D'Art Contemporaine, but I didn't pay a dime for either so pound for pound they were definitely worth it!

Nation's Capital

2008-01-13T15:34:00.000-08:00

New Years was a quiet but enjoyable one with the Appleby's. Since then its been nose-to-the-grind-stone with my new job starting on 7th January.

A week in the classroom, learning more pointless skills about telemarketing that I will never need come my 'real' job, but met some more Canadians, changed my plans for later in the year yet again, and got fined $210 goddam dollars for using a student pass in the metro!

The highlight since making the last entry was taking a trip to Ottawa yesterday. Kate and I got the 9am bus, which took about two hours. Kate was a bit bored to say the least, as I talked about sport from start to finish with my new friend JB (Jean Baptiste, I think). We arrived in the capital city at about 11.15am, and went straight for the parliament buildings. We took in the free tour, learnt about all the politics stuff and looked at some pretty views and rooms- all the same things as back home really!

Afterwards, we walked around and got a carriage ride from a bloke who was more concerned with talking about gay bars and whipping cars than he was about Ottawa!

Keeping the budget low, the next thing we did was go to the Notre Dame cathedral (my third Notre Dame in three months), which had over $100,000 worth of gold on the roof! Nice and free for us to see of course! Then on to the National Art Gallery (...foyer, it costs to go inside) and then to the Royal Mint.

We really liked the place though. It was smaller than Montreal, but beautiful, quiet and the bars were trendy with cool music (mostly British!). Kate and I had ourselves a dinner in a bar and grill place (named Cornerstone maybe?) but then we had to get ourselves back to the bus station to finish off our day.

Pleased with Ottawa! Might even have to go back there...watch this space!

"Did I tell you the one about the guy at the fancy dress shop....?"

2007-12-30T11:19:00.000-08:00

Back home (yes, I now call Montreal home!) after an exhilirating, relaxing, exciting and calm week dans Mont Tremblant.

I arrived on Saturday, to the beauty of Tremblant. It is almost a make-believe village, everything too perfect to be real. No litter on the streets, no beggars (thank God! Take note, Montreal) and everything in a pretty, wooden, vanilla style. Kate and I were not in the mood for anything strenuous, so steaks and films were our choice (not forgetting Cheetos and ice cream). We knew we had a tiring Holiday week ahead of us- for me, skiing and enjoyment; for Kate, work and tabards!

My first taste on the piste was my lesson on the 'Magic Carpet' on Sunday. I aced the class, only falling down once! I was going to have to get used to being on my arse these few days. In the afternoon Kate and I braved the torrential rain and sleet and hit the big ones! More time was spent on the ground and, without salopettes, my jeans took a battering.

Shivering and freezing, avec our Moccacino Grande's, we were surprised by the Appleby family. I had to admit I was a bit apprehensive about meeting them all at once, in an unfamiliar setting, and invading Christmas at the same time- but I needn't have worried.

The abrupt introduction didn't give me a chance to worry about my first impressions, but they were all so friendly, that I was comfortable straight away. We made our way back to the 'Log Cabin', where we set the fire going and set about demolishing the food that Dad Ian had bought and cooked. Over the next few days I would mange on some fine meals, including curry, Christmas roast chicken, pasta and beef casserole-yummy!

Dinner came complete with Ian trying out his menagerie of pathetic jokes, much to the distaste of his children. Personally, I think it takes guts to try such rubbish comedy, and it was so rubbish I think it worked! It reminds me of the pathetic jokes I come out with myself.

The Log Cabin was gorgeous. I experienced my first bath in months, where Mister Bubble "made getting clean almost as much fun as getting dirty". In this instance- where getting dirty meant five days of skiing down beautiful, icy, powder snow- it was a tall order, but Mister Bubble did the trick, soothing my aching thighs with bubble-gummy goodness.

Christmas came and went with a whisper, but it was overcome by the fact that I was just having too much fun on the slopes! After a couple of days I even tried out a blue run (one step up from bottom) and to begin with it was terrifying, but gradually the confidence grew. I never managed to go a day without a fall though, so it means I HAVE to get back up to the slopes soon (what a chore!)

Back in Montreal now though, minus many many dollars, but very happy with the way Christmas with the Applebys went off! Next week will be more of the same avec my inherited family, with possibly ice skating down at the Old Port, and tonight, more IMAX joy with Kate. Bring on 2008!

Play hard, work hard(ish)

2007-12-19T15:13:00.000-08:00

If there is one reason why someone should come to Canada, then having a naked Angelina Jolie coming out of the cinema screen at you is it.

Okay, so it was a computer generated screen and I was wearing ridiculous sunglasses akin to Jarvis Cocker, but the IMAX on Rue Sainte Catherine is well worth the money! Allie, some Frenchies and I all went down yesterday to watch Beowulf, where I proudly declared the plethora of British actors in the production. It was cheap day and a ticket, massive popcorn and a coke came to the princely sum of $8 (about £4). The bonus of the film being in 3D (my first experience outside of the basic introduction at DisneyLand Paris in about 1993) just made the evening all the better for me.

Outside of that, the job searches go on, and I look to have landed an upgrade of the telemarketing job I already have. It's almost the same thing, yet I will be gettin paid $2 an hour more, plus a commission at the end of the month. It's all extra for the America savings!

It just means I now have even less enthusiasm for my current job. The insurance sales are going down and, let me tell you, it really bothers me (note sarcasm). I want money, but not boredom! Is that too much to ask?....Yes? Okay, I'll shut up then

In other news, forty centimetres of snow fell the other day, and there is now LOADS of snow. But I found out that the snow "Isn't sticky enough to roll into a snowman" (Seguin, A 2007), so I have to be content with watching it and not playing with it.

The Christmas Postman

2007-12-12T22:29:00.000-08:00

Anyone remember that book with all the letters in it, I think it was just either called 'The Jolly Postman' or there was a 'Christmas Postman' edition. Anyway, he used to travel to all the fairytale characters' friends and give them letters from different ones (i.e. the three pigs sent a letter to the big bad wolf etc.)

OK, the point I'm making is not just the fact that I still think about children's books and want them for Christmas even though I am supposed to be a fully grown adult (yeah, right), but also the fact that I have been awaiting my own jolly postman for the past three days- and not to much avail!

No, not Santa, but the jolly UPS man swang by yesterday with an extremely valuable package containing my laptop (but more importantly, MARMITE!!). Not once, but twice I missed him, eventually wasting a whole day today sitting in my new Montreal Canadiens t-shirt and pyjama bottoms.

But I got my package! The annoying thing was that I also missed another package- again from Blighty, but how? I was sitting attentively listening for the doorbell to ring ALL day, how could I possibly now have to wait for another package! Well I pick it up tomorrow, another job for me to do!

Ah it's stressful living in a new country I tell you. My ridiculously boring telemarketing job takes up my evenings, soon to be full-time (help!), but I just have to think about what brilliant things I have coming up and it spurs me on!

Kate has been a great help in all of this. Firstly, she is putting herself through hell, taking what sounds like a BSc in Cleaning Studies up in Mont Tremblant- just so I can crash the Appleby Christmas bash up in the slopes. It also saves me a bucket on hostel costs, thanks Nanny (I'm making that name stick you know!)!

Next, she has me excited about our plans en Etats-Unis in March! On further investigation, it turns out that bus tickets can be obtained for peanuts in Canada (actual peanuts are not legal tender, by the way), and so our round trip of Boston, New York, Philadelphia and Washington is more than affordable!

Pre-Christmas Christmas day was had on Sunday. That was when I received my new t-shirt, pyjamas and a killer tie to go with my killer shirt, shoes and interview technique. The Christmas/Hannukah tree is fantastic, adorned with garden lights, fake lilys, and tiny shiny disco balls-what could be any better? Not to mention the rainbow coloured balcony lights which lead me home on the freezing (five minute) trek from the metro every evening!

My job interview on Monday went alright I think. It was for a Content Writer, and seeing as I kind of did a degree in that sort of thing you would hope I am alright at it! Acqeous Cleaning Machinery does sound exhilirating I do have to admit, and the experience could do me well for later on! Plus it means more bucks for my travels, so, fingers crossed for me people!

The SWAP lot are making contact on the internet (need I mention Facebook at this juncture?), which means I have someone to hit the bars with this weekend. Still not many Canadians in my circles yet!

Now I have my laptop I can get back to learning French. The 'Time to Reflect' jingle does absolutely do my head in, but nevertheless I must stop procrastinating and start making some headway into the language of the locals.

Now less than two weeks until the real jolly postman stops by! Which means 13 more chocolates from my GIANT advent calendar (thanks Kate!) to scoff! See you soon Santa!!!

New city, new home

2007-12-01T13:35:00.000-08:00

The travels have ended for the time being. I have set up roots in a cheap and cheerful flat not far from downtown Montreal, on what must be the longest road in the city- St. Denis.

My room is sparse at the moment, but that will soon change. This is the strangest feeling so far, that I am now 'living' in Montreal. The holiday is over, the working hours will increase, and the parties and restaurants will do the opposite.

Today is December 1st, the OFFICIAL start of the Christmas season (take note, retailers), and my giant advent calendar (thanks Kate!) has been violated for the first time! Plans for Christmas are still a bit awry, dependent on work, friends, money- you know, the usual concerns. Even if I end up in Montreal, it will still be a good experience avec la nege et la froid!

I have discovered a new level of cold here in Canada. My feet and I had a falling out earlier today as I opted for trainers, neglecting the snow. Then it was my ears' turn as they virtually froze off due to the bite of the wind!

First impressions of the new abode? It's cosy, reminiscent of my student house. There are two students living here, and the atmosphere is one of study, not party. That will do my bank balance nicely for the time being, and now I can do shopping it is going to be much cheaper in theory.

Talking of food........au revoir!

La premiere semaine en Canada

2007-11-24T09:54:00.000-08:00

Landing down in Toronto to begin my year of cultural maturity was a bit of an anticlimax, to be honest.

The excitement was replaced by disbelief, and I could have almost just have been going on a holiday. Ten days on and that feeling is still there. I have been so busy with partying and meeting new people that I have hardly had a time to stop and actually consider where I am and what I am doing! Every now and then I stop and fathom the enormity of my situation.

Toronto was somewhat of a let-down. As Samer, Laura, Caroline, Mathew, Dan and I (the BUNACers!) landed, we were filled with anticipation of snow, the freeze...and fun!

"To the bar!" we cried! Actually, that cry only came from half of us. With the jet-lag stirring and the alcohol weaving its magic, it was a challenge staying awake, but we made it through!

Explorations of Toronto took place over the next few days. There was the CN tower, and the Rogers Centre- but what else? That's where a little blonde Northern lass called Kate comes in.

An enjoyable night at the Comedy Club was the Thursday where she first made an appearance. She had been staying in the same room as Caroline and Laura, and duly being stalked by a strange Australian bloke named Steve (girls, keep your eyes peeled for this one!). On the Friday night Mat, Caroline, Kate and I all went for a drink (or ten, plus extortionately priced bottles of wine), and conversation turned to Montreal. Kate was based there and had only been visiting Toronto for a few days.

Nevertheless, she sold the place sufficiently to me and I ended up on the 11.30 bus with her the next morning! Eight hours of trees, and retails parks, and trees, and retails parks later, we finally arrived in Montreal.

This place in the North East-ish of Quebec is amazing. The buildings in Vieux-Montreal (where the hostels I have stayed in are) possess a quintessential Parisian charm about them, while downtown still incorporates all the facilities needed for the party capital of Canada (bars, bars and more bars!).

Most of my time in the first week has been spent with t' lass from Leeds (Kate), and we have crammed plenty in! Ice skating, eating, drinking, walking (PLENTY of walking!). We had been looking for a lovely romantic carriage ride, but someone doesn't want it to happen (first other travellers, then the weather, then no carriages!). Something for the future maybe!

Live music here is a cut above. In the first week I have seen Irish folk, acoustic, Soul Jazz (with turntables and scratching!), listened to French reggae- the experiences go on. The town is so classy, the people well dressed, the clubs swanky (you have to buy a BOTTLE of vodka to be able to sit down!). But I love it here. Vive la Canada!

Counting in Hours

2007-11-12T07:47:00.000-08:00

So there it was, tucked into the corner of my bedroom. My whole life in a metre of rucksack. I didn't realise there was so little to pack!Surely I have forgotten something?

Now all I must do is wait, kill time, watch paint dry. This is always the worst part, the pre-boredom before the boredom of travelling, and then the excitement of arriving! The winter coat is bought, the gloves are packed, the money is earnt, now the adventure begins!

After a week of carnage, first in Kingston with Mike, Simon and Maxine Carr (sorry, Steve Simmons, newly Christened Dipstick!) and then in Birmingham with the uni birds, my bro and the Skeggy six, the lull before the storm has began. I could sit and work out the minutes until I arrive, but that would surely just be sad, so instead I am taking up my time with tedium!

My last English meal (an Indian, so typically Blighty) will be tonight at 7.30pm, with the family and I will cherish every bite!

The next entry into this so far sketchy blog will be written from an internet cafe surrounded by snow and Canadians, and hopefully will be a cheery one! Au Revoir England!

Guten Tag from Berlin!

2007-10-30T06:25:00.001-07:00

A word of warning- Don't have a leaving do from work when you will be flying to Germany at 3am the next morning. I can only learn from my mistakes.

After a hazy first few minutes as my mother slapped me round the face and showered me with cold water in an initially unsuccessful bid to get me out from my bed, I eventually found my way to the car and then onto the plane. When the hangover began to kick in I retired to the bathroom- my holiday had begun.

In fairness, because I had slept pretty much all the wa from London Luton to the German capital, I ended up being not too short of sleep. Our taxi driver picked us up at Schonefeld, and then told crappy jokes and pointless anacdotes for the half hour into the centre.

The first day was spent waking up. A coffee was in dire need for us, and then on to the Checkpoint Charlie museum. A pokey museum in an old whouse adjacent to the notorious crossing from East to West. It was interesting, although I still felt there was better to come from this town.

A kip was in order for the afternoon, to save strength for the Berliner Kindl and sauerkraut at a Movenpick along the Kurfürstendamm, Berlin's premier street.

On Friday, we saw some of the bigger sights. The Brandenburger Tor was even more impressive in real life than it was on telly, the Reichstag held the imposing nature of an efficient ex-dictatorship, and the Holocaust Memorial was harrowing and interesting at the same time. Much thought was given to the meanings in it creation.

German food was brilliant in the evening in the old Nikolaiviertel area of Berlin, just off from the Spree. Meatballs, bratworst, goulash, venison, we tried it all! The ambience in the old Bavarian pub was a joy, also.

Halfway through now. Saturday was probably the most hectic but also the most enjoyable of the holiday. Up early for the Judische Museum, I was enthralled by the exhibits, and the architecture of the whole place is something that has to be seen. Some guy had designed it to be edgy and unforgiving, and the whole place wreaked of rememberence. After several hours strolling the museum, I was accosted by a strange woman demanding I get out. It turned out to be my mum, and we were then rushing to get back to the apartment to get on with the rest of the day.

A stroll with Sue to Alexanderplatz was followed by a mad rush to get to the Olympiastadion for the football (tickets I had given up hope of receiving). Onto the S-Bahn and changing to the U-Bahn, I hardly had any idea where I was going until I got there. The old place looked like it had been built in gladitorial times, and the atmosphere- even in a half full stadium- was the same. Viv and John joined me later, foolishly having followed the U-Bahn all the way, adding 20 minutes onto their journey. Hertha won 2-0, but sadly I didn't make the action in time to see any of the goals!

Another rush back to the apartment to get ready for the meal. The Dumpiches of Berlin came together with the Dumpiches of Geddington, and the grappa und weisse flowed! So did the food and it seemed that I had become a disposal bin for my sister as I polished off half her meal.
We went on to the town and experience salsa Berlin-style! Viv asked for some techno and The Hoff but her requests fell on deaf ears. Two gay Turks tried to talk jive with me and I was having none of it!(No, I don't care if you have 'got it on down' in Manchester, OK?)- The oldies (Viv and John) couldn't last the pace and I wasn't staying out by myself (makes a change) so we headed back.

Sunday was spent getting as much in as possible. I searched for another chiliworst (the one I had eaten at the football had been magical) to no avail, so made do with a Heisse Schokolade (Hot Chocolate) in a cafe in Potsdammer Platz. How in turned into a chocolate and milkshake sundae between me ordering it and receiving it is beyond me!