If, god forbid, one of you fine readers should end up within Canada’s mighty boarders then I would recommend without hesitation (repetition or deviation) that you join the youth hostel movement.
For a start, the hostels themselves aren’t bad, and should you find yourself naked, chained to a lamp post in a strange Canadian city they’ll at least give you a room for the night and a halfway decent breakfast.
They may laugh though…
The membership card not only gets you cut rate accommodation, but 25% off greyhound tickets. Yep, that’s right, 25%. So, as in my case, three nights in a hostel and a one way ticket somewhere and the membership is essentially paid already.
And as an added bonus, when you get back to the UK its still valid! Unless your out in Canada for a year…and then you shouldn’t be complaining!
Monday, January 29, 2007
Greyhounds – not so fast….
After a quiet nights sleep, I left at O’silly’o’clock to reach the greyhound bus to Kelowna, where Ali was staying.
To do this I needed to get a connecting bus to the Depot. Having found the bus I needed and worked out where the stop was, I didn’t think I’d have a problem.
I should have known better….
The small catch was carrying about 50kg of stuff, spread over three bags about 2 city blocks, stopping at crossings, waiting while holding three bags as cars zoomed past.
Three bags that grew heavier, and Heavier and HEAVIER as I went.
One thing I can’t criticise is the bus system though. A bus every 10 minutes – or better – with helpful, cheerful drivers willing to help the poor benighted traveller on their way.
At the terminal it was a 50 yard struggle to the coach and Drop, feeling lighter and cheerful as the staff whisked away my bags into the coach, checked my ticket and waved me on. Given it was 9ish in the morning, I couldn’t believe how helpful they were.
On maybe they could only help one person each day, and I was just lucky…
And the wheels on the bus.
Went round.
And around.
And around.
For 6 hours we drove through the Canadian mountains – well I say mountains. Fellow passengers claimed the hills were barely worth the mention, and that the snow was a trivial affair not worth noting. All twelve inches of non-noteworthiness.
Slowly we crawled along the roads, passing through such places as Hope and Merit, over a huge bridge into Kelowna. Ali was kind enough to meet me at the station, where we headed to the store at the mall which she’s running, where I grabbed some food as she wrapped up at the end of the day.
Before heading back, we nipped into the shops for a few bits of food, a pillow and a loaf of fruit bread.
A lift back to the house, courtesy of our house mates, Bruce and Donna, prior to a mug of tea, a late Christmas present from the parents to Ali (which she liked) and an early night.
To do this I needed to get a connecting bus to the Depot. Having found the bus I needed and worked out where the stop was, I didn’t think I’d have a problem.
I should have known better….
The small catch was carrying about 50kg of stuff, spread over three bags about 2 city blocks, stopping at crossings, waiting while holding three bags as cars zoomed past.
Three bags that grew heavier, and Heavier and HEAVIER as I went.
One thing I can’t criticise is the bus system though. A bus every 10 minutes – or better – with helpful, cheerful drivers willing to help the poor benighted traveller on their way.
At the terminal it was a 50 yard struggle to the coach and Drop, feeling lighter and cheerful as the staff whisked away my bags into the coach, checked my ticket and waved me on. Given it was 9ish in the morning, I couldn’t believe how helpful they were.
On maybe they could only help one person each day, and I was just lucky…
And the wheels on the bus.
Went round.
And around.
And around.
For 6 hours we drove through the Canadian mountains – well I say mountains. Fellow passengers claimed the hills were barely worth the mention, and that the snow was a trivial affair not worth noting. All twelve inches of non-noteworthiness.
Slowly we crawled along the roads, passing through such places as Hope and Merit, over a huge bridge into Kelowna. Ali was kind enough to meet me at the station, where we headed to the store at the mall which she’s running, where I grabbed some food as she wrapped up at the end of the day.
Before heading back, we nipped into the shops for a few bits of food, a pillow and a loaf of fruit bread.
A lift back to the house, courtesy of our house mates, Bruce and Donna, prior to a mug of tea, a late Christmas present from the parents to Ali (which she liked) and an early night.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Sears and TV – Canadian style
In the evening, after the Sears episode (see below) and lunch with Clare I relaxed to the gentle buzz of the hostel television. Slowly, with mind in neutral, I passed the hour with the gentle distraction of Smallville – not that I understood the plot, but…
Eventually, the point of this story arrived – the news.
To most people in the UK, the news, local or national, is a Serious affair. It’s full of death, violence, medical crises, scandal and politics. In short, its depressing. On any given day, the UK is going to Hell in a hand basket. Or possibly in a un-recyclable carrier bag.
In Canada, this does not appear to be the case. A terrible case of police brutality is reported – a trophy photo was shot when someone was arrested. Officers have been disciplined!
A building in Vancouver, designed to last six months for an exhibition has become unsafe, and is to be knocked down.
Atrocious political shenanigans – an official bought into an investiment trust, managed by professional investment bankers. He clears this with the appropriate public officals, but in his declaration of financial interests several months later, he declares an interest in an company (curtesy of the fund) that he might – MIGHT – have made a decision about.
As opposed to wasting millions on consultants and management companies…
--
Sears. Yes…
After lunch with Clare, I walked back to the hostel, had a shave, put some contacts in, got changed and went for a stroll, ending up in Sears, a huge department store. Wondering where to find men’s clothes, I looked at the list of floors and products to find a Strange Thing.
What was strange? They had listed Women’s Apparel, Women’s Intimate Apparel and Lingerie.
So I, being curious, bored, and slightly intrigued started to prowl the Ladies floor, but to no avail. For 10 minutes I searched, finding lots of frilly things, but no answers.
Remembering my new years resolution to be social, I sought a shop assistant to solve my dilemma. I approached the young brunette young assistant and described my confusion.
I then watched, as she slowly went from pale white to a lovely shade of flustered red. Remember, if you please, that I was shaved and wearing contacts…and looked an innocent 16. Within moments she made her apologies, running off in search for someone to answer my question.
Minutes later I was approached by the Matron, with shop assistant in tow. With stern expression and eyes glaring she demanded I repeat my question – so I did.
She stopped, and appeared before answering.
But what do you think she said?
(Keep it clean…or amusing and dirty…)
Eventually, the point of this story arrived – the news.
To most people in the UK, the news, local or national, is a Serious affair. It’s full of death, violence, medical crises, scandal and politics. In short, its depressing. On any given day, the UK is going to Hell in a hand basket. Or possibly in a un-recyclable carrier bag.
In Canada, this does not appear to be the case. A terrible case of police brutality is reported – a trophy photo was shot when someone was arrested. Officers have been disciplined!
A building in Vancouver, designed to last six months for an exhibition has become unsafe, and is to be knocked down.
Atrocious political shenanigans – an official bought into an investiment trust, managed by professional investment bankers. He clears this with the appropriate public officals, but in his declaration of financial interests several months later, he declares an interest in an company (curtesy of the fund) that he might – MIGHT – have made a decision about.
As opposed to wasting millions on consultants and management companies…
--
Sears. Yes…
After lunch with Clare, I walked back to the hostel, had a shave, put some contacts in, got changed and went for a stroll, ending up in Sears, a huge department store. Wondering where to find men’s clothes, I looked at the list of floors and products to find a Strange Thing.
What was strange? They had listed Women’s Apparel, Women’s Intimate Apparel and Lingerie.
So I, being curious, bored, and slightly intrigued started to prowl the Ladies floor, but to no avail. For 10 minutes I searched, finding lots of frilly things, but no answers.
Remembering my new years resolution to be social, I sought a shop assistant to solve my dilemma. I approached the young brunette young assistant and described my confusion.
I then watched, as she slowly went from pale white to a lovely shade of flustered red. Remember, if you please, that I was shaved and wearing contacts…and looked an innocent 16. Within moments she made her apologies, running off in search for someone to answer my question.
Minutes later I was approached by the Matron, with shop assistant in tow. With stern expression and eyes glaring she demanded I repeat my question – so I did.
She stopped, and appeared before answering.
But what do you think she said?
(Keep it clean…or amusing and dirty…)
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Comments
Have enabled comments by Everyone, so if you want to, feel free.
Just don't mention the bears.
Just don't mention the bears.
Day three - orientation
Day three started at silly o'clock today.
finally, after hours of trying I managed to drift away into sleep at about the right time for Canada... +/- a few hours. Until the alarm goes off.
A Scot who had arrived that night appeared to have had a bright idea. He set his alarm clock for 08:00 - aka breakfast time - and gone to bed.
What he neglected to do was change his alarm to the local time zone. Being eight hours behind, this resulted in a midnight awakening. I was not amused.
Still, eventually got back to sleep, and got to breakfast on time.
Now, breakfast....this was not the eggs and bacon affair I could have wished for. There was fruit salad, toast, fruit bread (for toasting), bagels, porridge oats, insanely sugary things full of Jam and things together with muffins and the usual drinks selection.
For someone who doesn't tend to eat breakfast, it was a challenge. Still, free food is free food...and vitamins are usually recommended. Still, there are worse ways to start the day. But be warned - fried is not the only way to go.
--
Orientation this morning was straightforwards. Thirty or so twenty-odds (some odder then others) and a couple of SWAP staff filling out paperwork, as well as a decent briefing on Canada. Not massively enjoyable, but I can't see it being made any less painful. SWAP definitely seems like a helpful organization for anyone planning a year in Canada - I recommend them.
Met a lovely young women (ok, women....but I still don't quite believe she's over 25...) whom I ended up having lunch with. You travel 4700 miles from England and have lunch with a Yorkshire Lass.
Still, it was nice to chat to someone going through the same sort of thing as you. It helps you feel a little less alone, and a little more hopeful. Still, all good things (even lunch) come to an end, and I'm off to book a greyhound ticket to Kelowna for tomorrow.
Have her email address though, and will definitely try to keep in touch, see how she does in Vancouver.
New years resolution is starting to appear easier then it looked at first. "I will try to be more sociable". May even work...
finally, after hours of trying I managed to drift away into sleep at about the right time for Canada... +/- a few hours. Until the alarm goes off.
A Scot who had arrived that night appeared to have had a bright idea. He set his alarm clock for 08:00 - aka breakfast time - and gone to bed.
What he neglected to do was change his alarm to the local time zone. Being eight hours behind, this resulted in a midnight awakening. I was not amused.
Still, eventually got back to sleep, and got to breakfast on time.
Now, breakfast....this was not the eggs and bacon affair I could have wished for. There was fruit salad, toast, fruit bread (for toasting), bagels, porridge oats, insanely sugary things full of Jam and things together with muffins and the usual drinks selection.
For someone who doesn't tend to eat breakfast, it was a challenge. Still, free food is free food...and vitamins are usually recommended. Still, there are worse ways to start the day. But be warned - fried is not the only way to go.
--
Orientation this morning was straightforwards. Thirty or so twenty-odds (some odder then others) and a couple of SWAP staff filling out paperwork, as well as a decent briefing on Canada. Not massively enjoyable, but I can't see it being made any less painful. SWAP definitely seems like a helpful organization for anyone planning a year in Canada - I recommend them.
Met a lovely young women (ok, women....but I still don't quite believe she's over 25...) whom I ended up having lunch with. You travel 4700 miles from England and have lunch with a Yorkshire Lass.
Still, it was nice to chat to someone going through the same sort of thing as you. It helps you feel a little less alone, and a little more hopeful. Still, all good things (even lunch) come to an end, and I'm off to book a greyhound ticket to Kelowna for tomorrow.
Have her email address though, and will definitely try to keep in touch, see how she does in Vancouver.
New years resolution is starting to appear easier then it looked at first. "I will try to be more sociable". May even work...
Day 2 - I'm sure it happened.
My second day in Canada, which I'm sure must have occurred, wasn't exactly memorable. Mostly because I was sleeping off 4700 miles of jet lag, but also because, well, nothing much happened.
So I'll tell a tale of the flight from hell.
Most flights from hell involve annoying people, turbulence, atrocious staff or paperwork problems. Mine involved neither.
What was the problem then?
My problem was blonde. A gorgeous blonde, who was lively, chatty, downright flirtatious, and all together a fun person. What was the downside? How was this hell?
Well, to start with, she found it totally impossible to stop moving, talking, waving her hands in the air...stillness wasn't for her. For the entire 10 hours or so in the plane, she talked. A few words in edge ways could be achieved every half hour or so.
To make matters worse was her voice. Some voices are a pleasure to listen to. Others are nice enough. Hers (lets just call her "Kate") was sweet, high, little girly (annoying little girly) and grating, with an Australian accent that made it much worse. A "little girl" voice on someone older then me!
After about an hour, it grated. Four hours in, I was starting to consider violence. By 8 hours...
It didn't help that she spent the first hour or so going on about her fiancee, how they were planning to get married real soon now, she'd picked out a dress (see, look at the photos) and they were looking at apartments at the weekend...
I, like most men, have no real objection to looking at a pretty girl in a nice dress. But looking at 17 different photos, each of a different dress on a manikin, and being given a detailed explanation of why it wasn't suitable isn't my preferred way of burning 95 minutes.
So as you can imagine, by the time I arrived I was more then ready to say "Goodbye, farewell"...and run to immigration!
Still, that was the flight from hell.
So I'll tell a tale of the flight from hell.
Most flights from hell involve annoying people, turbulence, atrocious staff or paperwork problems. Mine involved neither.
What was the problem then?
My problem was blonde. A gorgeous blonde, who was lively, chatty, downright flirtatious, and all together a fun person. What was the downside? How was this hell?
Well, to start with, she found it totally impossible to stop moving, talking, waving her hands in the air...stillness wasn't for her. For the entire 10 hours or so in the plane, she talked. A few words in edge ways could be achieved every half hour or so.
To make matters worse was her voice. Some voices are a pleasure to listen to. Others are nice enough. Hers (lets just call her "Kate") was sweet, high, little girly (annoying little girly) and grating, with an Australian accent that made it much worse. A "little girl" voice on someone older then me!
After about an hour, it grated. Four hours in, I was starting to consider violence. By 8 hours...
It didn't help that she spent the first hour or so going on about her fiancee, how they were planning to get married real soon now, she'd picked out a dress (see, look at the photos) and they were looking at apartments at the weekend...
I, like most men, have no real objection to looking at a pretty girl in a nice dress. But looking at 17 different photos, each of a different dress on a manikin, and being given a detailed explanation of why it wasn't suitable isn't my preferred way of burning 95 minutes.
So as you can imagine, by the time I arrived I was more then ready to say "Goodbye, farewell"...and run to immigration!
Still, that was the flight from hell.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Jet lag joy
Good morning all.
Welcome to my first whole day in Canada. The flight here was fine - a little long, somewhat boring and with food...well, I call it food. Some sleep would have been nice, but you can't have everything.
Still, was lovely to be picked up by Elena and her two young sons. Was certainly cheering to be waved at, as you emerged from the fog, fun and confusion of immigration and customs. Not that they provided much of an issue, but when you've been awake for 20-odd hours the temptation to give slightly flippant answers is irristiable.
Still, she was kind enough to drop me off at the hostel, stuffed the bags away and went looking for something to eat - and hit a choice problem.
A big choice problem.
Imagine every county you've ever heard of that has a separate cuisine. Add a few. Stick them in a row, with a few duplicates for fun. Now pick one.
I ended up in a Japanese sushi bar eating a mildly spicy (for most people - burning hot for me!) sushi Thing. Was lovely - and all for 7 dollars. Or about 3.50 in English. Not that bad. If I could only remember which place it was...
Got back to the hostel shower and sleep.
Or tried too - hard to sleep when your sure its 1pm, and long past breakfast time.
Still, got up at 8, had breakfast. At which point I had to stop, stare, and perhaps gawp.
There was no sign of eggs and bacon, no sausage or fried bread. Instead, bread for toasting, apples, oranges, bread rolls, really sticky and oh so sweet jam filled Things. That's what I tried this morning....
Still, must get something done today. Not sure what, but will have a try.
And remember - watch out for the bears!
Welcome to my first whole day in Canada. The flight here was fine - a little long, somewhat boring and with food...well, I call it food. Some sleep would have been nice, but you can't have everything.
Still, was lovely to be picked up by Elena and her two young sons. Was certainly cheering to be waved at, as you emerged from the fog, fun and confusion of immigration and customs. Not that they provided much of an issue, but when you've been awake for 20-odd hours the temptation to give slightly flippant answers is irristiable.
Still, she was kind enough to drop me off at the hostel, stuffed the bags away and went looking for something to eat - and hit a choice problem.
A big choice problem.
Imagine every county you've ever heard of that has a separate cuisine. Add a few. Stick them in a row, with a few duplicates for fun. Now pick one.
I ended up in a Japanese sushi bar eating a mildly spicy (for most people - burning hot for me!) sushi Thing. Was lovely - and all for 7 dollars. Or about 3.50 in English. Not that bad. If I could only remember which place it was...
Got back to the hostel shower and sleep.
Or tried too - hard to sleep when your sure its 1pm, and long past breakfast time.
Still, got up at 8, had breakfast. At which point I had to stop, stare, and perhaps gawp.
There was no sign of eggs and bacon, no sausage or fried bread. Instead, bread for toasting, apples, oranges, bread rolls, really sticky and oh so sweet jam filled Things. That's what I tried this morning....
Still, must get something done today. Not sure what, but will have a try.
And remember - watch out for the bears!
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