Pearl Jam
Lately it seems as though I’ve been getting a lot of stuff for free. I’m incredibly grateful, but it did make me stop and think about karma, and that whole “giving back” thing. There’s a much larger picture for me to think about, but for now, I can do something small.
Back when Pearl Jam tickets went on sale, I used my Ten Club membership to get mine. The caveat to that was that you had to buy in pairs, no single tickets allowed. At the time I figured no big, I’ll just sell the spare and I’ll be good to go. Instead I’ve decided to give the spares away.
The nitty gritty:
* There are three tickets up for grabs. One for Montreal on Wednesday September 7th, one for Toronto on Sunday September 11th, and one for Ottawa on Wednesday September 14th.
* Ten Club tickets had, amongst others, the following conditions: they must be picked up on the day of the event, they can only be picked up by the ticket holder, and you will not know where you are seated until you get your tickets. That means two things. 1) You’ll need to meet up with me at the venue before the show so I can give you your ticket, and 2) you’ll have to spend the show sitting next to me, in an as yet undetermined spot in the arena. 
* I’m going to use a random number generator to choose who gets each ticket. I’ll be doing that on Friday afternoon. That’s Friday, August 26.
* If you’re interested, either tweet me or leave a comment below and I’ll add you to the list.
I wanted to let anyone who was interested have a chance to get a ticket and figured this was the easiest way. I couldn’t come up with a less douchey way than this blog post of making sure all the info was in one place. This isn’t a ploy to get people to read my blog; that would be pointless seeing as how I haven’t blogged in over a year. I just feel like I get a lot of random good fortune and this was an easy way for to spread a little of that around.
I don’t know if this sort of thing is supposed to have fine print, but the basics are above.
Good luck!
And the tickets go to…
Ottawa: @kirstenduke
Toronto: @elle_dee
Montreal: @bloons
Congrats folks, and sorry to those who missed out. Thanks to everyone for entering and/or helping me spread the word. It was a bit of fun, and nice to be able to do something small for a few other people.
Travel Guidebooks
Everyone uses guidebooks differently. Myself, I tend to read the history/culture & overview sections, and then otherwise have them with me as a reference if I need a map or perhaps suggestions on a place to stay. While there’s no right way to use one, I can’t help but feel there is a wrong way.
Your guidebook is not a bible.
Guidebooks are fallible. By their nature there’s a relatively significant time lag between when the research & reviews were conducted, and the date the book is put on bookstore shelves, let alone actually ends up in your hands. In addition, they are subjective. Take all guidebook reviews like you should any other: with a grain of salt. They are the author’s opinion. There’s nothing wrong with a little faith in their opinions, but don’t lose sight of the fact that they can be wrong; your experience may vastly differ from theirs.
Regardless of their fallibility, guidebooks are exactly that: a guide. They provide tips, ideas, suggestions, and warnings, along with helpful stuff like maps & phone numbers & approximate prices to help you budget. They give you an overview. A jumping off point. From which you then set out and explore for yourself.
The use of guidebooks as a bible is so prevalent that there now exists “The Lonely Planet Trail” in various places. This goes hand in hand in the Central American region with the Gringo trail, where virtually everyone hits the same places, the only difference usually being whether you’re heading North or heading South. Whilst this can be almost impossible to avoid in regions with un- or poorly developed infrastructure and areas that are just plain dangerous for Westerners to travel in, that doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t be conscious of falling into the trap of relying on your guidebook to make your trip for you. Look to explore, to experience the area through your own eyes, not through what someone else has preordained for you.
That’s the beauty of travel, the real joy. Making your own discoveries. Accidentally stumbling across something fun or quirky or silly or fascinating, maybe all of those things. Talking to other travellers and hearing about their adventures, hopefully learning about places off the beaten path. Meeting locals and finding out how they view their city, learning about their culture from their perspective, not just one written by a relatively wealthy Westerner.
If what you want is someone to tell you where to go, when to go there, where to eat, where to sleep, and everything else besides, well hey: that’s your prerogative. It may even be that what you’re probably really looking for is a packaged tour, or a stay in an all-inclusive resort you never have to step foot outside of.
However if what you want is to really see the world with your own eyes, get immersed and get involved, there’s only one thing for it: put the guidebook down.
Baby M
I got some news yesterday. My brother & his fiance are having a baby, who for now I am dubbing “Baby M”. Unplanned, but they’re ecstatic, and so am I.
I was surprisingly overwhelmed by emotion when I found out. He told me via facebook message; wanted to Skype me but just couldn’t wait so facebook it was instead. I’m sure the fact that I was alone at the time contributed to it, but I ended up in tears. Tears of joy, and tears of the sudden and oppressive feeling of being isolated and totally alone, far away from home.
I had guilt about the strength of my reaction, about feeling differently upon hearing the news that they’re having a baby, than I did when I received the news when both of my stepsisters had children. To be clear – although I don’t see them often, they’re my family, and I love each and every one of them.
But I was left wondering… What does this say about me? Am I terrible person? Does this mean that I would love them differently, love one more than the another?
I’ve thought about it a lot. Probably too much, but I’ve realised something. It’s not about the kids, or about the baby, or about my stepsisters, or about me as a person. It’s about my brother, and how much I love him and admire him and respect him, and how proud I am of him. About how even though we fought like it would win the victor a million dollars & bring eternal pain to the loser when we were kids, through circumstance as teenagers we learned to look out for one another, fight for and defend each other, and that we could depend on each other. About how he’s one of my favourite people on the entire planet and how lucky I am to have him as a brother. About how much I miss hanging out with him, shooting the shit over a beer, having a laugh. About how I can’t wait to see him become the amazing dad I know he’s going to be, and how special that kid will be just by having my brother (and his beautiful fiance, of course) in his or her life.
That’s what it’s about.
Meep
This blog started out life as a place to post the travel update emails I was sending home – which is why the earliest posts read like they’re directed at a very specific audience. It’s evolving from there, hopefully into something that I’ll actually be happy having people read on a regular basis, should they choose to do so.
I have a bunch of posts either in partly written form or swirling around my head as nothing more than a half-formed idea. I’ve had a hideous case of writer’s block that seems to be calming down. Hopefully this will result in actually getting this updated the way I want to, and soon. I think I’m going to backdate at least some of the posts to get the timeline the way I want it, so if you do happen to be reading along, you may see posts in a higgledypiggley fashion.
Green Tortoise, Seattle
Make Mine Schwetty
Like all good kiddies, I take my lunch to work every day. Well, alright. In the interest of full disclosure, I will point out that this is a new thing, this hauling food in with me every day. But it does save money, and I need that money to buy shiny things. The tricky part to this, though, is working out what, exactly, to actually have for lunch on any given day.
Parker Lee noodle bowl
Occasionally, I resort to bringing frozen meals. What? It’s not cheating! Sometimes you just run out of ideas! Ahem. Anywho, I discovered these Parker Lee brand frozen noodle bowls in my local Loblaws a little while ago. Having had successful lunchtime adventures with the Beef Brisket & Shrimp Wonton varieties (yes, I went down both those paths, and they were surprisingly delicious), I got a little bolder this time and elected to try the “Vietnamese Style Rice Vermicelli with Beef”, despite the slightly disturbing looking picture on the front.
Never. Again.
To start with, I’m puzzled by the choice of describing these noodles – these noodles which are IDENTICAL IN EVERY WAY to those found in the Beef Brisket version – as “Vietnamese Style Rice Vermicelli”. So, alright. Maybe they didn’t mean the noodles themselves were Vietnamese style, but they certainly don’t fit any definition of ‘rice vermicelli’. I mean, other than being made from rice flour. So, you know. Maybe one definition.
Still. A minor detail. I nuked these as required, then added the necessary chili sauce & water and sat down to enjoy. I plunged the spoon into the piping hot bowl and began to stir, bringing up the delicious meats from the depths of the soup. Or, what I assumed would be delicious meats. What I got instead, was some tripe – yes, TRIPE, aka OFFAL, aka OH-MY-FREAKING-GOD IT’S INTESTINES IN MY BOWL – along with some beef brisket and, disturbingly, two unidentifiable spherical masses. I poked at these masses and was barely able to get a fork prong in. I tried biting into it and was met with resistance and a somewhat disturbing texture. In the end I was forced to leap to the only possible conclusion: my bowl contained two testicles.
Now, the list of ingredients denies this. But, you know what? I’ve seen Funny Farm, I saw those “prairie oysters” on Chevy Chase’s plate. And I’ll be damned if this evil faux-Chinese coporation wasn’t trying to fool me into eating too many parts of the cow – or whatever animal these things came from. I ate the brisket. I even ate the tripe. It actually wasn’t that bad. But I could not bring myself to eat those balls. No amount of humming “chocolate salty balls” to myself could make me force them down. I had a moment of inspiration and doused these things in hot sauce… “Now they’re ‘Great Balls of Fire’!” I giggled to myself. “At least with this much hot sauce I won’t be able to taste anything.” But alas. My testicles-as-food prejudice remains intact and I finally had to throw them in the bin, together with my artfully shaped – and strategically placed – napkin.
Halifax – First Impressions
I’m sitting at Bearly’s House of Blues & Ribs, served by the friendliest waitresses known to man, feasting on my first ever bowl of seafood chowder (it’s chow-DUH not chow-DERE! And it’s also delicious) and a plate of fish’n'chips, sippin’ a Keith’s and looking out at the misty rain.
I’m in Halifax, and there ain’t no doubt about it.
I flew in on what must surely be close to the world’s smallest commercial aircraft – 24 seats, people, it had 24 seats! I didn’t get to see much of anything during the short 1.5hr flight – both Ottawa and Halifax were shrouded in cloud, obscuring the expected view from my handy window seat. When we broke through the clouds on our approach to Hali international, though, what I saw was a vibrant sea of varying shades of green amongst pools of dark water and the occasional clearing for homes and a golf course. Breathtaking.
A short wait in the airport was soon brought to a close by the gruff yet surprisingly welcoming ticket attendant indicating our shuttle was ready to head into town. I had a few microsleeps on the way and quickly found we were in the adorably quaint streets of Dartmouth. Within moments the bridge to Halifax came into view and all of a sudden Joel Plaskett’s “Nowhere With You” was in my head, starting from the lyric “I took the Dartmouth Ferry, into the town… ” That was it – a grin spread from ear to ear. I had arrived.
The shuttle meandered the streets a little, making stops at various hotels and giving me the chance to ogle the sights as we drove. Gorgeous old buildings and funky looking shops intermingled with some modern eyesores certainly create an interesting skyscape and a favourable first impression. You follow that up by managing to spy the Keith’s brewery from the bus window and you’re really starting to make me fall in love.
I got off the shuttle bus and stepped into a whirlwind of mist. Didn’t matter what I tried to do, I ended up wet, and only getting wetter. My umbrella was no match for the powers of the mysterious mist. You know those mist tents they have at Big Day Out? It was like being in one of those, only it’s 10 degree out, not 35, and you can’t just walk out the other end, now miraculously mist-less. No, mother nature puts on a mist tent for free, just don’t try and leave. Walking to the hostel with my now enitrely useless umbrella, I thoroughly regretted my decision to come to Halifax sans-raincoat. It was a debate that raged in my brain this morning, with the apparently idiotic side coming out on top.
I was also getting about in thongs (flip flops, you filthy-minded people) which, whilst theoretically a fabulous choice given sneakers would’ve gotten a mist-based soaking, cause me to waddle about like an overfed penguin once water gets between the sole of my foot and the thongs, and my feet start slipping about madly. Between the waddling and the impotent umbrella, I suppose it’s hardly surprising a truck driver slowed to allow me to cross when he didn’t have to, smiling kindly and no doubt regarding me with an eyeful of pity usually reserved for those who take the short bus to school.
The cursory glance I had given the map turned out to be all I needed, and I managed to locate the hostel, though not after questioning my recollection of the map and my instincts and pondering if it wasn’t perhaps prudent to actually write down or at the very least check the address of the place at which you are staying before wandering off blindly in the feeble hopes your sense of direction will kick in. Luckily my awesomeness poo-poohed that silly theory and I will of course continue to be entirely impractical and rash when it comes to such things.
When I got to the hostel I found the reception to be closed for a meal break and figured that was my cue to fill my stomach with food and beverages, as well. I started to venture, I really did, I got as far as one street down before giving up on the shite weather and turning back, and walking into this here fine establishment of Blues and Beer, essentially next door to the hostel. I’ve just polished off the delicious, delicious chow-DUH, and drained a couple of pints of the nectar of the gods. I’m headed to check in at the hostel before hopefully catching up with my mate Pete later today. From there… Well, it’ll be general mischief and mayhem as usual.
What a Week!
Monday last week saw me determinedly trawling through websites in search of a half-way decent job. During this entirely frustrating process, I happened upon an ad for “walkers”, selling some contraption called a “Mighty Motley Light” at the Motley Crue gig. As payment you would get $1 for each light sold, plus a free, yes FREE pass to the gig. Well, who could refuse such a brilliant offer?? I promptly emailed, picture included as requested, and crossed my fingers that I wouldn’t be deemed too hideous to sell Mighty Motley Lights. Although to be fair, other than Tommy, have we *seen* the members of Motley Crue? Obviously their fans are none-too-picky about looks!
I didn’t make much money because frankly, I was a bit embarrassed to ask people to pay $10 for this silly light. I really went for the free pass anyway, so it was all good. Saw a bit of the supports as I kept wandering in to watch when I got bored of meandering about aimlessly. The absolute win of the pass was that we could go anywhere in the building except backstage, so I had a great walk around Scotiabank place, seeing the stage (or more importantly, where the ice goes during hockey season) from various vantage points, and once Motley Crue started we got to go in the pit. Oh boy was it ever fun! Genuinely the most 80s-style show I’ve ever been too, lots of lights, glitter, hair, pyrotechnics…
Not to mention the crowd, before the gig I was genuinely walking around just thinking “Ummm… Motley Crue? The 80s called, they want their fans back” because holy shit. Leather jackets, bandanas, stonewash jeans, the list goes on. I saw one guy and thought “OMG it’s Bret Michaels! Only better looking, and with shorter hair!” I’m not joking, for a fleeting moment I thought it was 1988 again when I thought “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” was the best ballad ever written. What?? I was 8!!
So my enormous crush on Tommy Lee continues, as well. I mean come on, I obsessively watched “Tommy Lee Goes to College”, clearly I have issues. All the girls were swooning, one girl was flashing… Well one girl I saw, anyway, there were probably others. You might think he’s a douche, but what guy *doesn’t* wish they were Tommy Lee, with girls just dying to flash you at any opportunity? 80s or no, it was a seriously fun time. Actually it was probably mostly so fun because it was so 80s, I’m such a huge fan of that daggy daggy decade! I may have been *made* in the 70s but I was born in the 80s and I’m an 80s kid through and through!! Hahaha
I woke up on Wednesday still on a big high from the show the night before. Who would’ve thought that was going to be topped, merely a day later?? I got up and was offered the prospect of awesome hockey seats, close to the ice, for only $50! As much as I really *shouldn’t* have been spending even more money without yet having got another job, there was absolutely no way I could say no – even if you aren’t into hockey you’d have to be pretty anti-sports to turn that down, and given hockey ranks a very close second to league for me, it was a nobrainer. The seats ended up being only 5 rows from the ice and it was seriously one of the best experiences I’ve ever had. You can see that hockey is hard and fast on TV, you can see that from up in the nosebleeds where I was for the Leafs game, but you just don’t see how hard and how fast and how fricking unbelievably awesome it is until you sit right up close. I’ll probably never get the chance to do it again – definitely not for that cheaply, at any rate, I paid basically that price for my Leafs ticket – and it was SO worth it. (I’m sorry Hages, I know I was supposed to never speak of it again, but it was just that awesome!) Can you tell I’m still stoked about it?? 
Following all that excitement, Thursday was a nomal, quiet day, hanging out in the hostel, though I didn’t manage to get to sleep until 4am Friday morning (thank you verymuch, insomnia). Regardless, I still managed to get my butt out of bed just after 7am. I was pumped, I was primed, I was all keen and ready to watch my beloved Broncos take on the Cowboys in the first game of the NRL season. So much so, that I promptly (and politely, I swear!) advised Tom, who was already watching TV, that I wanted to watch something at 7:30am, to which he happily agreed. Mostly because he was going to be done with the TV by then, which was lucky for all concerned. Though mostly lucky for Tom.
7:30am comes along and I excitedly switch the channel to Setanta. “What’s this”, I wonder? Why are there pixelations where Darren Lockyer should be? I squint: is that Israel Folau? I think I can make out Justin Hodges! Or is it Karmichael Hunt? Oh, no, it’s Sam Thaiday! Oh dear… This is clearly not watchable. I start flipping through the guide to see if there’s another Setanta channel when Russell comes in to eat his breakfast, and politely asks if I can change the channel… Well. Those of you who’ve been around when I’m watching a Broncos game will know what a terrible mistake that was under normal circumstances, imagine it through my frustration of even trying to get to *see* the game! I can happily report that this request resulted in only a slight maiming, rather than the usual dismembering and perhaps flaying that it might otherwise have induced.
Sadly there was no other version of Setanta so I resigned myself to the pixelated channel and decided to persevere. I tried. Oh how I tried. Unfortunately in the end it was a completely lost cause and I had to give up. No Broncos watching for me. BOO. On the plus side, the Broncs won, so it’s not all bad news! Apparently there is an online TV package you can get if you’re outside Australia so I’ll have to look into that. I do not wish to cope for a whole season without seeing a game!
Saturday brought my adventures with that truly Canadian of sports, curling. It’s played with rocks and you basically aim them for this big bullseye at the other end of the ice. Closest to the middle at the end is the team that wins. Sweeping makes the rock go faster/further, and also keeps it straight as the rocks will curve to one side depending on which way you release them out of your hand. It really is like lawn bowls on ice, except people actually watch curling on TV! It’s a lot of fun, actually, even when you can’t stay upright – ice and I just were not made to be together!! I ended up with some awesome bruises and a slightly pulled muscle from a spectacular fall I did whilst sweeping most enthusiastically. I got asked “why are you so funny??” immediately after that stack. Glad my painful pratfalls were amusing to someone, anyway!
Paddy’s day is pretty big over here so spent most of the day in and out of pubs and the hostel. We ended up drinking in the hostel after venturing out for a final time that night only to find long lines everywhere, not to mention cover charges at every pub in town. Was a good night for all, except poor Miwa, a lovely Japanese girl who works here in the hostel and is the very definition of a lightweight. We had a half-shot of rum that was given to us for a toast at one of the pubs we went to, plus she had a half-pint of beer, and that was it, she was done like a dinner for the rest of the day – complete with throwing up! Poor kid. Otherwise plenty of beverages were consumed by Ottawans, as evidenced by the Guiness truck I saw driving around on Wednesday morning!!
The hostel is pretty full most of the time now which has been keeping me busy, and I have some job interviews lined up again next week, finally. Plus the weather has been sensational, mostly above zero temps – even reaching 11 the other day – and gloriously sunny. We spent part of Paddy’s day sitting out on the patio drinking and man, I could not wipe the grin off my face. Not sure how it had escaped my thought process before, but I realised this week that the reason I’m so desperately looking forward to summer is because it’s been over 12 months since I’ve had one!! I’m very much enjoying the weather, though bracing myself for the fact that we may well get another cold snap/more snow before winter’s really over and gone. I still love it here and have no plans to move on any time soon, though am starting to tentatively make plans for doing some travel from here, up to Montreal (it’s only 2 hours from here and I still haven’t been!!) and to the East Coast when it warms up. Need a job, first, though.
More Canadian Adventures
Cold Weather Fact
Keep in mind that, according to Environment Canada, at -35 frostbite is possible in 10-15 minutes.
Seriously!
You know what happens when you don’t wear a toque (Canadian for “beanie”) when you step outside in the cold? You get the same exact brain freeze feeling as you do when you eat ice cream too fast. Brain freeze from the outside in, without the deliciousness of the ice cream to make up for it. The moral of this story is don’t try to be “Canadian” and leave the beanie at home or you will suffer the unpleasant consequences.
I think I had the most Canadian conversation ever the other night. I was standing outside the pub waiting for a friend to come out so we could go home and got to chatting with this Canadian chap. As usual the conversation turned itself to the weather, which somehow got onto the topic of ice fishing, and that the problem with the cold when ice fishing is twofold: 1) your hole might freeze up on you, and 2) your line gets icicles on it which means you can’t reel the line in properly. So there you go, two things to keep in mind the next time you go out for a spot of ice fishing!
Also had the most Canadian pub experience yet – went out to James St Pub on Sunday night, on one TV hockey was playing, on another TV was curling, and there was a video game called “Big Buck Hunter” in the corner! Not sure how that all ties in with the Irish Pub theme since that’s what the pub was, but they had Magners on tap so I no complain!
In keeping with the “I Am Canadian” (and, apparently, a beer commercial, as that is the promo line for Molson Canadian beer) theme, we’re going curling in a couple of weeks. Yes, that crazy game that seems a bit like lawn bowls, but on ice, with weird kettle things, and sweeping! Lots and lots of sweeping! I can’t wait. I’ve also just finished a brief stint of employment working at the Beavertails stand during Winterlude (Ottawa’s winter festival). You remember Beavertails, I mentioned them in a previous email. Use your google-foo, otherwise. Obama came for a visit to Ottawa last week and had a Beavertail, as a result we started selling “Obama-tails” and people were all over-excited.
Ice Skating and Other Canadian Oddities
I thought I’d start this time by telling you all a story, the magical tale of slybeer: the ice skating retard. Now, contrary to what I know most of you are already thinking, NO, I have not (yet) caused myself any injury (besides some rather lovely bruises). So let’s begin, shall we?
Our story begins on Monday with our heroine (that’s me) all settled in for the serious bizness of job hunting. In waltzes our villain (that’s my friend Pete) who proceeds to drag our heroine kicking and screaming from being responsible for a day of fun in the sun (well, snow), skating on the Rideau Canal. Truly evil, that Pete. I resisted as best I could, I certainly did not slam my laptop shut and shout with glee, “hell yes, let’s go skating!”. I mean really. I’m much more responsible than that.
So we set off on our trek to find Pete’s partner in crime, Chelsea the Canadian, and walked the long and winding road to the open section of the canal. And then walked some more to find a skate rental place. Finally found it, walked down the stairs to the ice, and what did I do? Of course I did NOT (except I really did) fall off the bottom stair. Because really, who does that?? Oh yeah, me.
Already bruised and without yet putting on a skate (let alone two), I finally got a pair of rental skates and strapped myself in. Then tried to stand up. Boy howdy, that was a mission! It took me a couple of goes but I got there in the end. And had to spend the next few minutes holding onto the bench for dear life. Then it was a mere 10ish minutes or so to make my way the ten metres out to the cleared ice. Truly a skating pro!
Thankfully Pete hadn’t really skated before either, so with Chelsea the Canadian skating off into the distance – I swear Canadians are actually born with skates on – Team Aus set off on our own skating adventure. I should point out here that Pete is nowhere near as hopeless as I am, but he very kindly put in a good showing of staying with me. I started to get a good (well, i thought it was good) rhythym going on when it happened – I lost my balance a bit and thought I was going to fall on my arse. Being quite paranoid about said arse-falling, I overcorrected and did a spectacular faceplant onto the snowy ice. It was quite the brilliant move, all on purpose of course! My other brilliant stack occured when I heard Pete yell out, without even thinking I turned around to see what the commotion was (he’d fallen, woohoo, not just me!) and promptly lost all control and landed flat on the ground. Smooth moves!!
I went skating again last night with another crazy Canadian born with skates on. Fancy feet proceeds to tells me that I just need to balance and that it is, in fact, easy. So easy that I should be able to dance a jig on the ice in my skates. Which of course was illustrated with the bloody show off doing just that, dancing a flippin’ jig on the ice! Yep, no pressure after that whatsoever! Other than jig-abilities, apparently the key is to “push and glide”. I suspect I’ll pick up the push-and-glide just a wee bit faster than the ice-jig!
Skating in the dim light was even more disconcerting than skating by and seeing stuff like leaves and cigarette butts stuck in the ice like you could in the daytime. But it is seriously fun – even when you’re as goofy on your skates as I am – and such a high to be skating outside! I can’t wait to go again. I’m hoping the bit of the canal that’s nearby opens soon, it’s a really short walk from here to the start of the canal so I’ll be able to skate more often. And probably still suck, but hopefully a little less than I do now!
Some other things I’ve learnt so far from living in Canada:
1. Use of the word ‘neat’ as a synonym for words like ‘cool’ or ‘sweet’ is perfectly acceptable
2. No one says “eh” anywhere near as much as stereotypes would have you believe. Nor do they actually say “aboot”, it’s more like “aboat” and not everyone says it that way, either. I feel so betrayed by TV!
3. Gloves are useless in very cold weather. Apparently the trick is to recruit your entire hand and get all digits working as a team by wearing mitts. “Mitts” seems to be the adult word for “mittens”. You still get to look like a dork wearing them either way, but at least your hand wont get frostbite and fall off. We’ll put that in the ‘win’ column
4. Daydreaming + walking + icy footpaths = potential for disaster
5. Snow can melt suprisingly quickly when the temp gets around zero. Slush is not fun, especially when the temp goes back down and it all turns to ice. When that happens, see again point 4, above
6. “Stuffing” (eg turkey stuffing) can be called “stuffing” even when it hasn’t been stuffed inside of anything. I still don’t get this. Isn’t the whole point of stuffing to shove it up the turkeys butt, roast it, then pull it all out again and eat it (okay, so maybe I’m suddenly getting the point…) ?
7. Caramel apples are sickeningly sweet but undeniably tasty
8. One for the politics geeks – the system of government has heaps of similarities to the oz set up since it’s also a constitutional monarchy, except the Canadians don’t have an elected senate, the PM gets to choose them.
9. You can buy milk in plastic bags. It’s the weirdest thing ever. Although I hear you can now get these things in Waitrose’s in the UK as well, I didn’t see them (quite possibly because I didn’t actually enter a Waitrose store when I was in London, you never know…) and so this is my first experience with this phenomena. Very odd. I assume it’s good for the environment or some such crap. Just google image search “canadian milk bag” (I promise it’s not as dirty as it sounds) and you’ll see what I mean
10. Kebabs here are called “Shawarma” and there are heaps of Shawarma stores in Ottawa. The garlic sauce on these babies is pretty phenomenal, and they come complete with pickled turnip. Yes you read that correctly! They’re damn good after a few refreshing beverages let me tell you. But Shawarma breath the next morning is like nothing on earth, good lord they can probably smell that shite from space.
Christmas was awesome, it wasn’t particularly cold but there was snow on the ground outside so that was perfect! Had a good new years as well, though the “fireworks” were apparently very disappointing, we saw only a few little bits whilst freezing so we turned back to the hostel instead – ridiculous cold like that is incredibly sobering!
I’m still loving Ottawa and enjoying working in the hostel. It’s weird how home-like it feels here, in the hostel but even more so the city itself. Weird in a good way, obviously, but yeah. I’ve met so many awesome people over here. Through the hostel I’ve met & made friends with a few people who are staying in Ottawa long term as well, not to mention some real live Canadians who live here which is cool. Oh and I’m finally learning to play the guitar! A friend I met here is teaching me and even more awesomely is letting me borrow a guitar on which I can practice, so I’m pretty excited about that plan.
The transit union in Ottawa are on strike so there are no buses – there’s no metro/subway system here, just buses – and that’s been going on for about a month now. It’s made for interesting times, I had a job I was supposed to start but ultimately ended up not being able to because of the bus strike (it’s a bit of a hike from here and was evening shift). So, now that the xmas/new year period is over the job hunt is back on properly. Not that I particularly want to have to work, but such is life!!
