Crossing the Border

I haven't posted in a while because for the past couple of weekends I've been very busy. GOING TO NEW YORK. In a major organisational, and indeed financial, error, I booked to visit the Big Apple two weeks on the trot. Excellent times!

The first week, I went with my friends Emma and Andy the Australian. We took the Amtrak train down from Montreal to Penn Station. This took a literal AGE. 11 hours. Mainly because, I discovered, that American trains go at about 2mph and stop for about 20 minutes at every station. Oh well, it was fine. We chatted, slept and watched Ray (which is a very good, if very long film). I have to say that the scenery on the journey was simply gorgeous. The leaves are turning for Fall (yes, I am becoming North Americanised) and I have never seen such beautiful and vivid colours. Lovely. Certainly passed a lot of the time just staring out the window at them.

We got to NYC. We got to our hostel, which was...characterful to say the least. Oh well, New York never sleeps, so does it really matter where your bed is?

First night we were such tourists and headed over to Times Square which is just as amazing as it looks in the films/pictures. In fact, just being in NYC itself felt like being in a movie. Genuinely unreal. We went to a nice Japanese restaurant where they didn't check our IDs for alcohol and Andy ordered cow tongue. Bloody Australians.

Genuine Tongue

Aside from Andy shoving a cow's tongue down his throat, which I'm sure is regular behaviour back in Australia, we were fairly cultured. The Museum of Modern Art was fantastic. I'm a bit of a philistine when it comes to art. I don't get all this modern nonsense. I like pictures where you can tell what the subject is supposed to be. But MoMA was fantastic as a museum. A really nice, chilled atmosphere and not all wanky and pretentious like you'd expect from a modern art museum. We also went to the sex museum. I have been to a sex museum before, in Amsterdam, and it cost me three Euros to get in. This once was a bit pricier ($15, I believe) and definitely classier. The sex museum in Amsterdam is certainly fun. It mainly consists of Victorian pornography and well-endowed mannequins that flash you. The one in New York was a lot more educational. It had sections on the history of sex in film, contraception and STIs, the development of sex toys (very eye-opening!) and sex in the animal kingdom. It was an actual, proper museum and not at all sleazy.

As ever, in a city like New York, you get a lot out of the place just by walking around. We spent some time wandering around Chelsea, which is really lovely. We walked the Highline, which is an old above-ground subway line which has been converted into a pedestrian walkway/garden type space. Andy and Ems weren't too impressed, as the plants and grass are pretty rudimentary and it's not a pretty space, but I really enjoyed it. You get some really nice views of the city and it's a really nice walk. We also went to Central Park for a bit, but really we just had a nap and didn't see much of it.

A major cultural lowpoint involved Andy dragging us to an Aussie bar to watch the final of the Aussie football league. Australian football is LETHAL (not as brutal as hockey, but I'll talk about that in another post) and I got properly into it. Partly because in Aussie bars they don't give two hoots about drinking laws and we got served no problem, despite me and Ems both only being 20. American, please, sort your drinking age out. 21 is RIDIC! So, anyway, I got pretty hammered (sorry mum and dad!) and ended pretty much having to be held up by the two Kiwis we met on the subway. I'm still not quite sure why they were watching Aussie football. Andy's sister, who is travelling at the moment, was also there, which was really nice. Apparently I was very enthusiastic about the game, but kept forgetting which team I was meant to be supporting. The losing one, it turns out.

I <3 NYC

I'm very sorry this post is so short, and does not feature details of my second trip. This will be rectified soon, but it is midterm season and I am revising away. Expect more posts soon!

Canada redeems itself.

I have been rather cross with Canada in this past week. Mainly due to its ridiculous banking system which is, I'm sure, very similar to the one that must've been in use when we (and the Frogs - let's not forget I'm in QC) came over and did a massive colonialist shit all over it. But at least then there was the excuse of it being a time where it took 7 months, not hours, to cross the Atlantic and it was really cool to wear a wig that made you look like you'd stuck your head inside a sheep. I digress. The main point is that I don't understand why the Canadians are such big fans of Ye Olde Cheques. I have NEVER paid for anything personally by cheque in my life. Ok, I am only 20 so that's not a massive deal but my Norwegian friend hasn't used them ever either and she's reeeeeally old. She's like 22. They're just annoying. What I am finding even more impossible is that I can't set up a direct debit or standing order for things like my rent and phone bill. WHY IS THIS SO DIFFICULT?! It is not unreasonable, in fact is perfectly logical, to have my money come straight out of my account each month and into the pockets of those who it is intended for. But no. I have to trot along to my bank or the phone shop to pay my phone bill. Which, by the way, is extortionate. I miss O2 taking my £20 a month and giving me unlimited texts and internet for it.

So I have been very stressed with this allegedly forward-thinking country that makes dear old Blighty look positively Swiss in terms of efficiency. Combine this with having to put together flat-pack Swedish furniture and *insert awkward euphemism for period here*, I was beginning to get a little bit shitty with Mooseland.

Then I went here:

Lovely isn't it? This is somewhere in the Laurentians, which are a mountain range in Quebec. I went there yesterday with my university's international students association. Where we were wasn't very mountainous though, but there was a gorgeous lake on which we went canoeing. The weather in Montreal has been pretty shoddy over the last week, but yesterday was gorgeous. Warm but not hot, sunny with a light breeze. We did lots of things like volleyball, archery and rockclimbing. But my favourite part was when a group of 8 of us rowed out to a tiny island in the middle of the lake. My arms were fairly tired by the time we got there (because I was rowing like A MAN!) but I was excited because, hey, we were on a tiny island in the middle of a lake in the Laurentians. I wasn't wearing shoes and it REALLY HURT climbing over the rocks to get to the middle of the island but I didn't complain too much. And then we discovered that the island was Blair Witch levels of creepy. Old sheds  and outhouses left open, dense trees and a tiny house. Deserted. Or so we thought. We were there about five minutes until one of us discovered the tiny house on the tiny island was in fact inhabited by a tiny French Canadian woman. "Who are you? Where have you come from? WHERE IS YOUR BOAT?!" That last one is a question I'm pretty certain I've never been asked before. So we muttered a quick 'desole' and rowed away as fast as possible.

Probably with a curse on us.

In which I still don't have a bed, but I do get drunk quite a lot.

Short post, in lieu of extreme tiredness.

This past week has been quite strange. I have an apartment, but am sans furniture, so I have been staying with a girl, E, from my home university in her accommodation, which is more of a halls-of-residence set up. It was really jolly nice of her to put me up, as we didn't really know each other before we arrived in Canada. I've had a great week staying there and E's flatmates are all really top notch people.

It was the first week of term so naturally lots of fresher's week, or 'frosh' as it's called here for some bizarre reason, events have been going on. And when I say events, I mean Trips to Ye Olde Pub. It's been good fun. I love this time, when you're just making friends with any poor sod who happens to drunkenly trip over your feet. You probably won't stay in contact with everyone, but it's nice that everyone is just so willing to chat/dance/make a tit of themselves with you.

Of course, you have to actually become friends with *some* of these people, otherwise life would be a bit dull during the day/when you're not playing beer pong. Luckily this has happened for me. I've met some great people even if they are slightly unfortunate by way of being Australian and/or German. Montreal is a great city to just be in. It's buzzy and exciting like any sizeable city, but also pretty and chilled. Picnics are fun here. There are friendly squirrels.

xxx

Dear Montreal

It has been very hot today. Too hot. This unacceptable level of heat has been going on for a week and I would urge you to promptly Stop It. I may sound like a whinging child when I say that 32-35 degrees is an unreasonable temperature. I am British. We are unused to such climes. Unless we are vulgar lardarses in the Costa del Sol shouting at Pedro, we tend not to experience this phenomenon know as "summer". We may have sunshine yes, but any temperature exceeding a comfortable 24 degrees is rare and then it is offset by a good thunderstorm and some rain. Whilst a British person will inevitably complain about this, due to 'complain about the weather' being our default setting, we actually like it. We do not know how to cope in real weather. As such, a centimetre of snow brings our country to a halt and we fry like bacon in the heat.

I have been wandering around Montreal this week attempting to find an apartment. This process has been greatly hindered by aforementioned weather. Walking around has not been comfortable. I have sweated so much that, I am convinced, the salt water running down my back could create a new Dead Sea. I am stressed and my hair is frizzy. This is not a good impression to make upon potential housemates.

You may dismiss the level of responsiblity you hold with regard to climate. "I can't control the weather!" you might say. Whilst I accept this is a valid point, I also feel that if you can keep me for nearly three hours at customs and immigration, then you can certainly give the sun a good questioning with regards to his intentions before you allow him into the city.

Yours sincerely,

Laura O

Bonjour, Montréal!

I've been in Montreal for just over a week now. First week was fun. I did fun things like open bank accounts and befriend Germans. I discovered the wonder that is poutine. For anyone who wonders what chips, cheese curds and thick helpings of gravy tastes like, the answer is yummy goodness that leaves you with a 24hr aftertaste of the sense of an impending heart attack. Good stuff.

My dad flew home yesterday and now THE FEAR is starting to kick in. I'm in this hotel room for a week and then that's it. I need to be somewhere else by then, but the apartment hunting is not going fantastically. I am genuinely terrified of being homeless. I mean, I know I won't end up homeless but I panic about these sorts of these things. Because I'm like that. A BIG GIRL.

I don't really have a lot to say at present. Nothing's really started yet, so I'm feeling slightly confused and displaced. Not bad or unhappy at all, but just a little bit strange. Hopefully the adventure will start soon.