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.