Cubaaa!

Apologies once again for my utter shitness at updating this blog. Things have been rather busy á Montréal (I know, I know, the accent is the wrong way round on the 'a' there, but I'm too stupid to fix that. But check out me and my mad French skillzzzz there).

Anyway, over Spring Break I went on a trip to Varadero in Cuba. Which, if nothing else, promised to give me some respite from the never-ending Canadian winter. I felt kind of bad initially, as my intention in going to as interesting a country as Cuba was pretty much to lie down on a beach for a week. But, y'know, if you've ever lived in a place in which -20 temperatures for about six months of the year are commonplace I think you'll sympathise with me.

Varadero was as expected: tourist central. It's a town that pretty much exists for Canadian tourists looking to escape for a bit of sunshine, comparable to certain resorts in Spain that offer traditional Spanish cuisine such as fish and chips. The Costa del Cuba if you will. And to any Brits that cringe when they hear news of some slags from Essex punching a waiter in the head in Magaluf, don't worry. The Canucks in Cuba are just as bad, if not worse. You could tell some of them hadn't left the hotel for their entire two week stay, which was crazy. Being in the resort felt like being in Spain, you only got a sense that Varadero was even Cuban by going into the town. The beach was lovely though, although we couldn't go in the sea until midweek because there were too many jellyfish. It was just nice to actually be WARM for the first time since October.

I have two highlights of the trip. The first was going into a club in Varadero, which turned out to be open-air, and dancing under the stars until the early hours. I put my back out trying to keep up with hip-wiggling of the locals (note: do NOT attempt this. Latin Americans will ALWAYS beat you in the dancing stakes, unless you are black or a gay man. Nerdy white girls don't stand a chance.) but had lots of fun in the process. The second was our day trip into Havana. Like I said, Varadero is a perfect relax/get shitface place, but not very Cuban so I was looking forward to be a big loser and going 'OMGHISTORYANDPRETTYBUILDINGS!' in Havana. Which I did. Lots. About 15 of us went and we had our own tour guide, who was really, really good and interesting to talk to. We went to obvious places, like Revolution Square (apparently Fidel used to witter on for six hours at a time when giving his speeches. I hope his medicine cabinet was well stocked with Strepsils.) and the Hotel Ambos Mundos, where Hemingway stayed and got pissed on Mojitos, but just walking around the city was the best bit. The buildings are pretty run-down, some falling to bits, but it didn't look depressing - just even more beautiful. I really wish I could've spent longer there and it's a city I have to go back to. Before long and before it changes. I'm not going to go into the political pros and cons of the relationship between Cuba and the US opening up again under Obama, but I think it's safe to say that Havana, and Cuba as a whole, will not remain as it is if these progresses continue.

Anyway, I got back from Cuba and it was snowing. It's still snowing. FML. Oh well, have a picture. Be jealous.

Varadero Beach

Goodbye England (Covered in Snow)

The title of this particular post is also the title of this song by Laura Marling what I quite like.

This past week I have had one of my best friends, Lucy, here with me in Montréal which was amazing! We had a proper Love Actually style reunion at Trudeau Airport and then we got a taxi back to mine (which I made her pay for, due to end of the month lack of money). I was excited to have my friend here with me, in my new city that I could show off.

Until I realised. I couldn't think of a SINGLE THING for us to do. The only remotely 'touristy' thing we did, something we could only do in Montréal, was going to the top of Mont Royal and finding the tubing slopes. Which was brilliant fun. Hurling yourself down a slope of snow/ice in  rubber ring is a very worthwhile expenditure of time, in my opinion. The very grumpy guy working at the slopes informed us that we would be the oldest people doing it, but we shrugged that off. You're never too old for being silly. Besides, soon afterwards we were joined by a 40+ Orthodox Jewish couple, so screw you Mr. Killjoy. Tubing also introduced Lucy to a very specifically Montréal thing: the weather. It must've been at least -20 that day, and we were out in it for at least four hours. I thought I'd been cold before I'd ever been to Canada, but you don't know what cold is until your face is in pain and your nose freezes on the inside. 

After that, though, I couldn't think of anything for us to actually do. Weird. We hung out, went out for dinner, went out for lunch, went out and got drunk. All fun, but not specifically Montréal. Then it occured to me: Montréal is no longer a new place for me. It's not an exciting city that I'm just discovering any more. I live here. I get up, I get the bus/metro, I go to uni, I see my friends. It's routine. Not boring, just routine. Just as I probably couldn't recommend anyone anything to do back home. I've lost the ability to see Montréal as a place to visit.

Weirdly, however, this newfound sense of Montréal as a place I am fully absorbed into, and comfortable in, has made me miss England even more. I really dislike the idea that I'm replacing any of my England homes with this city. I don't think I am though. I'm settled here, having fun, enjoying time with great friends, planning trips, but I don't think I'm home. Maybe that's just the winter talking. I am sick to the back teeth of cold and snow. Yesterday, when Lucy left, the temperature was above zero and the pavements were pretty clear of snow. This morning I had to shovel like a bitch to get out of the front door. To slightly alter the words of Miss. Marling, I never love England more than when Montréal is covered in snow.

Happy New Year!

So am back after a long absence from this blog and a nice return home to England! Sorry I didn't update on my second trip to NYC and my trip to Boston. Both were awesome and that will have to suffice.

I was supposed to go home for a week at Christmas, leaving on the 19th December. However, the universe decided that the UK was going to have another one of its TRANSPORTFAIL episodes and Heathrow was shut due to snow. Therefore my flight was cancelled. This was particularly upsetting due to the good foot of snow piled up at the sides of the perfectly-operating Montreal-Trudeau runway, mocking me with its hardy Canadian winter efficiency. I was able to be put on standby for a flight to Frankfurt, but was one of the four (out of about 26) who didn't make it on. This turned out to be a blessing in disguise as Frankfurt Airport shut its runway the following morning. But because I chose that flight, when it came to rescheduling a flight to London the earliest available was the 29th - a full two days after I was due to come back to Canada!

Nevertheless I had a lovely Christmas. On Christmas Eve there were about 15 of us who were still in Montreal and we had a gorgeous Xmas dinner. Major props to Andy, Al and Tom for the cooking. Although, I'm sure they'd agree that they'd have been nowhere without mine and Marion's expert potato peeling skills!

I eventually got home and had a nice, if quiet, post-Christmas Christmas. It was so lovely to be able to see everyone after all the stress. I even managed to fit in a trip up to the uni and London which was amazing. A particular highlight being lunch with Vicky at Sticky Fingers (Bill Wyman's restaurant in South Ken). There's nothing like eating delicious food, listening the best of the 60s and having hundreds of pictures of Mick Jagger and Keith Richards surrounding you.

But, of course, I am now back in Montreal. After an emotional and homesick first week, I am settled back into the swing of things over here despite there being a totally different vibe this term. Everything is a lot more chilled and less party-party, which suits me fine. It's still fun but less hectic, which is good as my French course is kicking the shit out of me. There's still been stuff going on of course, the main event being the SKI TRIP which was immense!

We went up to Mont Sainte-Anne, just outside of Quebec City. Now, I am a complete beginner when it comes to skiing. I went once with school when I was 13 and ended up being laughed at mercilessly by 4 year old Austrian kids and permanently fudging up my knees. But I was excited! I was sharing a room with Evelyn, Lauren and Leslie. Lauren's been skiing since she was little and Leslie snowboards pretty well, so me and Ev were the retards who couldn't stay on our skis! We didn't want to have group skiing lessons though, so Lauren said she'd take us up on a green slope and show us the ropes. All well and good, except we ended up on a slope that wasn't exactly for beginners. So we had to get rescued. I was fine with this as I had a rather gorgeous guy carry my skis down to the nearest blue slope for me and got to play my 'oh look, aren't I a pathetic and ridiculous woman who needs rescuing?' card. Great fun.

My ski pass

The next day we found the green slopes and had great fun. Ev perfected the art of falling over and getting back up again. I didn't fall once the first time we skiied down so turned into a cocky little bitch the second time round and ended up whacking my head spectacularly on an icy bit of the slope. Luckily I was wearing a helmet, but got all dizzy and paranoid and spent an hour in first aid thinking I was about to die. I didn't particularly want to go back up again but did. And didn't fall! I didn't fall at all on the last day either. Ok, I didn't really progress much as I stayed on the same slope, but I had such great fun it didn't really bother me. I wasn't there to challenge myself, I was there to have a giggle. Which I most certainly did! In spite of the -30 temperatures...my hair definitely froze!

My next exciting event is probably SPRING BREAK IN CUBA!!!! I am so excited about this I might wee myself if I think about it too much. It's going to be so nice to get a week of sunshine!

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