Nothing much to be said about the city of edmonton. I drove into, and around, the city on thursday, and adventured a little. although the only real adventuring i did was to follow the main arteries of traffic and try to remember which direction south was.
also, trying to remember what the car I was driving looked like. something i didn't think about needing to remember until I stepped out of a shop that afternoon.
I had been picking up a trimmer, you see it was time to tame my beardness, which promted a few smart remarks from fellow shoppers.
"hmm." smiled a mom at the counter, behind me in line. "i don't need to ask who that's all for" making reference to the shaving kit I had assembled.
in the end i did find the car, luckily enough for the panic button, which scared the heck out of a young couple loading up christmas gifts in their trunk in the car next to the one who's alarm I had just set off.
I hid just out of site until they had moved on. boy was my face red.
(I've been in Jasper for the weekend, but more about that a little later)
I did not find any oiler fans to talk to.
Sunday, November 30
Thursday, November 27
Wild Rose Country
The good news is there is an unlocked internet network that i've tapped into. the bad news is i am hungry and don't know edmonton in the least bit.
i have been given my hosts care for the day as she goes off and makes money to buy things. i don't know how it is she has entrusted me with her manual shift car in a city i've been in for just over twelve hours without my glasses.
perhaps it was the bottle of wine she drank last night.
my flight was alright, as flights go. in recent history i have grown to loath airports, planes and attendents; they smelled, poluted and wouldn't give me all the coffee i could drink.
"sir, i would fill your cup up again if you'd just hold the cup still"
"I DON'T TELL HOW TO YOU DO YOUR JOB SO YOU'LL SURE AS HECK BETTER NOT TELL ME TO LIVE MINE" was my usual reply, delivered with more gusto than grammar.
However, yesterday I flew out of Hamilton International Airport and my, let me tell you about a delightful experience. First off the port goes by the name "Hi", so right off the bat I felt at home.
"Is that wall greating me, Dad?"
"Yes son, that sort of thing happens in the big city"
I suppose they don't need to have "Airport" in the name because, likely, if you are going there, you know that it is an airport. In fact that's included as part of the directions on the website.
"Read that again to me, Bird"
"That's what it says: turn on to highway 6, it's the one that's the airport."
"Is that it?"
"That's a farm"
"There?"
"a school"
"and that?"
"that's the farm again"
and another thing, they have these nice gentlemen in orange shirt who helped use a computer to check in. i could pick my seat, i chose an isle because the windows were already taken, i didn't want a middle seat and the computer had already given me an isle. i remembered the map of the plane that i saw on the Orange Man's computer screen so that i would know where i was going later on.
**memorizing sounds**
hmm. turn left at the wing, young child should be two seats behind me. good. i think i've got it.
**/memorizing sounds**
of course when i got to the plane i'd've been better off just checking the ticket as i would have noticed that the planes was parked differently, the child was an old man and the wings where the cockpit.
never the less i found my real seat, all red in the face, from embarrassment not the hieniken, with the help of a friendly couple who's seats i was in.
i nearly finished my book too,.which, as it turns out, i'd finished several years ago. it felt good to blow through a novel though; made me feel smart.
All said and done, I had a great time flying. I had my usual anxiety about flying and traveling but that passed, as it always does, and i just watched things unfold around me.
I'm off to explore the city of edmonton, maybe find out what their tim's cups look like and maybe, just maybe, meet an oiler fan and find out what makes them tick (like I know anything about baseball).
i have been given my hosts care for the day as she goes off and makes money to buy things. i don't know how it is she has entrusted me with her manual shift car in a city i've been in for just over twelve hours without my glasses.
perhaps it was the bottle of wine she drank last night.
my flight was alright, as flights go. in recent history i have grown to loath airports, planes and attendents; they smelled, poluted and wouldn't give me all the coffee i could drink.
"sir, i would fill your cup up again if you'd just hold the cup still"
"I DON'T TELL HOW TO YOU DO YOUR JOB SO YOU'LL SURE AS HECK BETTER NOT TELL ME TO LIVE MINE" was my usual reply, delivered with more gusto than grammar.
However, yesterday I flew out of Hamilton International Airport and my, let me tell you about a delightful experience. First off the port goes by the name "Hi", so right off the bat I felt at home.
"Is that wall greating me, Dad?"
"Yes son, that sort of thing happens in the big city"
I suppose they don't need to have "Airport" in the name because, likely, if you are going there, you know that it is an airport. In fact that's included as part of the directions on the website.
"Read that again to me, Bird"
"That's what it says: turn on to highway 6, it's the one that's the airport."
"Is that it?"
"That's a farm"
"There?"
"a school"
"and that?"
"that's the farm again"
and another thing, they have these nice gentlemen in orange shirt who helped use a computer to check in. i could pick my seat, i chose an isle because the windows were already taken, i didn't want a middle seat and the computer had already given me an isle. i remembered the map of the plane that i saw on the Orange Man's computer screen so that i would know where i was going later on.
**memorizing sounds**
hmm. turn left at the wing, young child should be two seats behind me. good. i think i've got it.
**/memorizing sounds**
of course when i got to the plane i'd've been better off just checking the ticket as i would have noticed that the planes was parked differently, the child was an old man and the wings where the cockpit.
never the less i found my real seat, all red in the face, from embarrassment not the hieniken, with the help of a friendly couple who's seats i was in.
i nearly finished my book too,.which, as it turns out, i'd finished several years ago. it felt good to blow through a novel though; made me feel smart.
All said and done, I had a great time flying. I had my usual anxiety about flying and traveling but that passed, as it always does, and i just watched things unfold around me.
I'm off to explore the city of edmonton, maybe find out what their tim's cups look like and maybe, just maybe, meet an oiler fan and find out what makes them tick (like I know anything about baseball).
Wednesday, November 26
Bound to be bound somewhere
Today is the day: I am back on the road. I fly tonight to sunny Edmonton, back in time two hours, the good kind of time travel not the bad kind that makes you sleep for three days after wards, this is the good kind that keeps a person up for three days after.
I'm gone for two weeks, doing some job hunting, soul searching and friendship formations. I plan to hit Edmonton, Jasper, Calgary and Banff and what ever else I can see along the way.
I'll leave you now with a little song by a little Candian artist that's been in my head for about a month now.
Cheers,
--bbb
I'm gone for two weeks, doing some job hunting, soul searching and friendship formations. I plan to hit Edmonton, Jasper, Calgary and Banff and what ever else I can see along the way.
I'll leave you now with a little song by a little Candian artist that's been in my head for about a month now.
Cheers,
--bbb
Thursday, November 20
Ca Va Cool
When I was in high school the internet was quite young. I didn't know much about it, I still know relatively little about it, and we didn't have access to it at the home farm until midway through my grade eleven year.One of my classmates said to me one day, as they do from time to time while we weren't reading with our free-reading time,
"I don't know why anyone really gets the internet. You spend a week exploring around, finding new things and reading jokes and eventually you run out of things to do. Every time you log on it is the same stuff. I don't get it, I just don't get it."
I really had no idea if he was right, wrong or even speaking to me but what I think I do know now is that the internet has a lot more stuff.
( A person could say crap, however I enjoy using stuff because it isn't specifically good or bad, it merely suggests an abundance of material.)
Today I have the house to myself, since my roommates have either gone to work, school or doctors appointments, and now that I have finished the chores and ate my breakfast I've sat down and done a bit of inspirational searching. A quick recap of my last few weeks and my next few weeks goes a little along the lines of:
cleaned some house; harvested some corn; drove some tractor; booked some flight to and from edmonton; spoke with some friend; searched some couch; watched some high school and college sport.
Also, today I have drank and brewed some coffee, and not necessarily in that order.
With my inspirational search I intended to plan my upcoming airtrip and to get my creative synapses firing before I turned around and fired them.
I wandered around couchsurfing and found a member named 'elephantson' which I found to be a funny name but didn't know why. I punched it into my favourite search engine and, after a few adjustments, found a blog and then followed a link to another blog and laughed a bit and the word play title and how my sister, Mademoiselle Murray, would also find humour in it.
The internet is full of wonderful stuff. Take that reading buddy!
(Now I've got to clean the kitchen before my parents get home from the doctors office)
Thursday, October 30
Dear Mom,
I am sorry that I haven't written in a while, I have been rather busy. And seeing as I am in the same house as you now I don't really find it necessary to have to write you to say hello.
In fact, I can just turn around and say hello. Which I think I will do. Right now.
Hi Mom!
You said hi back, chuckled and asked what it was I was doing.
On top of that I've been dreaming up excuses to take off again. There is a list of places to go, at least ones that I've made a point of highlighting. The list has included London (Ont), Toronto, Montreal, Halifax and St. Johns, however I've started looking more west-ward for my next adventure. Perhaps Edmonton, or Calgary, or Jasper, or Banff.
Excuses for traveling aren't hard to come by, as there are so many places to go, and it has helped that I've reread some of Douglas Adams' Hitchhiker series. The one I read first, actually it has just occurred to me that it is the only one I've reread since arriving home, is So Long and Thanks for all the Fish which features the series' main character, Arthur Dent, arriving back to planet earth, adjusting to life as it was before he left and, ultimately, leaving on another adventure.
Quite appropriate and unplanned and welcomed all rolled into one.
I'd also like to point out that that map thingy I have has reset itself and is currently showing little red spots, representing people, all over the map. This means that, by some odd, yet interesting, computer glitch, people are still coming to visit this site, even though I have arrived home, haven't written much at all, and, something that I thought I was quite sure of, you, my mother, were among the only people still reading. In fact, even though it might appear so by the recount of a conversation of ours above, you don't even know that I am writing now, because I made that all up.
I am not sure why, but I am glad they are there and I do hope that they make themselves known by way of a comment or two, just so's I know who and where they are. Of course if they are shy I would take an email too.
That's all for now, as you are calling Mands and I to the table to decorate the treat bags.
Until next time:
love, your son.
In fact, I can just turn around and say hello. Which I think I will do. Right now.
Hi Mom!
You said hi back, chuckled and asked what it was I was doing.
Just writing to you, says I.I changed the layout a bit; just one of the ways I've kept myself. I've been following Dad around for a bit, helping out my uncles and pretending to be various types of farmers; chicken, dairy, pig, turkey, crop etc. I think I make a pretty good lil'buckaroo.
Oh that's nice. Don't forget to clean your room, I think it's what's making you cough.
Thanks Mom, and I will, blushes I. But I've really got to get back to writing to you mom.
Oh sure dear. Let me know when you're finished.
I will, not to worry.
On top of that I've been dreaming up excuses to take off again. There is a list of places to go, at least ones that I've made a point of highlighting. The list has included London (Ont), Toronto, Montreal, Halifax and St. Johns, however I've started looking more west-ward for my next adventure. Perhaps Edmonton, or Calgary, or Jasper, or Banff.
Excuses for traveling aren't hard to come by, as there are so many places to go, and it has helped that I've reread some of Douglas Adams' Hitchhiker series. The one I read first, actually it has just occurred to me that it is the only one I've reread since arriving home, is So Long and Thanks for all the Fish which features the series' main character, Arthur Dent, arriving back to planet earth, adjusting to life as it was before he left and, ultimately, leaving on another adventure.
Quite appropriate and unplanned and welcomed all rolled into one.
I'd also like to point out that that map thingy I have has reset itself and is currently showing little red spots, representing people, all over the map. This means that, by some odd, yet interesting, computer glitch, people are still coming to visit this site, even though I have arrived home, haven't written much at all, and, something that I thought I was quite sure of, you, my mother, were among the only people still reading. In fact, even though it might appear so by the recount of a conversation of ours above, you don't even know that I am writing now, because I made that all up.
I am not sure why, but I am glad they are there and I do hope that they make themselves known by way of a comment or two, just so's I know who and where they are. Of course if they are shy I would take an email too.
That's all for now, as you are calling Mands and I to the table to decorate the treat bags.
Until next time:
love, your son.
Wednesday, October 29
Sunday, October 12
Hey You!
I had a pint of Bulmers at an ethnically confused pub the other day in St Small Town, Ontario. I was visiting a friend of mine, he works on a Dairy farm just outside of town, and he and his girlfriend took me out to O'Generic Pub.
They had thought that it was an English Pub with some bar-type stuff. However it was, in fact, a pub trying to be Irish but forgetting that Ireland doesn't have a Liverpool Underground.
There was Guinness on tap, Murphy's junk on the wall and a few Irish saying framed and flanking the bar stools.
The locals looked the part of a small town Ontario pub, all of whom wouldn't have stood a chance getting a drink at the divest of dives in any Irish village; least of all one that I was pulling pints at (that, if said live and in real life, would have been accompanied by an Anchor Man quote and something to do with being a big deal. Sarcasm doesn't ever work in emails, or any written communications for that matter, so I like to make sure it makes sense).
The point, and there is one, is that there was Bulmers on draft but they called it Magners, as they do in places that are not Ireland, and it tasted like piss, as it does in places that are not Ireland.
That did not, by the way, stop him and I from having a couple of pints each. It was the first outing I'd been on since getting home; I liked it, very much. Not the drinking part, but the being around people part, and the in a setting that resembled that feeling of home that I missed so very much part.
Part of that was also writing here. I've been sending a few emails to friends here at home, and been conversing with a few that are still traveling. Since I've been writing to them I feel like I should be writing to you. So, even though I said goodbye just a day or so ago, I may just post here periodically.
No promises, but I do like writing.
They had thought that it was an English Pub with some bar-type stuff. However it was, in fact, a pub trying to be Irish but forgetting that Ireland doesn't have a Liverpool Underground.
There was Guinness on tap, Murphy's junk on the wall and a few Irish saying framed and flanking the bar stools.
The locals looked the part of a small town Ontario pub, all of whom wouldn't have stood a chance getting a drink at the divest of dives in any Irish village; least of all one that I was pulling pints at (that, if said live and in real life, would have been accompanied by an Anchor Man quote and something to do with being a big deal. Sarcasm doesn't ever work in emails, or any written communications for that matter, so I like to make sure it makes sense).
The point, and there is one, is that there was Bulmers on draft but they called it Magners, as they do in places that are not Ireland, and it tasted like piss, as it does in places that are not Ireland.
That did not, by the way, stop him and I from having a couple of pints each. It was the first outing I'd been on since getting home; I liked it, very much. Not the drinking part, but the being around people part, and the in a setting that resembled that feeling of home that I missed so very much part.
Part of that was also writing here. I've been sending a few emails to friends here at home, and been conversing with a few that are still traveling. Since I've been writing to them I feel like I should be writing to you. So, even though I said goodbye just a day or so ago, I may just post here periodically.
No promises, but I do like writing.
Thursday, October 9
Fin
Farewell Salutmaman! You have served me well over this past year and 23 days.
Farewell Readers! Thank you very much for tuning in. I have enjoyed having you along during my travels.
I have arrived home to Dublin, Ontario after a long time on the road. Tonight I will fall asleep in my bed, my own bed and wake up in my house, my own house.
This will be the final entry for my Ireland trip. I will not be writing for this blog for a while. I don't know if any of the other girls will be writing for it anytime soon; everyone is either working or learning. For Mands and I this has been strictly a travel blog, so I think we'll keep it that way. I may keep writing, but I don't know where that will be. If you want to know you are welcome to ask and I may share it.
But that all depends on if I keep writing.
I am back in Dublin. No job just yet. Dad has plans involving new doors, some demolition and lots and lots of yard work.
A very special thank you to those of you who put me up over the past three weeks and for helping me with my reintegration into Canada. A very sincere apology to those of you I haven't visited with yet; I will be visiting with you very soon.
I have no plans. Not yet. None for work, residence, school, travels, money. Something will come up, but until then, tomorrow, I'll just keep moving on.
Farewell Readers! Thank you very much for tuning in. I have enjoyed having you along during my travels.
I have arrived home to Dublin, Ontario after a long time on the road. Tonight I will fall asleep in my bed, my own bed and wake up in my house, my own house.
This will be the final entry for my Ireland trip. I will not be writing for this blog for a while. I don't know if any of the other girls will be writing for it anytime soon; everyone is either working or learning. For Mands and I this has been strictly a travel blog, so I think we'll keep it that way. I may keep writing, but I don't know where that will be. If you want to know you are welcome to ask and I may share it.
But that all depends on if I keep writing.
I am back in Dublin. No job just yet. Dad has plans involving new doors, some demolition and lots and lots of yard work.
A very special thank you to those of you who put me up over the past three weeks and for helping me with my reintegration into Canada. A very sincere apology to those of you I haven't visited with yet; I will be visiting with you very soon.
I have no plans. Not yet. None for work, residence, school, travels, money. Something will come up, but until then, tomorrow, I'll just keep moving on.
Friday, October 3
Contextual Clairfication
When I was in grade 12 I took part in a Dominican Republic experience trip. A small group of high school students, an English teacher and my priest left Toronto for the D.R. for ten days. Before we left we had months of preparation, learning a bit of Spanish (nothing that I remembered or used) and a general overview of what we might expect to see.
As much as we were shown and told none of us really appreciated what it was we were going to see or hear. I do not intend to paint a picture of the poverty we saw, even though having seen their way of life was shocking. Rather I want to draw on my what I went through, what we went through, coming home as I believe it parallels my arrival in Toronto.
I received a message that made me feel as if my statement "Yet still, somehow, I wanted to be on the next plane back to Cork" needed a bit of context for clarification.
You see, during the prep period for the D.R. trip we poured over photo's of trips gone before us, heard from the students whom the photo's belonged to, saw video after video and read story after story. They did all this work to get us into the right frame of mind so we could be ready for what we saw.
But that wasn't the hardest part.
The hardest part was coming home.
We had spent little over a week in an alien environment, but that week effected us, all of us, more than we had expected.
Everything was the same. Canada, Ontario, Stratford, my high school, my friends, my teachers, my coaches my everything.
It wasn't that we thought it would be, or wouldn't be; it was, simply, the same. I had changed without knowing it, and seeing everyone and everything I knew and loved exactly the same put into perspective how much I had changed.
I had loved every bit of my week long journey and I wanted everyone to have had experience it with me. I wanted to be able to look them all the eye and have them understand what it was I saw and did and share in my experience.
But no one did, at least not outside the group of students whom I traveled with.
Now, my arrival home from Cork wasn't as drastic as this one was, but several of the emotions and observations and experiences were related. I saw things differently, I saw Canadians differently, I saw our lifestyles differently. I had grown so accustomed to the Irish landscape that where I'd grown up, or rather the country I call home was foreign to me.
I didn't want it to be foreign, I wanted it to be home. I wanted to be home, that was where I thought I was going. Instead I ended up in a foreign land, alien landscape and a world I no longer knew. I should have felt comfortable, but I didn't.
In fact I didn't feel comfortable until I saw the Kid trotting down the stairs outside gate 5 at the Skydome. Seeing him was seeing home, and I knew I would start to feel better.
Where the story goes from here is much happier. I am adjusting slowly, with the help of all my friends whom I've met up with along my way to the home farm. I go to see my sisters today, this evening rather, and tomorrow to see one play volleyball.
I am looking forward to it, my family and adjusting to Canadian culture. It's been hard, but I am getting there.
I no longer want to be on the next plane back to Cork, but I do want to be on one sometime soon.
As much as we were shown and told none of us really appreciated what it was we were going to see or hear. I do not intend to paint a picture of the poverty we saw, even though having seen their way of life was shocking. Rather I want to draw on my what I went through, what we went through, coming home as I believe it parallels my arrival in Toronto.
I received a message that made me feel as if my statement "Yet still, somehow, I wanted to be on the next plane back to Cork" needed a bit of context for clarification.
You see, during the prep period for the D.R. trip we poured over photo's of trips gone before us, heard from the students whom the photo's belonged to, saw video after video and read story after story. They did all this work to get us into the right frame of mind so we could be ready for what we saw.
But that wasn't the hardest part.
The hardest part was coming home.
We had spent little over a week in an alien environment, but that week effected us, all of us, more than we had expected.
Everything was the same. Canada, Ontario, Stratford, my high school, my friends, my teachers, my coaches my everything.
It wasn't that we thought it would be, or wouldn't be; it was, simply, the same. I had changed without knowing it, and seeing everyone and everything I knew and loved exactly the same put into perspective how much I had changed.
I had loved every bit of my week long journey and I wanted everyone to have had experience it with me. I wanted to be able to look them all the eye and have them understand what it was I saw and did and share in my experience.
But no one did, at least not outside the group of students whom I traveled with.
Now, my arrival home from Cork wasn't as drastic as this one was, but several of the emotions and observations and experiences were related. I saw things differently, I saw Canadians differently, I saw our lifestyles differently. I had grown so accustomed to the Irish landscape that where I'd grown up, or rather the country I call home was foreign to me.
I didn't want it to be foreign, I wanted it to be home. I wanted to be home, that was where I thought I was going. Instead I ended up in a foreign land, alien landscape and a world I no longer knew. I should have felt comfortable, but I didn't.
In fact I didn't feel comfortable until I saw the Kid trotting down the stairs outside gate 5 at the Skydome. Seeing him was seeing home, and I knew I would start to feel better.
Where the story goes from here is much happier. I am adjusting slowly, with the help of all my friends whom I've met up with along my way to the home farm. I go to see my sisters today, this evening rather, and tomorrow to see one play volleyball.
I am looking forward to it, my family and adjusting to Canadian culture. It's been hard, but I am getting there.
I no longer want to be on the next plane back to Cork, but I do want to be on one sometime soon.
Thursday, October 2
What Are You Doing Right Now?
Bird Morely is Deleting Facebook
settings>my account>deactivate account>confirm facebook account deactivation
Please let us know why you are deactivating (required)
I was going write a bit about how I got ride of my facething account. However, doing that, in a way, gives more power (through recognition) to the thing I was leaving and goes against the reasons I left.
The end of it is I no longer have the account. I am not trying to drop off the grid, or avoid anyone, or seek attention (well, maybe I am seeking a little attention) I was simply tired of the network and how lazy it was making me when it came to keeping up with friends.
Lazy? You ask. Well yes, lazy; and let me tell you why
Have you ever dropped in to see how a friend has been? Perhaps after you haven't seen them for a while. There usually a few minutes of general banter, then you tell some stories of where you're life is right now and then all things inevitably lead to nostalgic renditions of that ride home from school one day or that buck and doe where Joe stepped through the table and things are happy and grand and everyone laughs and such and such.
I like those conversations (I liked them enough to make a road trip out of it visiting buddies who lived on my route home) but occasionally I find those conversations inhibited, or sometimes replaced, by a few clicks of the mouse.
So let me ask you this: have you ever "dropped in on a friend" through facecrap, riffled through their photo's, wall posts, videos or notes? Perhaps not all of those at once but I can bet you've done it at least once (a day). Now, have you ever met up with that person a few days, or weeks later and got to talking, remembering and sharing about stories old and new only to discover that you already new the story, but didn't know why?
This is usually the point where a light comes on and your fingers snap and you say, without really knowing you're saying it: oh yeah, I think I saw that on myface.
It is at this point my cheeks would feel a bit warm and likely turn a deep red, but I don't know how you would react. I felt so guilty, like a voyeur, peeping tom a creep with a laptop and I had spied on this persons life.
did you hear that John and Helen broke up? that sue and tom got together? that Steve's cat had kittens?
Aside from the creeping around, which I didn't feel good about, I felt the communication was cold and impersonal. On a few occasions I'd find myself substituting a quick email to someone on their birthday for a "wall post".
(whoops, and I haven't even wished matty a happy birthday yet)
But no more! I have a birthday list started, and I hope to stay on top of it.
(Damn, I didn't wish Bizz a happy birthday either)
As long as I keep my trusty journal near me (or Laura Van Geel) I'll never miss another friends birthday (Andrew Thuss) again.
So I've left the social network known as Facebook. I will have to turn old school and write emails to people, text them my plans or even, heaven forbid, give them a ring. I hope you all remember my birthday, it's June 24th.
I'll leave you with a quote from a blog that I found a few months ago that got me thinking about this latest, and (hopefully) final goodbye to the social network that has swept our lives away. Take care, and I hope to see you all soon in real life.
--b
"Facebook is like a creepy and pointless videogame where people collect every person they've ever met, then waste their time spying on all the dumb bullshit they do all day. I don't care if some moron I went to high school with bought a new iPod, I don't want to play the vampire biting game, and I don't want people I don't care about to know what I'm up to if they're not going to bother asking me with words." Joe Mathlete
settings>my account>deactivate account>confirm facebook account deactivation
Please let us know why you are deactivating (required)
The end of it is I no longer have the account. I am not trying to drop off the grid, or avoid anyone, or seek attention (well, maybe I am seeking a little attention) I was simply tired of the network and how lazy it was making me when it came to keeping up with friends.
Lazy? You ask. Well yes, lazy; and let me tell you why
Have you ever dropped in to see how a friend has been? Perhaps after you haven't seen them for a while. There usually a few minutes of general banter, then you tell some stories of where you're life is right now and then all things inevitably lead to nostalgic renditions of that ride home from school one day or that buck and doe where Joe stepped through the table and things are happy and grand and everyone laughs and such and such.
I like those conversations (I liked them enough to make a road trip out of it visiting buddies who lived on my route home) but occasionally I find those conversations inhibited, or sometimes replaced, by a few clicks of the mouse.
So let me ask you this: have you ever "dropped in on a friend" through facecrap, riffled through their photo's, wall posts, videos or notes? Perhaps not all of those at once but I can bet you've done it at least once (a day). Now, have you ever met up with that person a few days, or weeks later and got to talking, remembering and sharing about stories old and new only to discover that you already new the story, but didn't know why?
This is usually the point where a light comes on and your fingers snap and you say, without really knowing you're saying it: oh yeah, I think I saw that on myface.
It is at this point my cheeks would feel a bit warm and likely turn a deep red, but I don't know how you would react. I felt so guilty, like a voyeur, peeping tom a creep with a laptop and I had spied on this persons life.
did you hear that John and Helen broke up? that sue and tom got together? that Steve's cat had kittens?
Aside from the creeping around, which I didn't feel good about, I felt the communication was cold and impersonal. On a few occasions I'd find myself substituting a quick email to someone on their birthday for a "wall post".
(whoops, and I haven't even wished matty a happy birthday yet)
But no more! I have a birthday list started, and I hope to stay on top of it.
(Damn, I didn't wish Bizz a happy birthday either)
As long as I keep my trusty journal near me (or Laura Van Geel) I'll never miss another friends birthday (Andrew Thuss) again.
So I've left the social network known as Facebook. I will have to turn old school and write emails to people, text them my plans or even, heaven forbid, give them a ring. I hope you all remember my birthday, it's June 24th.
I'll leave you with a quote from a blog that I found a few months ago that got me thinking about this latest, and (hopefully) final goodbye to the social network that has swept our lives away. Take care, and I hope to see you all soon in real life.
--b
"Facebook is like a creepy and pointless videogame where people collect every person they've ever met, then waste their time spying on all the dumb bullshit they do all day. I don't care if some moron I went to high school with bought a new iPod, I don't want to play the vampire biting game, and I don't want people I don't care about to know what I'm up to if they're not going to bother asking me with words." Joe Mathlete
Tuesday, September 30
A Week or so
I need to be honest with all of you: I've been in the country for a week now. Well, a week and two days. I landed at 12:45 EST in Toronto, Ontario and proceeded to collect my luggage.
I meant to get in touch with you a lot sooner than this, but time and tide ran away from me and I was left standing at Term. 2 departure gates with a heavy pack and a heavy heart. I had been intending, for about a month before hand, to hike around South Western Ontario for a couple of weeks packing in as many friends and family as I could before coming to rest on the home farm.
There's been a lot that's happened. Let me fill you in as much as I can. Be patient though, this might take some time.
I landed, like I said, in Toronto and from there I took the TCC into the city centre (that's Irish for downtown). I had forgotten how friggin big Toronto was. It was big, bigger than I remembered and bigger than I was ready for. Cork had no sky rises, no fast moving foot traffic and no roads big enough to be a car park (I later learned that they were in fact car parks, I had simply mistaken them for motorways).
Toronto did not have my house, my pub or my coffee shop. It did not have my supermarket, my buskers or my pub and it certainly did not have my pub.
I was small, alone and tired of carrying my big, stupid pack around.
But as I sat watching all this unfold in front of me, all these buildings, tree's, cars, people, buses, beer ads, Canadian flags, library's, university campuses, cabs, gas stations and bike lanes, as I watched all this unfold I realized that in a year plus two days I haven't been in a better position. In all the traveling I've done, all the places I've been, I've never been in a place that could be easier to navigate.
Toronto is still a foreign city to me, don't get me wrong; I was raised on a pig farm and hadn't spent more than a few days in the city. Despite being foreign, however, it was still Canadian. I had jumped into cities and countries knowing nothing of the culture, language or currency and made it out the other end; most often with scarce few marks resulting.
I took a deep breath. I was going to be okay. This isn't as scary as it might appear to be.
Yet still, somehow, I wanted to be on the next plane back to Cork.
I meant to get in touch with you a lot sooner than this, but time and tide ran away from me and I was left standing at Term. 2 departure gates with a heavy pack and a heavy heart. I had been intending, for about a month before hand, to hike around South Western Ontario for a couple of weeks packing in as many friends and family as I could before coming to rest on the home farm.
There's been a lot that's happened. Let me fill you in as much as I can. Be patient though, this might take some time.
I landed, like I said, in Toronto and from there I took the TCC into the city centre (that's Irish for downtown). I had forgotten how friggin big Toronto was. It was big, bigger than I remembered and bigger than I was ready for. Cork had no sky rises, no fast moving foot traffic and no roads big enough to be a car park (I later learned that they were in fact car parks, I had simply mistaken them for motorways).
Toronto did not have my house, my pub or my coffee shop. It did not have my supermarket, my buskers or my pub and it certainly did not have my pub.
I was small, alone and tired of carrying my big, stupid pack around.
But as I sat watching all this unfold in front of me, all these buildings, tree's, cars, people, buses, beer ads, Canadian flags, library's, university campuses, cabs, gas stations and bike lanes, as I watched all this unfold I realized that in a year plus two days I haven't been in a better position. In all the traveling I've done, all the places I've been, I've never been in a place that could be easier to navigate.
Toronto is still a foreign city to me, don't get me wrong; I was raised on a pig farm and hadn't spent more than a few days in the city. Despite being foreign, however, it was still Canadian. I had jumped into cities and countries knowing nothing of the culture, language or currency and made it out the other end; most often with scarce few marks resulting.
I took a deep breath. I was going to be okay. This isn't as scary as it might appear to be.
Yet still, somehow, I wanted to be on the next plane back to Cork.
Monday, September 29
Rescue Inspiration
There once lived a boy who loved to write. Writing was everything he did and everything he wanted to do. It didn't so much matter that he may not have been much good, nor that he new how to spelt or that grammar wasn't the bestest of things of his, it mattered only that he did it and loved it and did it because he loved it.
Then one day an evil came along and took away Inspiration. It came without warning, or calling card or befriending me on facebook; nothing that would aid our young hero in the recovery of Inspiration. It came and went like a wisp of wind leaving him helpless; helpless and scared.
He continued to think thoughts, but they didn't amount to much. The thoughts thunked remained un-wrote, un-developed, un-recorded. For the longest time he wasn't even aware that Inspiration had been taken. It wasn't until he looked back upon his work to find that there was precious little work to look back upon.
It was at this moment that our young hero took it upon himself to search for Inspiration, to hunt down that evil with his vorpal blade. To rescue poor inspiration.
This is the story of that rescue.
Thank you, and welcome back.
Then one day an evil came along and took away Inspiration. It came without warning, or calling card or befriending me on facebook; nothing that would aid our young hero in the recovery of Inspiration. It came and went like a wisp of wind leaving him helpless; helpless and scared.
He continued to think thoughts, but they didn't amount to much. The thoughts thunked remained un-wrote, un-developed, un-recorded. For the longest time he wasn't even aware that Inspiration had been taken. It wasn't until he looked back upon his work to find that there was precious little work to look back upon.
It was at this moment that our young hero took it upon himself to search for Inspiration, to hunt down that evil with his vorpal blade. To rescue poor inspiration.
This is the story of that rescue.
Thank you, and welcome back.
Wednesday, September 3
Bird Arrives
[I didn't have the courage to write about my arrival at the airport because I didn't want to jinx our operation]
I arrived at Shannon Air at around four in the afternoon. I had spent most of the ride deep in my current book, another by Milan Kundera that, like the other other one i've read recently by him did not live up to the first book of his I read. Having been so deep in the book I misjudged how long I had been on the bus and realized just in time that the planes landing all around me and the sudden emptying of the bus was telling me that it was time to drop the book, my snacks and water bottle inside my pack, grab it and my umbrella and leap off the bus as it peeled out of the drop-down zone.
Had I have been wearing a hat I would have had to reach back and bring it through the bus doors as it would have fallen off.
I can't go anywhere without that hat. At least I couldn't had I have been wearing one.
I looked up at the signs above the doors and a thirty-something backpacker trundled past me with his pack and destination clearly organized.
"Nice one, Indiana" he mustered with a smirk.
thanks for noticing I thought to myself while I replied with a grin of my own.
Through the doors I went searching for my second visiting sister and her travel companion. I found them looking rather confused, but on the brink of discovery. I quietly flanked around and popped up next to Steve.
"You look like you could use some help"
[happy birthday Big Dan. welcome to north of 22]
Tuesday, August 26
Shannon Airport
They arrived at 13:25 and proceeded through customs, which, when you arrive in Ireland, is a hallway with a machine similar to the one that you put your bags through before you get on the plane to come to ireland except that this one is without proper lighting, staff to opporate it or the machine itself.
Guinness and Baileys bid you Failte (welcome) and you walk right out to the lovely older brother who is holding a sign and holding the keys to the newly rented Fiesta.
Except that the brother is still on the bus because he didn't set his alarm an hour and a half ahead of schedule and was thus on the bus an our later than intended.
Not to worry, they say. I'm sure he'll get here in a moment or two. We'll just look after the car.
you'd like a car
yes. will you be our driver?
pardon me?
stephen, don't be difficult
yes. we would like a car.
right so. you're over 25 then?
yes?
stephen...
no, i am not
right then, no bodder. that'll just be *clickity-clickity-click* an extra fifty euro a day
steve. steve, are you okay. [steve stands back up]
i'm sorry about that, i just thought you said an extra fifty euro a day
i did
hey you! stop doing that. [steve stands up again]
well Leanne, i think we'll just wait for Bird to show up.
Guinness and Baileys bid you Failte (welcome) and you walk right out to the lovely older brother who is holding a sign and holding the keys to the newly rented Fiesta.
Except that the brother is still on the bus because he didn't set his alarm an hour and a half ahead of schedule and was thus on the bus an our later than intended.
Not to worry, they say. I'm sure he'll get here in a moment or two. We'll just look after the car.
you'd like a car
yes. will you be our driver?
pardon me?
stephen, don't be difficult
yes. we would like a car.
right so. you're over 25 then?
yes?
stephen...
no, i am not
right then, no bodder. that'll just be *clickity-clickity-click* an extra fifty euro a day
steve. steve, are you okay. [steve stands back up]
i'm sorry about that, i just thought you said an extra fifty euro a day
i did
hey you! stop doing that. [steve stands up again]
well Leanne, i think we'll just wait for Bird to show up.
the leanne and the steve
and so it begins. IreTrip '08.
We've one Fiesta, three suit cases, two siblings and an extra body.
We're set to venture about the island for the next ten days, but my day, my morning, started like most others.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. wack. snooze.
(ten mins)
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. wack. snooze.
(ten mins)
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. wack.
Then I sat on the edge of my bed thanking the snooze lord for setting my alarm thirty minutes ahead of my schedule for the day.
Luckily I had mustered up the intension to pack the night before. Unluckily I had ignored that intension and was now scurrying around my room tossing things into a bag.
three shirts. three socks. the pants i have on, the shorts laying right there. camera, computer, wallet, passport.
good. done. sorted. i'm out the door.
back in the door again. toothbrush, deoderant, umberella.
let's try this again.
back in the door. give Jade (matty's replacement in the house) the rent money.
right so. here we go.
good bye cork, see you in a week.
We've one Fiesta, three suit cases, two siblings and an extra body.
We're set to venture about the island for the next ten days, but my day, my morning, started like most others.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. wack. snooze.
(ten mins)
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. wack. snooze.
(ten mins)
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. wack.
Then I sat on the edge of my bed thanking the snooze lord for setting my alarm thirty minutes ahead of my schedule for the day.
Luckily I had mustered up the intension to pack the night before. Unluckily I had ignored that intension and was now scurrying around my room tossing things into a bag.
three shirts. three socks. the pants i have on, the shorts laying right there. camera, computer, wallet, passport.
good. done. sorted. i'm out the door.
back in the door again. toothbrush, deoderant, umberella.
let's try this again.
back in the door. give Jade (matty's replacement in the house) the rent money.
right so. here we go.
good bye cork, see you in a week.
Thursday, August 21
I know what you're going to ask
I know what you're going to ask, and the answer is yes.
I have been to see the new Star Wars: Clone Wars movie. It opened here and in most of Europe on August 15th and saw it just three days ago. And let me be the first to tell you
DO NOT GO AND SEE THIS MOVIE.
Sorry, I don't mean to sound so blunt or negative or agitated or frustrated or annoyed that I spent 5.50 and the better part of two hours (which was actually 98 mins) in a movie that made me feel like I was playing a video game, except that when I wanted to make the player jump off the cliff the controller I wasn't holding on the game system I don't own,let along play, anyways wasn't letting me.
Much to my delight someone at the Globe and Mail agrees with me.
"With its cluttered, relatively rudimentary design, Star Wars: The Clone Wars could be easily mistaken for a demo from Lucasfilm's video-game department." Jason Anderson.
I came home from my lunch shift and said over and over again that we should all rush out the door and go and watch the new star wars film. That day, no one wanted to. The next day I went by myself and was very grateful that I did.
I don't know if I would actually say "don't go see this movie", but I will say don't bother seeing it on the big screen. It is more than enough to see it at home with your star wars figures and your stuffed yoda doll and all those things that I don't have and don't wish I had.
Given the chance I would have seen it again because I do enjoy the films. But even given the chance again I would still likely had told you not to see the film because I still would not have enjoy it.
I would have owed Chris and Matt their ticket price because they both saw that the film would have been a flop.
Your were right, the both of you, Journey is far better than Star Wars and likely in more ways that one hundred and one.
I have been to see the new Star Wars: Clone Wars movie. It opened here and in most of Europe on August 15th and saw it just three days ago. And let me be the first to tell you
DO NOT GO AND SEE THIS MOVIE.
Sorry, I don't mean to sound so blunt or negative or agitated or frustrated or annoyed that I spent 5.50 and the better part of two hours (which was actually 98 mins) in a movie that made me feel like I was playing a video game, except that when I wanted to make the player jump off the cliff the controller I wasn't holding on the game system I don't own,let along play, anyways wasn't letting me.
Much to my delight someone at the Globe and Mail agrees with me.
"With its cluttered, relatively rudimentary design, Star Wars: The Clone Wars could be easily mistaken for a demo from Lucasfilm's video-game department." Jason Anderson.
I came home from my lunch shift and said over and over again that we should all rush out the door and go and watch the new star wars film. That day, no one wanted to. The next day I went by myself and was very grateful that I did.
I don't know if I would actually say "don't go see this movie", but I will say don't bother seeing it on the big screen. It is more than enough to see it at home with your star wars figures and your stuffed yoda doll and all those things that I don't have and don't wish I had.
Given the chance I would have seen it again because I do enjoy the films. But even given the chance again I would still likely had told you not to see the film because I still would not have enjoy it.
I would have owed Chris and Matt their ticket price because they both saw that the film would have been a flop.
Your were right, the both of you, Journey is far better than Star Wars and likely in more ways that one hundred and one.
Wednesday, August 20
What Would You Say
LeRoi Moore of the Dave Mathews Band died Tuesday from injuries he received during a four-wheeler accident back in June of this year? He died in hospital after being readmitted because of complications that had surfaced during his physiotherapy rehab (cbc.ca).
Like Ryan, I don't want to sound like some huge fan after Moore has passed away, but I do want to state that I really liked the music of DMB. Really liked it.
Like many others, my favourite of their songs is grey street. I should listen to i more often, everyday even, because every time I hear it I want to be better at playing the violin.
Of course it takes more than just saying it over and over again to make something like that happen.
I need to be taking lessons.
I wonder if Boyd gives lessons.
I have been thinking about a lot of things I would do when I get back to Canada, which, may I add, is (potentially) getting closer. There are a few ideas of adventures to go on but I have yet to organize them.
One involves France, Munich and Cork again at the end of October. Another involves Cork, Toronto and Seaforth, and another still involves some unknown destinations that I haven't even thought about yet. All, mind you, rely on my working a lot and getting paid more over the next four weeks; the next four weeks because that's just how much time I have left on my work visa.
When I figure out what i am doing come the middle of September, when my work visa ends and three month travel visa begins, I'll let you know.
Until then, lets listen to some really great jazz riffs from a talented musician who has left us.
LeRoi is the big guy with the sax and the backwards hat. The guy with the dreads is Boyd.
Like Ryan, I don't want to sound like some huge fan after Moore has passed away, but I do want to state that I really liked the music of DMB. Really liked it.
Like many others, my favourite of their songs is grey street. I should listen to i more often, everyday even, because every time I hear it I want to be better at playing the violin.
Of course it takes more than just saying it over and over again to make something like that happen.
I need to be taking lessons.
I wonder if Boyd gives lessons.
I have been thinking about a lot of things I would do when I get back to Canada, which, may I add, is (potentially) getting closer. There are a few ideas of adventures to go on but I have yet to organize them.
One involves France, Munich and Cork again at the end of October. Another involves Cork, Toronto and Seaforth, and another still involves some unknown destinations that I haven't even thought about yet. All, mind you, rely on my working a lot and getting paid more over the next four weeks; the next four weeks because that's just how much time I have left on my work visa.
When I figure out what i am doing come the middle of September, when my work visa ends and three month travel visa begins, I'll let you know.
Until then, lets listen to some really great jazz riffs from a talented musician who has left us.
LeRoi is the big guy with the sax and the backwards hat. The guy with the dreads is Boyd.
Sunday, August 10
i learned
I learned that a short while ago I was reading and that I felt as though reading wasn't what I wanted to do right then.
Maybe it was I was bored with my book, maybe it was that I was all read out or maybe it was that I couldn't find my book anywhere despite having not looked at all.
Tomorrow I am going to Galway for three days. I have three days off in a row because there are new staff members coming on board and they need hours to learn how to take my job away from me.
also, i am not bitter. not at all.
In fact I'm not even bitter at all, it's just that sometimes bitter is funnier; although i am sure that what is written above isn't funny at all.
i should stop trying to be funny.
never the less i am going to Galway and visiting a friend. I am staying at her house because she has two empty bedrooms and because she lives in Galway. You might remember Janine from a past post but not really because I didn't name her by name. She was the entity in charge of making all the food for the day. She made a great mom away from home.
she also made a good kosher meal.
I don't really know what I am going to do while in Galway, but I'll tell you a bit about it when I get back.
Also what I'll tell you about is how I am slowly loosing a great deal of friends. Two people left a week ago and another a few days after that. Matty fly's out in a month and his parents are here visiting for a week which means I'm not going to see him. Chris is in France for a series of odd reasons and Connor my American bartending pal had his last work night tonight and will be on the eight o'clock bus to Dublin in ... two hours. Even my auzzie-roommate whom i don't want be around isn't around.
I need to learn how to find more friends, and fast.
Maybe it was I was bored with my book, maybe it was that I was all read out or maybe it was that I couldn't find my book anywhere despite having not looked at all.
Tomorrow I am going to Galway for three days. I have three days off in a row because there are new staff members coming on board and they need hours to learn how to take my job away from me.
also, i am not bitter. not at all.
In fact I'm not even bitter at all, it's just that sometimes bitter is funnier; although i am sure that what is written above isn't funny at all.
i should stop trying to be funny.
never the less i am going to Galway and visiting a friend. I am staying at her house because she has two empty bedrooms and because she lives in Galway. You might remember Janine from a past post but not really because I didn't name her by name. She was the entity in charge of making all the food for the day. She made a great mom away from home.
she also made a good kosher meal.
I don't really know what I am going to do while in Galway, but I'll tell you a bit about it when I get back.
Also what I'll tell you about is how I am slowly loosing a great deal of friends. Two people left a week ago and another a few days after that. Matty fly's out in a month and his parents are here visiting for a week which means I'm not going to see him. Chris is in France for a series of odd reasons and Connor my American bartending pal had his last work night tonight and will be on the eight o'clock bus to Dublin in ... two hours. Even my auzzie-roommate whom i don't want be around isn't around.
I need to learn how to find more friends, and fast.
Thursday, August 7
Chinese Food
The thing about the thing is that recently I haven't been writing very much, about anything. And the thing about that is that I am really sorry.
Really.
I don't think i can apologize enough to make up for not having written anything in the past very long time. In fact, I am sure that if i was to apologize another time I would look a bit pathetic and desperate for your forgiveness; lord knows I don't want that.
So, I am sorry for looking pathetic and desperate.
So this one time, last night, we ordered Chinese. Matty picked it up on our walk back from the car which we had rented to drive around West Cork in yesterday. I know what you might be thinking and I assure you that the story that needs to be told involves the Chinese food and not the road trip and i'll do my best to make you understand that.
So on our road trip yesterday we sort of just drove around. Chris had a valid license so was the only one who could drive and therefore drove us all around all day. All of us included Matty, Jordan (new roommate from Brantford, Ontario) and myself. The four of us just drove around.
In saying that we had rented a car and just drove around I mean exactly that. You may think that
hey, you went to the trouble of taking a taxi out to the airport, filling out all the paper work with the lady at the desk only to find out that your license expired two months ago and you could no longer rent vehicles, let along drive them (only to know that the whole time you were hoping with all your heart to yourself the whole time the lady is filling out the paper work that she doesn't turn over the card and in the 100% chance that she will to look for the expiry date she will, somehow, have forgetton how to read dates written in numbers) and then have Chis step forward and put his license down and hope that she not realize that he wasn't over 25 and having gone through all that trouble perhaps you might have had a plan laid out for the day, a map with you or, at least, a lunch packed.
of course if you thought that you would be of perfectly sound mind and without the comprehension of the conversation that took place the night before.
IT went something like this:
chris: do you want another pint?
Bird: you know what, i'd like to rent a car tomorrow
Chris: me too.
Jordan: I'll have another pint
Matt: .... (he wasn't out because he was in bed because he was resting up to call in sick to work for his 11:30 shift at 10:30 because I was going to ask him to come along at 10:25. It was because he wasn't out that he had nothing to say.)
Now that you have a little idea of what our plans where you might have an idea how the day went; and if you picked "perfect" you would be absolutely right. With no plans made there were no plans to screw up. We saw more than what we set out to see (as we had set out to see nothing) and we had a better day than we would have watching the crap American television that Ireland gets for day time viewing (may I also note that we all get crap American television no matter where we are watching during t
he day, thus it is better to get out of the house and rent a car no matter where you are).
That night we got Chinese food from the place across the road from our house which I had never eaten at before. They give their food out in plastic reusable tubberware and not in those earth-hating styro-foam containers.
Now that, my friends, is news worthy material.
Really.
I don't think i can apologize enough to make up for not having written anything in the past very long time. In fact, I am sure that if i was to apologize another time I would look a bit pathetic and desperate for your forgiveness; lord knows I don't want that.
So, I am sorry for looking pathetic and desperate.
So this one time, last night, we ordered Chinese. Matty picked it up on our walk back from the car which we had rented to drive around West Cork in yesterday. I know what you might be thinking and I assure you that the story that needs to be told involves the Chinese food and not the road trip and i'll do my best to make you understand that.
So on our road trip yesterday we sort of just drove around. Chris had a valid license so was the only one who could drive and therefore drove us all around all day. All of us included Matty, Jordan (new roommate from Brantford, Ontario) and myself. The four of us just drove around.
In saying that we had rented a car and just drove around I mean exactly that. You may think that
hey, you went to the trouble of taking a taxi out to the airport, filling out all the paper work with the lady at the desk only to find out that your license expired two months ago and you could no longer rent vehicles, let along drive them (only to know that the whole time you were hoping with all your heart to yourself the whole time the lady is filling out the paper work that she doesn't turn over the card and in the 100% chance that she will to look for the expiry date she will, somehow, have forgetton how to read dates written in numbers) and then have Chis step forward and put his license down and hope that she not realize that he wasn't over 25 and having gone through all that trouble perhaps you might have had a plan laid out for the day, a map with you or, at least, a lunch packed.
of course if you thought that you would be of perfectly sound mind and without the comprehension of the conversation that took place the night before.
IT went something like this:
chris: do you want another pint?
Bird: you know what, i'd like to rent a car tomorrow
Chris: me too.
Jordan: I'll have another pint
Matt: .... (he wasn't out because he was in bed because he was resting up to call in sick to work for his 11:30 shift at 10:30 because I was going to ask him to come along at 10:25. It was because he wasn't out that he had nothing to say.)
Now that you have a little idea of what our plans where you might have an idea how the day went; and if you picked "perfect" you would be absolutely right. With no plans made there were no plans to screw up. We saw more than what we set out to see (as we had set out to see nothing) and we had a better day than we would have watching the crap American television that Ireland gets for day time viewing (may I also note that we all get crap American television no matter where we are watching during t
he day, thus it is better to get out of the house and rent a car no matter where you are).That night we got Chinese food from the place across the road from our house which I had never eaten at before. They give their food out in plastic reusable tubberware and not in those earth-hating styro-foam containers.
Now that, my friends, is news worthy material.
Saturday, July 26
Socially Acceptable
Every morning and throughout the day, Andrea, Jacquie and I always ask each other, "Does anyone have to work tomorrow?" and of course, the answer is always no because we are all teachers and for the rest of our lives, throughout the summer, none of us have to work the next day.
If we are being a bit obnoxious on the street (which I never am of course, its mostly the other girls) one of us usually says "I can't wait to get back to New York" as if to give the impression that we are American and not Canadian. Ha.
None of us have to work tomorrow as we are going to Camden market which is apparently a fantastic market ("you dont even know" is what they tell me..) so im pretty pumped for that because of course, i feel as though i havent spent enough money in England so i'd like to spend more. Everything here is normal priced, if you lived in a country that was also on the pound, however, because I am using Canadian money, everything is twice as expensive. So, for example, a starbucks coffee is 2.65pounds which is normally priced, however, if you make the conversion the coffee actually costs more than 5$ Canadian so its pretty expensive.
I can't wait to get back to New York.
If we are being a bit obnoxious on the street (which I never am of course, its mostly the other girls) one of us usually says "I can't wait to get back to New York" as if to give the impression that we are American and not Canadian. Ha.
None of us have to work tomorrow as we are going to Camden market which is apparently a fantastic market ("you dont even know" is what they tell me..) so im pretty pumped for that because of course, i feel as though i havent spent enough money in England so i'd like to spend more. Everything here is normal priced, if you lived in a country that was also on the pound, however, because I am using Canadian money, everything is twice as expensive. So, for example, a starbucks coffee is 2.65pounds which is normally priced, however, if you make the conversion the coffee actually costs more than 5$ Canadian so its pretty expensive.
I can't wait to get back to New York.
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