Fruit & Vegetables

Strange things are afoot - New York is under attack. Giant orange vegetables have invaded The Big Apple. I witnessed this bizarre phenomenon with my own eyes today while wandering around Central Park. The villainous vegetables were sprouting up all over the park and attaching themselves to innocent New Yorkers, whose only crime was to be going about their Saturday afternoon business on a brisk autumn day. I was shocked and appalled that a city as advanced as this could give in so easily to the onslaught of an evil foe - I thought they were made of sterner stuff, but I was wrong. Not only have they passed undetected through the scrutiny of the Dept of Homeland Security, but they have conned the natives to believing they hold strange and mystical powers. The people here seem to hold a special reverence for their new spherical friends, almost to the point of worship. I think it will come to a head on Monday night, when they will hold a huge parade in honour of the invading force.

Aside from inexplicable vegetable devotion, New York seems a pretty cool place so far. All I've seen so far is the area immediately around the place I'm staying, which includes Central Park. Once again, I'm very lucky to be staying in a brilliant place with some exceptionally nice people. Louise is an E&Y girl who started with me in London, but transferred out here to NY a couple of years ago. She and her fiance Alan have a fantastic appartment in the Midtown area (64th and West End Ave for anyone who knows the city) and they have welcomed me in with a comfy bed, some tasty Alsatian white wine and use of their laundry facility (which was very very necessary after my 2 weeks on the road - all I can say is recycled under-garments). Tomorrow I'm gonna move on from this place to stay with Brian, a capoeira buddy from Austin, who works in NY from time to time. We're gonna check out a capoeira roda (game) at the school of Joao Grande - one of the oldest living masters, then a Brazilian night at a club. Should be fun!

I arrived back in the States yesterday having spent 2 days in Montreal. I wish I'd spent more time there. From the brief stay I really liked what I saw. Its a very unique place that seemed to blend many of the best aspects of Europe and North America. I hesitate to pass conclusive judgement as I had so little time there, but it definitely gave off good vibes. The French thing was fun and I managed to renew my on-off relationship with the French language. I managed a few enforced run-ins with French-only speakers and even conversed (in a manner of sorts) with a genuine French girl (from Lyon). Her English was worse than my French, I was a bit pissed and my head was full of the Portuguese I've been teaching myself, so the conversation was rather muddled, but fun. I made a few 'single serving' friendships (a la Edward Norton in Fight Club) at the hostel in Montreal, the most entertaining of whom was Eric. He was an ER doctor from Philly who was in town to play while his wife was away. He told me that his colleagues called him Tigger and it was not tough to see why. This was one hyperactive guy, and he was funny, interesting and very friendly to boot. The two Aussie demi-morons who had also befriended me didn't rate Eric, but this was only as they believed that he cramped their style (this 'style' was a figment of their imagination).

On my final night in Montreal I visited a capoeira group I'd found on the internet to do a class with them. They were really friendly in a way that reminded me a lot of the Kabula crew in London. Unfortunately I'm a bit out of shape having not exercised much while I've been away and I lasted less than one hour of what was a pretty tough class. My legs still ache two days later! After the capoeira, I had a pretty funny night out with some guys from the hostel, including Eric, Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee (the Aussies) and a fairly quiet German girl called Catherine who was in town to do her masters in neurological science. We ended up in a pretty decent club, which went drastically up in my estimation when the teen-rock anthems were unexpectedly replaced by some mean jungle. It was just like being in Fabric. Poor old Catherine seemed pretty bemused by the whole experience. I'm not sure if it was Eric's 'child entertainer on speed' randomness or the boozed-fuelled Aussie twits who spent the evening practically forcing the poor girl to down pints. The last thing I remember seeing is the Catherine being carried across a street in a fireman's lift over-the-shoulder position by one of the rampaging antipodean love-machines. They really are a credit to their country. Thank goodness so many of them are travelling the world.

I will go back to Montreal to assess if my initial hunch of its goodness is deserved. In fact I will definitely be going back to many more places in Canada. After 3 weeks travelling the width of this big, friendly giant of a country it has left a hugely positive impression on me. I kept thinking to myself as I was in Vancouver, Toronto and Montreal that I could see myself living there. There is something very likeable about the country and especially its people. The winter weather is a bit of a bugger, but I reckon I could live with it. I whole-heartedly recommend you check it out.

But Canada has now gone and I'm back in the land that Bush rules for the next few weeks. The poor lad's having a bit of a tough time right now. You can almost taste the sympathy.

Over and out.

Stop the press!

Well blow me if that Supreme Court case I randomly wandered into yesterday isn't front page news here in Canada! Imagine my surprise when I pick up one of the national dailies this morning and the 2nd leader story is all about the Supreme Court's expected ruling to deport a suspected Algerian terrorist. It turns out that the Mr Harkat who is suffering from PTSD and depression because of his imprisonment is a suspected Al-Queda man, who was picked up in Canada and is wanted back in Algeria for questioning. I had no idea I was in the middle of such a major case.


Whatever next eh?

Capital Punishment

Capital city of Canada anyone? No? Yes? Well you should have got it – it’s Ottawa. Not the most difficult in the world, I admit, but I bet you had to think a little bit. This is where I find myself right now, and it’s a very interesting place I can tell you. I came here on a bit of a whim not knowing anything about the place and therefore having no expectations. As a result, I think I’ve found it more interesting than it actually is, but this is no bad thing.

The city itself is a peculiar place. It’s sort of like (sorry, bad English, I know) one of those purpose built capital cities, such as Canberra and Brasilia, but it’s a bit more ‘lived in’ – if you know what I mean. It was chosen to become Canada’s capital in 1857 and the story goes that Queen Victoria’s selection process was to stick a pin in a map about half-way between Toronto and Montreal. Ingenious. My lengthy wanders aboot the place (that’s a bit of Canadian for ya there – most of them seem to speak with a vaguely Scottish twang) have led me to believe that Ottawa is a curious mixture of York, Edinburgh, Whitehall, Brussels, with a twist of Bavaria and a hint of the Kremlin. Unusual I know, but that’s what it seems like. The architecture and the landscape are the main reasons for my verdict on the city’s influences – it’s a bit of a mish-mash, but a pleasant one. It’s also very orderly – a trait that owes everything to its status as a purpose-built capital city. The infrastructure seems to work, which is certainly a novelty in today’s world, and a good advert for municipal planning.

So what do you do when you find yourself in the seat of government of one of the world’s major political powers? Answer: you seek out a first-hand look at the effectiveness of the main power-holding establishments. After all, given that we technically still own this place, I felt I had a duty to run the rule over the people who are governing the territory on behalf of Her Majesty. I plan to file a full written report with my findings. First stop was the House of Parliament. In Canada, as in Britain, this is the lower house, where the elected representatives sit to debate and make law. Passing through numerous security checks, I was able to take a seat in the public gallery during a session of the chamber. I’d previously done this in London, and it was pretty entertaining watching John Major getting grilled by Tony B, with Lord Archer sat sneering a couple of rows in front of me. The Canadian version was not so entertaining. In fact it was downright pathetic. The chamber, which can seat over 300, was occupied by 5 representatives – they were easily outnumbered by the Police (10) the public (8) and the clerks (6). A pitiful attendance, I thought, lets hope they’re debating something of significance. The first speech was all about preserving indigenous culture in Canada. It is a worthy cause for attention, but the speech was a truly bizarre and confusing rant that seemed to focus on the bombing of a bridge in Mostar during the Yugoslav conflicts. On completion, it drew a rousing round of applause from one person. The second debate, which was led by the Minister for International Trade (you obviously don’t need to be that good to get a Ministry over here) was another blathering waste of oxygen, which dealt with international law surrounding the import of rough diamonds. Hardly inspirational stuff – I left mid-debate.

My next target was the upper chamber – the Senate, but these lazy gets don’t even bother turning up until 2pm, which gave me an hour to hang around, so I gave up. Luckily salvation was at hand in the form of the Canadian Supreme Court. Having never been inside a court of law, I was unsure as to whether I’d be allowed in. However, despite warnings from a burly doorman that “it’ll be a boring case”, I quickly found myself stepping through a mighty wooden door and straight into a session of the Supreme Court. I’d missed the opening sequences, so as I found a comfy chair at the rear of the courtroom I had absolutely no idea what was going on. Over the next hour, there followed an utterly absorbing cross-examination of an expert witness. I was able to surmise that the case centred on whether the continued incarceration of a Mr Harket (not sure on spelling) under threat of extradition to Algeria was adversely affecting his mental health. The expert witness in question was a leading authority on depression and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) amongst prisoners. His knowledge was fascinating and the probing undertaken by the Defence barrister was equally intriguing. There was even an ‘Objection’ by the other barrister, which made me very happy. After the hour spent, it was clear to me (so surely, therefore, to the judge) that the person in question was definitely not a psychopath and likely to improve in health if not incarcerated, but then I only heard one side of the case.

My report to Liz, will read along the following lines…
“Parliamentary system pretty poor – laziness and bumbling rife. I would send someone in to sort em out. Legal system appears to be solid, though you might want to tighten up on the random tourists that are let into the highest court in the land.”

Its off to Montreal tomorrow, so a good chance to practice my French. I’m told that most people there refuse to speak any English on principal. That doesn’t sound like the French to me.

Au revoir mes amis.

Rants & Falls

Things annoyed me today. I was pretty grumpy after having to get up at 7am and after enduring a fitful night's sleep that was mainly due to my bed being positioned 3 feet away from a well-marked public loitering/shouting spot on the street outside. I get annoyed easily when I'm tired and grumpy.

The first thing that annoyed me was abuse of the English language. Now I've veered away from this fairly obvious target for the vitriol of my 'Superior Englishman' complex, but today I snapped. Much to my chagrin (love saying that - makes me feel superior) the offenders in this case were the otherwise very amiable Canadians. I would have preferred to vent my lexicographic spleen at some Americans, but I'm sure they'll be more opportunities. The reason for my annoyance was an announcement on the train. I had noted the very same annoyance on my long journey, when the word in question was used frequently, but I was obviously less grumpy then. The typical announcement goes as follows...
"We will shortly be arriving at station x. If you are leaving us here please be sure to blah blah. When DETRAINING we advise you to take extra care etc etc". You'll have spotted the villanous word - detraining. Now where I come from (which is England, where we speak English) getting off a train is usually referred to as 'alighting'. Now I suspect a decent cross section of John and Jane Public back in Blighty would be mystified if someone told them to 'alight carefully' but still. the word detraining is a monstrosity and should be shot. What's wrong with just saying 'be careful when getting off the train'?? Detraining is actually in the dictionary, but I'd wager its another of the newly concocted Americanised 'stick-together' words where you take a noun, add an adverb and hey-presto you have a new word to fill your gaping void (cf. downsizing and upskilling). It’s a good job it’s a 10 letter word, therefore not possible on Countdown, or dear Mr Whitely would be spinning in his grave.

A further irritation on my train journey today (and again this happened countless times on the mega-trip, but didn’t really get my goat like today) was the constant horn hooting that went on. I quickly noticed when leaving Vancouver that train drivers are quite fond of their tooters. At first I though this was a quaint, but irrelevant addition to the railway experience. I eventually realized that they have to toot the tooter every time the tracks cross a road. There are a LOT of these crossings, so cue much tooting. The thing that really annoyed me was that all these crossings are protected by some quite hefty barriers, which are designed to prevent the cars from going onto the track when a train is imminent. So given the barrier protection, why the need for the never-ending tooting?? I mean, if you’re sat there in your truck and there’s a big bloody pole stickin out stopping you from driving any further, are you going to stop, or are you going to think “I wonder what will happen if I keep on driving through this barrier? Ooooh, hang on, I hear tootin. Better wait here.”. Well maybe you would if you’re a complete moron and we can’t really rule that out, so maybe they are a good idea after all.

I was on the train today as I undertook a wee excursion to Niagara Falls, which is about 2 hours away from Toronto. Its not the kind of classic tourist trap that I normally venture to, but I’m a sucker for nature so I had to go. The Falls themselves (there are 2 – American Falls and Horseshoe Falls, which is the most famous) are every bit as majestic and awesome as I imagined. There really is something uniquely spectacular about water surging over a precipice into a mighty cauldron of water down below. The tower of mist that was produced by the Horseshoe Falls was immense – it made a seamless connection to the clouds that were hovering overhead, not unlike the emissions of a chemical plant (though obviously much nicer). Yes I really enjoyed the Falls - they were great and not in the least bit annoying. What WAS annoying was everything around these magical wonders of mother nature. The entire area (on the Canadian side – I can’t vouch for the US side) had been turned into one of the ugliest, most repulsive showers of tack and vulgarity I’ve ever had the displeasure to stumble across. It was shocking. There was Hard Rock Café, Planet Hollywood, WWE Wrestling World, The Tropical Birds of the Lost Kingdom (???) and a totally third-rate wax museum, amongst all kinds of fast food eateries, casinos and assorted bollocks. Apparently this is the honeymoon capital of North America. Draw your own conclusions.

Luckily I managed to escape this trap of crap on an earlier train than I’d planned. Phew…but the biggest irritation was lying wait. I took my seat on the train and rested my head, ready for a nice snooze after my tiring day out. I hear faint voices from the back of my carriage. It was a mother helping her two sweet kiddies with their spelling. “Aaah” I thought, “its just like that film about kids doing a spelling bee”. I’m sure you all know about this bizarre North American phenomenon (again I really want to just say American here, but it was sodding Canadians as well this time) so I won’t bother to explain. As with the tooting, I found it to be a pretty pleasant novelty at first. This wore off. After 30 mins of genius boy rattling of word after word, my patience was wearing very thing. Even the words mommy was reading out were on my side – annoyance (nudge, nudge) terminate (get the hint woman!) decapitate (hmmm). After this final mortal word was ignored, I snapped. Jumping to my feet I shouted
“Can you spell ‘IRRITATING’?...Oh, very good. Well how about ‘SHUTHEF*CKUP’?...Wrong ya little bastard, the U was an asterisk!”
OK so that last bit only happened in my head, but just thinking of doing it changed my mood sufficiently and I barely noticed the final hour of continued spelling.

I guess from reading all this you might think I had a very bad day. Well that’d be wrong. For a start, musing on these annoyances has brought me a great deal of pleasure and writing about them here has been a thoroughly therapeutic process. In addition, I got back to the excellent news that Everton had battled to a point against Chelsea, thereby becoming the first team to take points of them this season. Light at the end of the tunnel after all – I’m keeping the faith.

I’m off to a new city tomorrow, so another early start and another train journey. I’m gonna wear ear plugs.

In the immortal words of Stuart Hall, I wish you a fond farewell.

Big Train

I made it! 4000 miles, 72 hours, 5 states, 3 time zones – one very very long journey. It was the ‘once in a lifetime’ experience I was looking for – a voyage of discovery, epic in its sweep and one I will not be undertaking ever again! For all the majesty of the landscapes I witnessed, the weird and wacky people I encountered and the prolonged moments of solitude that were perfect for silent contemplation, the indescribable discomfort that I endured for three nights whilst trying to sleep in my chair mean that this venture will not be repeated. I simply am not built for this exercise. Tall and gangly folk were not considered in the design brief for the economy sleeping arrangements. I tried every possible (and some impossible) positions in my quest for comfort, but each was a forlorn effort. I resigned myself to blasts of 20-30 mins dozing throughout the night and morning, which just about did enough, but caused me to wallow in an all-enveloping lethargy for long periods of the journey and resulted in a very achy-breaky body come Friday evening.

However, all this hardship made the journey all the more fulfilling. It became a battle of endurance – my own personal marathon (and lets be clear here – this is as close as I will ever come to a real marathon). I ended the journey feeling a brimming sense of pride and achievement, merely from completing the trip with my sanity intact. It is one of the most exhausting things I’ve ever done, but it was worth it. To fill the hours I kept a very detailed journal, documenting the sights, sounds, thoughts and feelings that occurred for the duration. One day I think I will write these scribbles up and see if it forms the basis for a half-decent travel book. I was reading an excellent traveller’s tale on this journey, which inspired me into creativity. I found myself writing page after page of deeply descriptive prose, revelling in unintentional alliteration or quirky observations. It was great fun and the perfect thing to do in the enduring anonymity of a mammoth railway adventure. Another highlight of the trip has to be the overheard conversations, which were often hilarious, always entertaining. The great majority of the passengers were of the elderly variety and between them had some cracking tales and interesting views. Just pipping the earwigging time to my top highlight was my 15 mins of bonafide wildlife spotting, where I saw a burly black bear plodding through woods, quickly followed by a bald-headed eagle swooping low over a shimmering lake, and rounded off by a prime example of Canadian beaver paddling across a wee stream. I was well chuffed, especially as I alone recognised the final beast in the procession as a beaver. I corrected those around me who had mistaken the industrious beaver for a duck of all things!

I now find myself in a hostel in central Toronto ( or Tronno as it seems to be known to Canadians). The weather is crap. Cold and wet. This inclemency, coupled with my hangover from sleep-deprivation have caused me to have a fairly quiet day. I spent a few hours wandering aimlessly around the city earlier (this is my new favourite hobby and I think, the best way to explore a new city) but there was a distinct lack of things to see so I headed in earlier than planned. I did have time to see the world’s tallest building from close quarters. I resisted the $20 fee to actually go up it because I’ve been overspending a little and because it was cloudy, but can tell you that from the bottom, its certainly very tall. Not much else to report other than that. It’s a pretty dull – grey, concrete and largely pointless (there’s a restaurant and a viewing gallery) – but nonetheless at 553m high, it’s the tallest freestanding structure you’ll find anywhere on this planet. Incidentally, the tallest man-made structure (as in not freestanding) in the world is the KVLY-TV mast in North Dakota, which stands at a monumental 628.8m, but is tethered by guys and pylons, so doesn’t get the press it probably deserves. Here's a piccy of it so the world can finally witness its awesome beauty. Magnificent innit?

Other than the huge tower, I didn’t come across much of note in Toronto. Admittedly I wasn’t looking very hard and I wasn’t prepared to part with any cash, but there didn’t seem to be a huge amount goin on. That’s fine by me though. I played some 5-a-side footy today with a gang of guys’n’gals from the hostel. Scored two quite good goals and didn’t throw up on the side of the court, which is always a result. There’s a pub crawl planned for tonight, which I’ll tag along to and has the potential to scupper my planned trip to Niagara Falls tomorrow which requires a very early start. After that I’m off to Ottawa (a last minute addition on the recommendation of Cindy, a girl I met on the train) then Montreal before the long awaited arrival in the Big Apple. So much good stuff still to come. I, for one, cannot wait!

Finally, a couple of 'obrigados' (thats thank-yous for the uneducated). Firstly to Heather and JP who were just the most outstanding hosts I have ever had the pleasure to know. Thanks so much guys - I will definitely return the favour whenever you're in London, Liverpool or Rio. Also to Sarah for introducing me to Heather in the first place. Lastly to Meriem for very generously offering to buy me a Pro Flickr account. This means I can now put as many pictures on the web as possible and has made me very happy. Merci beaucoup. And one final thing - rawkus congratulatory 'biggidy biggidy bong' to Soks for getting himself a brand splanking new job back in the big smoke. He's working for these people - quite interesting. You da man and what a great CV if I do say so myself.
Tchau for now.

Bugger

I was going to write a proper entry today, but it seems my run of incredible luck and impeccable timing is over. It started yesterday when I went on a very long mission to see a museum, only to find it closed when I arrived. Today's bad luck saw me stranded outside Heather's house for over an hour after I'd locked myself out. Not very good, but could have been much worse had Jerry (the 3rd housemate) not arrived to let me in. There is now a good chance I will make my train to Toronto. Had Jerry not arrived I would probably still be out there now. I had already begun working out what to do when I missed my train - the next train isn't until Friday.

So thankfully Jerry arrived, I managed to pack up my stuff, make a little pasta and even do a quick post. Ahead of me is 72 hours of uninterrupted train travel. I have 4492km to cover between now and Friday evening. I'll see you on the other side...

Paaaarty!

Saturday afternoon. I sat on a sofa with a beer watching the baseball game for three hours, while six 22 year old girls buzzed around me in various states of dress and undress as they prepared themselves for the evening's 'sexy' party. Is this the American Dream? Well... no, as I was in Canada (Whistler to be precise) but it was certainly enjoyable. Here's the girls after they had completed the prolonged process of sexin themselves up.
If I remember correctly, they are (left-right) Jamie, Angie, Lindsey, Sheridan, Joss, Sophie and Mel. I ended up in this situation thanks to JP, a guy I met for the first time last Saturday, who packed me off to Whistler to stay with his little sister (Sophie) promising me a good time, but warning me that "it really goes off and will be totally crazy". He wasn't wrong, let me tell you about it.

The party was for Angie's birthday, but the girls had very sensibly decided to outsource the party hosting to a gang of their male friends who had a suitably large party house. I was informed that around 20 people would be attending, all from within a close circle of friends. Sounded like it would be fairly restrained dressing up and drinking fun. Hmmm. I can only liken the event that unfolded to the wild frat house parties that are depicted in American films. To quote the local lingo it was "totally nuts" and "went off". The house (which was big) was absolutely packed with Whistler folk in search of debauchery, and they certainly found it. I put away a 12 pack of beers and left the party a model of sobriety in relative terms. There were beer bong races (downing cans through a funnel and tubing contraption) strange drinking games, lewd acts involving whipped cream, force-feeding of vodka jelly, a guy smashing beer bottles over his head and much fondling, hugging and falling over. Every time I went to the toilet I found myself grinning and chuckling at the almighty din that was arising from the drunken lunacy taking place downstairs.

As I mentioned, the theme for the party was 'sexy'. I believe this theme was one of the main factors in the high degree of madness that ensued as the costumes were very good. You've seen the girls, whose interpretation of 'sexy' was fairly straight-forward. Lots of cleavage, underwear and feathery accessories. The boys on the other hand, were a little more unusual. I was greeted at the door by a man wearing a retro velour tracksuit, headband, dodgy shades and an enormous erection (courtesy of a small balloon). Sexy? Another guy was wearing a kind of 80s striped party suit that was several sizes too small for him, and was inexplicably adorned with bat wings stitched to the arms of the jacket. That was just plain bizarre. The prize winner was definitely a gent who turned up wearing a gigolo-cowboy outfit, that was innocuous from the front, but from the rear revealed a pair of 'ass-less chaps' and a thong. As if bearing his cheeks to the world for the duration of the party wasn't enough he took the opportunity during a power cut blackout to jump on a table and dispense with his ass-less chaps. In a moment of extreme misfortune I managed to capture this display by taking a random photo in the pitch darkness, thus revealing what had gone unnoticed to the bemused party-goers. In amongst these costumes, I had arrived in civvy gear, having been blissfully unaware of the party theme. Alas, I was deemed to be un-sexy (much to my chagrin) and forced to don a rather loud green shirt that was only held together with one button, thus revealing my manly hairy chest. Instant sexiness of course.

It was quite a night. The "Great Party" message that had been scrawled onto the kitchen wall in permanent marker was very apt. The only dampener on the evening was the inability of my wondrously sexy English accent (apparently) to do the business. I woke up the next morning in a completely random bed, alone. Searching through my surprisingly complete mental archive of the evening's events, my conclusion is that the girls were too pissed to appreciate my wit, charm and Englishness, and that my repeated looks of utter bewilderment at what was going on around me were deemed to be unattractive. Weren't really my type anyway. Next time Gadget, next time.

By the by, Whistler was very nice. As nice as a ski resort can be off-season, when its cold and raining. Lots of leaves and lots of cloud. I'll have to go back when the snow's down.

Party on dudes.

Dream a little dream

I have been lucky enough to be the temporary occupant of an awfully comfortable bed here at Heather's place in Vancouver, which has enabled me to enjoy a few long deep sleeps of late. I was very much in need of these uber-slumbers having worn down my batteries substantially, however an unexpected side-effect has been some highly bizarre nocturnal imagination experiences (or dreams). To give you an idea, last night I dreamt that the entire cast of Eastenders was killed off in dramatic fashion, when all the buildings in the Albert Square area were demolished overnight using explosives, as the unsuspecting residents slept. Miraculously 4 elderly residents were the only survivors. I believe one was Dot Cotton and one was Dr Legg (though I'm sure he died some years ago). Another one I couldn't place, but was probably Ethel (also dead) while the fourth was curiously Mr Smith, who used to live down the road from my house in Liverpool, before he too died a few years back. Quite what inspired this rather morbidly spectacular episode in my subconscious is entirely beyond me. I haven't seen Benders for ages, nor have I witnessed any controlled explosions. I'm stumped, but then most of my dreams are fairly inexplicable.

Take another recent example, where I was Face from the A Team. I can't remember the ins and outs of this one, but I do recall being on an undercover scouting mission (as Face always did) and spending quite a lot of time hiding under a table, before escaping from a marquee and driving my car very fast up some muddy tracks. There were random supermodel types and various people from my past scattered throughout this little adventure, as well as some big bad guys. I saw the A Team about a month ago, but why should it crop up now?

An equally exciting, though more explicable dream I also had lately found me riding a very twisty turny roller coaster, that went up and over the Golden Gate Bridge. This one freaked me out so much that I woke up about 5 times, each time at the bit where there was an insane death-defying plummet into the sea. I kept falling asleep again and having the same dream. Some Wikipedia-enhanced research didn't really get me any nearer to explaining these dreams (though I did learn that Armadillos are the animal kingdom's biggest dreamers and cats most commonly dream about chasing prey). So if anyone has any ideas, please let me know.

Back in the real world there's not much to report. I've been taking it easy the past 2 days to try and recharge my flagging batteries and avoid the disappointingly English weather. I've managed to see a fair bit of Vancouver, and while there's not a whole lot to do, its very nice. Its a bit crazy here though as the city seems to be rebuilding on a grand scale to accommodate the huge number of people who've chosen to set up home here. I've never seen so many high-rise residential blocks in a city of this size and they've all been built in the last few years. Its definitely boomtown here, and this is in no small measure due to the 2010 Winter Olympics taking place in Vancouver. I wonder if this is a window into the future for London's pre-Olympics transformation?

I'm having a quiet few days so I'll be all set for a big weekend, followed by the epic train journey to Toronto, which I can't put off much longer. I'm going to a ginuwine Rock gig tomorrow (another first) to see The Killers. I got offered a spare ticket and though I've never really heard of them, thought 'what the hell'. After that I'm heading to nearby Whistler for the weekend to party. I'm gonna be staying with the little sister of a guy I just met (good) and am hoping to sample to ker-azy party action this resort is famous for. I might check some mountain vistas n'all, but we'll see.

OK, you're all up-to-date now. Marvellous. Glad to see the mighty England are returning to form with a surprisingly entertaining victory today. Maybe we do have a chance after all?? Commiserations to the European Champion Greeks and World Cup regulars, Nigeria who missed the cut. The tournament will be poorer without them.

Finally, a big hello to my Mum and Dad, who are now back from their umpteenth holiday of the year in Crete. Welcome Home!

Toodle-pip. Here's a random picture of an ugly fish from Seattle.

Shameless plug

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This entry is a fairly shameless plug for Kabula Journeys - affordable and safe cultural tours in Brazil. We've worked really really hard over the past few weeks to jazz up our website, so I'd love it if you could go check it out again. Honestly, its very good - I'm not kidding. Don't forget to tell all your friends - there's a referral reward policy, so it could get you some money!

That website again.... www.kabulajourneys.com

Thanks very much. Appreciate it.

Food Glorious Food

"O Canada!"

Now then now then. Since the disastrous loss of my last attempted post, things have moved on apace. Much to tell indeed, so fasten your seatbelts for a whirlwind update.

I'm currently in Vancouver. That's in British Columbia. That's in Canada. Just for clarity you understand. Its something I picked up from the Americans who usually seek or provide clarity when stating locations. So Canada is pretty damn good. I like. Since I arrived I have generally been eating, which is always good. I had the outrageous fortune of timing my arrival here for the Thanksgiving weekend, which resulted in my being taken to two huge turkey dinners on consecutive days and consuming a not insignificant quantity of wine. I have a wonderful host here in Vancouver (Heather) who's ensured my arrival in this HUGE country has been a happy one by getting me invited to these dinners. The hospitality and sheer friendliness I've encountered in my brief time here has been overwhelming. I've been invited into family homes for their traditional celebrations as though I was a long lost family member. Its very heart-warming and humbling to be on the receiving end of such fine hospitality. I've met some brilliant people so far as well, who've shared some fascinating conversations with little ol me. There was Ron the helicopter pilot, who told me all about Baku in Azerbaijan, Eastern Europe (between Turkey and Russia). We discovered our common ground was working for BP and I had always wondered what Baku was like as I spent many frustrating minutes trying to sort out problems caused by our helpful Azerbaijani colleagues. His tales and photos were amazing and I now really want to go there. At the same dinner party, we met a lady who has just started her own business in the adult sensory products industry. Raised eyebrows aplenty as she informed the gathered diners of her brand new lubricants range and her upcoming trip to Berlin for the Erotica expo. At last night's Dingwall family thanksgiving dinner, Mr Edwards (family friend of the Dingwalls) regaled us with some cracking stories over our scrumptious roast. A keen huntsman, traveller and history-buff, his anecdotal repetoire was impressive. The finest tale (repeated twice as it was so good) recalled his encounters with the famous grizlees of Canada's huntin' country. He impersonated the bears with uncanny precision and revealed how only once has he had to "take em down" with his weapon. He explained the correct technique for shooting a bear (you 'spine' them by shooting through the throat to the spine) and told that (much to my relief) they generally run away if you shout things like "bugger off" at them in your loudest voice. Useful information I think you'll agree.

I arrived here in Vancouver on Saturday from Seattle. In all honesty, Seattle was somewhat of a disappointment. I had an enjoyable time there and met some great people, but the overall the city didn't live up to my high hopes. The main downers were Seattle's main tourist attractions, which proved to be rather uninteresting, and the nightlife, which was dire. I left with a bitter taste in my mouth having endured an extremely frustrating night out being turned away from numerous bars as my EU drivers licence was inadequate proof that I was over 21. Not much you can do with bizarre regulations being enforced by moronic doormen.

Luckily there were some highlights. The hostel I stayed in (the Green Tortoise) was brilliant. Cheap, clean, friendly and some great free dinners. I met some cool people there, including Danny from LA who ended up giving me a lift to Vancouver. He and I met over breakfast on Friday then enjoyed the one great thing Seattle has amongst its tourist attractions - the Experience Music Project. This place is AMAZING. No kidding, its the best museum type place I've ever been to. The reason its so good is that they have a place in there called the Soundlab, where you can mess about with loads of musical instruments and bits and pieces. I realised one of my boyhood dreams when I got to thrash about on a real full size drum kit. It was just as good as I always imagined it, though much more difficult. If you ever go to Seattle, you have to go to this place.

So that is Seattle. Nice people, not so exciting though. Now I've left behind the most powerful nation on Earth for the time being to check out their big, friendly neighbour. Bring it on.

Boa noite.

The Lost Blog/Top 10 Holes

Holy shit. I just wrote a hole days entry (quite a long one at that) then pressed Ctrl + B to make something bold, and it all disappeared. How d'ya like that? Chamone.

OK, so I've been out all day after the disaster of losing my blog entry earlier. I toyed with the idea of writing it all over again, but I really couldn't be bothered. Maybe it was fate or something that meant you guys weren't supposed to read about all the craziness that happened to me yesterday. Anyway, luckily I have a back-up plan, which is The Top Ten All Time Holes in the World (of All Time). Here we go...

10. The Hole in My Bucket. Poor old Liza must have tired of hearing about this one, but any hole that makes a sea shanty has to be a good one.
9. Hole - this is a rock band I believe, featuring the druggie hag Courtney Love. They probably sold lots of records due to her Kurt Cobain connection, alas I fear they were actually gash.
8. The hole in your trouser pocket. We all get them. Quite how I'll never know. Maybe its too much pocket billiards, but there's nothing quite like the sensation of a 20p coin sliding down your trouser leg onto the floor via aforementioned hole.
7. The A-Hole. Quite simply you'd be up shit creek without these holes, but please only use them for the function they were designed for.
6. A Hole in One. In the sporting context, this hole cannot be surpassed. I'm proud to say that I have achieved this most elusive of feats, and yes it was witnessed. However, I must defer to my pa on this one, as he achieved an even greater sporting rarity. He managed to hit a hole in 1 on the day of a total solar eclipse. Now that doesn't happen very often. Nice one Dad.
5. The mouth. What a great hole. Multifunctional, practical and full of interesting stuff like teeth and taste buds. Also contains the tongue, under-rated male sexual weapon, if used correctly. Mmmmm.
4. Black holes. The mystical and misunderstood member of the hole family. No-one really knows whether these cosmic holes are what they claim to be, but if they are, then there's a good case for bumping them up the charts.
3. The Grand Canyon. This is the Big Daddy of all holes. There is no hole on this planet that can compare with the size and scale of this monster cavity. Hopefully I'll get the chance to have a close encounter with this grandiose bredren on my trip - it'll be a kind of pilgrimage.
2. Ladies bits. This hole is my personal favourite. A true pleasure dome and possibly compelling evidence of the existence of a divine creator. Luckil there's plenty of em to go around, although for some reason there are people around who still prefer #7. Ah well, all the more for us. Show us yer muff!!
1. The Hole in the Ozone Layer. In terms of global impact this baby has to get the top spot. This is a bad hole, so if it crosses your path be sure to give it a wide berth. This hole is so big that I think it might take centuries of hard work to repair. I'm pretty sure that the Bush administration is still in denial of its existence.

So there you have it, my definitive countdown of hole greatness. I'd be very interested to hear if you agree or disagree with my selections, so why not post a comment to let me know your stance. In the meantime, stay lucky and look out for piles. The pile is the sworn enemy of the hole and is not to be trusted, no matter how alluring.

In the words of the great Two Ronnays...
Its goodbye from me, and its goodbye from him.

Sleepless in Seattle

There was an inevitability about the title of today's post. As I got into my bunk bed at ther hostel here in Seattle last night, I smugly thought to myself that with a seemingly comfortable bed and an undeniable appetite for a good night's kip, I would be able to laugh in the face of Hanks or Ryan should I see them at any point in my lifetime. Sleepless? Pah. Wrong. A combination of factors shattered my smug delusion:
1. The pillow which had appeared so comfortable was way too fat for my liking.
2. Late arrivals into the dorm room with no ability to see in the dark (they did not have a head torch)
3. Early rising guy (5am) who had to go "find some work"
4. Inability to breath through one or both nostrils, caused by cold acquired more than likely from Niko (I'm not bitter)
5. Brain inexplicably trying to write poetry when shut really have been shutting down for the night

Yes thats right - poetry. This is not something that happens very often to me. I remember it happening once in 1st year at York, when I was so overwhelmed by the poetic flow that I got up in the middle of the night and wrote it all down. Surprisingly it was quite good, unfortunately I gave the only copy of it to Emma Elengorn and it was never seen again. "A wasted talent!" I hear you cry. "What might have been??" But no. You see my talent was fulfilled at an early age and I am in fact a published poet. Oh yes. If you ever visit my parents house, I'm sure they'll proudly pull out the poetry anthology that contains my infamous heart-rending love poem (penned at the highly mature age of 14). Quite how I managed to express such solemn verses on a subject that still leaves me mystified is indeed a connundrum.

So back to Seattle. Last night was my first taste of what some might call 'real travelling'. That is roughing it in hostels with loads of others who are on the road, instead of crashing at the palatial pads of your buddies. Well its certainly different, but I don't know about 'real'. I'm staying at the Green Tortoise Hostel in Downtown Seattle. First impression was that it was stuck in some kind of 90s grunge/goth timewarp. There were far too many piercings, tattoos and black clothing for my liking (and that was just the staff). Despite this it soon endeared itself to me with the free dinner they put on every other night - quite a bonus in my book, and also a good chance to meet some fellow travellers. Should be fun. Dinner was great, although the lasagne subsequently revealed itself to be packed with enough garlic to make Transylvania into a ghost town. Meeting people was difficult. I strategically positioned myself onto a table where two cool lookin dudes were sat, thinking I'll have a go with these guys, and more people will sit at my table. I'd seen another guy use this tactic to great effect and his table was now burning with conversation. Mistake 1 was picking 2 eastern european guys who had no interest in speaking English. Luckily 2 other friendly looking types joined the table. I thought I'd give em time to enjoy their tucker, then took a bold leap with some smalltalk..."D'you get the lasagne? Its really good." I said. Mild surprise, followed by nods and murmurs. No good. After all the training I'd had from E&Y in extracting information from people, I'd gone and asked a very closed question, then answered it myself. Schoolboy. That was it until the food had gone, when I resorted to the somewhat clichéd, but more open "Where you guys from?" Success! I was dining with Derek from Boston Massachusets (they always say the city and the state - why??) and a Dutch guy named Eco (as in system - although my suggestion of this to clarify his name left him superbly baffled. Derek got it).

Flush with confidence from this success, I ventured out onto the veranda to meet more fellow explorers. I was now armed with a pack of gummy bears (clever eh?) so there was no chance of failure. I quickly got chatting to a Glaswegian lass, and we chinwagged for a good while, though somehow never exchanged names. A few brief forrays into pleasantry exchange with some older dudes occupying the veranda were followed by an amiable chat with a fella called Sepdan (?? - didn't try to clarify this one). Turns out he was a poet and there was gonna be an open mic night at the hostel tonight. Perfect I thought, I'll stop here watch the action and get an early night. Well this open mic night turned out to be rather interesting and probably deserves a blog entry all of its own, but I'm running low on battery, so I'll save that one for a rainy day (which judging by the weather here now will be every day. I want california sun :(

Thats all from me, but I'm determined to get you idle buggers using my comments facility. So far its only Niko who is using it and thats only to big up his own blog. So 2 tactics...
1. Following a great discussion I overheard on a bus between a crazy guy and a slightly scared young lady, "Were the recent hurricanes in the US caused by God or Mother Nature?" Answers on a postcard
2. I'm compiling th all time list of world's greatest holes. All contributions welcome.

See ya....

The Sound of Silence

There's no quote today as so far as haven't spoken to anyone. Not a dickie bird - not even a squirrel. At the moment I'm sat on Niko's veranda (again)thinking and writing in relative silence. Only the breezing wind and the sounds of the City below causing a stir.

When I woke up this morning, I realised two things. One was that I'm coming down with the cold Niko had last week, the other was that I missed home. But what was it that I was missing. It definitely wasn't the weather or work I was missing. It wasn't even football (that's real football) as I've been keeping up to date with that, and besides there's not so much to miss about Everton right now. No, the thing I am missing is the people. My family and friends.

It dawned on me that in the run up to leaving England I had overdosed on some seriously good times with some seriously good people. From seeing almost all of my family back in Liverpool, to the multitude of leaving extravaganza that I orchestrated so I could spend quality time with all my bestest buddies. Since I arrived, Niko's larger than life personality had more than filled the void, but since he and Sulakshana left this weekend, I've had a couple of days of near solitude that stirred my homing instincts.

Now at this point its worth pointing out that I'm still having a brilliant time and I'm really looking forward to meeting loads of new people and catching up with some more old pals while I'm here. However, I can't escape the fact that this hole adventure would be magnified infinitely if I could share it with some of my favourite peeps. I kind of knew this would be how I'd feel as I know I'm definitely a 'people person' and while seeing breathtaking views of San Francisco, and other such touristy stuff is cool, in my heart I'm living this life for the good folk who share it with me. The 'wish you were here' motto couldn't be more appropriate.



In amongst all this contemplation, it was marvelously appropriate that Obi should send me an email this morning with some classic shots of numerous good people wearing a ludicrous pair of sunglasses after my leaving party in London. I was stirred into adding a new set to my Flickr space dedicated to all those lovely people who put a spring in my step and a smile on my face. I haven't got everyone on there yet, but there's some good'uns (cheers obi)Go check it out.


So there you have it. A blog entry that dispenses with the Englishman's view of American oddities in favour of opening up my emotional side. Its all good.

Keep the fun times rollin. Hole out.

Call this football?

"GO BEARS!"

Right then. After some internet issues and an undeniable case of blog lethargy, I'm back with some freestyle lexicon abuse. This Saturday I was introduced to another fine All-American tradition - the college football game. Now they call it football, but you realise it is very much not of the Association Football ilk (which by the way is the official name and root of the extremely annoying 'soccer' synonym). No this is American 'football' and its quite an experience I can tell you, although there is an irony here in that the actual 'football' was far from the centre of the experience (as another aside (sorry) irony is a dangerous verbal tactic to employ over here as I found to my cost when chatting up a tasty young undergrad at the game - the cheeky northern wit just sailed right over her pretty little head).

So getting straight to the point, the football action was pretty f*cking dull. I'm sorry to say that despite my hopes, the near 4 hours of play was about as exciting as, well...baseball. I was reliably informed that this was a exceptionally dull game. Cal (that's University of California Golden Bears to the uninitiated) were playing a pretty rank team (University of Arizona Wildcats) who were ripe for a beating. They apparently tee up a bad team specifically because it was Homecoming weekend (where all the old 'alums' come back to Berkeley for a knees-up) and it would not look good if the home team lost. So a win was widely expected for the Bears, and true to form, they did indeed win. Unfortunately they managed to win by doing not a whole lot. The final score was 21-0, which meant they scored 3 touchdowns. Two of the touchdowns I didn't even see, but seemed to involved one guy running over a heap of other guys when they were about a yard short of the end zone. The other TD (get with the lingo here) was quite a good pass from the Quarterback to a Wide Receiver. Apart from that not a whole lot else happened. One exception to this has to be mentioned though. The Wildcats had a player who was definitely talented, even to my untrained eye. He was marvelously named Steptoe, which instantly endeared him to all the Brits in the crowd and his job was to catch the ball when the other team kicked it then run as far as he could before he got mullered by a huge guy. Steptoe was incredible at running, dodging, ducking, diving and spinning and rang rings around the oafish defenders trying to bring him down. He would have been unstoppable at British Bulldog. Alas for poor Steptoe, the rest of his team was gash.

Now so far, the 'football' game is getting a pretty bad press from this author. Luckily however, the actual 'football' is the least important aspect of the whole game. Much more impressive and enjoyable were (in no particular order)....
1. The Cheerleaders. My pre-game excitement was uncannily focused on this area and they didn't let me down. Easily the most entertaining part of the day was watching the visiting team of cheerleaders, comprising 3 stereotypical cheerleader gals, 3 big strong fellas, 2 Wildcat mascots (Wilfred and Wilma) and a coach. They just happened to be right in front of where we were sitting and throughout the entire game, they managed to put up a united front of perma-smiles, smile/wave combos, flips, tricks and human pyramids, all to an admirably persistent chorus of 'Go Cats Go' (or variations thereof). I actually think they were entirely oblivious to the mind-numbing spectacle taking place behind them, in which their boys were slumping to inevitable defeat. You can see the lovely ladies in action right here. I even got a cheeky smile from the cutest one (that secretly made my day).


2. The Marching Band. This crew of nerdy misfits fulfilling the American Pie stereotype, bedecked in pseudo-military get-up provided the bulk of the crowd entertainment throughout the entire game. Marshalled by 4 old guys on stepladders, their routine comprised some rather impressively choreographed musical manoeuvers around the sportsfield. These kids had a real spring in their step despite being weighed down by drums and horns of all shapes and sizes. They warmed up the crowd a treat pre-game and kept the energy flowing during the game at appropriate moments from their position in the stands. The real treat came during the half-time show when they dazzled us with a medley of cartoon theme tunes, taking in old favourites such as The Simpsons and Inspector Gadget. Their 'piece de resistance' was a wonderful segue between Scooby Doo and The Flintstones, when some of the band acted out a scene where a trouble-making ghost was unveiled to be the Stanford Tree (symbol of the arch enemy university) which proceeded to be mown down by the Flintstones' primitive vehicle of choice, piloted by Cal's very own Golden Bear mascot. Genius.
3. The Audience Participation. During half time, a lucky few within the crowd got to have a go at embarrassing themselves in the presence of around 60,000 people. This always makes for great entertainment. One poor guy had the chance to win a car by kicking a 45 yard field goal. Needless to say after much whooping up of the crowd and bigging himself up, he unleashed a feeble effort that barely made 10 yards. Then there were the four couples selected for a contest to see which boy/girl combo could make the longest pass for another great prize. With the girls catching the guys' passes this was always destined for trouble. After many disappointing fumbled catches, the greatest roar of humour came when an amply proportioned lady ate turf in comedic fashion trying desperately to cling on to her hubby's precision throw.
4. The Stadium Announcer. This is definitely one of those 'had to be there' items, but try and imagine a guy with a truly remarkable accent of cheese running through inane announcements with a bravado that deserved medals and concluding each effort with the rallying cry of "Go Bears!" Example - "Colonel Larry Scobowski has generously donated over "$16 million to the Cal fund over his lifetime. Today Col Scobowski is 95 years old. We salute you. Go Bears!"
5. The Enormous Lady. This fine American sat a few rows back from us hollered incessantly at a somewhat inept popcorn vendor for over 5 minutes until he duly obliged her appetite for snacking and delivered said product. Her valiant efforts at obtaining custom consisted of crying "POPCORN! POPCORN! OVER HERE!" at increasingly ear-drum defying volumes. Beautiful.

So all in all it was a fascinating insight into American culture. It was astoundingly close to the stereotypes that are peddled through films and TV, but goddamit it was fun. This place is people-watching paradise. It was all a bit too much for Niko though, who had to resort to a little nap during the third quarter. He missed so much. Gimme 90 minutes of Everton any day.

By way of an update on my journey, I am leaving the delightful weather and scenery of California on Wednesday to head north to Seattle. Niko has left for a week in Finland and London, so its time to move on. It'll be sad to leave this fantastic place, but I'm itching to get stuck into my mission to 'do' North America.

Finally, one sad piece of news. I finally lost my battle to avoid the kind of junk food this country is famous for. I'd done so well to date, but a gruelling traffic jam, endured when Sulakshana and I tried to get back to Berkeley from the City, sapped my hunger to the extent that I had to raid the dreaded McD's for some crap in a bun. I like to think of it as revisiting past demons, and therefore a healthy experience. Lets hope the experience is not repeated.

Toodle-pip.


STOP PRESS....while writing this blog entry I've just seen an advert starring Gary Coleman, the long lost star of Diff'rent Strokes. Can you believe it, but he needed cash fast, so he went to www.cashfast.com and all his problems were solved. Whatever next? How the diminutively mighty have fallen.