So I have finally made it back. No thanks to my Sydney to SFO flight being delayed and making me miss my connecting flight to Vancouver. I must say I was less than thrilled at the prospect of spending 7hrsin San Fran, but I did manage to have a ridiculously delicious turkey and avocado sandwhich. No one does turkey like the yanks that's for sure.
Anyway so I spent last night in Vancouver waiting to take the greyhound up to Squamish where I am now. Missing that connection extended my travel time to around 42 hrs. Ridiculous!! But totally worth it. As the plane banked around the right just before we landed, I could see the whole city sprawled out, the tiny glowing lights illuminAting the coastline. It was nestled below the BC coastal mountains, which still hav the last scraps of snow on their tips. They were cloaked in thick swirling cloud. It was beautiful.
Arriving back in Canada feels like coming home. Everything is so wonderfully familiar. The city, the Sea to Sky corridor, even Squamish's indutrial area makes me feel nostalgic (we had some good times dropping off the Propane Pete, the bus that breaks ALL THE TIME)
First day of pre-camp was awesome, great to see old friends and start making new ones. Better head off to get some sleep before the rest of the week!!
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Canada Mk II
Well here I am again, preparing to disembark the homeland to jet-sett off to my second homeland, the Great White North. I am so excited to be heading back to camp for a month over the winter uni break!!!
On Monday I make the mammoth flight from Perth to Sydney, then to LA and finally Vancouver before heading North to the Squamish River Valley and one of the most fun places on Earth, Camp Summit!
I'm going to be working as a camp counselor for 4 weeks, and as I'm returning staff this time I get paid (yeow!) and also won't be the go-to for all the super awesome jobs such as staining buildings (I'm pretty sure I still had stain ingrained in my skin months after we finished that job!)
Anyway this week has been a combo of trying to organise stuff before going away, as well as chilling to recover from my first set of uni exams and training hard so I won't get too unfit over my holiday. Might have to lay off the chicken grilled cheese sandwiches this year unfortunately...
Oh well!
Hopefully will post again in-transit to YVR. So excited!!!
On Monday I make the mammoth flight from Perth to Sydney, then to LA and finally Vancouver before heading North to the Squamish River Valley and one of the most fun places on Earth, Camp Summit!
I'm going to be working as a camp counselor for 4 weeks, and as I'm returning staff this time I get paid (yeow!) and also won't be the go-to for all the super awesome jobs such as staining buildings (I'm pretty sure I still had stain ingrained in my skin months after we finished that job!)
Anyway this week has been a combo of trying to organise stuff before going away, as well as chilling to recover from my first set of uni exams and training hard so I won't get too unfit over my holiday. Might have to lay off the chicken grilled cheese sandwiches this year unfortunately...
Oh well!
Hopefully will post again in-transit to YVR. So excited!!!
Thursday, January 21, 2010
The Finale
Travelling is weird.
I mean, to be fair, it's any number of things. Exciting, eye opening, amazing, changing, dangerous, even boring at times... but of all the things that it is, weird is definitely the word that sticks out at me right now.
It may be that my 14 months out of anything remotely close to an educational institution has significantly decreased my vocabulary, (and also my ability to spell... and do basic maths... anyway irrelevant) but I think I'm sticking to it.
Right now I am sitting in the Suvarnabhumi Aiport in Bangkok, Thailand, waiting. Waiting to take my final flight... the last one of the eight that have transported me all around the globe. It feels so strange. So strange to think I have been travelling for 9 months. Dragging my bag around, finding places to sleep, eating without ever entering a kitchen, waiting in airports, bus ports, train stations, malls, street corners, concrete steps... you can probably name anything and I will have waited on, near, within sight of or for it. So much has happened in this time, 6 months, a full 3 seasons of camp as well as the other 3 months of backpacking. Camp itself was so long, so full... so many good times were had, so many lessons taught, so many experiences unlike anything I had ever done before. Friendships unlike any other, built on such different but such solid foundations. The whole thing was quite inexplicable, the experience is really one that has to be experienced to be fully appreciated.
And then once camp was over, I packed up my stuff and roamed far and wide, trundling the globe on the aimless but no less dedicated search that is backpacking. And I thought camp was full of unmatchable experiences. Turns out I had my fair share of eye-opening experiences that gave me a full new set of ways of looking at everything, the world, it's people, myself.
It feels weird to say that things will never be the same again, that I will never be the same again. The connotations are too negative, which is far far from what I mean when I say it. Change is useful, needed and in my case, refreshing. I feel like I can see everything through eyes no longer blinkered by the limits of what I knew before. I still have so much more to learn, but it's like I didn't even know what I did and didn't know before, but now I've been given a sort of clarity.
All this sort of rambling isn't really achieving what I intended... as my trip is literally hours away from ending, it almost feels like it never happened. But I know the things I've learnt will stick with me, even if it feels like I imagined the whole things. I know no one will be bothering to read this as I will be home so soon... but if any one of the incredible people I met while I was away reads this, thank you! Thank you for helping give me the best times of my life, I can't wait to see you again.
I hope anyone who has ever read or ever does read this gets a chance to experience the truly liberating feeling that is swinging your bag onto your back, pocketing your passport and heading out the door and into the big wide world. It's most definitely one of the best things you'll ever do.
I mean, to be fair, it's any number of things. Exciting, eye opening, amazing, changing, dangerous, even boring at times... but of all the things that it is, weird is definitely the word that sticks out at me right now.
It may be that my 14 months out of anything remotely close to an educational institution has significantly decreased my vocabulary, (and also my ability to spell... and do basic maths... anyway irrelevant) but I think I'm sticking to it.
Right now I am sitting in the Suvarnabhumi Aiport in Bangkok, Thailand, waiting. Waiting to take my final flight... the last one of the eight that have transported me all around the globe. It feels so strange. So strange to think I have been travelling for 9 months. Dragging my bag around, finding places to sleep, eating without ever entering a kitchen, waiting in airports, bus ports, train stations, malls, street corners, concrete steps... you can probably name anything and I will have waited on, near, within sight of or for it. So much has happened in this time, 6 months, a full 3 seasons of camp as well as the other 3 months of backpacking. Camp itself was so long, so full... so many good times were had, so many lessons taught, so many experiences unlike anything I had ever done before. Friendships unlike any other, built on such different but such solid foundations. The whole thing was quite inexplicable, the experience is really one that has to be experienced to be fully appreciated.
And then once camp was over, I packed up my stuff and roamed far and wide, trundling the globe on the aimless but no less dedicated search that is backpacking. And I thought camp was full of unmatchable experiences. Turns out I had my fair share of eye-opening experiences that gave me a full new set of ways of looking at everything, the world, it's people, myself.
It feels weird to say that things will never be the same again, that I will never be the same again. The connotations are too negative, which is far far from what I mean when I say it. Change is useful, needed and in my case, refreshing. I feel like I can see everything through eyes no longer blinkered by the limits of what I knew before. I still have so much more to learn, but it's like I didn't even know what I did and didn't know before, but now I've been given a sort of clarity.
All this sort of rambling isn't really achieving what I intended... as my trip is literally hours away from ending, it almost feels like it never happened. But I know the things I've learnt will stick with me, even if it feels like I imagined the whole things. I know no one will be bothering to read this as I will be home so soon... but if any one of the incredible people I met while I was away reads this, thank you! Thank you for helping give me the best times of my life, I can't wait to see you again.
I hope anyone who has ever read or ever does read this gets a chance to experience the truly liberating feeling that is swinging your bag onto your back, pocketing your passport and heading out the door and into the big wide world. It's most definitely one of the best things you'll ever do.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Scottish Ramblings and Scraps of London and Oxford
Ok so I know I have been pretty slack of late keeping up to date with where I am and what's been happening... this became particularly evident after a rather charming email from my Dad:
'Hey Is, we got into Manchester midday yesterday. Where are you? Love Dad'
After reading that I decided if my Dad didn't even know where I was, sure thing no one else did, which was precisely the point of the blog in the first place. So, to define my current whereabouts seemed a worthy idea. Right now I'm on a train from Edinburgh to Manchester, having just been in Scotland for about a week, spending time with Sarah at her gap placement in Perth (more specifically near a small village called Bridge of Earn) and with my mate Anna in Edinburgh who I met in the summer at camp.
So that is where I am right now. However, when I do get this post up on the net I won't be there anymore... there's no net on the train see. Ah irrelevance and how I manage to contain it in these posts.
Just a quick note on where I am right now before I go on to describe where I have been... looking out of the train window (one of my absolute favourite new hobbies, how did I ever get bored on long trips before?) is a particularly delightful scene during this journey. Rolling farmland, tree-lined paddocks, tussocks of grass frozen still by the thick frost, the strong green of the hills diluted by it's almost pearly sheen. It is almost fairytale like in quality, I half expect a small imaginary creature that is usually found gracing the pages of Rowling's work to bound out from the hillocks, dancing some jig that for some reason is associated with all critters of the like.
Oh man, my first icicles! They hang like translucent daggers from the barbed wire fence, natures own small deterrent, sharp as a knife but as likely to crunch and crumble as the frosty grass beneath my feet. The train has paused, almost as if it too is admiring the small gasps of blue sky that penetrate the wooly grey blanket of cloud, allowing a few rays of sun to trickle down to the land below, merciful golden drops providing a small moment of relief for some bird or mouse than happens to find its way into the pool of light.
And on we trundle, a large metallic slug creeping its way through the green expanse, its steely trail interrupting the postcard-like cottages and barns that dot the patchwork of paddocks and pastures.
I wish I could relay to you exactly how it looks, but half-blurred images taken through a scratched window just can't do the majestic yet simple beauty of this countryside justice. I could waffle about it for hours, every time I glance out the window I see another classic scene just itching to be penned (well, I suppose in this case typed) but no, sacrifices must be made if any progress is going to result.
So my last half-post... this was originally intended to be it's other half, but I feel sufficient time has passed to give it its own, also not having the net and not knowing what I last wrote, I can't really provide the seamless transition between older text and new that would be needed.
I think I left off farewelling North America, so I must have landed in London by such a point and so I will go on from there. Apologies for the somewhat brief manner I am going to cover things, I get stuck if I go into everything.
It seems this darn window may actually provide more of a distraction, every time I avert my gaze from this screen I see so many endless grassy expanses just itching to be sprinted across, frolicked about in and in general just enjoyed thoroughly despite the mud and ice. Some of this frost is so thick I'm starting to mistake it for the first snow. Ah, a tunnel! Hiding the splendour for just a split second, only to reveal even more spectacular wild hills and slopes screaming out for someone to slide on.
How does one get anything done on this train? The view is literally rendering me absolutely worthless.
Ok, I will just admire without translating everything I see to literature. Easier said than done. However, I will do it. Have to do it.
Landing in London was a strange experience. The first time I had left the North American continent in a remarkably long time, and also only the 2nd continent I had visited since leaving my home one. Considering by the time I arrived there I had been away from home a while, it seemed an odd milestone. Nevertheless, landing was combined with that apprehensive excitement, the feeling all travelers know and are addicted to, the 'I'm in a New Place' feeling. You know the one. Love it. Anyway, Alex, Ben and I stepped off the plane brimming with this, only to have it somewhat drained away by waiting by the luggage carousel. For ages. And ages. Until every last bag had disappeared. A quick 'Um, so.... all our stuff is missing...' to a nearby airport worker got us the answer we expected. Our gear had been misplaced/delayed in Dulles. We filled out some forms and organised for them to drop off our gear at the address we found ourselves staying at. Leaving the airport (without being security checked at all, we literally walked past the customs officials leaning on their x-ray machine chatting over a cuppa) and hopping on the tube, we realised how lucky it was that our bags were not with us as the underground really is not roomy enough for 3 smaller packs, 3 bigger packs, 2 guitars, a tripod, 2 snowboards and 2 sets of ice skates.
We spent the next 2 nights in London, investing in a Big Bus tour ticket that lasted 48hrs. A sweet way to get about the place and see all the sights as well as learn about the city from the tour guides. A definite recommendation for winter travel over a short time period. London also happened to turn on the weather for us, it was absolutely beautiful. Sun shining, sky azure as home, the air itself was a rather mild 10 degrees or so.
Some facebook aided interaction helped us organise a visit to Oxford to see Chloe and have a mini-Fitzroy reunion. She met us at the bus station even though our bus was horrendously late. A few quick, excited hugs before we were off, bustling through the streets of Oxford, winding between crowds of Christmas shoppers, doing our best not to take people out with our packs. The modern shopfronts and buildings abruptly gave way to a huge ancient stone wall, looming above the street. It was the boundary of Christ Church, Chloe's (and therefore the best, she said) college, one of about 30. We dashed through Tom Quad, the beautiful stone gate scarcely receiving a glance as we hurried to get to the Hall in time for dinner. Climbing stone stairs anyone who had seen the first Harry Potter film would recognize, we passed through the huge double doors into the Hall. Images of knights and nobles raced through my mind, the long wooden tables, set for many, the walls clad with numerous portraits of notable Christ Church alumni, including Henry VIII and John Locke.
Again, I am unable to finish! I apologise profusely, however, just being reunited with my family is a pretty exciting thing and I am pretty busy. I'll write again soon I promise!
'Hey Is, we got into Manchester midday yesterday. Where are you? Love Dad'
After reading that I decided if my Dad didn't even know where I was, sure thing no one else did, which was precisely the point of the blog in the first place. So, to define my current whereabouts seemed a worthy idea. Right now I'm on a train from Edinburgh to Manchester, having just been in Scotland for about a week, spending time with Sarah at her gap placement in Perth (more specifically near a small village called Bridge of Earn) and with my mate Anna in Edinburgh who I met in the summer at camp.
So that is where I am right now. However, when I do get this post up on the net I won't be there anymore... there's no net on the train see. Ah irrelevance and how I manage to contain it in these posts.
Just a quick note on where I am right now before I go on to describe where I have been... looking out of the train window (one of my absolute favourite new hobbies, how did I ever get bored on long trips before?) is a particularly delightful scene during this journey. Rolling farmland, tree-lined paddocks, tussocks of grass frozen still by the thick frost, the strong green of the hills diluted by it's almost pearly sheen. It is almost fairytale like in quality, I half expect a small imaginary creature that is usually found gracing the pages of Rowling's work to bound out from the hillocks, dancing some jig that for some reason is associated with all critters of the like.
Oh man, my first icicles! They hang like translucent daggers from the barbed wire fence, natures own small deterrent, sharp as a knife but as likely to crunch and crumble as the frosty grass beneath my feet. The train has paused, almost as if it too is admiring the small gasps of blue sky that penetrate the wooly grey blanket of cloud, allowing a few rays of sun to trickle down to the land below, merciful golden drops providing a small moment of relief for some bird or mouse than happens to find its way into the pool of light.
And on we trundle, a large metallic slug creeping its way through the green expanse, its steely trail interrupting the postcard-like cottages and barns that dot the patchwork of paddocks and pastures.
I wish I could relay to you exactly how it looks, but half-blurred images taken through a scratched window just can't do the majestic yet simple beauty of this countryside justice. I could waffle about it for hours, every time I glance out the window I see another classic scene just itching to be penned (well, I suppose in this case typed) but no, sacrifices must be made if any progress is going to result.
So my last half-post... this was originally intended to be it's other half, but I feel sufficient time has passed to give it its own, also not having the net and not knowing what I last wrote, I can't really provide the seamless transition between older text and new that would be needed.
I think I left off farewelling North America, so I must have landed in London by such a point and so I will go on from there. Apologies for the somewhat brief manner I am going to cover things, I get stuck if I go into everything.
It seems this darn window may actually provide more of a distraction, every time I avert my gaze from this screen I see so many endless grassy expanses just itching to be sprinted across, frolicked about in and in general just enjoyed thoroughly despite the mud and ice. Some of this frost is so thick I'm starting to mistake it for the first snow. Ah, a tunnel! Hiding the splendour for just a split second, only to reveal even more spectacular wild hills and slopes screaming out for someone to slide on.
How does one get anything done on this train? The view is literally rendering me absolutely worthless.
Ok, I will just admire without translating everything I see to literature. Easier said than done. However, I will do it. Have to do it.
Landing in London was a strange experience. The first time I had left the North American continent in a remarkably long time, and also only the 2nd continent I had visited since leaving my home one. Considering by the time I arrived there I had been away from home a while, it seemed an odd milestone. Nevertheless, landing was combined with that apprehensive excitement, the feeling all travelers know and are addicted to, the 'I'm in a New Place' feeling. You know the one. Love it. Anyway, Alex, Ben and I stepped off the plane brimming with this, only to have it somewhat drained away by waiting by the luggage carousel. For ages. And ages. Until every last bag had disappeared. A quick 'Um, so.... all our stuff is missing...' to a nearby airport worker got us the answer we expected. Our gear had been misplaced/delayed in Dulles. We filled out some forms and organised for them to drop off our gear at the address we found ourselves staying at. Leaving the airport (without being security checked at all, we literally walked past the customs officials leaning on their x-ray machine chatting over a cuppa) and hopping on the tube, we realised how lucky it was that our bags were not with us as the underground really is not roomy enough for 3 smaller packs, 3 bigger packs, 2 guitars, a tripod, 2 snowboards and 2 sets of ice skates.
We spent the next 2 nights in London, investing in a Big Bus tour ticket that lasted 48hrs. A sweet way to get about the place and see all the sights as well as learn about the city from the tour guides. A definite recommendation for winter travel over a short time period. London also happened to turn on the weather for us, it was absolutely beautiful. Sun shining, sky azure as home, the air itself was a rather mild 10 degrees or so.
Some facebook aided interaction helped us organise a visit to Oxford to see Chloe and have a mini-Fitzroy reunion. She met us at the bus station even though our bus was horrendously late. A few quick, excited hugs before we were off, bustling through the streets of Oxford, winding between crowds of Christmas shoppers, doing our best not to take people out with our packs. The modern shopfronts and buildings abruptly gave way to a huge ancient stone wall, looming above the street. It was the boundary of Christ Church, Chloe's (and therefore the best, she said) college, one of about 30. We dashed through Tom Quad, the beautiful stone gate scarcely receiving a glance as we hurried to get to the Hall in time for dinner. Climbing stone stairs anyone who had seen the first Harry Potter film would recognize, we passed through the huge double doors into the Hall. Images of knights and nobles raced through my mind, the long wooden tables, set for many, the walls clad with numerous portraits of notable Christ Church alumni, including Henry VIII and John Locke.
Again, I am unable to finish! I apologise profusely, however, just being reunited with my family is a pretty exciting thing and I am pretty busy. I'll write again soon I promise!
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Farewell North America, My Home of the Last 7 and a Half Months
Hey yes so it has been quite a while and I have been a tad preoccupied moving from place to place and sometimes internet can be sketchy so it can be a bit tricky to get posts out there. But no excuses, I'm going to try and get down as much as I can between finding some breakfast and watching Friends. The joys of hanging around when your friend is working.
Ok so, cut back to about 11 days ago, when I arrived in New York City on a bus fresh from Montreal. It had been an all night bus adventure, from Quebec City all the way to Montreal, then a 4am border crossing where a guard questioned how had I managed to earn enough money to be on my trip... Turns out having a full-time job at 17 is not overtly common... Anyway he believed me when he pulled up the GP Network on my file. I was amazed, how do they know so much? Suitably amazed, I passed into the country relatively easily, arriving in NYC a bit before 6am.
I managed to find some internet to find a nearby hostel, not before explaining to a guy working at the coffee shop in the station how backpacking works. 'So, you just carry all your stuff with you?' 'Yep.' 'All the time?' 'Yep.'
Trekking down 8th Ave with the sun rising and the street still thronging with people, I was completely amazed by the myriad of tall buildings that loomed from the streetside. It was truly like nothing I had ever seen. Skyscrapers everywhere, the tiniest scrap of horizon glowing bright with the rising sun. I was in Midtown, around 30th St, near the Empire State Building and just a bit south of Times Square. I ditched my gear at the hostel and, completely mesmerized by this humming, gargantuan city, I set out along 34th St, walking the entire length in a somewhat vain attempt to reach the ocean. Walking past Madison Squre Garden and the Empire State Building, I felt like I was walking through a TV. New York does have that sort of effect, you literally feel as if you could stumble into the set of Friends or How I Met Your Mother.
My first day I decided to do the Empire State Building, it was a clear day and not too crowded. The view from up there is so cool, like I have gone up some tall towers on this trip, the Space Needle, the CN Tower. But that was a particularly excellent view, Central Park splaying out in this large green mat, quite alien compared to the twisted steel urban jungle that dominates the Manhattan Island.
Anyway I have to go but I will continue this post as frequently as possible. Apologies!
Ok so, cut back to about 11 days ago, when I arrived in New York City on a bus fresh from Montreal. It had been an all night bus adventure, from Quebec City all the way to Montreal, then a 4am border crossing where a guard questioned how had I managed to earn enough money to be on my trip... Turns out having a full-time job at 17 is not overtly common... Anyway he believed me when he pulled up the GP Network on my file. I was amazed, how do they know so much? Suitably amazed, I passed into the country relatively easily, arriving in NYC a bit before 6am.
I managed to find some internet to find a nearby hostel, not before explaining to a guy working at the coffee shop in the station how backpacking works. 'So, you just carry all your stuff with you?' 'Yep.' 'All the time?' 'Yep.'
Trekking down 8th Ave with the sun rising and the street still thronging with people, I was completely amazed by the myriad of tall buildings that loomed from the streetside. It was truly like nothing I had ever seen. Skyscrapers everywhere, the tiniest scrap of horizon glowing bright with the rising sun. I was in Midtown, around 30th St, near the Empire State Building and just a bit south of Times Square. I ditched my gear at the hostel and, completely mesmerized by this humming, gargantuan city, I set out along 34th St, walking the entire length in a somewhat vain attempt to reach the ocean. Walking past Madison Squre Garden and the Empire State Building, I felt like I was walking through a TV. New York does have that sort of effect, you literally feel as if you could stumble into the set of Friends or How I Met Your Mother.
My first day I decided to do the Empire State Building, it was a clear day and not too crowded. The view from up there is so cool, like I have gone up some tall towers on this trip, the Space Needle, the CN Tower. But that was a particularly excellent view, Central Park splaying out in this large green mat, quite alien compared to the twisted steel urban jungle that dominates the Manhattan Island.
Anyway I have to go but I will continue this post as frequently as possible. Apologies!
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
My First Legal Drinking Experience: A Pub Crawl in Montreal
So it seems a long time has passed since I last wrote, however it probably hasn't... 3 cities have happened though, 3 completely new sets of experiences, so I guess that contributes to making time stretch out a bit. (To be 100% correct 4 cities as I am in NYC now, but that's getting its own post so sssh.)
Anyway I have been really enjoying my solo perusals of far and wide locales but when Alex, my good mate from camp, offered me a couch for a couple of nights I was so stoked. Tyler, a fellow gapper, is staying at her place at the moment, so the prospect of seeing the two of them was an incredibly attractive idea.
However, there was a slight aberration to what was sounding like an excellent plan. This aberration takes form of my good friend the Greyhound Bus. Many an hour I have ridden upon this chariot of the proletariat, and whilst on whole it has been a very enjoyable experience, the particular schedule I was now interested in was proving to be far from that. Kingston, Ontario is only about x!km from Toronto. Not far you say? A couple of hours at most, even on a slow bus. That is what I thought too, but a quick squiz on the website gave me an unpleasant surprise. The Greyhound destined for Kingston was to take 12 hours. Yep, you heard me right. Turns out the route gets you within 50km of KIngston, then takes a very long detour through Ottawa. So that makes it an 8 hour trip. Then a 5 hour layover in Ottawa bus station is the cherry on top of the rubbish sundae that is that trip. There was another bus leaving the next morning that was only 8.5hrs (the 12hr bus left at midnight) but didn't reach Kingston til the evening. So, why pay for an extra nights accomodation and miss out on time with my mates for a mere 4 hours less on the bus. So I decided to take the thing, but as it was only like 4pm, I had some time to kill. A quick wander of Yonge-Dundas Square in Toronto (where I got off my bus from Niagara Falls) revealed the largest cinema I think I'd ever seen. 24 screens and an entire foodcourt level. Insanity. So that killed some time, as did watching a very talented Japanese busker play the didgeridoo.
My time at camp has given me a lot of valuable skills and taught me many life lessons that will remain relevant for years to come, one of which has been in full use since I stepped off site. That skill is thriftiness. Taught by one of the best (Crumbles is the ultimate in saving pennies. He ate nothing but cold poptarts and the occasional Subway sandwich whilst crossing 4 different Canadian provinces over a couple of weeks.) I perfected the art on our many gapper adventures, Seattle especially. Being thrifty is no walk in the park, you need to work hard to get your points up. One of my personal favourites is the use of the travel mug, 10c off your drink at many places, if you pay for a small they'll usually fill it up to the top (which is soooo more than a small). Also if you get drinks at a fast food joint where you fill your own cup, using a waterbottle can get you almost twice what you paid for. Anyway I could talk about thrift forever but the point I'm getting to is thriftiness requires diligence and sacrifice. This particular instance however was taking it pretty far, even for my liking. I hopped off the bus at Kingston at about 1.30pm, covered in travel grime and stiff from sleeping in Ottawa bus station. A quick trip into the neighbouring Timmy Hos... gosh I love that place, got my meal for under $3. Anyway I was fuelled up and feeling pretty good, so I decided to walk to Alex's house. Cabs are expensive things, and I have not caught one without sharing it this entire trip. So, armed with my directions, I set off. After going the wrong way for a couple of hundred metres I managed to get on the right track. Alex lives on Division street, which was only a few hundred metres from where I was. I was pretty chuffed, I mean how long can a street be right?
As I walked past 885 Division St, I realised the answer to that question. Alex lives at 95 Division St. Awesome.
Despite this minor 800 house setback I was determined to prevent my wallet from thinning itself any further. I tightened my pack straps, put on a Hamish and Andy podcast and continued resolutely down the road. I'm no stranger to lugging my lovely 50lb pack about. I basically ran (ok so it was more of a forward stagger) 1.5km down Bay St in Toronto trying to catch my bus to Niagara when I got off at the wrong subway stop. Turns out this was a bit longer than that.
I started counting down, like I used to on a rowing ergo. In our 2km ergs I would think about certain distances, like off the start think about getting to 1500m, then 1k, then 500, then 200, then for the last 100m I used to count down the tens. This method seemed to work, pretty soon I was in the 600s, then the 400s, then the 200s. Gotta say, don't think I could have done it if I was just going to some random hostel, but the though of seeing Tyler for the first time in nearly a month and Alex in over 3 definitely helped. 2 hours later I arrived at Alex's door, so naturally, I was pretty stoked, then as she came bursting down the stairs and basically collided into/hugged me it was the best. Seeing a friend after a long time has got be in the 'Top Ten' Best Feelings Ever for sure. Just imagine how good that's going to be after being away for 10 months and seeing everyone at home!
Hanging out with Alex and Tyler was so nice, it was really wicked of her to put me up considering she already had her hands full with Tyler and her less-than-wicked housemate (the other 3 are really cool). It was pretty funny actually, I heard such stories about this particular housemate Tyler and I almost refused to go up the stairs and meet her. According to her all Aussies are 'cheap couchsurfers' and we were only being friends with Alex so we could sleep on her couch... Anyway so it was pretty hilarious when Crumbles (who was in Montreal) bussed down to hang out too. Three excess Aussies in a house already pretty full with 5 tenants. This was the first time the gappers had been all together since camp ended, and the first time we had all been with Alex since the end of summer. We went out for dinner, strolled the streets of Kingston and had a pretty sweet time. Things like that really do make you realise that camp is totally the people, not the place.
However, Alex had uni work to get to and we didn't want to impinge on the house any longer, so Crumbles and I decided to head to Montreal. We managed to convince Tyler to join us as the drinking age in Quebec is 18, so we could finally have those gapper drinks we'd wanted to have in Alberta when we had considered taking a bus to the border to have a few beers after summer ended. (That scheme was shortly abandoned after we discovered the bus was $150+) So the three of us hopped on a Megabus and we were in Montreal in no time. Checking in to the hostel (of Auberge Jeunnsse ? as its called in Quebec) we discovered there was a pub crawl scheduled. With Crumbles trans-Canada partner Oli joining the ranks, we headed out with the rest of the hostel crew to score some $10 pitchers. So my first legal drinking experience was a pub crawl in Montreal. Not bad I reckon. The bar was called the Blue Dog, I bought the first pitcher, we met 4 cool kids from Alberta and from there it was a pretty sweet night.
We ended up hanging out with the Calgary Crew, as we named them, for most of our time in Montreal. Crumbles and my food expenditures went out the window now we were with Tyler. The man enjoys fine food, and alot of it! Though he has improved (slightly) from his mammoth salad bar servings at camp, but he isn't quite at Crumbles and my level yet. I already mentioned Crumbles' poptart diet, and I have eaten Halloween chocolate for dinner 2 nights in a row so I'm not much better.
Another night we decided to hit some different bars, so we set out on the main strip of Rue St Catherine's to find ourselves some cheap beer. Unfortunately all we managed to find was 3 different adult shops, a couple of gentlemen's clubs, a salsa parlour and a 24hr 'adult film' cinema. We were almost about to resign ourselves to a strip joint... I mean they do sell beer... when we discovered McLaren's, an Irish pub a little down a sidestreet. Not only was it a good find as it prevented us from having to see half naked women, but they sold this things called 'giraffes'. They're like a big plastic column filled with beer with their own draught tap at the base. $20 for 3L. Genius!
Montreal was a sweet old time, we also visited the Biodome, the largest incline tower in the world (whoop?) and a rooftop complete with a giant milk bottle.
Tyler headed back to Kingston to stay with Alex for a few more weeks, and Crumbles and Oli had to head south to NY before their Greyhound passes expired. I decided to hit up Quebec City, but first I wanted to go visit Mina, who kindly let me stay at her place for 2 nights.
Now the gapper reunion couldn't be complete without a few failures, so Tyler managed to miss his bus because we went shopping and then sat in a Starbucks in a Chapters Store for like ages because I was out buying souvenirs and he couldn't get the internet to work. Our fails quota sufficiently satisfied, Tyler headed off, as did Crumbles and Oli.
I packed my gear and decided to leg it to Mina's. Turns out it was a pretty easy trip, cheers to the subway! My google directions turned out to be wrong, but luckily I have evolved the keen sense of direction only a backpacker can have... and by that I mean I have learnt to trust street signs over the internet. Anyway, I arrived at Mina's in the midst of a curry night she was having for a couple of people from her work. Which was pretty cool, because they were pretty cool, so it was nice to meet people. Plus I got a free beer. And try this delicious Indian icecream Mina had made. Her apartment was choice, 3 stories! The shower had TWO showerheads. I couldn't quite figure that one out. Also, the only shower I have seen in North American where you can change the water pressure independently of the temperature. Not a very interesting fact I know, but once you've lived here for a while, that stuff becomes interesting. Or I'm a massive nerd. You know what, it's probably the latter.
After sleeping in a double bed alone for the first time in 7 months (AMAZING!), on Mina's recommendation I decided to hike Mont Royal and then check out the Mont Royal plateau. Parc Mont Royal was beautiful, chockers with trees. It was quite eerie when I was there, the bare winter branches like sharp dark fingers, whilst the cold low fog swirled menacingly about, threatening to engulf you in its grey tendrils as you climbed higher and higher. I walked around Beaver Lake, and climbed some grass slopes cross country skiiers use in the winter. It would be an absolutely phenomenal place to be in mid Fall, when the leaves are all changing. Still, fallen leaves are better in the sense that you can kick them. And jump in piles of them. And make tracks in them.
There is meant to be the best view of the Montreal cityscape from the top of Mont Royal, but due to the fog there really wasn't much to see. I didn't mind, I have seen and will see plenty of cool cities. Plus, fog is still a massive novelty!
The Plateau was really cool. That was where Mina lived when she first moved to Canada. It's a mainly francophone neighbourhood, with heaps of cool little shops and the best poutine in all the city. La Banquise, a little 24hr restaurant started by a local firefighter and now run by his daughter, has over 25 different types of poutine, the national comfort food. I went for the classic. You need to have the original before you can try any variations. Also, it was the cheapest.
Poutine is hot chips smothered in gravy and cheese curds. The chips need to be soft, not crunchy and the cheese curds need to be 'squeaky'. It's delicious!! I wolfed down my serving almost embarrassingly quickly. I should have bought a book or something. That is one thing I haven't really got used to since flying solo. Eating alone at dinner time is not fun. For some reason, the other meals are ok. Not dinner though. So I have kind of given up on that meal altogether. Or replaced it with 2 minute noodles. Or chocolate. Health fail.
That night Mina took me to a local brew pub and we had a few delicious beers, all locally brewed. It was a good time actually, we talked about stuff, mainly sport. She is a mad keen rugby player and a Canadiens (the Montreal hockey team) fan. She was rather amused by my pledge to the Maple Leafs. It is true, they never win. But they are cool and have insanely dedicated fans, so its all good.
Montreal was an awesome trip, gapper reunions, meeting new friends and using a shower with 2 showerheads made it a trip to remember. Next stop was Quebec City for a night before south to the Big Apple.
Katie recommended Quebec's capital, so I didn't mind paying the extra $100 bus fares there and back (for some reason Greyhound doesn't go east of Montreal) and the $20 for the hostel. Stepping out of the bus terminal was quite a sensational feeling. I have never been anywhere where I felt such an instant sense of affection for the place. I literally loved it the second I stepped outside. It's a beautiful place. Even the bus station looks like some sort of ancient castle. Luckily for me I got to experience plenty of the streets as my google directions were once again wrong. Why I keep trusting that website, I have no clue. It was right for like 2 streets, but then it told me to turn up a street I swear to god does not exist. After a good hours wandering back and forth, talking to a nice local man about a wheat silo light show and a tiny electric bus, I decided to call the hostel and get directions. Fitting into a phonebox is not easy with a large pack with a guitar and tripod strapped to either side on the back and a small backpack on the front. I fished the cardboard brochure out of my bag and discovered it bore a map. Excellent. I had been trudging the streets of Quebec cluelessly for who knows how long with all the direction I needed literally under my nose. I finally made it to the hostel, a really cool building right in the middle of Vieux Quebec (Old Quebec). I ditched my gear and decided to get a quick look around with the last little bit of sunlight... at 4pm. Man I will never get used to it getting dark that early. Anyway my instantaneous love for the place continued to thrive as I checked out the ancient walls that used to protect the old fortified city, discovered an ice rink literally in the middle of a city square and walked through cobblestone streets sided with townhouses that would have been just at home in Europe.
The following day I decided to explore the whole place, visiting Chateau Frontenac, which is basically a big old castle. La Promenade du Gouverneurs, a boardwalk that gives spectacular views of the waterfront and the Citadel, an ancient fort that housed the Governor General for 200 years. Parliament Hill was interesting too, I learnt about the past Quebecois premiers. Strolling through the streets of Vieux Quebec was probably the coolest. Tiny modern shops encased in ancient buildings, graffiti of the fleur-de-lis and slogans such as Quebec Libre! were also reasonably common.
Although it was expensive to go there, I was super stoked I made the effort. A beautiful, fascinating city that was just so likeable! The only thing I was not a fan of was the prices, but mowing down on the $5 all you can eat brekky at the hostel eliminated that little problem.
All too soon, I had to go back to the castle and catch another 12hr bus to New York City. I totally thought I was being a genius by taking an overnight bus, I'm not one of your 'pay for an extra nights accommodation' style suckers. No siree. Turns out so was everyone else. However, the bus had wireless, so I was stoked. First I paid my way back to Montreal, then I was to catch a 'Neon' Greyhound down to the US.
But those tales are for later. This post is already of ludicrous length and probably boring you all to tears. If so, just close the darn window, please!
Nut jobs.
Anyhoo I'm off to bed, seeing Alex and meeting the famous Ben tomorrow, should be pretty cool. Adios!
Anyway I have been really enjoying my solo perusals of far and wide locales but when Alex, my good mate from camp, offered me a couch for a couple of nights I was so stoked. Tyler, a fellow gapper, is staying at her place at the moment, so the prospect of seeing the two of them was an incredibly attractive idea.
However, there was a slight aberration to what was sounding like an excellent plan. This aberration takes form of my good friend the Greyhound Bus. Many an hour I have ridden upon this chariot of the proletariat, and whilst on whole it has been a very enjoyable experience, the particular schedule I was now interested in was proving to be far from that. Kingston, Ontario is only about x!km from Toronto. Not far you say? A couple of hours at most, even on a slow bus. That is what I thought too, but a quick squiz on the website gave me an unpleasant surprise. The Greyhound destined for Kingston was to take 12 hours. Yep, you heard me right. Turns out the route gets you within 50km of KIngston, then takes a very long detour through Ottawa. So that makes it an 8 hour trip. Then a 5 hour layover in Ottawa bus station is the cherry on top of the rubbish sundae that is that trip. There was another bus leaving the next morning that was only 8.5hrs (the 12hr bus left at midnight) but didn't reach Kingston til the evening. So, why pay for an extra nights accomodation and miss out on time with my mates for a mere 4 hours less on the bus. So I decided to take the thing, but as it was only like 4pm, I had some time to kill. A quick wander of Yonge-Dundas Square in Toronto (where I got off my bus from Niagara Falls) revealed the largest cinema I think I'd ever seen. 24 screens and an entire foodcourt level. Insanity. So that killed some time, as did watching a very talented Japanese busker play the didgeridoo.
My time at camp has given me a lot of valuable skills and taught me many life lessons that will remain relevant for years to come, one of which has been in full use since I stepped off site. That skill is thriftiness. Taught by one of the best (Crumbles is the ultimate in saving pennies. He ate nothing but cold poptarts and the occasional Subway sandwich whilst crossing 4 different Canadian provinces over a couple of weeks.) I perfected the art on our many gapper adventures, Seattle especially. Being thrifty is no walk in the park, you need to work hard to get your points up. One of my personal favourites is the use of the travel mug, 10c off your drink at many places, if you pay for a small they'll usually fill it up to the top (which is soooo more than a small). Also if you get drinks at a fast food joint where you fill your own cup, using a waterbottle can get you almost twice what you paid for. Anyway I could talk about thrift forever but the point I'm getting to is thriftiness requires diligence and sacrifice. This particular instance however was taking it pretty far, even for my liking. I hopped off the bus at Kingston at about 1.30pm, covered in travel grime and stiff from sleeping in Ottawa bus station. A quick trip into the neighbouring Timmy Hos... gosh I love that place, got my meal for under $3. Anyway I was fuelled up and feeling pretty good, so I decided to walk to Alex's house. Cabs are expensive things, and I have not caught one without sharing it this entire trip. So, armed with my directions, I set off. After going the wrong way for a couple of hundred metres I managed to get on the right track. Alex lives on Division street, which was only a few hundred metres from where I was. I was pretty chuffed, I mean how long can a street be right?
As I walked past 885 Division St, I realised the answer to that question. Alex lives at 95 Division St. Awesome.
Despite this minor 800 house setback I was determined to prevent my wallet from thinning itself any further. I tightened my pack straps, put on a Hamish and Andy podcast and continued resolutely down the road. I'm no stranger to lugging my lovely 50lb pack about. I basically ran (ok so it was more of a forward stagger) 1.5km down Bay St in Toronto trying to catch my bus to Niagara when I got off at the wrong subway stop. Turns out this was a bit longer than that.
I started counting down, like I used to on a rowing ergo. In our 2km ergs I would think about certain distances, like off the start think about getting to 1500m, then 1k, then 500, then 200, then for the last 100m I used to count down the tens. This method seemed to work, pretty soon I was in the 600s, then the 400s, then the 200s. Gotta say, don't think I could have done it if I was just going to some random hostel, but the though of seeing Tyler for the first time in nearly a month and Alex in over 3 definitely helped. 2 hours later I arrived at Alex's door, so naturally, I was pretty stoked, then as she came bursting down the stairs and basically collided into/hugged me it was the best. Seeing a friend after a long time has got be in the 'Top Ten' Best Feelings Ever for sure. Just imagine how good that's going to be after being away for 10 months and seeing everyone at home!
Hanging out with Alex and Tyler was so nice, it was really wicked of her to put me up considering she already had her hands full with Tyler and her less-than-wicked housemate (the other 3 are really cool). It was pretty funny actually, I heard such stories about this particular housemate Tyler and I almost refused to go up the stairs and meet her. According to her all Aussies are 'cheap couchsurfers' and we were only being friends with Alex so we could sleep on her couch... Anyway so it was pretty hilarious when Crumbles (who was in Montreal) bussed down to hang out too. Three excess Aussies in a house already pretty full with 5 tenants. This was the first time the gappers had been all together since camp ended, and the first time we had all been with Alex since the end of summer. We went out for dinner, strolled the streets of Kingston and had a pretty sweet time. Things like that really do make you realise that camp is totally the people, not the place.
However, Alex had uni work to get to and we didn't want to impinge on the house any longer, so Crumbles and I decided to head to Montreal. We managed to convince Tyler to join us as the drinking age in Quebec is 18, so we could finally have those gapper drinks we'd wanted to have in Alberta when we had considered taking a bus to the border to have a few beers after summer ended. (That scheme was shortly abandoned after we discovered the bus was $150+) So the three of us hopped on a Megabus and we were in Montreal in no time. Checking in to the hostel (of Auberge Jeunnsse ? as its called in Quebec) we discovered there was a pub crawl scheduled. With Crumbles trans-Canada partner Oli joining the ranks, we headed out with the rest of the hostel crew to score some $10 pitchers. So my first legal drinking experience was a pub crawl in Montreal. Not bad I reckon. The bar was called the Blue Dog, I bought the first pitcher, we met 4 cool kids from Alberta and from there it was a pretty sweet night.
We ended up hanging out with the Calgary Crew, as we named them, for most of our time in Montreal. Crumbles and my food expenditures went out the window now we were with Tyler. The man enjoys fine food, and alot of it! Though he has improved (slightly) from his mammoth salad bar servings at camp, but he isn't quite at Crumbles and my level yet. I already mentioned Crumbles' poptart diet, and I have eaten Halloween chocolate for dinner 2 nights in a row so I'm not much better.
Another night we decided to hit some different bars, so we set out on the main strip of Rue St Catherine's to find ourselves some cheap beer. Unfortunately all we managed to find was 3 different adult shops, a couple of gentlemen's clubs, a salsa parlour and a 24hr 'adult film' cinema. We were almost about to resign ourselves to a strip joint... I mean they do sell beer... when we discovered McLaren's, an Irish pub a little down a sidestreet. Not only was it a good find as it prevented us from having to see half naked women, but they sold this things called 'giraffes'. They're like a big plastic column filled with beer with their own draught tap at the base. $20 for 3L. Genius!
Montreal was a sweet old time, we also visited the Biodome, the largest incline tower in the world (whoop?) and a rooftop complete with a giant milk bottle.
Tyler headed back to Kingston to stay with Alex for a few more weeks, and Crumbles and Oli had to head south to NY before their Greyhound passes expired. I decided to hit up Quebec City, but first I wanted to go visit Mina, who kindly let me stay at her place for 2 nights.
Now the gapper reunion couldn't be complete without a few failures, so Tyler managed to miss his bus because we went shopping and then sat in a Starbucks in a Chapters Store for like ages because I was out buying souvenirs and he couldn't get the internet to work. Our fails quota sufficiently satisfied, Tyler headed off, as did Crumbles and Oli.
I packed my gear and decided to leg it to Mina's. Turns out it was a pretty easy trip, cheers to the subway! My google directions turned out to be wrong, but luckily I have evolved the keen sense of direction only a backpacker can have... and by that I mean I have learnt to trust street signs over the internet. Anyway, I arrived at Mina's in the midst of a curry night she was having for a couple of people from her work. Which was pretty cool, because they were pretty cool, so it was nice to meet people. Plus I got a free beer. And try this delicious Indian icecream Mina had made. Her apartment was choice, 3 stories! The shower had TWO showerheads. I couldn't quite figure that one out. Also, the only shower I have seen in North American where you can change the water pressure independently of the temperature. Not a very interesting fact I know, but once you've lived here for a while, that stuff becomes interesting. Or I'm a massive nerd. You know what, it's probably the latter.
After sleeping in a double bed alone for the first time in 7 months (AMAZING!), on Mina's recommendation I decided to hike Mont Royal and then check out the Mont Royal plateau. Parc Mont Royal was beautiful, chockers with trees. It was quite eerie when I was there, the bare winter branches like sharp dark fingers, whilst the cold low fog swirled menacingly about, threatening to engulf you in its grey tendrils as you climbed higher and higher. I walked around Beaver Lake, and climbed some grass slopes cross country skiiers use in the winter. It would be an absolutely phenomenal place to be in mid Fall, when the leaves are all changing. Still, fallen leaves are better in the sense that you can kick them. And jump in piles of them. And make tracks in them.
There is meant to be the best view of the Montreal cityscape from the top of Mont Royal, but due to the fog there really wasn't much to see. I didn't mind, I have seen and will see plenty of cool cities. Plus, fog is still a massive novelty!
The Plateau was really cool. That was where Mina lived when she first moved to Canada. It's a mainly francophone neighbourhood, with heaps of cool little shops and the best poutine in all the city. La Banquise, a little 24hr restaurant started by a local firefighter and now run by his daughter, has over 25 different types of poutine, the national comfort food. I went for the classic. You need to have the original before you can try any variations. Also, it was the cheapest.
Poutine is hot chips smothered in gravy and cheese curds. The chips need to be soft, not crunchy and the cheese curds need to be 'squeaky'. It's delicious!! I wolfed down my serving almost embarrassingly quickly. I should have bought a book or something. That is one thing I haven't really got used to since flying solo. Eating alone at dinner time is not fun. For some reason, the other meals are ok. Not dinner though. So I have kind of given up on that meal altogether. Or replaced it with 2 minute noodles. Or chocolate. Health fail.
That night Mina took me to a local brew pub and we had a few delicious beers, all locally brewed. It was a good time actually, we talked about stuff, mainly sport. She is a mad keen rugby player and a Canadiens (the Montreal hockey team) fan. She was rather amused by my pledge to the Maple Leafs. It is true, they never win. But they are cool and have insanely dedicated fans, so its all good.
Montreal was an awesome trip, gapper reunions, meeting new friends and using a shower with 2 showerheads made it a trip to remember. Next stop was Quebec City for a night before south to the Big Apple.
Katie recommended Quebec's capital, so I didn't mind paying the extra $100 bus fares there and back (for some reason Greyhound doesn't go east of Montreal) and the $20 for the hostel. Stepping out of the bus terminal was quite a sensational feeling. I have never been anywhere where I felt such an instant sense of affection for the place. I literally loved it the second I stepped outside. It's a beautiful place. Even the bus station looks like some sort of ancient castle. Luckily for me I got to experience plenty of the streets as my google directions were once again wrong. Why I keep trusting that website, I have no clue. It was right for like 2 streets, but then it told me to turn up a street I swear to god does not exist. After a good hours wandering back and forth, talking to a nice local man about a wheat silo light show and a tiny electric bus, I decided to call the hostel and get directions. Fitting into a phonebox is not easy with a large pack with a guitar and tripod strapped to either side on the back and a small backpack on the front. I fished the cardboard brochure out of my bag and discovered it bore a map. Excellent. I had been trudging the streets of Quebec cluelessly for who knows how long with all the direction I needed literally under my nose. I finally made it to the hostel, a really cool building right in the middle of Vieux Quebec (Old Quebec). I ditched my gear and decided to get a quick look around with the last little bit of sunlight... at 4pm. Man I will never get used to it getting dark that early. Anyway my instantaneous love for the place continued to thrive as I checked out the ancient walls that used to protect the old fortified city, discovered an ice rink literally in the middle of a city square and walked through cobblestone streets sided with townhouses that would have been just at home in Europe.
The following day I decided to explore the whole place, visiting Chateau Frontenac, which is basically a big old castle. La Promenade du Gouverneurs, a boardwalk that gives spectacular views of the waterfront and the Citadel, an ancient fort that housed the Governor General for 200 years. Parliament Hill was interesting too, I learnt about the past Quebecois premiers. Strolling through the streets of Vieux Quebec was probably the coolest. Tiny modern shops encased in ancient buildings, graffiti of the fleur-de-lis and slogans such as Quebec Libre! were also reasonably common.
Although it was expensive to go there, I was super stoked I made the effort. A beautiful, fascinating city that was just so likeable! The only thing I was not a fan of was the prices, but mowing down on the $5 all you can eat brekky at the hostel eliminated that little problem.
All too soon, I had to go back to the castle and catch another 12hr bus to New York City. I totally thought I was being a genius by taking an overnight bus, I'm not one of your 'pay for an extra nights accommodation' style suckers. No siree. Turns out so was everyone else. However, the bus had wireless, so I was stoked. First I paid my way back to Montreal, then I was to catch a 'Neon' Greyhound down to the US.
But those tales are for later. This post is already of ludicrous length and probably boring you all to tears. If so, just close the darn window, please!
Nut jobs.
Anyhoo I'm off to bed, seeing Alex and meeting the famous Ben tomorrow, should be pretty cool. Adios!
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Niagara Falls: A Bad Canadian Vegas... to the Untrained Eye
Hey crew
Kind of interesting that my Toronto post was from Niagara and my Niagara post is going to be from Toronto... but I'm technically in Transit in Toronto. I got in at like 4:30pm from Niagara, weighed up a couple of options thanks to the free wireless internet you can get in various buildings in Toronto and decided upon this one: Waiting 7 hours and then taking the midnight bus to Kingston that in fact takes 12 hours because it goes the most roundabout way possible, when it could really take like 4. This doesn't sound like the best choice ever but its the cheapest (don't have to find somewhere to sleep tonight) and gets me to Kingston the earliest, thus not wasting any valuable time I have in this part of the world. I would be totally sold on this option if it wasn't for my good mate Crumbles being in the same city as me, but being virtually uncontactable. No harm done, I'm fairly soon our paths will be crossing very soon, maybe even in Kingston for a mini-camp reunion with Tyler and Alex.
So, my trip to Niagara Falls was never really on the cards, but Alex (Perth Alex) suggested it, she and her road trip crew had been there and enjoyed it. I had basically done everything I wanted to do in Toronto but couldn't go to Kingston til Monday, so I though 'Why Not?. This thought led to more awkward public transit catching with my large pack in tow. However, there has been a rather revolutionary development in the carriage of the pack, backpack, tripod and guitar. The tripod goes on the side of the pack, the guitar loops around the back of the pack and the backpack goes on the front. I discovered today that you can clip my backpack onto the front of my pack. This sounds lame but it was like the most awesome thing ever for me. Back at camp, Crumbles and Billy were always strong advocates for the front-pack, but I remained unconvinced until today, when a pair of Poms from Somerset I met at the hostel put the idea of clipping a backpack onto the front of a pack into my head. Now I can walk for miles without being super unbalanced and getting stuck upside down like a turtle if I drop a coin.
Speaking of walking miles, I had googled the location of my hostel (Lyon's House Hostel)and seen that it was a mere 3.5km from the bus terminal. In the interest of saving money and getting some exercise, I decided to walk. I'm still of both minds about that decision. Luckily I managed to miss the freak snowstorm that blew in and out literally half an hour before I arrived. Also, the walk led me from the normal Niagara Falls through to the tourist district of Clifton Hill. As I came upon Victoria Ave, I was really feeling the 25kgs or so I was lugging about. However, as I looked toward the skyline, my spirits were lifted by the beautiful sunset staining the skies hues of pink and purple. I could only imagine how beautiful the Falls must look in that light. The wonder of the natural beauty of the heavens was somehow deadened as I got closer and closer to Clifton Hill. To be honest, the thing that first led me to the Bad Vegas conclusion was a large glass walled building with the letters WATERPARK emblazoned in crimson across its roof. The giant ferris wheel and fiberglass Frankenstein holding a Burger King Whopper didn't help either.
Before I knew it, I reached my destination and met the friendly hostel owner Patrick. He was super cool, really welcoming and liked a chat. The hostel was awesome, a convereted apartment building with the healthiest and best free breakfast I've ever seen! Homemade rasberry-bluberry muffins every day!
That evening in front of the TV I met 2 girls, Shonelle and Lindsay, an Aussie and a Yank who had met whilst Shonelle was studying abroad in Nashville. They were cool, it was their first time in Canada and they had walked in to the country. Literally! They had flown to Buffalo, caught a bus to the Rainbow Bridge that joins the USA and Canada across the Falls, hopped off, walked along the Bridge, gone through customs and then strolled on down to the hostel, which is a 5 minute walk from the waterfront.
The following day, Patrick sent Shonelle, Lindsay and I off in a cab on the 'Disorganised Organised Wine Tour'. We drove along the waterside to Niagara-on-the-Lake, a cute little township that looked more British than Canadian. After stopping to see a few sights, the Whirlpool (a tight bend in the river where the water forms a current that can trap debris for weeks at a time) and the 'World's Smallest Chapel' (see the photo below... it's pretty small) we made it to Jackson-Triggs winery. We walked in and were the only people there so a nice young man called Austin took us for a tour and tastings. The tour was cool, he let us eat grapes off the vine, we learnt a bit about why the region was so well suited to grapes (the Escarpment stops warm air escaping so the area is always a few degrees warmer than the surrounds). We got to go behind the scenes, see how they loaded grapes into the machines, learnt the differences between fermenting red (horizontal machine where the wine is agitated so as to extract the dye from the skin) and white wine (vertical machine that allows the skin to float to the top), and saw the cellar where they let the wines mature. Even the barrels are an important part of the process, the usual American and French woods were used, as long as some experimental work with Canadian and Hungarian woods. After the tour we got down to the business of tasting. Now I'm no wine connoisseur but I thoroughly enjoyed the couple of reds and whites we tried. However, my absolute favourite was the icewines. Icewine is made by leaving the grapes out so late in the season that they freeze. Pressing frozen grapes results in a much sweeter, dessert wine that you can only drink in very small amounts. The Cabernet Franc was absolutely delicious! If I was able to afford/transport a $65 bottle of the stuff I would have done it in a snap.
After trying way more wines than we were supposed to, and getting free corkscrews from Austin (it probably had something to do with the fact that we were three lovely young ladies and he was a not half bad young man) we set off to walk back to Niagara-on-the-Lake. Lindsay and Shonelle, being Canadian newbies, had yet to go to a Tim Hortons, so I ensured that this sad fact was rectified. They were impressed... mostly by the prices.
Once we made it back to the town we looked about in the many small artsy shops and galleries. It was quite a nice change sightseeing with girls. I had done it so many times with the guys at camp which was super fun, but we definitely didn't get to look in little boutiques and the like.
That afternoon we were back to the tourist trap. Shonelle and Lindsay head off to Toronto, and I decided to go and check out the Falls.
I must say, they are very impressive. There are actually 2 Falls that make up Niagara Falls, the American Falls (the smaller one) and the Horseshoe, or Canadian Falls. This is the one that most people think of when they think Niagara Falls. That one totally trumps the American one. The thunderous roar of a million bathtubs a minute flowing over the slowly eroding rock is really quite something. At night, the Falls are illuminated by these giant beams of light. I thought this was kinda tacky, but it did make for some cool photos.
My last full day in Niagara I hired a bike from Patrick and set off for a ride to Niagara Glen, a bouldering and hiking site around the bend in the river. It was nice to get out to nature, I felt quite starved of it after being in the cities for the past 2 weeks or so, especially considering I pretty much lived outside for 6 months. Niagara Glen was really nice. I hiked around through heaps of boulders and forests, all the way down to the waters edge. So many seagulls soaring over the water's surface. It was super picturesque. The hikes were nice too, so many yellow and brown leaves everywhere for me to crunch. That never gets old. EVER.
That night the Winter Festival of Lights was opening by the waterfront. A whole bunch of illuminated displays, particularly of Disney characters, had been erected by the Falls. It seemed an odd sort of thing to do, but hey, the people and their kiddies were flocking! Personally, I was a big fan of the fireworks. My we are such a strange race, to celebrate by firing massive balls of light that explode into many colours into the night sky.
My final morning I capped off with my last sight I had yet to see, The Journey Behind the Falls. A large tunnel had been dug over 40 years ago underneath the Horseshoe Falls, so you can go there and watch the water plummet in this massive white sheet in front of you. There is also a lower viewing platform where you literally get to shower in Niagara Falls. The massive rainbows and amazing sight of the water rushing was totally worth the mild saturation.
Then back to the hostel to share a cab to the bus depot, onto the 2pm bus and here I am, back in Toronto. Just watched the new Coen brothers movie and have since been chilling in a foodcourt with free internet just down the road from the Greyhound station where I stowed my pack in a locker. But there is a dude trying to pack it up so I best skedaddle. Wish me luck for my 12 hour bus ride to Kingston! I'm sure it will be a ball.
What trip is complete without a ridiculously long and uncomfortable bus ride. I suppose at the least it won't be too busy.... I hope!
I'll post the photos a bit later.
Kind of interesting that my Toronto post was from Niagara and my Niagara post is going to be from Toronto... but I'm technically in Transit in Toronto. I got in at like 4:30pm from Niagara, weighed up a couple of options thanks to the free wireless internet you can get in various buildings in Toronto and decided upon this one: Waiting 7 hours and then taking the midnight bus to Kingston that in fact takes 12 hours because it goes the most roundabout way possible, when it could really take like 4. This doesn't sound like the best choice ever but its the cheapest (don't have to find somewhere to sleep tonight) and gets me to Kingston the earliest, thus not wasting any valuable time I have in this part of the world. I would be totally sold on this option if it wasn't for my good mate Crumbles being in the same city as me, but being virtually uncontactable. No harm done, I'm fairly soon our paths will be crossing very soon, maybe even in Kingston for a mini-camp reunion with Tyler and Alex.
So, my trip to Niagara Falls was never really on the cards, but Alex (Perth Alex) suggested it, she and her road trip crew had been there and enjoyed it. I had basically done everything I wanted to do in Toronto but couldn't go to Kingston til Monday, so I though 'Why Not?. This thought led to more awkward public transit catching with my large pack in tow. However, there has been a rather revolutionary development in the carriage of the pack, backpack, tripod and guitar. The tripod goes on the side of the pack, the guitar loops around the back of the pack and the backpack goes on the front. I discovered today that you can clip my backpack onto the front of my pack. This sounds lame but it was like the most awesome thing ever for me. Back at camp, Crumbles and Billy were always strong advocates for the front-pack, but I remained unconvinced until today, when a pair of Poms from Somerset I met at the hostel put the idea of clipping a backpack onto the front of a pack into my head. Now I can walk for miles without being super unbalanced and getting stuck upside down like a turtle if I drop a coin.
Speaking of walking miles, I had googled the location of my hostel (Lyon's House Hostel)and seen that it was a mere 3.5km from the bus terminal. In the interest of saving money and getting some exercise, I decided to walk. I'm still of both minds about that decision. Luckily I managed to miss the freak snowstorm that blew in and out literally half an hour before I arrived. Also, the walk led me from the normal Niagara Falls through to the tourist district of Clifton Hill. As I came upon Victoria Ave, I was really feeling the 25kgs or so I was lugging about. However, as I looked toward the skyline, my spirits were lifted by the beautiful sunset staining the skies hues of pink and purple. I could only imagine how beautiful the Falls must look in that light. The wonder of the natural beauty of the heavens was somehow deadened as I got closer and closer to Clifton Hill. To be honest, the thing that first led me to the Bad Vegas conclusion was a large glass walled building with the letters WATERPARK emblazoned in crimson across its roof. The giant ferris wheel and fiberglass Frankenstein holding a Burger King Whopper didn't help either.
Before I knew it, I reached my destination and met the friendly hostel owner Patrick. He was super cool, really welcoming and liked a chat. The hostel was awesome, a convereted apartment building with the healthiest and best free breakfast I've ever seen! Homemade rasberry-bluberry muffins every day!
That evening in front of the TV I met 2 girls, Shonelle and Lindsay, an Aussie and a Yank who had met whilst Shonelle was studying abroad in Nashville. They were cool, it was their first time in Canada and they had walked in to the country. Literally! They had flown to Buffalo, caught a bus to the Rainbow Bridge that joins the USA and Canada across the Falls, hopped off, walked along the Bridge, gone through customs and then strolled on down to the hostel, which is a 5 minute walk from the waterfront.
The following day, Patrick sent Shonelle, Lindsay and I off in a cab on the 'Disorganised Organised Wine Tour'. We drove along the waterside to Niagara-on-the-Lake, a cute little township that looked more British than Canadian. After stopping to see a few sights, the Whirlpool (a tight bend in the river where the water forms a current that can trap debris for weeks at a time) and the 'World's Smallest Chapel' (see the photo below... it's pretty small) we made it to Jackson-Triggs winery. We walked in and were the only people there so a nice young man called Austin took us for a tour and tastings. The tour was cool, he let us eat grapes off the vine, we learnt a bit about why the region was so well suited to grapes (the Escarpment stops warm air escaping so the area is always a few degrees warmer than the surrounds). We got to go behind the scenes, see how they loaded grapes into the machines, learnt the differences between fermenting red (horizontal machine where the wine is agitated so as to extract the dye from the skin) and white wine (vertical machine that allows the skin to float to the top), and saw the cellar where they let the wines mature. Even the barrels are an important part of the process, the usual American and French woods were used, as long as some experimental work with Canadian and Hungarian woods. After the tour we got down to the business of tasting. Now I'm no wine connoisseur but I thoroughly enjoyed the couple of reds and whites we tried. However, my absolute favourite was the icewines. Icewine is made by leaving the grapes out so late in the season that they freeze. Pressing frozen grapes results in a much sweeter, dessert wine that you can only drink in very small amounts. The Cabernet Franc was absolutely delicious! If I was able to afford/transport a $65 bottle of the stuff I would have done it in a snap.
After trying way more wines than we were supposed to, and getting free corkscrews from Austin (it probably had something to do with the fact that we were three lovely young ladies and he was a not half bad young man) we set off to walk back to Niagara-on-the-Lake. Lindsay and Shonelle, being Canadian newbies, had yet to go to a Tim Hortons, so I ensured that this sad fact was rectified. They were impressed... mostly by the prices.
Once we made it back to the town we looked about in the many small artsy shops and galleries. It was quite a nice change sightseeing with girls. I had done it so many times with the guys at camp which was super fun, but we definitely didn't get to look in little boutiques and the like.
That afternoon we were back to the tourist trap. Shonelle and Lindsay head off to Toronto, and I decided to go and check out the Falls.
I must say, they are very impressive. There are actually 2 Falls that make up Niagara Falls, the American Falls (the smaller one) and the Horseshoe, or Canadian Falls. This is the one that most people think of when they think Niagara Falls. That one totally trumps the American one. The thunderous roar of a million bathtubs a minute flowing over the slowly eroding rock is really quite something. At night, the Falls are illuminated by these giant beams of light. I thought this was kinda tacky, but it did make for some cool photos.
My last full day in Niagara I hired a bike from Patrick and set off for a ride to Niagara Glen, a bouldering and hiking site around the bend in the river. It was nice to get out to nature, I felt quite starved of it after being in the cities for the past 2 weeks or so, especially considering I pretty much lived outside for 6 months. Niagara Glen was really nice. I hiked around through heaps of boulders and forests, all the way down to the waters edge. So many seagulls soaring over the water's surface. It was super picturesque. The hikes were nice too, so many yellow and brown leaves everywhere for me to crunch. That never gets old. EVER.
That night the Winter Festival of Lights was opening by the waterfront. A whole bunch of illuminated displays, particularly of Disney characters, had been erected by the Falls. It seemed an odd sort of thing to do, but hey, the people and their kiddies were flocking! Personally, I was a big fan of the fireworks. My we are such a strange race, to celebrate by firing massive balls of light that explode into many colours into the night sky.
My final morning I capped off with my last sight I had yet to see, The Journey Behind the Falls. A large tunnel had been dug over 40 years ago underneath the Horseshoe Falls, so you can go there and watch the water plummet in this massive white sheet in front of you. There is also a lower viewing platform where you literally get to shower in Niagara Falls. The massive rainbows and amazing sight of the water rushing was totally worth the mild saturation.
Then back to the hostel to share a cab to the bus depot, onto the 2pm bus and here I am, back in Toronto. Just watched the new Coen brothers movie and have since been chilling in a foodcourt with free internet just down the road from the Greyhound station where I stowed my pack in a locker. But there is a dude trying to pack it up so I best skedaddle. Wish me luck for my 12 hour bus ride to Kingston! I'm sure it will be a ball.
What trip is complete without a ridiculously long and uncomfortable bus ride. I suppose at the least it won't be too busy.... I hope!
I'll post the photos a bit later.
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