The health and safety of this city was called into question with the old lady in the hall outside our hotel room who was smoking a cigarette.
The tour apologized for the hotel. It was a last minute change which was a downgrade. I was expecting the worst. But as I lie here on the top of an IKEA bunk bed, I don’t have too much to complain about. They have free internet access too. They’ll make it up to us with a canal cruise tomorrow.
The first dinner organized by Contiki was fine. It wasn’t great, but it was a buffet with some good food.
The guide took us on a tour of the red light district. It does a lot for the ego to have pretty women knocking on windows at you. I went back again later for more ego stroking.
We also took in a sex show. Very aptly named; People on stage fornicating. The guide described it as “mechanical” and I agree. There were a few other acts. One that was just stripping was creepy; The dancer didn’t look like she was enjoying herself. Some acts had audience participation. No! Not that kind. Get your mind out of the gutter.

Drive drive drive. We’re not stopping for sights, just trying to get to Amsterdam. The EU government has mandated we take a 45 minute rest stop. All I know is we just entered the Netherlands.
The stop has three stores. La Place, where I got a sandwich (laced with cilantro); a kiosk where souvenirs can be had; and a McDonald’s. A bus pulled up, filled with teenagers. Everyone went straight into the McDonald’s. Our tour guide recommended against that. “You can go to McDonald’s anywhere in the world. Try something local.”

On the ferry there was a Toblerone bar 50cm long at least. Probably more. 4.5kg of chocolate.
Not a midnight snack.
I was tempted by the regular giant size bars. 3 for £7. But I also don’t want to cart them all over Europe just so they can melt. Maybe on the way back.

They drive on the other side of the road here. Not the wrong, but not the right. If I was driving I don’t think it would be too hard to manage.
But as a pedestrian it is extremely dangerous. When coming to a street, I’m never sure what to do. Who has the right of way? Which way will traffic be coming from? They conveniently have marked the road at crosswalks as to which way to look.
Still, look BOTH ways before crossing the street.

I’m on the Contiki bus waiting for the ferry to France. (I had hoped for the Chunnel.) I’ve tried to introduce myself to a bunch of people but I’m getting overloaded on names.
The three Japanese girls at the front are happy. One just outright called me handsome, and my sunglasses reminded her of The Matrix. Forward, or a language barrier, but I take it as a good sign.
I count a total of six Canadians, mostly from Ontario. Besides me, all of them are girls.
As near as I can tell, everyone else is Australian (they aren’t sympathetic about how long it took to me to get to Europe) or a New Zealander (which are also called Kiwi) with a sprinkling of South African.
Nobody has admitted to being American.

I’m exhausted. I haven’t slept at all. To get over jet-lag you shouldn’t sleep until you’re supposed to. Well, I’m golden there.
I found where I’m staying and deposited my luggage. (It is the practical definition of a hole in the wall. But I’m not planning on settling in.) Then, despite a brain that is barely working, I’m off to do sightseeing. There is a roving fleet of buses that you can get a one-day pass for and they will take you to the tourist spots around London. I could have planned it better though, (Brain not working.) because I spent far too long around the Westminster area. I got there too early for a reservation for the London Eye and ended up wasting time looking at architecture. I will admit jealousy of the tourists who come as couples. They get to appear in their photographs posing with bobbies, scotsmen, and holding up the clock tower. Me? I got buildings.
The Eye was nice. There is a great view, which let me see all I’m going to of Buckingham palace. But I must confess I looked too much at how it was working. It’s like a slow moving amusement park ride. You even get to buy a souvenir picture of your capsule.
When that was over I wandered to the boat docks and took a cruise that came with the bus tour. (I should have done it earlier.) The tour guide was a little boring at the start (at least I think he was; I started nodding off.) There were interesting things to see, I don’t know if I got good pictures; My camera lens looks smudged.
I’ll clean it tonight and then finally get to sleep. I have to be up early tomorrow to get to Amsterdam.
The jet-lag is working in my favor.
But I am regretting I can’t take in some theatre. I’ve seen adverts for Spamalot and Wicked. I’d like to see both, but I’m in town so briefly I can’t see either.
I think I need to come back.

I’m on the underground barreling through the tunnels under London. I think it will take me 51 minutes to reach my destination so I thought I would update the journal. This may not have been the best idea. It’s kind of shaky.
The announcer does have a lovely British accent as she says we’re heading to Cockfosters. “Mind the gap.”
It took an hour and a half to wait in line at customs. I guess a lot of non-EU planes arrived at the same time.
I didn’t sleep much on the flight. Mostly pretending to. The inflight entertainment wasn’t as good as the domestic flight. No individual view screens. So you either watch Spider-man 3 and Just Friends, or you don’t.

I’m a bad person. Let me tell you why.
At noon I checked out of my hotel. I had no place to live, but five and a half hours to kill. The concierge made some recommendations. However the human body exhibit (as seen in Casino Royale) was sold out. So the backup plan.
I went to the waterfront and rented a bicycle. For two hours I tooled around. I took bridges to islands. I went around the Formula-1 course. I passed a large ship going down a narrow waterway. I took a pedestrian bridge across the St. Lawrence Seaway. I frequently got lost. And I saw a commercial being made.
In other words, I got hot and sweaty with no way to shower.
I collected my luggage and took a bus to the airport. I checked in, and noticed I still had time before my flight. So I went to the bathroom, took off my shirt and tried to wash myself in the sink. Hand soap is your friend.
Hey! I’m wearing a Coolmax shirt. That should dry easily… Into the sink it goes. Add a bit of hand soap, it probably won’t hurt. Then long moments getting to know the hand dryer.
I think I traumatized a small child.
The British/Canadian girl sitting next to me has been friendly so I’ll assume I got most of the stink off.
As I look back on the last week I don’t have too may regrets. I didn’t get a Tourtière. I didn’t visit the church on a hill (don’t even know its name.) I didn’t ride the funicular at the Olympic stadium (probably for the best if the local buildings are falling apart.)
I maybe should have wandered around more by foot. I noticed that it is a very pedestrian friendly city. This was obvious when at a major intersection all of the driving lanes had red lights so the pedestrians could have a free for all. (I should have gotten a picture.) And maybe I should sleep better.
Next time I come I hope I can do some running. The waterfront looks good for it, and it would be a special challenge to get to the top of Mont Royal. At the very least, rollerblades for the canal system.
Now I should get some sleep. I napped on the bus, but in London it’s midnight so I should try and work the system.
Or I could read my travel guides and figure out how to get to the places I need to go.
I wonder if there is a movie on this flight.

I typed a lot tonight to update the journal. This is not an ergonomic keyboard. My wrists hurt.
That and there are French characters hiding in the keys.

Yesterday I met some friends for lunch and then we went off to an island in the middle of the seaway (it has a name, I just don’t know it) where they were having a rave. It was also a good spot to take pictures of the Montréal skyline. Although as it got dark we got covered in bugs. It’s hard to pose in front of a skyline and look good with a bug on your nose.
Afterwards, there was a dinner. It was at a Japanese restaurant. I had eaten there on Saturday under the advice of a friend. He recommended the all-you-can-eat sushi meal. This was a mistake as you don’t get to choose the sushi, and it arrives too slowly, and then, when it does come, it comes in big chunks. That time I had to bail due to scheduling conflicts before I really felt full.
This time there was a much larger party that we hooked up with. They seemed to have made the same mistake. I ordered quintessential Canadian lemon chicken.
Then off to another party. This wasn’t as active as previous ones. People seemed to be getting tired. A lot of the time was spent just watching TV. (I can do that in Edmonton!)
Today, I once again had to sleep in late. I am looking forward to one day eating an actual breakfast instead of muffins from local bakeries. Tim Hortons muffins go down well. The local bakery has muffins that feel like a lead weight in your stomach for the rest of the day.
I met some friends and we went touristing. We drove to the top of Mont Royal and took pictures of the beautiful view. Then we went to the Olympic stadium. We arrived too late to use the funicular to the top. It closes at 5:00, which is weird. Are they trying to be like a bank?
The stadium was for the 1976 Olympics, but the tower wasn’t finished until the 1990’s. Another building we passed later this evening was cordoned off because glass kept falling off of it on to the sidewalk.
Montréal may have a lot more culture, but at least the building are standing in Edmonton.
For dinner I had French Onion soup. Another friend has steak. My soup was better than anything I had ever got in Edmonton, and was on par with my mother’s who had learned technique in France. The steak looked tough and pathetic compared to Alberta beef.
I feel I came out ahead.

Good gravy. 6:30 in the morning. I’m staying up later each night. I should go to bed earlier to prep for jet lag.
Or maybe I should try and wrap around by staying up even later.

It was fascinating to watch. At the after-party tonight a guy wandered in who looked like he didn’t belong. Let’s call him frat boy.
Frat boy would not leave my friend alone. I suppose that makes her the hottest one there. This friend is a professional model, so it makes sense. She has a boyfriend (not me) so nothing could happen. Frat boy is falling down drunk. I was able to witness attempt four, where he just came up and started fondling her hair. She got him to downgrade to a shoulder massage. He tried to make personal questions, but never seemed to clue in she was ignoring him.
For the rest of the night, er, morning, he would insert himself into conversations she was having with other people. Usually while loudly chewing gum in our ears. I’m pretty sure that when she left, he would follow her, like some ugly stray puppy.
In the end, Frat boy was distracted by another friend with revealing clothes.
For the record, I am not Frat boy. Hopefully not even allegorically.

I’m going to have to come out against sightseeing on your own. It does let you see what you want; For instance, I spent 45 minutes watching the canal locks. But on the whole it feels empty. There are no surprises. All I’ve really been doing is taking pictures of architecture and I don’t think I have any pictures of me.
I did see the Notre-Dame Basilica. I even went inside. I take it as a good sign that I didn’t burst into flames crossing the threshold. I decided not to push it and skipped mass.
I have been staying up too late when going to parties; 5:30 last night. This is playing havoc with my body.

Well, this day we learned some surprising facts about Montréal. For example, the average Montréaler takes street lights as more of a suggestion than a good idea. If you think the pedestrians are brazen, they have nothing on the pigeons. Very pushy birds here. In walking around I passed a surprising number of Le Château. It is disturbingly easy to get clubwear in this city. I saw the best dressed homeless person ever. Cathedrals are (literally?) littering the place. Chugging a homemade martini will make you light headed and warm in the stomach.
I had a native poutine today. It was a late lunch. It filled a void, but I wouldn’t make it a regular habit to eat. Which makes it ironic that it was also my next meal at 2:30 in the morning. In my defense, I was getting lethargic and several friends were going for some. I was buying one for a lovely American woman (a friend I had made in Jamaica) and while I wasn’t looking she ordered extra cheese curds on mine as well. There is no way I can finish this. A few bites did perk me up though.
There was an afterparty I could have gone to. I gave it a pass. I probably shouldn’t have but I will list the excuses I have come up with. 1) The nice girl I was mutually flirting with had a ring on her finger. 2) It looked like the group would be consisting of single men and couples. 3) Not all could fit in the cab. 4) I really should get some sleep.
I should try for a European time zone, not Asian.

It took an hour and a half before I heard my first “Tabernac!” The bus driver was complaining about another bus blocking his way.
My room has a beautiful view. I think I can see Mont Royal. Well, a big hill anyway. With a large glowing cross on top. (Looks gaudy.)
I’m finding it hard to be extrovertive here. Not when instead of “Hello”, my first words are “Parlez-vous Anglais?” It hasn’t been a problem so far. And the locals are friendly. I just wish I had paid more attention to the backs of cereal boxes.
I promptly left the hotel to meet some friends at a nearby restaurant. It was a party so I met some new people. All of them spoke English thankfully. I’m desperately trying to remember all their names…
There were a LOT of people.
It was nice to be at a bar where people were happy to see me, which is more than I can say about Edmonton.

The flight feels like it’s getting foreign. Every kilometer we come closer to Montréal the more French if feels. It started subtly, but it is growing. On takeoff, English was the first announcement. Now French is.
Touchdown.
Montréal looks nice and green. I hope it’s not too cool. Edmonton was really hot so I dressed for that weather.
I got to pick the movies to watch on my viewscreen. Shrek 3 was, well, not funny. The Waitress was better but the flight ended before the film. The last twenty minutes are a mystery.

No, they don’t.
Today, we dine in Sbarro!

I’m at the airport in the departure lounge. Still nervous. No turning back now.
Unless I shout “Allah Ackbar” at the top of my lungs. Then I could turn back. They might insist on it.
The flight is late of course.
I hope they serve a lunch on board.

There is some physical law out there, up there with 1+1=2 and gravity.
If it is important for me to get a good night’s sleep, something will prevent that. So, if for instance, I am up until 2:00 in the morning for a flight the next day, it’s pretty important that I catch up on sleep. In such a case I should not be surprised if the phone rings at 6:00 in the morning with a wrong number.

In twelve hours I will be flying away from here and I won’t be back for a month and a half.
I don’t feel ready. Too many distractions to feel like I’ve properly packed. And despite what some people say it does not just involve throwing some shirts and pants into a suitcase.
I don’t expect to sleep well tonight. I didn’t last night. The stress woke me up and I couldn’t get back to sleep.
To add insult to injury, I can’t find plane tickets. I’ve got four itinerary of the plane travel, but not the ticket itself. It might be a ticketless affair, but I don’t know for sure.
I’ll contact the travel agent in the morning.

What we have learned today.

• A good friend will drive out and help boost someone’s car.
• I am a good friend. Or I am at least someone with a car.
• If someone says they know how to use jumper cables, make sure they do. Especially if they are ignoring the printed directions.
• It is not black-to-black, red-to-red.
• Jumper cables can actually smoke and melt.
• A car can probably not boost a truck.
• Bicyclists are jumpy when they are in the car with me driving. It is very easy to push their buttons.

I miss running.
I’m still nursing my ankle, so I haven’t been out running in a long time. Ironically I purchased new runners on Thursday, but that was so I could use a coupon before it expired.
I can see it in my legs; They are losing that toned definition I so enjoyed. I used to have great sexy legs. Not so much now. I have been enjoying sleeping in on Sundays though.
I’ve been going on the exercycle for an hour each week in a futile attempt to help maintain my muscles. It gives me a chance to read all my magazines. It isn’t the same though. Not nearly as social. The biggest indication of how much I miss it is that yesterday I was thinking about how much fun it would be to do some hill training.
And we all know how much I like hill training.

Today I was accused of “You are such a guy”. It would be hypocritical for me to deny it. After all, I’ve accused others of “You are such a girl.”
There was an article in the newspaper yesterday about the differences between men and women. I suggest you read it yourself, but in essence it stated that women dwell on feelings while men try to move from feelings to actions. Men with problems are content to NOT talk about them whereas women might throw a pity party. Both solutions may help or hurt the people involved.
Five minutes after I read it, a co-worker came to me with a problem. A friend of his, that I only knew peripherally, had a brother who had died. He was wondering what he should do the next time they talked. Because of the article, my suggestion was “I’m sorry for your loss. Let’s play some poker.”
I showed it to him and he read the article and agreed.
It was like a weird feedback loop. The man used the article describing the method men use to solve problems to help solve a problem via said method.
Pfft. You are such a guy.

My final play of the fringe. I don’t think there are anymore that I will see. There are ones I would like to, but I have either seen them already, or they are sold out, or a combination of the two. Some are going to be holdovers, but I will be out of the province before I can see them.

Cuckoos

It was funny, in a Greek tragedy sort of way. This is probably going to be one of the ones I remember for a long time. We can thank Jeff Page for that. He makes everything more interesting and funny. Even when things should be rather bleak.
This is not suitable for children. In fact I myself was rather disturbed by the events taking place when the actors, ahem, “walked” on stage. I thought that wouldn’t be in that pose for long, but no, they were like that for the entire play. That is stamina!