Hitchhiking, Wine Tourin’, and Our First Couchsurfing Experience: Summer Travels Part 2

We'd been waiting on the highway of Lake Louise for over two hours, and it was beginning to seem like we weren't going to get a hitch. Realising we'd been a bit ambitious in thinking some kind stranger was going to let us tag along on their 4 hour drive up north, we started trudging back towards the town, to catch that $150 bus we had tried so hard to avoid. Cars continued to carelessly drive by, so as we walked I forlornly stuck my thumb out, wishing it was my middle finger. Suddenly, a car pulled up next to us, and a smiley Chinese couple jumped out and start shouting something about Jasper. Without waiting to hear any more, we were piling our rucksacks into the boot and jumping cheerfully into the backseat of their snazzy hire car. We were on our way!

Jasper

Pulling up at our campground after an amazing 6 hour drive up north (stopping at every scenic spot along the way – thank you couple from Beijing), we immediately set up camp and headed out for a celebratory meal. Walking back in the pitch black to our campsite, every shadow began to look like one of the many bears we knew were out there, and as soon as someone raised the issue of potential alien invasions we vowed never to make this long walk in the dark again. Jasper and its surroundings were amazing, and we continued to get lucky hitching to and from the town, the highlight being riding at high speed in the back of some students’ truck. Picking up our second rental car of the trip (and making a pact not to break it this time), we decided after a few days to move to an even sunnier spot: Kelowna.

Kelowna

Spotting two more bears, a moose, and even more amazing scenery on the drive down, we arrived in Kelowna excited and ready to drink. Starting our first day with a spot of parasailing and many a wine tour (because apparently we shit money now), we all agreed that Kelowna is a pretty perfect place to relax in. Deciding to leave our slightly weird trailer park campsite behind ($1 for five minutes in the shower, disgraceful) Verity and I agreed we’d take it in turns to drive to Vancouver and see if we could make it all the way in a day, whilst keeping the rental car fully intact.

Vancouver

Having never couchsurfed before, we were pretty nervous. Arriving at our temporary new home, the door was opened by a guy about our age, and in my panicked state I started spieling about how I’d spoken to someone called Quinn about us staying there. Turns out the person I was word vomiting at was in fact Quinn himself (not a great start) and he showed us a hole in the ceiling, leading to the loft we would be staying in (yes, the loft). Trying not to get hysterical at the weirdness of the situation juxtaposed to how calm and relaxed Quinn seemed to be, we decided to head out and do some sightseeing and deal with the whole couchsurfing thing later. As we left I bumped into a German girl who said she’d been staying there for ten days (!), so it soon became clear we weren’t their only surfers. We went into the city, ate some sushi, and came back around midnight, worried about what we might be returning to. Walking down their road, we could already smell the weed. Upon arrival, we were faced with about eight international faces,

including the four Canadians that actually live there. The record player was playin’, and everyone was high as fuck. They told us about themselves, hilarious stories about their work as T.V. extras and how they always do sneaky thumbs up in every scene, in the hope that one of their friends will one day call them up saying they’d spotted them onscreen. But their most impressive feat is that in three months, they have never said no to a couchsurfing request. Whilst we stayed at Quinn’s, we met more people than we had the whole time travelling, as each day there was always someone new crashing there, from the three Australians camping in the garden to the numerous Italians crashing in the basement. One of Quinn’s housemates even had a camper van in the front garden, which they use to hide their surfers when they have inspections. These guys were officially the coolest, most chilled people I had ever met, and staying at Quinn’s was fast becoming an adventure I was totally on board with…

4 Bears, A Moose, and A Rental Cartastrophe: Summer Travels Part 1

So we’ve been travelling around the Canadian West Coast for a couple of weeks now, and I think it’s safe to say that it’s been an emotional rollercoaster from the start. Since our enthusiastic arrival into Calgary on 7th May, we have succeeded in destroying a rental car, hiking up our first Rocky mountain (in the snow…in trainers…without grip), and saving the life of a little brown bear who was taking a casual stroll along a railway track. Here’s a brief update on this summer so far…

Calgary

Flying into Calgary with high expectations, we were not disappointed by our lovely hosts Val and Randy, who picked us up from the airport and ended up putting us up for three nights in their family home. Unfortunately though, Calgary isn’t the most exciting city, and, becoming rapidly bored of the tame Calgarian lifestyle, we decided to hire a car and drive an hour away to supposedly the best dinosaur fossil museum in the world. Although things started shakily as we tackled driving on the wrong side of the highway sitting in the wrong side of the car, we soon found ourselves sauntering around the spectacular museum, gawping at real dinosaur fossils found in the surrounding area. Feeling pretty pleased with ourselves for finding our way

there with no mishaps or casualties, we smugly decided to go off-road in search of the famous Drumheller Hoodoos to take some scenic snaps. Veering off the highway up a dirt track, we came across what can only be described as a gargantuan crater in the road. My rash conclusion that we should “just go fast, go fast over it, we’ll fly right over”  was for some reason adhered to, and, revving the engine, we catapulted the wobbly car towards the gigantic pothole. Sean’s high pitched screams “WE’VE BROKEN IT” caused us to come to an abrupt halt, and we all exited the car in hysterics to inspect the damage. It was indeed broken. Our first rental car, and we’d knocked the front bumper off at one side. Frantically pressing it back into place, we hoped the company wouldn’t notice, and prayed our hugely expensive insurance would cover the damage we had done to the car on its first day of freedom. Luckily, nobody noticed, and we decided to swiftly leave the area in search of a fresh start…

Banff

Barely making the bus to Banff with all our stuff (tents, sleeping bags, rucksacks, car snacks etc), we arrived to the International Hostel with slightly dampened spirits due to the wet weather (excuse the pun) and freezing conditions at night as we realised we weren’t going to be able to camp. However, making the most of the daytime proved worthwhile, as we experienced some stunning scenery on both our hike up the snowy Sulphur Mountain (that was when I decided to wear my flimsy trainers) and our cycle ride to Lake

Minnewanka (which I soon discovered is NOT pronounced mini wanker).

 Cycling out of Banff on our third day, we hit a wrong turn. Just as we were about to turn back, someone spotted a bear on the train tracks that run alongside the highway (thankfully with a fence between us and it). Out of nowhere, a man ran up to us, asking if we could call 9/11 to report it. Seizing my chance to be a hero, I immediately called up, trying not to yelp with excitement when I heard the classic TV line “9/11,
what’s your emergency?”

Lake Louise

Having done a magnificent two-day hike and bike exploration, we decided we had seen enough of Banff, and bussed it to Lake Louise to see what it had to offer. On our first day we whacked on some snow shoes
and stomped along a nature trail. We also walked to Lake Louise itself, although, as mentioned before, Canadian weather prevailed, and the bloody lake was frozen. On the upside, we managed to steal some ketchup from the posh hotel on the lake, to spice up our budget home cooking.  Though the surroundings of Lake Louise were naturally very beautiful, camping was yet again not a possibility, and we were keen to start using our top-of-the-range Walmart tents we’d been lugging about for the past week. Therefore we decided to make our way up to Jasper in search of an open campsite and some warmer weather. Putting up a sign in our hostel asking if anyone could give us a ride, I surprisingly got an instant response from a nice Belgian girl who was driving up there the next morning. So Evelyn and Verity jumped in her car, along with a chatty French guy and a shitload of our stuff. Cramming the car full of our camping equipment, Sean and I then set off with two rucksacks each to attempt hitchhiking in preference to the $150 bus up to Jasper.

Watch this space for news on whether we managed to get a hitch, where we saw the 3 subsequent bears and the moose, our first couchsurfing experience, and if we ever managed to camp in the freezing place that is Canada… 

O, Canadaaaa

When people ask how our year abroad is going, I think it’s safe to say all of us exchange students reply with a simple “good thanks!”, with maybe a quick update on the weather if you’re lucky (hint: it’s always bloody freezing). So, in order to kick-start this blog back into action, I thought I’d give you all the reality of what it’s really like to be an English student from University of Leeds stumbling around Canada, lost, confused, and in a perpetual state of overexcitement…

The Good

Good rhymes with food, and that’s not a coincidence. Poutine. Perogies. Maple Syrup (Maple everything, actually, even baked beans, a product I can’t ever see myself complaining about – see letter to Heinz below). Beaver Tails. Cotton Candy icecream. Donuts. There’s so much good food in Canada it’s hard to talk about much else, but here’s just a few more highlights: 

 Working the accent. People are a lot more generous when you’re a ‘posh’ English bird. The only downside to this is that the guy at Tim Horton’s always looks shocked when I ask for coffee, stating “you don’t want tea and scooooones instead?” in an awful parody of my accent. The upside is us English speakers (and a good Canadian friend of mine who does a great fake) have got multiple free drinks for acting confused and extraordinarily British in clubs, saving lots of time and money queuing at the bar ourselves (high score: 7 free shots).

     The YOLO effect. Yes, I do hate myself for saying that, and, like all of us who have sunk into this trap, I used to just say it as a mockery of those who did, and now I’ve gone and become one of them. But this year is just pass/fail, and that means YOLO is said on a daily basis. Go out for dinner every other night? Why not. Spontaneous night out with an 8:30 start the next day? Go for it. Quick trip to Montreal for the weekend? YOLO, my friend, is the answer you are looking for.

The Bad

Culture shock. Something we all mocked at the start, but actually manifested in me as embarrassingly, melodramatically, and unnecessarily screaming at anything and everything. Luckily this only lasted the first few days, but unfortunately meant that everyone’s first impression of me was some girlish weirdo who was everything-phobic for no good reason.

Good food in Canada didn’t come without its sacrifices. Say goodbye to decent cheese, chocolate, a good cuppa tea and cheap alcohol. Lambrini, I miss you, you are so fiendishly cheap and tasty.

Under-estimating the cold on a trip to Algonquin during Fall break. My good friend Madie and I almost lost our nips that week. Big shout out to our team leader Jon Reed, who waited until the end of the freezin’ trip to casually mention he had hand and foot warmers the whole time.

   The Just Plain Ugly

Making friends with new people, then discovering that those new people like board games. Playing Risk for four hours on end, a joyless game ending with bitter resentment, broken friendships, and Risk-induced hysteria for those players such as me who were out after the first hour but stupidly stayed for all four. I realise that many people don't share this opinion, but the nob who said "a bit of competition never hurt anybody" was clearly a champ, because when people start losing, a friendly board  game can get very ugly. 

      Goodbyes (mainly because everyone looks ugly when they cry, even the hot one in Bridesmaids). Even if they do love board games and drive me slightly insane with week-long fights over a second-hand stuffed monkey from Value Village (don’t get me started), the people I’ve met so far are irreplaceable, just like the ones back home, and splitting off to go our separate ways at the end of the year is something I for one am dreading (and may possibly cope with by writing another, soppier blog article when the time comes).

So, to conclude, life in Canada is pretty incredible so far, as even the bad times have turned out to be hilarious bonding experiences. Besides, what kind of student really needs sleep (or nips) anyway, eh?

4Talent: Acting and Presenting

I know what you’re thinking. I don’t want to be an actor or presenter! Everyone who’s read this blog, or any of my stuff, knows by now that I want to be a writer. However, applications opened at a time when the phrase YOLO was echoing down every hall at uni, so I thought I may aswell apply, as I loved the last 4Talent day.  I knew that I would never ever get it, my experience being limited to that one time I jazz danced on Smile with Reggie and Fearne (yes, I am cringing as I type this).

Yet by some twist of fate I was somehow accepted. And by another, equally twisted turn of fate, one  of the workshops offered on the 4talent day was ‘Comedy Sketch Writing’, along with the terrifying ‘Introduction to Acting’ and ‘Television Presenting’. So I found myself sitting, yawning, on a five hour Megabus heading from Leeds to London, possibly heading towards disaster – I envisioned myself being accidentally placed in the Acting workshop, having to do some sort of mad improvisational performances in front of some very serious, smirking actors who could tell I was just an amateur that had blindly stumbled in by accident.

However, despite me being overdramatic (ironic, I know), the day was a blast from start to finish. Upon arrival, we were given one half of a pair on a label, an ‘ice-breaking’ activity. I got given roll. And therefore instantly embarrassed myself by, instead of thinking of media-esque partnerships (it was rock, of course), my stomach took over my brain as I exclaimed ‘Oh, am I looking for sausage?’ Tragic.

Yet an hour later I had forgotten all about this euphemism, as I was sat gawking three rows back from the beautiful Zawe Ashton, who plays one of the best characters of all time, Vod from Fresh Meat. Telling us about her former roles, which primarily consisted of prostitutes and crack whores, and how her dad’s raised eyebrow gave her the incentive to strive for more, I just sat there dumbfounded that she was actually in the same room as me. I half expected her to do something Vodlike: jump on the nearest table and release a stream of fake blood from her knickers, or light a spliff in the middle of her talk, but she was completely normal (if amazing and hilarious and inspiring are listed next to normal in the dictionary).

The day followed just as magically, with a workshop with two brilliant comedy sketch writers who taught us the tricks of the trade, and engaged us in some hilarious activities which proved that anyone who has ever been in an awkward or ridiculous situation can probably make a sketch out of it.

At the end of the day we were in for another treat: multiple famous people! There were actors from Run, Mogadishu, Hollyoaks, and Skins, and many other t.v. shows which I forgot to take note of in my excitement (and whilst hastily trying to take sneaky photos of them...what?). Being a bit of a loser, I could think of nothing intelligent to ask them, and their hilarity intimidated me, so I just hid at the back and let the real actors amongst us ask all the clever questions.

Overall, it was a bloody brilliant day. Other highlights include a talk from the casting director of Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, and some very useful advice from a top agent. Whilst the idea of acting still terrifies me, I admire those who strive to do it, as I didn’t realise what hard work it actually is. Good luck to all you aspiring actors and presenters, and hopefully I’ll be writing your lines in the future!

The ‘Too Comfortable’ Stage in Any Relationship

Whether it’s just the occasional shag or a full blown relationship, there is an unspoken line drawn between what is acceptable and what is not when in the presence of your favourite member of the opposite sex. For example, you may not poo in your partner’s en suite if they can hear the plops. You may not eat with your mouth open or with your hands, pick your nose, scratch your bum or just generally relax in their company. Yet in any long term relationship, there comes a point where you both think ‘fuck it’, and embrace those qualities which you have kept coyly hidden up until now...

Farting

We all need to fart occasionally. At first, you hold them in with all the anal strength you can muster, but at some point you both know that one of you is going to laugh too hard or sneeze, and that when this dreaded moment arrives your relationship will never be the same again.

Going To the Loo on the Phone To/In Front of Each Other

Admittedly, a poo is a lot further into the deep dark abyss of the ‘too comfortable’ than a quick wee, yet nevertheless these moments mark the beginning of a new, not-so-exciting stage in your relationship, where the need to appear sexy in front of each other dissolves and is replaced with a more desperate need to share your toilet habits with your unlucky partner.

Offering to Squeeze Each Other’s Spots

Not as frequent, but it does happen. This is much, much further along the line than the farting barrier, and many couples may not even last long enough to reach this moment, but if you do you may aswell get married because you have undoubtedly reached the point of no return.

Being Closer to the Other Half’s Family than the Other Half Themselves

When you break up, you find yourself pining not for your ex, but for his or her mum, dad, baby brother or older sister. Bonding with the family reaches a new level when you and your lover start burping, farting, cursing and weeing in each other’s presence, as you find comfort in spending time with their family just as much as spending time with them.

These are just a few of those special moments which, whilst signifying the start of something beautiful, can also be very traumatic if one or both of the partners aren’t ready for them to happen (this is particularly an issue with farting, as the first time it happens it is usually an unfortunate accident). So reaching the ‘too comfortable’ stage around the same time is particularly important, in order to maintain a clearly already-successful relationship.  Any long lasting partnership is bound to cross some of these barriers at some point, and when that moment comes, the only advice is to be ready. So good luck to you all from the both of us, and I’d  just like to point out that we haven’t yet reached all these stages that I’ve listed, although we’re getting pretty bloody close. 

When Drinking Games Turn Bad

We’ve all been there. Pre drinks are going well, and you’re feeling pretty optimistic about your night out. You haven’t flashed your arse or chundered on your lap yet, and no one is showing signs that they will be acting as a liability; so far so good. And then some nutter suggests you all play a drinking game. Although yes, drinking games are a brilliant way to get suitably smashed and thus not waste money on drinks when out, no one thinks of the consequences of sharing their lives with a bunch of strangers or agreeing to do terrible challenges that can result in immediate projectile vomiting. Here are a couple of the worst drinking games which I have had the misfortune of partaking in recently...

‘I’ve Never’

Okay, yes, sometimes this game can be thrilling. There is no feeling quite like the pure joy each and every player feels when they discover that the quietly adorable and seemingly harmless nerdy girl from their seminar is in fact a mad kinky sex fiend. But revealing your sexual exploits (and, let’s face it, that is what this game is truly about) to a random group of drunkards at pre drinks may not make you seem as smooth as you think you are. In this game, it’s always the same: the sluts get drunk, and everyone else feels awkward. And drinking at every turn doesn’t make you cool or alluring; instead, listing all the woodland locations that you’ve shagged in may lead your peers to believe (and perhaps rightly) that you have had many a fungal infection in your nether regions. And don’t doubt that, if revealing your sexual conquests, next time you play ‘I’ve Never’, one of these people will remember and aim their turn directly at you, embarrassing you in front of the next group of friends you happen to be drinking with. So be aware that sharing too much specific personal information may end tragically when someone takes their turn by staring pointedly at you, smirking, and proudly yelling ‘I’ve never been butt-fingered against a bin outside McDonalds when I was fifteen by my mono-browed neighbour whose name was Hamish’.

‘Truth or Dare’

Maybe it’s just my weird housemates and I that have decided to bring this game back with a bang (not literally, that’s incest), but ‘Truth or Dare’ can certainly not end prettily if taken to the extremes. It’s also not really a drinking game, but more for giggling thirteen year olds in the school playground. However, we drunkenly decided to give this game a go, having tired of the endless stream of sexual confessions which constitutes ‘I’ve Never’. What followed was: a text to a long distance girlfriend simply claiming ‘Horny.’, a discussion of the sizes of various penises, a  kiss between two heterosexual men (one of whom had innocently just arrived at the pre, and was not consenting at all...sorry Morgan), a snort of a line of basil, a shot of the hottest chilli vodka (aftertaste lasting approximately 15 minutes), and a consumption of a scary squeezy cheesy substance called Primula that we got free at the uni about two months ago. Although with close friends none of these antics were too emotionally damaging (although I'm pretty certain that a few of my taste buds were burnt off by the vodka), playing ‘Truth or Dare’ among strangers could without a doubt end in some kind of basil-fuelled catastrophe if and when someone takes things a step too far.

So I think it’s safe to say that, although I don’t regret my involvement in these games in the last week of university, I am glad to be taking a break from all the trauma of pre drinks, both mentally, from the images of my housemates in various sexual scenarios, and physically, as I am secure in the knowledge that my parents will not force me to down some questionable squeezy cheese at Christmas dinner.

Well, It's Bean Fun...

Some of you may have been wondering what has become of the Great Beans Tragedy of 2012. You may be asking yourselves if I have managed to move on from this major setback, if I succeeded in gaining any compensation, or if Heinz simply ignored my email, believing it to be a piss-take (although I don’t see why they would think that at all). You may even be wondering if I still eat beans, or if I have turned into some weird kind of vegetarian-who-eats-meat-but-not-baked-beans type creature, or something equally as horrendous and complicated.

My Happy Ending

Thankfully, the end of this story is a happy and uplifting one, and I feel like you all deserve the same sense of closure and the ultimate satisfaction that I gained, through my depiction of the events that occurred after I sent that fateful email (if you still don’t know what I’m talking about, see below). Chloe (I think her and I are on first name terms now) responded to my email asking for the product code. I replied with the product code. A simple transaction, yet little did I know how life changing it would be. Her response to my saucy product code email was delivered yesterday through the post. At first excited at the prospect of simply receiving mail, I then reluctantly opened the formal letter, expecting it to be another depressing bill, listing countless McDonalds purchases and horrible drinks from horrible clubs I’d never remember buying or going to. Yet I was pleasantly surprised to find the glorious yet simplistic letter you see to the right of your screen. Being my badass self, I had taken the risk of reading what I thought to be a bill just as I was leaving the house for pre-drinks, and Chloe Anderson, I thank you, because your beautiful words heavily influenced the beginning of a great celebratory night out. 

So what happens next?

After redeeming my very generous £3 voucher, and having the luscious cooked breakfast that should have been (yes, so maybe it is a week late, but better late than never!), I may frame Chloe’s letter to commemorate this momentous occasion. I just want to thank you all for your support, and wish you all a Merry bloody Christmas, I hope it’s full of beans (but not at Christmas lunch, I’m not a total maniac).