Lovely, lovely Canadians

So, it’s been a busy couple of days. I arrived in Vancouver 10am local time, so 6pm back home. By the time I got to the B&B it was early afternoon and I was exhausted. I basically slept most of the first day there, waking only to find food and watch a movie before more sleep. It was good though,  I ended up on Vancouver time by the next morning.

I spent yesterday running around viewing places to live. There’s a lot of crap out there. The first place was pretty depressing looking but the girl who lived there was nice. The second was a nice place, the people okay (if a bit too perky and wholesome) but it wasn’t available for another 2 weeks meaning I’d be stuck in a nasty hostel for ages. The third was both horrific and depressing. Think cupboards half hanging off in the kitchen and middle aged Mexican women.

I was pretty knackered by evening and somewhat disheartened as it was my last night at the B&B too, and the only hostel with space left was a 14 person per dorm party hostel. I definitely don’t like people enough to share with 13 of them. So I’d applied for a couple more places and got an email straight back from one which was only a few blocks from where I was, and saying I could go round that evening to view it. It’s a whole house that’s shared with a mix of people from an older, lovely woman who chefs and used to work in the film industry doing casting, an aussie guy and a Korean girl studying contemporary theatre at uni. The owner lives out back in his own cottage with a lovely woman and her adorable Westie. He’s 10 and loves having his ears scratched. Clearly I signed up straight away. Not only that, but the owner offered me the living room to crash in for a night as my room isn’t ready til tomorrow, thus saving me the nasty hostel, huzzah!

Incidentally, this also illustrates that although, as the song goes ‘I’ve never met a nice South African’, I’ve yet to meet a not nice Canadian. I’m sure there are some, but so far I’ve had nothing but lovely people. (Oh, okay, I don’t really think ALL South Africans are horrible. I know one or two nice ones. Maybe that’s why they don’t live there anymore? Hmm.)

Phrases and words I don’t want to read when searching for a flat

I've been spending a lot of time the last few days alternating between packing and trying to find a place to live, which is a weird experience for me given I've spent almost 10 years in the one flat. Scary biscuits in and of itself. But there's one thing I've learned in all this recent flathunting experience, and that is I'm fussy (shocking I know). I'm not 19 anymore and I don't want to live in some dingy hole with a bunch of teenagers who can't wash up after themselves, and most importantly I need space to COOK. These have been a few of the most frequent/upsetting and generally ridiculous statements I've come across on my search:

‘Kitchenette’ – Are you freaking joking? What the hell am I supposed to do with a kitchenette?? No. Thank you. The very word makes me sad.

‘No alcohol’ – This doesn’t even need an explanation. I mean, come on!

‘Ideal for students’ – Read: manky cesspit. Complete with lazy wasters who bring their lazy waster friends round, never clean up after themselves and have shit chat. And are probably about 20 years old.

‘Shared room’ – What?! I’m sorry, I’m not  7. Do people actually live like that? Seriously? I’d last less than 2 weeks before cracking up and killing the unfortunate person for never having any personal space!

‘Commune’ – Um no. I like people. I also, however, like deodorant.

And finally, text speak and poor spelling. If you can’t use your words like a proper grown up then there’s no chance I’m moving into your house.

Just when you thought you were getting rid of me...

Firstly, I want to clear something up. Ego I may have, but it wasn’t my idea to call Canada Carada, that was all Berry. In fact she gets a fee every time it’s used (in the form of hot men posted back from Canada).
So. Yep. This is my blog.
I thought it might be a good idea before I go so that I’m not repeating the same things over and over to people when I’m away. It should probably be censored to some extent as I’d imagine my mother will get her hands on it at somepoint and I can’t be trusted not to get into some kind of nonsense 5 minutes after landing…
I’d write something witty (or try to) for my first post but the truth is I’m so broken after last night I’m not sure I’ll ever get higher brain function back. Tequila is my friend. Going to bed at 5.30am is most definitely not.
It was worth it though, had a great leaving night with almost all of my favourite people. The night was missing my Gordon, but Harriet gave me a video he’d made from London. Cue the first of the night’s tears. God, I’m even welling up just thinking about it.
The second (and last) was a rather epic affair in the middle of a hallway where Fiona and I drunkenly clung to each other sobbing and making people run from the vicinity. I love that we have that effect on people. It’s definitely a talent.
One of the highlights of the evening (there were many: the book, a random black man giving me a good luck hair bobble, making a grown man cry, a lot of balloon fun and a cat beanie that got whored out to everyone) had to be putting Jennifer to bed at 5.30am, by which point she’d lost the ability to say anything except ‘snarf’. And did so with some frequency.
Writing this makes it sink home just how much I’m going to miss all of my amazing friends. Even if it’s only for a year. You’re my big, nutty, drunken, hilarious and adorable extended family and I’m going to miss you like crazy xxx