Scary moment there where I thought I hadn't booked enough time in Boston, but it turned out it was just the date on my laptop was wrong. I can now go back to normal levels of travel stress.
Friday 30 May 2008
Morning in America
I'm in Boston Bus station, waiting for the storage place to open so i can go explore for a few hours before I check into my hostel. I tried a McDonalds breakfast thing, but in retrospect that was a bad idea.
Boarder crossings remain a weird affair, having your finger prints taken underneath a portrait of George Bush definitely crosses the line into creepy. You really can't imagine there are many portraits of Brown hanging in UK customs.
Boarder crossings remain a weird affair, having your finger prints taken underneath a portrait of George Bush definitely crosses the line into creepy. You really can't imagine there are many portraits of Brown hanging in UK customs.
Thursday 29 May 2008
In which our hero meets his foe and makes almost missing a bus sound exciting
I'm sitting in Montreal stealing wifi from the national archives for some reason, this gives me a chance to tell my story before this night is over. Getting out of Ottawa was almost as difficult as getting in. I'm sure as an atheist I shouldn't be looking for the hand of the divine in thwarting my every move... but this might also go a way towards explaining why it feels the need to thwart me in the first place.
So, setting the scene. Everything was perfect, I'd wondered round town aimlessly for hours, sat underneath the giant spider, been into the Parliament building, chatted with the protesters outside for a bit. Ate unhealthy lunch, wandered some more. Loaded up on food for dinner, useful as it turns out: I went into the little diner thing here and the lady told me something in french which sounded like 'we're closed' but could have been 'bagels are half price' or even 'Here, have my cat' for all I knew, utterly flumxed (my lack of french skills being a reason why Montreal fell off my original list) I decided to bluff it, let out a decent french 'pardon?' at which point she repeated, I nodded sagely and retreated.
But back to my original story.
So I'm all done, head back to the hostel, pick up my large rucksack from storage (dodging all the little kids complaining about having to stay in a jail, don't they know that's really cool??), get instructions for getting the bus back to the coach station (apparently coach isn't a word like that here, must remember). Walk to the bus stop, it is 4.15, my bus doesn't leave until 6.00. I have all the time in the world. I could walk it, but I don't want to because there's no need, there will be a bus. I need the number 4. heading to Hurdman (which I know is a bus transfer place out in the middle of nowhere, I know this because it's one of the places I ended up yesterday whilst being lost and where I decided to walk from). The signs are helpful, the instructions good, the bus stop is where it should be, buses are lined up to the horizon (later I would realise this was a bad sign), so I went and waited. No. 26, No. 18, 48, 01, 03, I had the pick of the whole town, but there was only one bus for me. I knew time was with me, and this bus was special, so I waited some more. And some more. At 5.00, I decided to give up on it and find a taxi.
But before I did, I decided to hold out an olive branch to fate. I asked one of the other bus drivers if the 4 was running, he was quite confident and reassuring, "Oh, I've seen them. They're just delayed in the traffic, they'll be one along in a minute". At this point those of you who've had your trust broken, perhaps by lovers or, perhaps more typically, by complete strangers driving buses might already be ahead of me. You'll understand that I wanted to believe him. This was clearly a vengeful angel, send to spite me. I recognized it's siren song for what it was, but still I chose to listen (partly because I hadn't actually seen any taxis in a while so finding one would involve lugging those two bags all over town to find an area less congested to flag one down) Waiting 10, 15, 20 more minutes for a bus that would never come.
So I gave up, and wondered down the road. It was now about 5.20 and missing my bus was starting to be a possibility. I wandered down (finding a much faster route to Parliament using an innovative straight line that I hadn't considered before), the roads packed with traffic. I got across the bridge and into one of the side streets (figuring that no taxi that wasn't already carrying would be wasting their time in the traffic), and to my delight found one. 5.35. This was starting to seem possible again (of course you, dear reader, you read this knowing all is well, but pretend this is not known so you may feel the peril), We were stuck in traffic, this was concerning...but then! We broke off away from the traffic and it was smooth sailing all the way to the station. I paid a cheap fare and was on my way in. I looked on the signs for my bus but then realized that, naturally, it was the one with the enormous queue in front of it. Being greyhounds, I wasn't guaranteed a place so this could be troubling.
I got in the queue none the less, watched the coach fill up as I got closer to the front. I was second to the front, the driver came and talked to the man on the door, he then turned to the pair in front of me and asked "Are you traveling together?", they replied yes. He said there was only one space left, then he looked at me, and asked if I was traveling alone.
I said I was.
He beckoned me forward. Not looking a gift horse in the mouth (nor indeed the faces of the two nice old ladies I'd just moved in front of), I moved on and onto the coach. Against all the odds and a matter of a single position in the queue (there was a solo traveller behind me also), I'd made it.
A reprive? A gift from on high? Perhaps, but I try not to be grateful for problems fixed by agents that can probably be held responsible for those problems in the first place. I would say, Alex -1, God-0, but as I still have many miles to go before I sleep, those would be dangerous words to say.
So, setting the scene. Everything was perfect, I'd wondered round town aimlessly for hours, sat underneath the giant spider, been into the Parliament building, chatted with the protesters outside for a bit. Ate unhealthy lunch, wandered some more. Loaded up on food for dinner, useful as it turns out: I went into the little diner thing here and the lady told me something in french which sounded like 'we're closed' but could have been 'bagels are half price' or even 'Here, have my cat' for all I knew, utterly flumxed (my lack of french skills being a reason why Montreal fell off my original list) I decided to bluff it, let out a decent french 'pardon?' at which point she repeated, I nodded sagely and retreated.
But back to my original story.
So I'm all done, head back to the hostel, pick up my large rucksack from storage (dodging all the little kids complaining about having to stay in a jail, don't they know that's really cool??), get instructions for getting the bus back to the coach station (apparently coach isn't a word like that here, must remember). Walk to the bus stop, it is 4.15, my bus doesn't leave until 6.00. I have all the time in the world. I could walk it, but I don't want to because there's no need, there will be a bus. I need the number 4. heading to Hurdman (which I know is a bus transfer place out in the middle of nowhere, I know this because it's one of the places I ended up yesterday whilst being lost and where I decided to walk from). The signs are helpful, the instructions good, the bus stop is where it should be, buses are lined up to the horizon (later I would realise this was a bad sign), so I went and waited. No. 26, No. 18, 48, 01, 03, I had the pick of the whole town, but there was only one bus for me. I knew time was with me, and this bus was special, so I waited some more. And some more. At 5.00, I decided to give up on it and find a taxi.
But before I did, I decided to hold out an olive branch to fate. I asked one of the other bus drivers if the 4 was running, he was quite confident and reassuring, "Oh, I've seen them. They're just delayed in the traffic, they'll be one along in a minute". At this point those of you who've had your trust broken, perhaps by lovers or, perhaps more typically, by complete strangers driving buses might already be ahead of me. You'll understand that I wanted to believe him. This was clearly a vengeful angel, send to spite me. I recognized it's siren song for what it was, but still I chose to listen (partly because I hadn't actually seen any taxis in a while so finding one would involve lugging those two bags all over town to find an area less congested to flag one down) Waiting 10, 15, 20 more minutes for a bus that would never come.
So I gave up, and wondered down the road. It was now about 5.20 and missing my bus was starting to be a possibility. I wandered down (finding a much faster route to Parliament using an innovative straight line that I hadn't considered before), the roads packed with traffic. I got across the bridge and into one of the side streets (figuring that no taxi that wasn't already carrying would be wasting their time in the traffic), and to my delight found one. 5.35. This was starting to seem possible again (of course you, dear reader, you read this knowing all is well, but pretend this is not known so you may feel the peril), We were stuck in traffic, this was concerning...but then! We broke off away from the traffic and it was smooth sailing all the way to the station. I paid a cheap fare and was on my way in. I looked on the signs for my bus but then realized that, naturally, it was the one with the enormous queue in front of it. Being greyhounds, I wasn't guaranteed a place so this could be troubling.
I got in the queue none the less, watched the coach fill up as I got closer to the front. I was second to the front, the driver came and talked to the man on the door, he then turned to the pair in front of me and asked "Are you traveling together?", they replied yes. He said there was only one space left, then he looked at me, and asked if I was traveling alone.
I said I was.
He beckoned me forward. Not looking a gift horse in the mouth (nor indeed the faces of the two nice old ladies I'd just moved in front of), I moved on and onto the coach. Against all the odds and a matter of a single position in the queue (there was a solo traveller behind me also), I'd made it.
A reprive? A gift from on high? Perhaps, but I try not to be grateful for problems fixed by agents that can probably be held responsible for those problems in the first place. I would say, Alex -1, God-0, but as I still have many miles to go before I sleep, those would be dangerous words to say.
What I did on my holidays
I am liking not feeling a compulsion to blog. The urge appears for a little while if I get too close to a newspaper but I'm getting the hang of avoiding that.
Toronto was great, ignoring the quite phenomenal snoring of my roommates (who presumably were all doing stuff at night because we were rarely awake at the same time). Got up Monday, decided I wasn't going to be Jetlagged and set out exploring, walked round downtown for a while, worked out the location of the way out of town, went on a harbour tour and got out to see Toronto Island. I still find it incredibly weird how big the great lakes are, they really do go right to the horizon. Then I went back to the hostel and crashed out. I think I went out again later so it was either really interesting or (more likely) really not interesting seeing as I have no real recollection of where I actually went.
Next day went up the CN Tower, which is, like, high. Te downside of traveling on your own is having to take a picture of yourself on the glass floor, On the plus side, there's no one around you knhow who's going to judge you. Unless you tell them about it on your blog. But then no one reads that anyway, so it's fine. Met up with Brenton in the afternoon, who showed me the wonders of local chinese food and subway system (in which I spilt food on myself, and fell over respectively, I RULE at first impressions. Then we went see some weird sculptures in the middle of high park. They were weiiird.
I'm in Ottawa today, staying in a hostel converted from an old jailhouse, aside the awesomeness of that the downside is the 'haunted ottawa' tour going through every fifteen minutes. It'd be neat if the twist was THE TOURGOERS WERE ALL GHOSTS, doomed to walk the ghost walk forever, as is it's just lots of little kids. Getting here was kind of a problem, technically all I had to do was stay on the bus from the coach station a little longer than I did, but I got off too soon, then got a bus in vaguely the wrong direction, got off and decided to walk. So what should have taken me 30 minutes took me about 2 hours. Hey ho. Also I'd previously lost my hat in the wind near a lake so I need a new one of 'em. Otherwise this is going great! Met up with Hannah last night, then played pictionary with some German and Dutch travelers, who reminded me that I should really feel guilty about sucking at all other languages given that they can play a game that's completely dependant on the english language quite well. Now just waiting for my laundry to finish drying then I'm off to explore Ottawa, get a look at Parliament Hill, etc.
Bus to Boston overnight tonight.
Toronto was great, ignoring the quite phenomenal snoring of my roommates (who presumably were all doing stuff at night because we were rarely awake at the same time). Got up Monday, decided I wasn't going to be Jetlagged and set out exploring, walked round downtown for a while, worked out the location of the way out of town, went on a harbour tour and got out to see Toronto Island. I still find it incredibly weird how big the great lakes are, they really do go right to the horizon. Then I went back to the hostel and crashed out. I think I went out again later so it was either really interesting or (more likely) really not interesting seeing as I have no real recollection of where I actually went.
Next day went up the CN Tower, which is, like, high. Te downside of traveling on your own is having to take a picture of yourself on the glass floor, On the plus side, there's no one around you knhow who's going to judge you. Unless you tell them about it on your blog. But then no one reads that anyway, so it's fine. Met up with Brenton in the afternoon, who showed me the wonders of local chinese food and subway system (in which I spilt food on myself, and fell over respectively, I RULE at first impressions. Then we went see some weird sculptures in the middle of high park. They were weiiird.
I'm in Ottawa today, staying in a hostel converted from an old jailhouse, aside the awesomeness of that the downside is the 'haunted ottawa' tour going through every fifteen minutes. It'd be neat if the twist was THE TOURGOERS WERE ALL GHOSTS, doomed to walk the ghost walk forever, as is it's just lots of little kids. Getting here was kind of a problem, technically all I had to do was stay on the bus from the coach station a little longer than I did, but I got off too soon, then got a bus in vaguely the wrong direction, got off and decided to walk. So what should have taken me 30 minutes took me about 2 hours. Hey ho. Also I'd previously lost my hat in the wind near a lake so I need a new one of 'em. Otherwise this is going great! Met up with Hannah last night, then played pictionary with some German and Dutch travelers, who reminded me that I should really feel guilty about sucking at all other languages given that they can play a game that's completely dependant on the english language quite well. Now just waiting for my laundry to finish drying then I'm off to explore Ottawa, get a look at Parliament Hill, etc.
Bus to Boston overnight tonight.
Sunday 25 May 2008
Setting off
So I'm sitting in the departures area of Heathrow, waiting for my flight to get a gate. You know those stories about how people are terrified of flying, so they take one flight to overcome their fears and are fine with it? I'm kinda the opposite, the more I fly the more I realize just how unlikely it is that planes can actually stay in the air using so called 'engines', it's far more likely there's some kind of dark art involved (or seeing as it's towel day today, they could be being held up by art). So the more I fly, the more I'm disillusioned. I'm just hoping the plane doesn't catch onto that.
In other journeys today, the phoenix lander will arrive at the Mars and begin it's decent. The whole process takes seven minutes but the time delay between the two planets is ten minutes, so by the time they first hear about it starting here on earth, it will already have landed or not. That'll be a tense room.
Also I just poured water over myself and the laptop so I best wrap it up there. great start.
Saturday 24 May 2008
Friday 23 May 2008
Test and disclaimer post
This blog may or may not be updated during my travels. In the event that this happens I assure you, it isn't because I'm lazy or heaven forbid having too much fun to blog about having fun, it's because I'm reinventing the whole way we think travel blogs have to work; I'm thinking outside the box, dreaming off the bed, pissing off the seat, and so forth.
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