Finales and Farewells

Three months since I left the (still snowy) land of Canada, it feels strange to set my thoughts once more into a blogging mindset and cast myself back to remember the events and occasions that filled my life in the last months of my year abroad. 

The final quarter of my Canadian year saw me, rather than dashing around the country every weekend, actually remain to experience more of the Ottawa life.  Ski trips continued, dodgeballing was a weekly constant (second place – hear hear), hangovers took us to diners with beautiful breakfast poutine, quirky coffee houses and Mexican restaurants.  A slight kick-yourself-moment when you discover a part of town in your final weeks, the ‘happening’ part, the part where you should have spent a significant portion of your months exploring. Oh sigh.  Balls and galas were occasioned, any excuse to wear heels in the snow... St Patrick’s day in all its Canadian/Irish glory was experienced to the full.  Green beer, free leprechaun hats and t-shirts, everyone loving each other. You get it.  And then of course, the visit to the Canadian version of a safari park occurred: picture a car surrounded by deer and the such, feeding them carrots in return for their drool; every now and then a particularly brave chap thrusting his head through the window in his desire for that carrot.

And naturally the weather was a constant background and conversation topic.  The thing of having such a cold and intense winter made the arrival of spring during the semester that little bit more epic.  The closure of the ice-rink-canal due to melting ice, patches of mud appearing on the road side, the ratio of snow to slush reversing, the day the sun shed not only light but a hint of warmth, such warmth that a hat is no longer a necessity.  Despite all this hope, the snow put up an outrageous fight and was still there to send me off to warmer climates.

The final fortnight was quite the fortnight as the need to pass exams was coupled with the absolute necessity to do ‘everything-you-haven’t-yet-but-know-you-just-have-to-do-before-you-leave’. Exams are the least of your priorities as you say goodbye to people you have no idea when you’ll see again, if ever.  And yet you’re still meeting new people thinking ‘should have probably had this introductory conversation about six months ago’. Everything becomes ‘the last time’.

Since leaving Canada I haven’t quite stopped until this week.  The travel bug has well and truly bitten me deep.  Weeks spent having experiences of quite a different kind in Central America and Ecuador had me end my year abroad on a backpacking high. However, my sad farewell (slightly hazy due to the last few days of goodbye parties) in April to set off on a grand Southern adventure was alleviated by a week in June – a pit stop on my way back to the English homeland.  I saw what Ottawa in summer could truly be like with its sparkling (flowing rather than frozen) river and blue canal, people on bikes, having picnics, strolling their afternoon away, finishing their days sat on one of the numerous bar patios in the downtown area.  Thus I felt like I’d come full circle.  Ottawa was lived in throughout the seasons from autumn sunshine, through the hellish freeze, and finally back to having leaves on the trees and a shimmering canal. The fact my year is well and truly over is strange, but with already planning my future trips, many more flights across many more oceans don’t seem too far away.

Carnivals, Canals and Cuba (Nearly)

So I feel that before I leave this frozen land of Canada for the sunshine and beaches of Cuba, one must be informed of my various activities of the past few weeks (which have gone outrageously quickly and have brought me to a place where I am three quarters of the way through my year abroad. Ridiculous).

My final weekend trip away was my furthest afield yet.  A solid eight hours of travelling for two days.  In England, that would be a crazy concept.  I rarely make the five hour journey home during term time because it seems so epic.  But anyhow, when on a year abroad, one must commit to exploration of the nation one is visiting.  As such, it would be rude not see one of the main cities of Eastern Canada. And with that, the most beautiful by far.  We were transported to a European city with its Old Town walls, its little town squares, its gothic-style buildings and its grand parliamentary buildings.  A treat for the eyes indeed. Québec City.

We timed our visit with the start of their world-renowned Winter Carnival.  Think ice castles, DJ concerts at night, ice sculptures everywhere, and hundreds of people trudging through the snow, ice and slush to get in line for the ice slides or for a stick of maple taffy.  They say maple taffy is something one simply must try when out here (and it is true indeed).  Think a patch of (clean) snow, a wooden lolly stick and runny maple syrup.  

Stick. Roll. Lick. Beautiful. And then your teeth feel like they will fall out due to the amount of pure sugar, but it is worth it.  The carnival also meant that it felt like Christmas all over again as decorations were all up still - trees, tinsel, snowflakes and everything. (Though the slightly terrifying Carnival Snowman took the place of Father Christmas)

Maple Taffy Production Line

Carnival Snowman

So the days were spent exploring the streets and alleyways, having impromptu snowball fights, gazing at the views across the frozen river, wandering along the city wall, cooing at little children so wrapped up they looked like walking candy floss.  If we thought Montreal was French, Québec City is on a whole new level.  But, one must embrace. And that we did.  There was also a photo (or ten) taken of the most photographed hotel in the world. The Chateau Frontenac.  Well, surely it would be rude not to?

The Chateau Frontenac

The ‘champagne moment’ of the trip would be the trip to the Hotel de Glace.  It is the ‘first and only true ice hotel in North America’ (thank you Wikipedia).  And it was amazing.  Rather cool and fresh as one would expect.  Lots of ice.  Sculptures (some incredible ones at that).  It was also a bucket list item ticked off when we had an ‘ice-cocktail’.  Some kind of exciting cocktail shot in a glass made entirely of ice. *Gloves were found to be essential items when trying to drink it, so take note.*

Overall, a stunning city and an excellent weekend excursion.

Various 21^st celebrations peppered the next few weeks with meals out in DT (downtown) Ottawa.  Despite feeling that I may not have made the most of what Ottawa has to offer, in a fortnight I’ve been to three restaurants and a number of new bars and clubs so there is hope yet. 

Finally.  What I mentioned in a post when grass still existed in my life, where snow seemed worlds away and  my feet never felt cold: skating the canal from Carleton to Downtown.  This was achieved yesterday.  I had a trial run last week, seeming to have forgotten everything I ever learned and shocking people with noises that apparently sound like a Canadian goose (at least I fit in then).  However, 7.8km of ice were later dominated with no crashes or falls. Basically a professional now.  The moment of relief my ankles and calves felt when the spires of Parliament came into sight was immense.  It’s a situation similar to that of skiing when little children are speeding about past me... I also don’t think I overtook a single person, but in my eyes, that’s not the point.  Practically being born with skates on is a slight advantage that every single Canadian on earth (well in Canada) seems to have over me I’d say. 

However, moving on from this cold talk...within a matter of hours, the sight of white shall be replaced with that of bright, sparkling blue and green.  

Snow for sea.  

Slush for sand.  

Canada for Cuba. 

Come at me. 

Start of 2014

Two and half weeks into the ‘Winter Semester’ and straight into life once more.  We had a gentle re-introduction into the weather with a nice minus five degrees.  Or it was just us being lulled into a false sense of security as this week the Canadian winter returned once more with the experience of the frozen nostrils and headaches.  I just feel sorry for the guys walking around with frozen beards and moustaches.  I’d never really taken seriously the warnings about frostbite before.  Oh no, such potential was definitely felt.

My luggage arrived from who-knows-where just in time for a fraternity ball on the first Saturday back.  Actually taking time to get dressed, get made up and an excuse to tame that ‘fro into something socially acceptable was a rare and welcomed experience.  Wearing heels for the first time in months instead of just my standard snow boots and a full length dress rather than leggings was just excellent (although my walking in the heels probably left much to be desired after such lack of practice).  The above plus a three course dinner was an oh-so-casual start to the semester indeed...

A week later and my attire altered slightly into oh so sexy and flattering ski gear, wearing half my Christmas presents of thermals and ski socks.  ‘Snowbutter’ was the name of the weekend trip to the favourite place of Mont Tremblant.  Tons of students from across North America, lots of drinking, quite a bit of hanging, some hot-tub timing with skiing now and then amongst all that, meant an epic weekend and renewed appreciation of the snow out here.  Oh so there is a reason for it... The state of our hotel room after just 48 hours was rather unbelievable.  Who knew girls could be so messy?  Made best friends with the bouncers of the Après Ski bar (naturally).  Dared the cold by running to the club in just a strap-top (why not).  Actually drank more than one can of beer (first time in my life) during the copious games of ‘Flipcup’ (even got a ‘one flip’ a number of times shockingly).  However, living off bagels, packet noodles and wine for the three days meant needing the whole next week to recover came as no surprise. 

This term a couple of us Internationals have signed up for Intramural Dodgeball. Anyone who has seen my throwing and catching skills will have guessed that those genes don’t run in the Pike family in the slightest.  I can’t really catch the ball to get people out or hit people to get them out, so my game plan is to just bounce around, avoid being hit and somehow stay in.  The pain I felt in my throwing arm the next day proved to be that throwing is just not a natural action for this girl... But who knows, miracles could happen.

Continuing the theme of sport, the annual event of ‘Capital Hoops’ occurred this week where the Carleton Ravens basketball team took on our ultimate rivals from the other university in Ottawa, the Gee-Gees. Yeah. What even are those?  Apparently it’s the first horse out the gate.  Not even the winning horse.  And indeed they lived up to that name by losing in front of an overwhelmingly red and black, Carleton supporting, screaming crowd.  We are number one in Canada so not exactly a shocker.  School spirit at an all time high.  Facepaint and chants in abundance.

My final and most recent excursion was back once more the city of Montreal to visit a friend with whom our friendship has covered Costa Rica, England and Canada.  The trip was a slightly difference experience from the beautiful summer weekend of September with the city covered in snow and ice. Such a chilled weekend of roaming, eating and shopping (buying a bikini for our Spring Break trip to Cuba felt just slightly at odds with the weather outside).  Walks in the snow have become one of my favourite things out here so couple that with a hill, a gorgeous blue sky and a panoramic view of Montreal and it was not a bad time at all.     Basically some ideal weekends.  

First Snow of Winter

After mutterings of an approaching ‘snow storm’, the rumours materialised and last week the world of Carleton and Ottawa was buried overnight.  So a foot of snow here isn’t exactly much (only the beginning, they all say.  Just wait for the freezing rain) but at home it would be the most we would get in a year and even then it would be gone in a week (its staying strong here and I feel like I’m not going to see any colour other than white and grey for ever.  Green grass? What even is that...).  If England had been hit by what we’ve had over here, there would be chaos.  A similar amount fell at home a few years ago and the world seemed to stop turning (prevented from returning home for a good three days sums up how well England can deal with any kind of weather other than fifteen degrees and drizzling rain).  Here however, life continues as normal; except everyone is now wearing real sexy winter boots and is bundled up in massive coats with woolly hats (or a toque as they say out here) worn everywhere, even in lectures and in the caf.  Necessary indeed.

No dramatic falls (yet) but some rather close calls and unexpected steps into snow about three times deeper than expected (cue frozen numb ankles and pretending in front of the mass of people waiting for the bus that I totally meant to do that, whilst trying to scoop the snow out of my boot and basically crying inside - frozen tears of course.)

To fully appreciate this arrival of winter my weekend was filled with snow-related activities. Saturday had me hiking through Thousand Islands National Park for the day.  Was a casual minus twenty degrees.  It actually wasn’t too bad until you stopped (and even then we had a spontaneous fire started. As you do)  Indeed, the journey there was actually colder on a rickety school bus with metal sides...not ideal having the window seat.  But overall, a nice little excursion out of the grey jungle that is Carleton. 

Sunday meant first ski of the season. And I’m still alive!  Excellent (and surprising) stuff.  I thankfully hadn’t forgotten what I had learnt earlier this year and it even took until my third run to actually fall over.  Achievement.  No catastrophic disasters either other than having a 5 year old boy ask if I was okay when I’d fallen over.  Less than half my height, a quarter my age and ten times as good as me.  Great.  The ski resort we go to is Mont Tremblant in Québec and it is as picturesque as you can get.  Cute little fairy lights everywhere, beaver tail cafes and cosy bars means that skiing is not going to be the only entertainment when we go (Après Ski anyone?).  Anyway, the plan is now to go most weekends if possible to make the most of my ski pass and kit.  Might actually get to an acceptable level by the end of the year out here...  

Final week of assignments then just exam period for the next two weeks.  Oh joys.  My advent calendar sent from home – thanks parents – has the combined role of counting down to Christmas and my flight home (the excitement over receiving an advent calendar will never diminish no matter how old one gets, particularly when it has survived its journey across the Atlantic).  Until then, essays, exams but with more skiing and internationals Secret Santa to look forward to.d seemed to stopped turning (prevented from returning home for a good three days).  Here however, life continues as normal. 

The 'real' Capital City

You know you’re acclimatising to life out here when you get overexcited at it being 0 degrees rather than minus 9 (practically the return of summer).  The joy of a day when your face and brain don't actually freeze while battling the wind tearing through campus.  However, I am now fully equipped up with a proper winter coat (coat envy is definitely a thing out here.  £1145 was just slightly out of my price range, though it was a thing of utter beauty and I’ll be hating on anyone with it).  Snow boots have also been purchased.  Designed to keep my toes toasty until minus 32.  Good but that's just a slightly depressing thought...

However, on a positive note a ski season pass has been purchased (for the equivalent of £220 which is just a little bit great).  So the plan is to return home an absolute pro skier, breaking no bones, reducing the number of slopes which I slide down on my face and not falling off any mountain somewhere. 

More winter related activities have included going to see my first ice hockey game.  Loved it.  Total new convert to the sport.  Team4life = Ottawa Senators.  Always a good introduction to the sport when your team wins.  Just a lot of shoving and fights really, with one guy being smashed in the face by the puck.  The ‘sin bin’ is just hilarious, the players being put in there for a few minutes if they misbehave.  Naughty. Classic Brits getting lairy and nearly starting a fight with the opposing team (they were French Canadians so it’s not exactly surprising).  Subsequently, another aim of the year is to come back knowing all the players, having my personal favourite and owning at least one item of Sens fan kit (actually understanding the rules may just be an incidental consequence).

Travels in the last few weeks have taken me what has been referred to as the New York of Canada. (Another of those place which people always assume is that country's capital - New York, Sydney, Rio de Janeiro etc).  Anyway, I am a fan.  It’s very different from Ottawa so was a refreshing change.  Also it seems like pretty much everyone at Carleton is from 'near Toronto' (basically 5 hours away is near here) - The 'GTA' to those in the know - 'Greater Toronto Area' - So it obviously had to be visited.  Full of skyscrapers and just the classic city buzz.  With that naturally came a mix of very interesting people but what can you do (cross the road to escape pretty much).  Our three day mini-break started with having a gorgeous Thai curry (something which the Caf here does not do to my sadness), delicious crepes, ending up in a random bar place with live music (the punk/rock style was a little different to my usual kind of place and taste but all about new experiences...). 

As with all city visits, the amount of walking we did was impressive (in my mind at least).  The ‘hip’ Kensington market had to be ticked off.  However I think we went too early so all we really saw was closed shops and a lot of homeless people and had a random man following us on a bike singing/shouting out Top 40 classics.  Envy was felt towards the University of Toronto campus.  Buildings that were built before the architecture disaster that was the 1970s and don’t hurt my eyes?  Something of dreams (The memories of Oxford’s spires seem oh so far away out here). 

Yonge and Dundas Square = a Times Square wannabe. But St Lawrence food market (apparently one of the world’s best) was a delight.  We got chatting to an English lady and pretty much everyone can talk about here is the cold.  All about the face mask to survive apparently. Excellent.  Anyhow, a little ferry trip later and we were on Toronto Island gazing at the city’s iconic skyline (after a session of skimming stones on the beach. Natch).  Probably the highlight of the trip watching it all light up. Classic tourist life.

Overall a great weekend with Sunday spent eating more crepes and then moving onto the nachos in a sports bar, listening to die-hard fans prepping (i.e. drinking up) for some Canadian football game (awful game, just saying).  Finally, a glimpse of the ‘Santa Claus Parade’.  Cue  marching bands and good old Mr Santa Ho-ho-ing everywhere, with lots of excitable little children walking just everywhere, getting all up in my path (I’m the one with the suitcase. Move. Please otherwise I will trip you up... See? I did tell you...).  The whole thing was so North American...

Gradually colouring the map in and this week getting my Carleton Raven’s spirit going again (oh the return to the Frosh week joys...) with seeing the school’s basketball match and who knows what else.

Practically Canadian

Four days in the Canadian wild, in sub-zero temperatures, with warnings of attracting bears if one wore deodorant.  Most definitely one of my highlights, if not at the top of the list. 

The scenery was just classic Canada.  Lakes, trees, campfires and even snow.  Stunning.  I had expected a hardcore couple of days, up early, paddling until dusk.  However, we were pleasantly surprised by a lie past 10am the first day and the whole trip turned out to be far more chilled which was appreciated! (It was only students doing it so that makes sense really).

The main negative aspect of the trip was the fact I felt like I had lost my toes for four days.  And waking up with ice in the tent and frozen water bottles made a change from the overheated bedrooms and corridors back at university.  My woolly hat never left my head and there were at least 4 layers constantly worn (increasing to about 7 one of the nights).  Furthermore, I have never experienced such exceptional spooning.  Five girls in a tent, the middle person crushed by those either side squishing in to escape the icy walls, every so often a group shift and turn to numb the alternative leg.  Cosy.

In regards to the canoeing, on the first day we were against the current with strong winds and waves blowing against us, resulting in slight concerns about coping with the next 3 days.  However, someone decided they liked us so we then got sunshine, blue skies and calm waters, i.e. we were just loving life. So we paddled most of the day, had a portage or two (i.e. carrying the canoes and bags practically the size of us. Great fun...), then set up camp at a picturesque site, taking about 6 attempts to build the tent, collecting wood (or whole trees in the case of some people), then feasting on a delight of food.  We did become slightly animalistic in regards to the eating but hey, what can you do.  (And having expected boring, plain camping food, getting American pancakes, bacon and eggs, bagels, brownies and cookie dough who can blame us?  There was the point we were literally scooping sugar out of the jar and eating it which was just plain classy.) 

So absolutely gorgeous campsites, generally on little islands, with a fire pit and views all around.  There were about 25 of us on the trip all from Carleton, divided into three groups with whom we cooked and slept.  Star gazing, games of mafia, fireball and marshmallow roasting was the evening entertainment.  On the last night we were serenaded the Canadian national anthem.  Pretty epic.  We also had an award ceremony.  I ended up with the prize for ‘Queen of Sass’.  Shocking that.  Only took four days to realise that of me... (not sure how to feel about the fact I’ve been called ‘sassy’ within minutes of meeting people here.  I thought it was just being sarcastic but perhaps this is the Canadian take on it? Who knows.)

Anyways, I’ve never felt so Canadian in my life.  I’ve also never said ‘eh’ so much at the end of every sentence before.  My room still smells of campfire smoke.  My poor wind-burnt nose is still recovering.  However, the feet have defrosted so that’s just lovely.  (Though not seeing a bear or beaver was slightly heartbreaking.  In the four days I saw a bird (a ‘loon’) and an otter or some of creature like that.  Not exactly overwhelming but we were probably enough wildlife to deal with).

And Halloween has also been experienced here.  People literally said ‘Happy Halloween’ to each other at the cafe, with some dedicated customers having dressed up for the day.  A host of costumes were witnessed (some slightly more disturbing than others...) and a ton of glitter was used (terrifying stuff I know).  

So I think this marks my halfway point in my first term out.  Just mental.  Not too sure what more trips and excursions are going to occur, but all I know is that my ski jacket is not going to be warm enough for what is to come.  Goodie.

  

Water, Wishes and Winter

Having visited Victoria Falls when I was younger, its competition had to be checked out whilst I was within the vicinity.  Niagara Falls.

Well.  Lots of water.  Lots of grey.  Lots of blue ponchos.  Not quite as high or as impressive as its African counterpart.  However, obviously it is quite a sight and made a change from the slow moving, smooth canal of Ottawa. 

As to the town of Niagara Falls.  No need to be going to that place again... Looming hotels.  Tacky arcades.  Casinos.  Not quite my thing.  Also, the fact that the Falls were lit up at night was just bizarre.  Indeed, it made a rather nice sight from the luxurious double queen bed hotel room we were staying in.  Yet, it’s a natural wonder and pretty impressive on its own.  No need to try (and fail) to make it into a Las Vegas of some sort.

Nevertheless, it had to be done and the Falls themselves were a beauty (particularly once the sun came out and you could actually distinguish between the water, the mist and the sky which was appreciated...).  

Oh and while we were on our trip there, it seemed like an obvious and logical time to visit Hooters.  Interesting...  Don't think it would be my first choice of establishment to work at (naturally, its only just because their uniform of orange that would do just nothing for my complexion.  Wouldn't mind a pair of their great, big white and woolly socks though).  But anyhow, another 'experience' ticked off that list of mine.

Also, I have purchased my first set of ice skates!  None of the pretty white ones, oh no.  Hardcore ice-hockey ones.  Not sure my talent will match them though.  But the free campus ice-rink is to be visited and I’ll test whether those lessons from when I was nine have left me with any skills of some kind.  (doubtful to say the least)

And Halloween is fast approaching and don’t we know it.  It’s pretty much like another Christmas out here.  Decorations are going up.  Good old Timmy Hortons has its Halloween themed doughnuts.  Apparently, one outfit is not enough as the partying supposedly continues all weekend. (debatable with about three deadlines two days later).  However, the epic place of ‘Value Village’ (think a charity shop version of TK Maxx. Overwhelming) was visited, full-on Disney princess ball dresses tried on (childhood wish realised.  Come-at-me Snow White's Evil Stepmother kind of thing), and a child’s butterfly costume complete with hood was purchased.  Going to be the best Halloween ever...

But it has finally started.  Winter.  People said this would happen by Halloween.  Pretty much glove and scarf weather (i.e. as bad as England gets but this is only the start out here).  The thermometer is saying hello to zero.  Excellent.  Oh and I’ve decided to go camping for four days.  In the snow (no joke).  Should be interesting.  And if I happen to accidentally fall in while canoeing on this trip, it shall make the whole thing that little bit more of an adventure I’m certain... Hoping to survive with all fingers and toes intact.

Plaid and Pumpkin Pie

My first Canadian Thanksgiving. Tick. (One may tick that box twice to be precise actually).  Kind of felt like Christmas. Except without roast potatoes (the alternative offer of mashed instead), bread sauce (the pièce de résistance), presents, a tree and my own family. 

What I find just brilliant about the whole thing is that no one is really sure why they celebrate it out here.  The Americans go on about the pilgrims and all that.  Here, its ‘umm the harvest maybe?’, ‘Another holiday?’ or just the honest thing of ‘any excuse to eat turkey and lots of food?’ (The last reason being my personal favourite).  And indeed a lot of food was eaten.  Pumpkin pie was tried for the first time – I am a fan.

So one of the trips had me seeing saw more of the Canadian countryside than ever before.  And it was great.  To me, the wide and rippling lake, the rust and ochre coloured leaves, and the setting sun were pretty much divine.  Couple that with being surrounded by Canadians all night, a constant country music playlist and ‘plaid’ (that’s checked to you and me) shirts was rather hilarious and an experience to say the least.  I’ve never really been able to notice what makes a Canadian accent different to that of the Americans... this weekend that all changed.  I heard it.  It definitely exists. (One step closer to discovering the real Canada...)

In other news, I am now a member of Carleton’s Glee Club.  I went there.  Is it like the show? I hear you cry out.  Umm well, we sing and apparently have routines to perform with them, so interpret that as you will... My other thanksgiving was a friend from Glee but this time with an Italian twist.  Being in a proper home and surrounded by a big family again was a bit of an ‘ohhh where are mine..?’ moment.  Nevertheless, it made a delightful change from the student bubble and my one concrete-walled corridor and single room.

I feel like Canada is being discovered inch by inch.  The Ottawa Valleys, done.  This coming weekend Niagara Falls shall next be conquered.  The week after, exploring the Algonquin Park by canoe.  In the meantime, Carleton is a big fan of setting constant essays and assignments so that shall be my entertainment between adventures. 

Rain and Routine

This time last year, being a number for the weekend, running in the rain and attempting team challenges, whilst being yelled at by people in uniform in pretty much a foreign language (in other words, OTC selection).  This time last week, cycling through the sunny streets and along the sparkling river of Montreal, munching on crepes and embracing wholeheartedly being ‘those tourists’.  This weekend, writing essays, watching the rain pour down and basically trying to save money due to the slightly terrifying speed at which it is being spent. 

Life is settling into a routine of two days of mental amounts of lecture hours and coffee-making, a few days off with feeling like it’s a Sunday, the token night out, a subsequent hangover day and varying attempts at reading/writing essays, all with the highlight of meal times with unlimited amounts of food at caf.  Each meal is an occasion (with only 9 a week, one must be skilful at which meals are chosen to attend).  A standard visit includes several trips around all the stations, a collection of 4 to 5 plates and bowls with copious mugs of tea (while trying not to drop my overflowing bowl of yoghurt and granola all over myself and the floor...yeah, debatable success with that...)

Anyway, to one of the top-times of my life out here so far.  The trip to Canadian France.  Montreal.  We arrived at our hostel and were pleasantly surprised at the marble, flowers and polished wood – it was going to be a plush stay... however, being pointed over the road we discovered our room was disappointingly that of the standard hostel – the rickety bunk beds, the dodgy looking sofa, and disintegrating walls.  But we’re students so can’t complain much and we survived (just) so that’s the main thing. 

Our stay consisted of cafe visits, poutine-eating, delightful restaurants, delicious crepes, meanderings through the cobbled streets, amusement from street-entertainers, visiting an old friend, copious photo opportunities and the highlight of renting bikes.  A breeze blowing, singing songs from The Sound of Music as we cruised along, and basically having the feeling of ‘this is the life’ sums it up well.  We had heard great things of the nightlife there and thus, it was experienced to the full by all (with matching consequential hangovers).  Alors, tres successful and no doubt it shall be visited again sometime in the future.   

Despite staying in Ottawa this week, it has been busy and filled with a birthday trip to the supposed second best burger restaurant in Canada.  Was scrumptious indeed.  Yet another visit to our student bar (I think us Brits/Aussies are gaining a reputation – not one time has gone by without one of us being kicked out... Take them to Timepiece and I don’t think a single person would not be thrown out.  Although, they sure know how to grind out here...and how to make every single person around that excited couple be battered around by their untameable enthusiasm.  Lucky us...).  Plus a much needed shopping trip (including my most expensive fro-yo to date.  Worth it), with the classic cultural purchase of friendship bracelets. Cool kids and we know it.  

The Indian summer we were privileged to experience for the majority of my first month has finally come to an end.  Heartbreak.  Now begins the descent into ‘Fall’ with its turning leaves, dropping temperature and arrival of rain.  Furthermore, with people already planning Halloween outfits (my days, are they keen for it out here), it feels like I might as well be flying home for Christmas next week. 

Paint and Poutine

Funny how when in England, ‘home’ is people who you went to school with, grew up with, family, as opposed to those from your alternative uni life.  Here, it’s pretty much anyone over that side of the great ocean.  That place where life is continuing on without you.  Lectures full of people you actually know the names of.  People who don’t give two hoots about your accent (shocking that when you sound just like them...).  Where to buy alcohol means a 2 minute walk to Saunders (rather than an hour long round trip).  Where people make tea in tea pots and have a hobnob (or four) with it (rather than an Ice-Cap and a cookie/muffin/bagel/all three).   Don’t think it’s fitting to say I’m homesick, but I also cannot deny that one epic night out in Arena would not go amiss... However, give it a few more months and I’m sure I’ll be thinking of all sorts of way to get my final return ticket back to the land of custard (apparently they don’t have the proper stuff out here.  A terrible revelation) refunded. 

Other news, I have a job! Now I can actually afford all those bagel, fro-yos and trips round this country.  Oh and don’t forget the double Ts that ensure you pay almost double what you actually anticipated the cost would be. Tips and Taxes. The bane of life out here.  Not tipping a bar man for pouring you a shot will have you waiting an extra half an hour to be served again. (Yes.  I know such an epic task is tough, but surely you don’t have to spill most of it on the bar and then expect me to give you another $2 for the honour? Please.)  Anyway, the cohort of Carleton now has the pleasure of me pouring their coffee (literally all over myself half the time.  But don’t worry, I’m not expecting them to tip me for that....) and taking their food orders (‘Bagelwich’? ‘Western’? Right. Yes.  I’m assuming that is food in some form and I’m sure it’s just splendid...).  Lucky them to have the privilege of a permanently beaming (...yes that is just my normal face.  I don’t actually want to kill something), always a ray of sunshine, British gal serving them.  (One customer literally couldn’t finish making his order he was laughing so hard at the way I said bagel.  Yes, no need to then attempt to imitate me either.  You sound far more stupid than I do.)

The paint party and homecoming.  Feeling like a slimy slug and having my clothes and hair dyed pink whilst dancing away (stunning those standing around me with quite how excited I can get and how many people I can hit when I’m ‘in the zone’).  Getting drenched tailgating, watching all two seconds of the football game and subsequently loving life on the nectar of jungle juice at a house party.  A successful weekend I would say.  Unfortunately, the jello-wrestling party was not experienced as drinking for a solid 12 hours took its toll too much for us to continue onto it.  Though the famous Canadian dish of poutine was encountered (chips, gravy and cheese curds) with a spontaneous rave to Avicci in the underground campus cafe. Memorable to say the least (both for us and the taken aback locals).

Overall, this subsequent week has been a slight struggle as I have indeed been struck down by ‘Froshers Flu’.  Now would be the ideal time to pop home for a few days to my own bed and copious amounts of that tea-pot brewed tea and those biscuits... Yet, it is not to be.  Instead, on to Montreal is the next adventure to be experienced and I’m sure I can ‘man up’ and wholeheartedly take whatever delights that city has offer/throw at me.

Settling In Canadian Style

Two whole weeks done.  My bed with actual bedding (zebra print, if you were interested. So me).  Wearing a Carleton hoodie.  My photos on the walls.  A list of textbooks to buy.  Tickets for Carleton Homecoming sorted (my impression is that it’s pretty much a football game plus alcohol...facepaint could be involved? Who knows.  Probably lots of chanting and we know how much I love that). Overall, I feel like I’m here for the long haul.

The gradual acclimatisation to life out here has occurred.  I feel slightly less like an aimless wanderer with my mind constantly a ball of fluff, which is appreciated.  The classes have been registered and its all go from here as I now vaguely understand how to navigate campus (I even gave directions to someone today! It was to the university bar which says something, but still).

So far so good really. 

Ottawa’s sights are being discovered slowly but surely.  The canal is literally a thirty second walk from my halls (lesson: do not go running, sweatband, red face and all, when there are hundreds of people streaming through campus to get to their 8:30 class. I apologise to them. Not exactly a sight anyone would want to see that early in the morning... or ever).  Excitement is building for when the canal freezes and we can ice-skate from campus to Parliament (displaying all my skills learned from about two lessons when I was nine.  It’s going to be great).  However, having to wear a coat already mid-September makes it just terrifying thinking of what is waiting to descend on this country.  Literally, the phrase ‘winter is coming’ is extremely applicable. I have been told to be afraid, and I am.  

Other tourist events have included city luncheons, seeing the Ottawa light show on the Parliament buildings, visiting the rival university’s nightclub (basically the Canadian version of Exeter’s Lemmy. Fantastic) and copious amounts of Froyos (not exactly Canadian but it is becoming a weekly tradition out here). Oh and to add to the list of foods are the bagels (a cheeky cinnamon and raison with strawberry cream cheese as an evening snack, why thank you very much) and ice caps (frozen coffee to the British) between lectures.  It’s going to be a grand year (Beaver tails and Maple syrup treats are just some greatly anticipated events to occur shortly).

 Ottawa

To top off my two weeks of getting involved in Canadian life was a weekend trip to a cabin, by a lake, in the middle of some woods (in other words, the ideal setting for a horror film).  Nonetheless, this was the kind of stuff that I came to Canada for. Canoeing and campfires.  The small detail that the group was made up of twenty-one British and Australians does defeat the year’s objective of meeting people actually from Canada... Indeed, it was a slight ‘Oh yes we are in Canada’ upon hearing the bus driver’s accent on the return home.  Awkward but what can you do? 

So this weekend shall be filled with sorority parties, a paint concert/ party /thing, homecoming and tailgating (drinking out of people’s car boots. Classy right?), oh and a jello wrestling party. 

Now I’m the excited one.     

There (just about).

And so the Canadian borders have finally been breached.  It only took over an overweight bag (thus its contents strewn across the airport floor as ruthlessness was the only way to get me on that plane without paying an extortionate amount of money), a delayed flight and consequently missed connection, subsequently two (also delayed) transfers meaning a nice twenty-four hour trip.  Excellent start Year Abroad.  

Arriving at midnight here, feeling like a zombie and then not being able to get into my bed (a bed without bedding at that) for a further two hours was a brilliant topping to a fantastic journey.  Despite still only sleeping in borrowed bedding, however, life is starting to settle down. My 99p British flag is pinned up so that says it all. And my pillow did arrive today.  In a big purple box for 88 nappies. Drew just a few stares across campus. And there I was just trying to blend in...

However, in regard to the accent concerns I vocalised previously... so far, so good.  Though it does quite the opposite of helping me blend in.  The stereotype is true, we are loved for our ‘cute’, ‘amazing’, ‘awesome’ accent, I just thought Canadians were that bit more cool and blasé about it than Americans.  One only needs to say a few words and immediately “Oh my god, is that an accent I detect?!”  I have been said to sound Scottish once but I’m going to say that’s just an anomaly... Really it’s no bad thing and can be utilised to one’s advantage (3 British girls trying to sort out phones in a shop drew a crowd of about 10 workers there to coo at our ‘fantastic’ accents, while helping us of course..).  I’ve even been told it’s the ‘best accent in the world’ by the bank man.  Well, it’s more like the people who have it that are the best but anyway, i'm sure that's obvious. 

Onto far more important information, the university itself seems rather good, not as pretty and green as Exeter (delightful 1970s buildings everywhere) but I shan’t complain (that will start when I’ve been surrounded by snow for 5 months and have frostbite or something).  The last few days have been an absolute mental blur (someone out there definitely did not want to me to get a phone out here and how on earth does the epic place of Walmart sell out of bedding and coat hangers??).  Thus, today is the first that I have properly been able to get to grips with the place; starting with the mission to discover where my first class was held... (minimum stress involved with that which was thoroughly appreciated).

As to the Freshers, sorry ‘Frosh’, of Carleton.  Well, it’s different to say the least.  My first day of extreme jet lag and a melted brain from general life had me spending about five hours surrounded by people (many only 17 years old, making me feel ancient) in orange, chanting, shouting and screaming as creatures from the Enchanted Forest (I was a Cyclops, and I’m ashamed to admit, not exactly the most committed one of the crew).  Apparently it’s all about ‘school spirit’ out here or so it seems... (just to say that is a slight understatement if you couldn't tell).  Upon my return, the life enthusiasm, chant knowledge and all round school-keenness of mine will be off the English charts.  Promise.  One amusing and totally un-English aspect of the ‘chant-off’ between, for example, the Cyclops and the Gingerbread Men, was the end chant of ‘We are all best friends, we are all best friends’.

How adorable.  

In comparison to the haze of fancy dress and messy nights of Freshers, it’s not all crazy nights out here (all the Frosh events being dry) and I’ve been told not to expect much from Ottawa nightlife.  However, I’m from Exeter, it’s a familiar situation and I’m sure we’ll work it somehow.

Overall, you know you’ve made it to a North American university when you’re drinking out of the classic red plastic cups.  Furthermore, the lingo is being learnt, its ‘Res’ not ‘Halls’ and ‘courses’ not ‘modules’ gees get with it.., I’ve already had a cheeky marriage proposal, the campus is being navigated and I’m going to my first ice-hockey game tonight.  Canada fully has me now.