Since The Tourist-y Bit

So, the last post told about what happened a few weeks ago, but what have I been doing since?

Honestly, nothing of interest, really! Most days I would be at BUNAC, the agency that helps those in the SWAP program over here find work and lodging. They provided free internet, job listings and ads for flats (That's apartment in Canadian). Within a considerably short delay, I've already found work at the customer service department for Habitat, a furniture company that has stores in England, France and Germany. I essentially take care of anybody in France who is still waiting for their couch two months after they ordered it or that need to return something. It's not that great, but it's something while I look for something more serious.

I've been in youth hostels for weeks now, so the next logical step is a nice little flat to share, I'll be doing that all day tomorrow.

However, the most interesting thing that's been happening is, in reality, the people I've met. From all over, they flock to London for something and in the brief time they share together, they share in the disbelief that of all the places they could be at this moment, they are here in London. All come from different walks of life: well off Americans working in finance, charming French women who come for a weekend, Turk-born Belgians fleeing a non-existant government and looking for work, young Japs wanting the time of their lives before the inevitable wife/kids/desk job combo, Israelis wanting to unwind before mandatory military service, Canadians either on the first or last leg of a trans-european journey, Italians who can barely speak English, wanting to change that, Australians from Perth looking for excitement 'cause Perth is just too damned boring, university students, football fans, neo-bohemians trying to be poor (but their parents won't let them), artists, musicians, socialists, republicans, anarchists. This ragtag group of people, all trying to fit into the mosaic of English life, a palette as bright and colourful as the day is long.

The important thing is that they all enjoy a drink, some tunes and good company, it helps a lot.

Things So Far, So Far

Of course, I had to open with this picture! It neatly sums up what I've been doing since I got here, the tourist thing. After a day of aches, pains and jet lag, I went out and had a full English breakfast, which has eggs, baked beans, bacon, sausage and chips. When it comes to the English breakfast, it's heart attack or money back. 

I headed onward, the sights unfurling like on a screen: Piccadilly Square, Trafalgar Square, Buckingham Palace, Westminster Cathedral, Big Ben. One particular stop I enjoyed was the Imperial War Museum; they had preserved the bunkers from which the british ran their campaign in the second world war. Definitely not for the claustrophobic, but it goes to show the resilience of the British in the face of near defeat. Partly, it was thanks to Churchill, they try to hammer that in with a personal museum about the man, also in the bunkers under London. That last visit essentially wrapped up the day, the sun had set and it was getting dark. I headed south, over the Thames, towards the London Eye, which shone like a beacon against the south side skyline. I thought it best to save the ride for another, brighter, sunnier moment.

The next day, I had an orientation at BUNAC, the British Universities North America Club. Just a small class on the dos and do not dos of british employment, the services they offered, the things we had to do prior to applying for the job. They also had numerous job listings, as well as sample resumés and cover letters. I got to work on those straight away and started sending them out, mostly for positions in administration, office work and linguistics. After a fruitful day of work and also meeting some new people, I headed out. That day, I had to find another hostel. Luckily, while using the computers at BUNAC, someone had left a page for a hostel on the screen, luckily it still had room and wasn't too far from where I was or where I was staying. Frankly, I was glad to have to move! The room I had at the other place was directly under the bar, you could hardly sleep at night.

The place I had moved to was called Clink, which is because it used to be a courthouse. The computer and TV room look like they could still hold trial. Apparently, The Clash were prosecuted there, but I'm not one to believe advertising. 

On saturday, more touring, more visiting, more walking. I got to the Tower of London just in time for the guided tour. Bloody tales of gruesome executions, death sentences, murderous conspiracies and mass graves somehow became very entertaining, I had laughed through most of it. After a few hours of touring, looking at the crown jewels, old relics, medieval weaponry and armour, I headed south, across the Thames on the Tower Bridge.

Somewhere, a pimp weeps...

The rest of the afternoon went by quickly, stopping in at the HMS Belfast, a world war 2 battleship that had seen action in the high arctic. They had received a reindeer as a gift from a Russian commander who had benefited from their help. Sadly, the battle that ensued shortly afterwards, the noise from the guns and torpedoes, drove her mad. The ship's butcher made steak out of her. Which, in the end, isn't that bad. I mean, you would have to feed it and the crew, but doesn't it make sense to feed it to the crew?

So I kept going, following the shoreline, passing by Shakespeare's Dome and the Tate Modern Art museum, finally crossing the river once more on the millenium bridge, heading to St. Paul's Cathedral. I had arrived just in time for the grande finale of the church's resident organist. As his fingers hit the notes, the notes hit the walls and echoed right through the centuries old building, sounding just as it did all those years ago. The piece ended with a triumphant, resounding finale that shook foundations and stirred hearts. People there just to visit, moved as if the sound waves passed right through them.

After being warmed by the concert, I headed out into the night, walking down a main street, counting the Starbucks' as they went past. There were at least 11. Eventually crossing the Thames again, I took the Tube from Waterloo train station on home.

With that last day, I had essentially finished the tourist part of my trip. Sure, there were still many museums and sights, but the fact is, I could always come back and do it, I have months ahead of me, after all. The priorities were set; I could just tour and tour and spend money on a short trip, or make an effort, find work, and have a much longer one.

Here

My flight, British Airways number 94, direct to London Heathrow, left after a quick wash of de-icer. It was a very pleasant flight, two meals, good movies, free beer, a quilt and even one of those things you put over your eyes to block out light. (They won't ever see that again, Ha-ha!) After 6.5 hours of time killing, I got here, flying over the bouquet of sights London offered: the tower bridge, the Big Eye, Big Ben, Buckingham Palace.

Got my bags, got on the train, got to London in about an hour. Taking the train into town, passing ramshackle, downtrodden suburbs next to big smoky factories, green fields, cars on the wrong side of the road. It all seemed to come clear through the fog. Dragging my luggage through the Underground, getting on a train, steaming in my winter coat, the car jam packed, to the brim, full of people. A free sauna nobody asked for.

Finally checking in, here at The Generator Hostel, time to eat, rest and most importantly shower.

And I Left...

One final look, one final gaze upon the pricy high rises, the crowded gas station, the greasy spoon doling out delicious, dangerous globs of grease to those who could afford a little bit more fat lining their arteries, the health food store trying to turn back the tide, all would be things far removed from my reality as soon as I stepped out the door. All would be left behind me as I rode past them in my cab.

After taking care of some business which has plagued me for the last month, I felt alleviated that it was finalized. Nothing tied me down to Sherbrooke anymore but a certain lingering sense of belonging, leaving behind the people I've come to know, the places I've come to haunt. Feeling a light sting, knowing I wouldn't see good friends for months, but also knowing that those months would be an experience impossible to live here.

My lift met me at the Sherbrooke mall. Luckily, or rather unluckily for him, his other clients didn't show up. I had more room for my overpacked bags, he less money for gas. We made it to Montreal just after nightfall. Snow was falling softly as I grabbed a taxi to my friend's place up town, dropped my bags off and ran for the nearest subway station. Of course, it's a bit rude to do so, but I had an important appointment that could not be put off any longer.

Finally meeting up with my uncle Ricky, in downtown Montreal, we went off to eat at what I knew was the best smoked meat place in town. I was sure he'd appreciate it, being a smoked meat connaisseur. Easy to say that the food was easier to swallow than the bill.

After walking around St-Laurent, a quick coffee and a fruitless wait at what we though was a trendy dessert place (We settled on Tim's instead), Ricky brought me right down to the docks and showed me around the ship. Apparently it was sailing around the Phillipines for the last 5 years, I had no trouble believing it.

Finally, when it came time to say goodbye at the subway station, a hearty shake and some kind words and I left.

Returning to my gracious hosts, we watched movies, I played songs, just a generally relaxing night.

The next day, I was invited to an all you can eat Sushi place by my host, Max. Of course, I couldn't turn it down and I was wise not to. We were bursting by the time we left, full of miso soup, sushi, dumplings and some things I could barely pronounce. Funny, I thought I had eaten enough japanese food to start speaking jap.

As soon as I was done, I rushed for the airport only to get stuck in traffic, it felt like a huge parking lot that went on for miles and miles. Thanks to that, I had missed my flight.

Angry, pissed and in the midst of a lot of hate, both of self and of Montreal, I admitted defeat and returned to my friends', who was kind enough to welcome me back with open arms.

The following days were uneventful, mostly making more preparations, changing my ticket and booking hostels. Of course, I made the best of it and managed to meet another dear old friend of mine, Thomas Dufour. If anyone's wondering, he's doing alright, still drawing and working when he can. His last job was with Sida du Québec, basically helping out the foundation any way he could.

The days passed slowly, as my flight date came closer and closer.