SEAT S5 Chapter 2 Properly Scared.

Wednesday, 29 December 2010

9 Days Before Challenge Start

Death is Imminent. 

She sits there in her white coat with her best pokerface on as she breaks the news to me. The doctors voice is a flat, dull tone. Likely the same used to tell families a loved one has passed away.  

"If you get Yellow Fever, you will die. If you get Hepatitis A you will get sick and die. Same for Hepatitis B. If you get Typhoid you will die. If you get Rabies, you will die. If you get Polio you will die. If you get bit by mosquitos in the morning you will get Dengue fever and die. If you get bit by mosquitos in the evening, you will get a plethora of other diseases and die. If you swim in standing water, you will get worms and you will die. If you walk around bare foot, you get will get worms and die. You could also get Malaria. And die. You will get diarrhoea. Don't put your penis in anything because you will get HIV, your man-bits will fall off and you will, of course, die."

She may not have said that last part.

Never-the-less, its all most certainly true. I walked away with a sore arm, a dozen needle marks in my shoulder and brushed off the warnings of imminent death. Until I read the internet.

It's called a "travel advice" website, but I'm not sure if it's so much advice as it is a warning. Of impending death. Morocco is listed at the third highest warning level: "Exercise High degree of Caution" as are Senegal and The Gambia. Not so bad then. Until you read about Mauritania and Western Sahara; they are listed as Do Not Travel.

- "We advise you to reconsider your need to travel to Mauritania at this time due to the unpredictable security situation and high threat of terrorist attack including kidnapping.

- There is a high threat of terrorist attack in Mauritania. We continue to receive reports that terrorists are planning attacks against a range of targets, including places frequented by foreigners.

- There is an ongoing high threat of kidnapping against Westerners in the north and west regions of Africa, including places frequented by foreigners in Nouakchott and Atar. Credible information indicates that terrorists are planning to kidnap and possibly kill westerners in northern Mali and remote and desert areas of Mauritania, southern Algeria and Niger. A stream of credible reporting suggests that terrorists may be planning to kidnap Western tourists, mine workers, oil workers and aid workers in Mauritania. You should maintain a high level of vigilance at all times when travelling in Mauritania and avoid unnecessary travel in remote areas.

- In July 2010, Mauritanian military forces, with French technical assistance, broke up a terrorist camp in Northern Mali. Retaliatory attacks on Western targets may be conducted by al Qaida in the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM). Mauritanian military operations in Mali are continuing.

- Westerners should take increased security precautions when in their homes or cars and watch for any suspicious or unusual activity. Pay close attention to your personal security at all times and monitor the media for information about possible new safety or security risks.

- We strongly advise you not to travel to the border areas with Mali, Algeria and Western Sahara because of the risk of extremist groups, banditry and the activities of armed smugglers." 

Wonderful. Perhaps Chris was onto something when he opted out for this Season.

Montréal, Part II

I am now employed in Montréal. 

Was I ever worried? Me? Never. 

Ha!

Oh yes, this means I can stay. I can live the life of a French Canadian. I have putine and tasty burgers at my disposal, beautiful French girls in their beautifully short summer dresses, and no doubt so many many more things I have yet to discover.

What’s even better, is that bicycle, yes bicycle, will may soon become my daily mode of transport to and from work. Until winter, anyway.

Where I sit, in my temporary room on the second floor,my feet dangling out the window, afternoon sun streaking in, I can hear the classic French ballroom music softy from across Rue Chombard as the dance class carries out its daily ritual. I may be on the lowest salary I've ever earned but I am still enjoying being here. Its a romantic city. It's a city of great architecture. It's a city unlike any I've ever lived in before. And its damn hot. 44C today on the humidex.

SO, my professional assessment of Montreal; perhaps slightly less French than I though or would be. That can only be a good thing. The French is still there, and its appealing, but its not impossible to live here if you dont speak French. Or if you just let it sort of fall out of your mouth as I do. It's a lot more patriotic than I could ever imagine and tends to divide people a little. Should Quebec get its independence, or shouldn't it. I can't see it ever happening no matter how hard they rally.

I like the relaxing pace of the city. People ride bikes more than they drive their cars. When you do drive your car, you only really have to wear a seat belt if you want to. You don't have to display a front number plate either. 

I enjoy the fact that people approach me and speak in French, ask me the time for instance, and I can reply in English. Or vice versa. It's easy to navigate. Unlike Sydney but perhaps akin to new York, it's well laid out. 

And the food, I'm Afraid if I get started on the food we could be here for quite a while. I love it. I’ve always said to people that I could easily spend all my money on good food. In Montreal, it's no different. In fact, it's much worse as far as my bank account is concerned. Everything is so good. So tasty. So different. A burger is no longer just a burger- it's an explosion of flavor disguised as a burger, and the other day in Old Montreal I ate venison cooked in maple syrup outside on a terrace as a gentleman played his piano accordion and set the perfect mood.   

I love how the summer time releases a sense of celebration in the people. It's warm and light until 9pm, the clubs and bars stay open until at least 3am every night, there is a flow of festivities, one after the next with no sign of letting up- how could you ever possibly see everything that's happening in Montreal in just one summer. 

So in short, and you may have already guessed this, j'adore Montréal. But I knew I would.

I hope over the next few months I can explore a bit more of Quebec. Quebec City, for example, and a few more of the sweet country towns I have been told about.

Then from there, next big stop, winter.
And that could be a whole other story...

Montréal, J'adore vous!

Imagine this.
You have spent years at medical school, and are now almost a doctor, nurse, or whatever the case may be. You're doing one of those 'practice sessions' you do, on a dummy. Let's say its open heart surgery.
All of a sudden a fire breaks out in the room. Then the electricity goes. Then your instructor Overdoses on god-knows-what. It's your job to handle the situation.
And it's all a test.
Possibly, the gentleman I met on the train to Montreal has the best job ever.
Imagine a Tom Arnold look a-like, who's a doctor. It's his job to fuck with the students in this way, and many, many others one can only begin to imagine.

Unfortunately, he de-trained about 5 hours before Montreal so the stories were kind relatively short.

I arrive in the evening to a somewhat soggy French Canadian day. 
I've never quite known what to expect of Montreal. 
The cab driver greets me in French - I have no idea what he's saying. 
Turns out he speaks English anyway. 
“Thank God” - the first thing to cross my mind.

I find somewhere to stay in le Plateau - undoubtedly the suave part of the city. 
By now I'm so keen to have a proper meal after a few days of American food so I gather Brent, a New Zealander I met on the train, and we head out.
The waitress greets me in French too.
"Errr, parlet vous anglais,?"
"My English... No so good.."
I'm beginning to get worried now.
But the food was amazing. Chicken braised in salsa. So good. SO good.

I make a quick trip to the chemist and once again I'm confronted by the French language. I still have no idea what the shopkeeper was saying. Luckily, I make it through with only the use of "bonjour." and "merci beaucoup." And a smile.

Thursday rolls around and I start looking for jobs. No point in messing about I figure. There are a couple listed that actually say 'English only' - now my confidence begins to grow.

Still unsure if I’ve adjusted to the time difference, but I guess that’s the problem with staying out all night and sleeping in all day. There's more evidence of that when back at the hotel I fall asleep at 8pm, mid discussion of where everyone (everyone being those gathered in the lounge area, from all parts of the world) wants to go for the night. At midnight I wake up and a brief chat with Melina, a beautiful, tall, dark, German woman, leads to an early morning drink at a couple of bars on le Plateau. Luckily, she speaks French, which gets me out of embarrassing myself trying to order drinks.
On a Thursday, after midnight, Le Plateau is still kicking. Apparently it kicks late into the night on any evening. The bands have finished playing but the numerous trendy bars and clubs on the streets are still full. We down a couple of French beers in a couple of French bars and then sadly, discover that when 3am rolls around, the bars close. Unless you know of a private loft party, you're left on the street.
I decide I'm going to need to know about loft parties.

We chat our way back to the hotel and as we stumble in the door, so do a couple of others staying here, Mario and Charles, a German and a Frenchman. Shortly after, so do a couple of German girls. They had been talking earlier in the night, along with the rest of the German clan, about getting up at 730am to watch the Germany vs Serbia world cup game. Unpredictably we all stay awake talking and laughing until 730 rolls around. 
Then 10am rolls around. 
Bed calls.

So you see what I mean by now, oui?
The days are short and the nights are long. 

3 hours of sleep later and I'm up, trying to open a bank account. 
Sorted. 
4pm and the phone rings, Its Christine, a French Canadian local I've been put in touch with through Clare, back in Australia. One hour later I'm at parc la fontaine, relaxing lakeside with Christine and Kamalee, being told I'm going to need a pushbike in Montreal. It's almost mandatory. The girls take me to a small diner on the corner of rue Herbert and Rachel, and order me a classic Montreal dish called Putine. Melina had told me about this and it was supposed to be simple, but amazing. And it was. So good, kind of like a gourmet chips and gravy. And the burger was fantastique as well.
I'm going to love living here.

IF I can live here.

And at the moment, that's the problem. The more of Montreal I see and experience, the more I want to stay. The more important it becomes to find a job. To speak French. To get a pushbike. To meet people, know people. I want this to work so badly at the moment, I'm contemplating staying inside all day learning French until I'm fluent.
24 job applications later, and I’m no closer to being able to stay. 



Christine and Kamalee tell me about a festival on Sunday, which apparently happens every Sunday in summer. 
Looks like I'm going. 
Looks like I don't have a choice. 
Christine walks me home and we drop into a bar on Mont Royal Ave (where I'm staying) called Candy Bar. Everything, of course, has a candy theme. The stools have girls legs holding them up, the drinks are severed with candy and everything is pink. Interesting. It’s like being inside a 10 year old girl’s mind. Relax, I said mind.

Back at the hotel and it's business as usual. We have beers and discuss where to go for the evening. Melina tells of a 90s party at a club called Le Tulip. For a $5 cover, we enter at 1130pm. The club has taken over an old theatre and about 150 people are dancing their asses off to popular songs from the 1990s under a big, sparkly, blue and pink flashing sign that reads POP 90.
After I had embarrassed myself on the dance floor for long enough, asked for a couple of wet pussy shooters and received something called a juicy pussy instead, it was back to the hotel for late night snacks. Bed at 430am.

I think my body must be desperate for some sort of consistency by now, because when I woke up it was almost 3pm.

I take it easy for most of the afternoon, until I get hungry for some more Quebec food. I walk with Melina to La Banquise, place nearby where there is an impressive selection of Putine to discover. And more tasty burgers. Its open 24 hours.
I can see this is going to be the source of my financial peril.
Before I know it, it's beer-o'clock again. We're back out where we belong, in the thick of the Plateau night. Myself, Melina, Charles (French) and Mario (German) and a couple of others have found another club to try out. ‘The Shop’ has any kind of drink for $2, ALL night, so Charles, Melina and I order 15 shots before dancing the night away all over again.

Sunday rolls around and after receiving a couple of phone calls about potential jobs (which don't materialise) and watching an 'independence of quebec' parade, Charles and I leg it to Jean-Dreeau for the Picnic Electronik Sunday. From 4pm until 10pm we danced, danced, danced. We smoked some Mary-Jane, drank some beers and enjoyed the mass of people here to have a great time in the warm Montreal summer. The park had a perfect view of Downtown Montreal, and something called the biosphere, and the evening turned rather magical as the sun went down.

But it’s like that here, there’s just one festival after the next. One party after the next. They tell me because the winter is so harsh and cold, that when summer rolls around every one just wants to party non-stop. Every Sunday is Tam Tam - a big drumming festival in Parc du Mount Royal AND Picnic Electronik. Since I’ve been here has been Quebec Day which is a massive day to the locals as it is, Canada day, and now the Jazz Festival which runs for about four weeks. In June alone, yes JUST JUNE, there is also the Beer Festival, Tour la Nuit, Les FrancoFolies, St Ambroise Fringe Festival, The Montreal Grand Prix and a handful more.
No other city I’ve ever been in has ever come close to appearing this busy. 

So far so good. Sort of. 
The most wonderful, beautiful, grand people I've met so far are nothing more than passers by (Julie, Nora, Ingrid, Melina, Charles, Mario..), which is fine, everyone has their places to be, and the two ever-so-hospitiable locals Christine and Kamalee have taken me under their wing
which is mighty kind of them, and Montreal as a whole is fan-fucking-tastic, there's still a bit of a dark cloud hanging over head.. 

It’s now June 30. I’ve been here for two weeks and I don’t know where the time has gone. I can’t account for it all because I’ve been having so much damn fun. I’ve been busy, uncommitted, intrigued and influenced. I’ve been eating like a drop out form The Biggest Looser, partying all night and exploring all day. I’ve been shopping like a trophy-wife, I’ve been introducing myself 20 times a day, I’ve been getting lost and pretending to be French.
I’m hooked.

I’m also fucked unless I find a job.

Englishman in New York

I could be in the wrong here, but having asked for a 'window seat' on the plane, I at least expected a seat with a window. What I got, was a seat against a wall. 25 hours later, wheels down at JFK. That's right NYC, I'm back. You may remember me only as a kid but now I'm just a kid at heart, all man elsewhere.

I can't help but smile as the New York skyline rolls closer. A wall of sky-scrapers light the night sky. I am rolling as well, to my hotel - in a black Chevy Suburban so big it may as well have eaten the Super Extreme Dodge for breakfast. I cant help but wonder if we will detour to carry out a drive-by on the way. Wait, that's not fair. We might just go for a cruise downtown blasting the snoop dog and check out some "bitches, yo."

We do neither.

I meet a German at the hotel. Found him banging on the door at 1am trying to get in; the clerk had gone walkabout. Lukas, the German and I make plans to have a nosy at the Puerto Rican parade tomorrow that has all of Fifth Ave closed. I'm far from about to go to sleep, though. this is NYC, baby, the city that never sleeps- so why should I.

Currently 2am. 
Sitting outside the 24hour Apple store on Fifth Ave waiting for my new MacBook to be built. Why? Because I can.
Also wondering the cause behind the steam that rises from the sewer vents in the road. Perhaps the worlds biggest cigar room?

Hungry. 
Think I'll try a curb-side "hot dawg."
$3.
Tasty. Could be made of anything really, still, better than airplane food.

For a big city, people are friendly. Taxi drivers may not say much but they aren't shy about undercharging you if they get messed around by road closures. Strangers chat to each other. The occasional person stares as me as if they are waiting for me to strike conversation. Sometimes, I do.

Now about to go to bed, I feel bad for doing so. It's now 4am and people are still out having coffee, walking their dogs, hell, even buying macbooks while they walk their dogs - this really is the city that never sleeps. If I had been older when my family was looking to live here, I would have missed it a lot. I would have found myself back here much sooner. 

Looks like I'm about to give in to feeling bad.

Hardly for long though. 3 hours, one email from a mother missing her favourite child, and, a near heart attack thinking my morning 'number two' was about to send a brown tidal wave over the floor of the shared bathroom later, I've discovered what must be considered gold in NYC. Coffee.
Already keen for my second cup by the time I've typed this, I've decided that trying to 'unplug' is going to be a good thing. I like being disconnected.
But I'm not really, I never am really ‘disconnected’- not like James and Chris, anyway. These days you're never far from WiFi and it's easy to download a map if I need one even if it does cost me a cup of coffee, but I have no phone and no constant access to emails. That's disconnected enough for me I think. From here on in I will try to use less i-products to do the days medial tasks, and more I-ingenuity. Sort of. Still had to print off directions to the camera store from Google maps seeing as no one keeps a road directory any more. And if I'm totally honest, I did illegally download some software using the hotel WiFi. And read a copy of Time magazine on the iPad whilst on the can. Anyway, got to start somewhere. I'm going to liken this to a smoker trying to cut back on the amount of cigarettes he smokes each day. Why? Remember that 'kid at heart' business? I'm like a kid in a candy store when it comes to Apple. Steve Jobs is my God and without encouragement I will sheepishly go and buy everything he makes, cyber-pray at least 20 times a day by logging onto my gift from my God, and defend his honor until the day I die. Or he does.

Back to NYC.

I decide, in a somewhat clouded sense of nutrition, to skip the 2nd cup of coffee and go for a Berocca tab. You know, the ones that are the same color going in and coming out of your body. I also make some decisions on what to spend some of my hard earned cash on. The same hard earned cash that has to last me until I find a job in a city whose language I know not so well (Montreal). Probably a financial decision I may regret, but much like buying an i-product, if I don't do it, it's going to keep nagging me until I do. So to silence the voice inside, I plan my first outing of the day.

BH Photo Video on 9th has about 60 people queued up at the door. Its 10 minutes before opening time and apparently its quite the norm. New camera in hand. What better place to test it? Actually, I can think of a couple..

Lukas and I hit the streets on foot in search of the parade. It's fairly warm and sticky today and there are street closures everywhere. There are also about a million Puerto Rican flags in the streets. A relaxed 45 minute walk gets us downtown to Fifth Ave where the action really is. The parade is huge. It's loud. Sounds more like a rock concert. We stay for as long as we can before turning Puerto Rican ourselves and head for some late lunch in an Irish bar where we also witness Australia embarrass themselves against Germany in a world cup group game. 

Sleep has finally caught up with me by now and plans to rest my head for an hour turn into a 10 hour sleep-a-thon. Hopefully this will put my body into North American time for the next two full days in NYC - I've got some exploring to do, tourist style.

And that's what I did. A boat ride on the Hudson river with an unfortunately clouded view of Manhattan and the Statue of Liberty, a bus tour uptown through Harlem, and a bus tour downtown through the infamous Wall St, Ground Zero and Times Square. A visit to the Rockafella tower and a little bit of wandering around, and then, accidentally, another snooze. I think only when you've done something like this can you begin to appreciate how damn huge New York City actually is. It is MASSIVE. You need years to truly discover this place. I'll have to come back to get some good shots of the city - it's just too big to wander around looking for good view points.

Ways to shit your pants #1: log on to your bank account to see the balance at $0.00 while overseas.

Bank error, crisis averted. I should send them the dry cleaning bill for my now-brown underwear though.

30 hours left in New York before I board a train to Montreal and hunt frantically for a job. I still don't quite feel as though I've adjusted to the time difference, but then I could just be finding it hard to sleep on the hotel supplied brick disguised as a pillow. 

I do some more shopping.

I take a walk, eat some food, which in turn presents another problem with New York: if I stay here, I will get fat. The food, for the most part is pretty rubbish. Just fatty, salty American crap. There are a few spots where the food is more to my liking, but you can expect to pay double the price.

Time seems to move faster here in NYC. It just seem to run out so quickly. 

I head to Macy's, which pride themselves on the worlds biggest store. Turns out it's closer to the worlds biggest disappointment. Then I stumble upon Ground Zero, which is now just a construction site for the new Freedom Tower. I discover a few other things about this area of town, the Financial District; there's a McDonalds where all the staff wear tuxedo's just because of the location. Keeping in tune with the amount of money flowing around New York, there's also a McDonalds in Time Square that is so flashy and bright, they employ someone purely to change light bulbs. But then, it is Time Square. I find out there's actually a law- if you want to setup shop in Times Square, at least 18% of the front of your real estate has to be covered in lights. And here's some money facts for ya, every time the Toshiba building changes it's huge advertising screens, which is about every 10 seconds, they make $3million!

In the World Financial Centre I find something rather cool. Some smarty pants has planted 18 huge palm trees indoors, in a kind of God-size greenhouse, so even in winter, you can sit in here, surrounded by palm trees, and watch the snow fall. 
As soon as I head out onto the harbour side walkways and parks here, the busy New York all of a sudden gives way to something totally different. It's relaxing, all I can hear are birds and the waves, I could be anywhere. 20 minutes of walking and I'm back to the New York I'm familiar with.

After a quick evening visit to the Empire State Building and Times Square again so I can see just how bright it is at midnight (it's almost like day time), I am beginning to find another problem with New York. It's so full of tourists, ALL the time, I wonder if any one actually lives here. I wonder if I could live here, given all the tourist. It's THAT bad.

Trains. Truly the gentleman's form of transport. The 10 hour ride to seems to pass fairly quickly. Helps when you befriend a couple of other passengers of course.
So I'm here. Where I've wanted to be for almost two years now.


Montreal.

The Journey Continues

Sydney,

Our time together comes to an end. 
We’ve spent over 7 long years together and now the itch has set in once again! In that time we have laughed together, told stories and shared great times, but above all, we have grown together. I know you’re going to miss me. Ha!

I think friends are often under-rated. Having lost a best one, and found many unique ones, I value each and every one of you whom I have met and come to know. You have each taught me something grand. You are each, much to your dismay, a part of who I am. I have throughly enjoyed every moment we have spent in each other's company. 

To all those I never found the time to work with, my sincere apologies. I’ll be traveling this world forever, so if you ever find yourself in the same city, do look me up. 

Mother Nature is a beautiful thing to wake up to. Her fields, her snow, her deserts, her savanna's, her oceans, her Himalayas, her Africa’s, her strange creatures and her breath-taking views - views that are incomprehensible to some. 
Every time we doubt her, she restores faith with a stunning, well kept secret. It is because of this, my soul continues to urn for what I have not yet experienced. For a new scene. For vast empty spaces to fill with nothing but big, empty skies. For the challenges. For adventure.

I think my heart collided with my soul’s train of thought...

Many people are never quite sure what to do with this life. I am perhaps one of the lucky ones. What better way to make the most of it all than spending as much time as I can, taking in as much of this world as possible. Meeting new people, trying the kinds of food that makes me cringe, being out of my element, doing the things that frighten me the most and enjoying the open road... North America, Africa, Europe, South America, Antarctica - all these major continents have only been seen in such minor ways by my eyes, if even at all. To me, all this is endlessly more rewarding than anything else.

I know I have unlocked the secret to life that most people never understand.

So on June 12, 2010, begins the next leg of this life long adventure. Canada is calling and I know I must answer. She is the next destination for me, on this amazing planet (But not before visiting my old friend New York). In these past two years there has not been a day where thoughts of excitement, intrigue and adventure have not seized my mind. You all know well by now that it is the unknown situations that I crave so dearly. 

Unfamiliarity is a wonderful thing. 

Montreal, I’ve been told, is a most beautiful city with a beautiful mixed language - a blend of English and French with no real sense of order in how it is to be spoken. A conversation can turn without warning from one to the other. I love that. 
It is a stones throw away from the magic of New York City, the thunder of Niagara Falls and bearly more to places as isolated as the North Pole.
I have nothing for me in Montreal but a change. I have no job lined up. I have no accommodation lined up. I have no idea what to expect. 

I have no idea if it will even work.

After that? Perhaps Europe. I’ll be there in January 2011 anyway, as Super Extreme Adventure Team and I participate in the Banjul Rally. England, France, Spain, Morocco, Western Sahara, Mauritania, Senegal and The Gambia in a car that cost £100 - wish us luck! 

So even though I may never return to Australia as a home, I can offer the promise of these things:

I shall continue to speak my mind.
I shall continue to grow both creatively and in wisdom.
I shall never sit still.
I shall spam you all continuously with email updates.
And I will never forget any one of you..


Au revoir des amis et des amants
Merci d'avoir ajouté la joie de ma vie


Sammy Valencia Esq.