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David's Travel Adventure
Hello everyone!
Well, it has been some time indeed since last I settled down to write a few words and, quite inevitably, much has transpired during the interrim. This is, of course, to be lauded, as here in a foreign city far from home a full life rather reliably translates to an exciting life and from there it is a small hop to a good life! My concern today, in terms of catchment, is to focus upon one of my more selfish aspects for writing this blog - namely, memory - and fill in both you good people and, importantly, my future self, on what has been happening in recent weeks.
When last I blogged, I stood at the threshold of key new and thrilling developments: after three idyllic weeks living with my good friends Mike and Jenna, I was finally moving into a room to call my very own and had succeeded in landing a flashy, enviable job at a local branch of a huge, international coffee company - no, not 'Starbuck's', but more of that to follow. Firstly: the move. I settled upon a modest space in a basement suite in a super location and available for a very reasonable price. I met my aim of remaining in the Kitsilano area, close to Mike and Jenna, to other new friends and to a whole host of useful amenities peppering two important arterial roads, 4th Avenue and West Broadway. I compromised to quite a degree as well: for the first time, I would be living with a cat ('Nuis' - I have become convinced that this affectionate nickname confirms one of my worst fears; the blasted furr-ball is indeed a complete nuisance). I would also be living in a house full of girls (the cat is male, but he hardly counts), a proposition that I am sure has more than one of my friends back home salivating (or undergoing some equally inappropriate involuntary reflex action) and also more than one shaking their head with bewilderment, divine anticipation or a mixture of the two. I should say that with regard to this living arrangement, things are progressing quite smoothly. Despite my radiator not working, my room (and indeed all of the rooms in the suite) are located close to the home's boiler, thus keeping the place adequately warm - even the bathroom, placed at the furthest periphery from our beloved heat source. During the initial days of settling in, it appeared that my door did not shut properly, but some tender-spoken words and a little amorous jigging - both from me - and the situation would seem to have been rectified, at present.
After a little awkwardness upon commencement of my time within the suite, my room-mates and I seem slowly to be forging adequate alliances: we still have yet to sit down as a group of four over a drink, a film or some other apparatus of social bonding (the Christmas holidays can perhaps be held responsible for this situation to an extent), but we are at least becoming familiar with one another and conversation is flowing in a less stilted, easier manner. In fact, the initial distance I perceived among members of the suite probably served in my favour, allowing me to spend ample periods of time out and about, forging aquaintances and strengthening friendships with other characters that I have met in the local area, both on my travels, CV in hand, to business establishments of various colours and creeds and also at social engagements, often orchestrated by my existing network of camaraderie. Regarding the housing situation, all that really remains at present is to find a solution to my disjointed sleeping pattern, atop a thin futon resting on rather harsh wooden slats...
It was upon one of my earlier jaunts out along West Broadway, CV in hand, whilst I was still camped out in the spare room at Mike and Jenna's homely abode, that I landed my first position of employment in this fair country of Canada. I had been wandering from book-shop to cafe, with little success, when I decided that I could do with a quiet rest-stop of my own. At roughly the same moment - although perhaps it was the sight of such a welcoming sign that set my thought processes into responsive action - I descried a 'Tim Hortons'. Tim Horton was a famous hockey player here in Canada during the 1960s and early 1970s, up until his untimely death in a car accident in Ontario in 1974. Besides being a respected player of the 'great game' here in the Land of the Maple Leaf, Horton was also a man of some business acumen and foresight. Even as he progressed with his hockey career, he recognized the need to establish a more lasting form of employment, ready for the day when he would be forced to hang up his skates. Thus was the eponymous coffee-shop born. Swiftly established in its, and Tim's, home province of Ontario, the franchized chain has continued to grow significantly since Tim's death and there are now over 3,000 stores nationwide and an ample smattering south of the border in the United States as well. 'Hortons' (the possessive apostrophe has at some point over the years fallen out of usage - yes, I am grammatical martyr enough to feel the need to highlight this sad fact) has also been making steady inroads across the pond: I was told by my manager during my initial interview that the franchise has indeed landed in the UK, though only in a handful of major cities at present.
I have now been an employee at two of these coffee-shops (one on West Broadway itself, the other some tens blocks further south, on Dunbar Street) for some seven weeks, although two of those weeks I spent in Alberta for Christmas. After the inevitable hesitancy that shadows the start of any new job, particularly one in not only a new city, but indeed, a new country even, I have begun to settle down in recent days and whilst the work is far from stimulating on many levels, it remains simple, honest labour and serves admirably at keeping me financially buoyant here in Vancouver. The highlights from day-to-day remain an insightful interaction with many of the customers whom I serve and with those few snatched moments chatting to my fellow workers, a number of whom are foreign workers here on a year-long visa, just like me. These conversations and moments of shared camaraderie help to pass the day and, as Down Gran would so wisely note, even here I am able to learn and prosper: everything is an experience (and this, at times, a rather good one as far as working allows!).
When not occupied with an eight-hour shift at 'Hortons' (which remains open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week at both store locations - I am only ever there between the hours of 7am and 11pm), I have delighted in exploring a little more thoroughly my local surroundings and have taken every opportunity to board a bus into down-town, one of my favourite outings, head out on runs around the Kitsilano locale or join friends on trips to the suburbs. Pre-Christmas visits with Mike and Jenna in their car took me as far as North Vancouver across the Burrard Islet from down-town to the north and south-west to Langley, calling on a favourite aunt and uncle and a close childhood friend respectively. Another trip with an ex-pat named Tony saw me alight at the Delta airfield, far to the south of the central city area, to a once-monthly breakfast held by members of the club, most of whom own light aircraft and a wealth of flying experience. I met the garrulous Tony upon visiting my local banking branch one day late in November. After striking up a pleasant conversation with an attractive young teller, she pointed out a friendly-looking older gentleman, mentioning that he was "one of mine" - English. We were soon deep in dialogue and Tony surprised me with a whole host of interesting stories, not least of which detailed his move to Canada from the homeland many moons previously. After becoming enamoured with flying at an early age in the industrial north of England, Tony had served out his compulsory military service (that ages him a little!) in the good old RAF as an officer, thanks to his education at a renowned public school on a scholarship. His posting had taken him to Canada for six months and upon completion of his service, after some time spent back in England, Tony decided that he would prefer an exciting adventure back across the pond to Maple-land. After a journey of some two months, Tony finally found himself here in Vancouver and has never looked back. This illuminating initial conversation led to my being invited to the airfield to meet assorted others of Tony's circle and his indomitable Canadian wife, Mary. I had a simply wonderful time meeting many absorbing and welcoming characters; so much so that I accompanied Tony and Mary to a Christmas carol concert at the local maritime museum, an event hosted by another of the energetic couple's projects, the local yacht club. I ate real mince pies and mingled with a dazzling array of salty ex-pats and natives, whilst arresting those in the near vicinity with my powerful, enthusiastic singing (that is my story and I am sticking to it).
A final direction through the local social scene has been afforded me through another friend I made whilst travelling in Argentina: I met Janna in Mendoza and after discovering that she was a native of Vancouver, we stayed in contact. Some time after arriving here in the city, I met up with Janna to visit the home of some of her friends for board-games and lunch. I had a brilliant time meeting engaging and interesting people over the most complex board-game I have ever played: upon telling those assembled of my love for the game 'Settlers of Catan', I was informed, quite gently, that I was in for a true treat and I was indeed! The game and the company were excellent and I have subsequently been spending much time with Janna and her good friends Luke, Jen, Rob, Gab, Dan and a wholoe host of others, with Luke and Jen's comely abode serving as a solid venue for games, food, chat, films and all manner else of quirky venture: I called by the other day to find Luke and our friend Aaron kitted out in full diving gear in the middle of the living room.
All-in-all then, my time spent so far in this exciting city has been full of adventures, challenges and formative experiences. I feel that I am coping quite well thus-far, although there is plenty of room for improvement. The aim over the next few weeks and months is to transform some of those perceived improvements into reality and a further aim is to continue updating this lamentably ill-tended blog: I intend to write again soon, detailing my amazing trip to Alberta for Christmas and beyond! For now, however, I shall sign off and hugs and kisses galore.
Best wishes to all!
David xxx
Well, it has been some time indeed since last I settled down to write a few words and, quite inevitably, much has transpired during the interrim. This is, of course, to be lauded, as here in a foreign city far from home a full life rather reliably translates to an exciting life and from there it is a small hop to a good life! My concern today, in terms of catchment, is to focus upon one of my more selfish aspects for writing this blog - namely, memory - and fill in both you good people and, importantly, my future self, on what has been happening in recent weeks.
When last I blogged, I stood at the threshold of key new and thrilling developments: after three idyllic weeks living with my good friends Mike and Jenna, I was finally moving into a room to call my very own and had succeeded in landing a flashy, enviable job at a local branch of a huge, international coffee company - no, not 'Starbuck's', but more of that to follow. Firstly: the move. I settled upon a modest space in a basement suite in a super location and available for a very reasonable price. I met my aim of remaining in the Kitsilano area, close to Mike and Jenna, to other new friends and to a whole host of useful amenities peppering two important arterial roads, 4th Avenue and West Broadway. I compromised to quite a degree as well: for the first time, I would be living with a cat ('Nuis' - I have become convinced that this affectionate nickname confirms one of my worst fears; the blasted furr-ball is indeed a complete nuisance). I would also be living in a house full of girls (the cat is male, but he hardly counts), a proposition that I am sure has more than one of my friends back home salivating (or undergoing some equally inappropriate involuntary reflex action) and also more than one shaking their head with bewilderment, divine anticipation or a mixture of the two. I should say that with regard to this living arrangement, things are progressing quite smoothly. Despite my radiator not working, my room (and indeed all of the rooms in the suite) are located close to the home's boiler, thus keeping the place adequately warm - even the bathroom, placed at the furthest periphery from our beloved heat source. During the initial days of settling in, it appeared that my door did not shut properly, but some tender-spoken words and a little amorous jigging - both from me - and the situation would seem to have been rectified, at present.
After a little awkwardness upon commencement of my time within the suite, my room-mates and I seem slowly to be forging adequate alliances: we still have yet to sit down as a group of four over a drink, a film or some other apparatus of social bonding (the Christmas holidays can perhaps be held responsible for this situation to an extent), but we are at least becoming familiar with one another and conversation is flowing in a less stilted, easier manner. In fact, the initial distance I perceived among members of the suite probably served in my favour, allowing me to spend ample periods of time out and about, forging aquaintances and strengthening friendships with other characters that I have met in the local area, both on my travels, CV in hand, to business establishments of various colours and creeds and also at social engagements, often orchestrated by my existing network of camaraderie. Regarding the housing situation, all that really remains at present is to find a solution to my disjointed sleeping pattern, atop a thin futon resting on rather harsh wooden slats...
It was upon one of my earlier jaunts out along West Broadway, CV in hand, whilst I was still camped out in the spare room at Mike and Jenna's homely abode, that I landed my first position of employment in this fair country of Canada. I had been wandering from book-shop to cafe, with little success, when I decided that I could do with a quiet rest-stop of my own. At roughly the same moment - although perhaps it was the sight of such a welcoming sign that set my thought processes into responsive action - I descried a 'Tim Hortons'. Tim Horton was a famous hockey player here in Canada during the 1960s and early 1970s, up until his untimely death in a car accident in Ontario in 1974. Besides being a respected player of the 'great game' here in the Land of the Maple Leaf, Horton was also a man of some business acumen and foresight. Even as he progressed with his hockey career, he recognized the need to establish a more lasting form of employment, ready for the day when he would be forced to hang up his skates. Thus was the eponymous coffee-shop born. Swiftly established in its, and Tim's, home province of Ontario, the franchized chain has continued to grow significantly since Tim's death and there are now over 3,000 stores nationwide and an ample smattering south of the border in the United States as well. 'Hortons' (the possessive apostrophe has at some point over the years fallen out of usage - yes, I am grammatical martyr enough to feel the need to highlight this sad fact) has also been making steady inroads across the pond: I was told by my manager during my initial interview that the franchise has indeed landed in the UK, though only in a handful of major cities at present.
I have now been an employee at two of these coffee-shops (one on West Broadway itself, the other some tens blocks further south, on Dunbar Street) for some seven weeks, although two of those weeks I spent in Alberta for Christmas. After the inevitable hesitancy that shadows the start of any new job, particularly one in not only a new city, but indeed, a new country even, I have begun to settle down in recent days and whilst the work is far from stimulating on many levels, it remains simple, honest labour and serves admirably at keeping me financially buoyant here in Vancouver. The highlights from day-to-day remain an insightful interaction with many of the customers whom I serve and with those few snatched moments chatting to my fellow workers, a number of whom are foreign workers here on a year-long visa, just like me. These conversations and moments of shared camaraderie help to pass the day and, as Down Gran would so wisely note, even here I am able to learn and prosper: everything is an experience (and this, at times, a rather good one as far as working allows!).
When not occupied with an eight-hour shift at 'Hortons' (which remains open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week at both store locations - I am only ever there between the hours of 7am and 11pm), I have delighted in exploring a little more thoroughly my local surroundings and have taken every opportunity to board a bus into down-town, one of my favourite outings, head out on runs around the Kitsilano locale or join friends on trips to the suburbs. Pre-Christmas visits with Mike and Jenna in their car took me as far as North Vancouver across the Burrard Islet from down-town to the north and south-west to Langley, calling on a favourite aunt and uncle and a close childhood friend respectively. Another trip with an ex-pat named Tony saw me alight at the Delta airfield, far to the south of the central city area, to a once-monthly breakfast held by members of the club, most of whom own light aircraft and a wealth of flying experience. I met the garrulous Tony upon visiting my local banking branch one day late in November. After striking up a pleasant conversation with an attractive young teller, she pointed out a friendly-looking older gentleman, mentioning that he was "one of mine" - English. We were soon deep in dialogue and Tony surprised me with a whole host of interesting stories, not least of which detailed his move to Canada from the homeland many moons previously. After becoming enamoured with flying at an early age in the industrial north of England, Tony had served out his compulsory military service (that ages him a little!) in the good old RAF as an officer, thanks to his education at a renowned public school on a scholarship. His posting had taken him to Canada for six months and upon completion of his service, after some time spent back in England, Tony decided that he would prefer an exciting adventure back across the pond to Maple-land. After a journey of some two months, Tony finally found himself here in Vancouver and has never looked back. This illuminating initial conversation led to my being invited to the airfield to meet assorted others of Tony's circle and his indomitable Canadian wife, Mary. I had a simply wonderful time meeting many absorbing and welcoming characters; so much so that I accompanied Tony and Mary to a Christmas carol concert at the local maritime museum, an event hosted by another of the energetic couple's projects, the local yacht club. I ate real mince pies and mingled with a dazzling array of salty ex-pats and natives, whilst arresting those in the near vicinity with my powerful, enthusiastic singing (that is my story and I am sticking to it).
A final direction through the local social scene has been afforded me through another friend I made whilst travelling in Argentina: I met Janna in Mendoza and after discovering that she was a native of Vancouver, we stayed in contact. Some time after arriving here in the city, I met up with Janna to visit the home of some of her friends for board-games and lunch. I had a brilliant time meeting engaging and interesting people over the most complex board-game I have ever played: upon telling those assembled of my love for the game 'Settlers of Catan', I was informed, quite gently, that I was in for a true treat and I was indeed! The game and the company were excellent and I have subsequently been spending much time with Janna and her good friends Luke, Jen, Rob, Gab, Dan and a wholoe host of others, with Luke and Jen's comely abode serving as a solid venue for games, food, chat, films and all manner else of quirky venture: I called by the other day to find Luke and our friend Aaron kitted out in full diving gear in the middle of the living room.
All-in-all then, my time spent so far in this exciting city has been full of adventures, challenges and formative experiences. I feel that I am coping quite well thus-far, although there is plenty of room for improvement. The aim over the next few weeks and months is to transform some of those perceived improvements into reality and a further aim is to continue updating this lamentably ill-tended blog: I intend to write again soon, detailing my amazing trip to Alberta for Christmas and beyond! For now, however, I shall sign off and hugs and kisses galore.
Best wishes to all!
David xxx
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