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Day 8: I moved to the HI hostel by Alta Lake which was an absolutely breath taking setting of a hostel overlooking a lake with a mountainous range back drop - not bad by half (see the pic).When I got to the hostel I discovered they didn't have my name on the list of people that were staying there due to the stoned up Ozzie that I spoke to not writing it down.I was told I'd have to sleep on the couch one night.Great.
In my room were Neil who was a fellow Bunnaccer I travelled from England and then Vancouver with, 2 young British lads Tim and James who spent an unhealthy amount of time on the internet - I'd discover that everyone did in this hostel.Also in the room was a young, funny, slightly eccentric Irish lad called James too and then an ozzie called Keit.And that was our motley crew, soon to be increased by the addition of a very funny kiwi who we aptly named, you guessed it, 'Kiwi'.
Whistler village was absolutely beautiful with the huge mountain and ski lift backdrop a mouthwatering reminder every moment of the imminent boarding to come. It was weirdly empty though, literally a handful of people only on the streets at any one point. It was quite cool being the first to sort of discover the place.
There was one topic of conversation that occupied everyone's time and was constantly ushered from everyone's lips.I soon discovered that everyone you would meet in Whistler would ask you about it, conversations were had in bars, at toilet urinals, over supermarket counters, in job interviews, even in the height of intoxication when out - there was no escape.It became and still is a dirty word to me: 'accommodation' and the extreme lack of it.
Now, I don't wish to overstate this particular issue or worry anyone about my general welfare who has been arsed to read this.I was, like everyone else, able to continue to go out and have a good time and in true British fashion make a mockery of the situation but the heavy stifling weight of not resolving the £$%&*@?tion issue was causing many of us to get anxious, lose sleep, get ill and just generally a bit depressed.
To sum up:If we did not get accommodation before the beginning of November when 1000s more people would descend on Whistler it was highly unlikely we would be able to stay for the whole season.So a ritual developed each day going online looking at local listings and waiting for the publication of a new magazine that had all the latest properties available.Anyway, that night we all decided to go out and really let our hair down to forget about it all.The next day a new edition of the magazine was released and we pinned our hopes on finding the holy grail of a ski in/ski out condo with twin hot tubs in there.Jules, aka kiwi, who was a chilled but hyper surfer/skater/ boarder come ladies-man type who said "yeah broow" a lot and spoke in a slow drawl that was so simultaneously so quick that at points I simply nodded and said "yeah" in agreement until realising he was actually asking something was good craic and was setting the drinking, party pace while his attentions were still firmly fixed on a Swedish girl staying in the hostel.
We eventually met up with Filly, my future housemate and her hostel crew and a few of the Bunac girls- who had pretty much all paired off with various shaggy haired Australian skater boys and had a top night. I discovered that weirdly nearly every toilet in Whistler had pictures of naked women over the urinal (who needs advertising) and that Wednesday, workers night, was the biggest night in Whistler.
The next morning at about 8am I managed to drag myself downstairs with the intention of intercepting the classifieds mag in town earlier than everyone else in Whistler.To my shock I discovered that a French guy and his Japanese girlfriend had already obtained a copy by driving to the office where the magazine was produced earlier that morning - could things get more absurd!!He let me have the copy briefly and I emailed a few people, then me and James, the Irish lad headed down to town a half hour walk away to get a copy for our selves.
I met up with Filly, and we went through the magazine in a diner next to her hostel packed with other people all doing exactly the same thing.
Welcome to Whistler.
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