Winning the battle against Canada

Moving to a new city or town is a bit like a race against yourself. You’ve got to get yourself a house, job and life quickly. For me, it had to be all done within a few days to avoid those inevitable questions: what the hell am I doing here?, why have I left awesome friends/job/town/life to sit in a scungy hostel with no money to even have a beer?

So the first few days I was on a massive race. I reckon I ran a couple of marathons getting the whole house/phone/bank account/job (x2) sorted. Managed to squeeze in a free John Butler Trio gig in Whistler with a few of my flatmates too, so it wasn’t all running.

Strange things I’ve noticed about Vancouver so far.

1. Buses stop to change drivers on dodgy back streets where they just sit for 14 minutes (record thus far) waiting for the next person to rock up.
2. The lovely house I live in (with 17 other people) looks exactly like it belongs on one of those ‘small town middle America’ sitcoms. Maybe I could play an extra on that show. Could be my claim to fame.
3. It snowed. In late April. Big fat snowflakes that stayed on the ground for a whole day.
4. You have to pay for incoming calls on your mobile. That sucks. But mobiles have a ‘home zone’ – so you can call a mobile from home for a local call. Kind of defeats the purpose of ‘mobile’ communication, but I guess that’s why they call them cell phones over here.
5. It’s quicker to walk to work than take the bus. Even though my ‘day’ job is about 7km from my house. Sometimes I really miss London!
6. Kits, the area I live, is like a carbon copy of Chapel St in Melbourne. It’d be more eerie though if there weren’t snow capped mountains in the background.

So now for the ‘real world’. I guess after months on the road it was always going to be hard when the reality of ‘no money’ hit. My schedule is a little insane right now – basically involving getting up at 5:30, going to the gym, then 2 jobs, and getting home about 11:30. Sat/Sun is nice bc I’ll prob have half or a whole day off. So in reality, my body is probably going to start yelling at me soon (but I’m living with a dietician, who’s telling me what to eat so hopefully I can put off the whole ‘collapse into a coma’ until I’ve at least earned enough money to pay for hospital!).

Anyway – I guess this is a little depressing, so I’ll end it here, and will write again when I have a life!

Learning to be Mexican ...

I’m writing this just having completed my proudest moment in Spanish thus far. Some old American bloke seemed distressed. It’s hard to be distressed in this lovely hostel with a balcony looking over a very Mexican square. When he told me what was wrong – that he’s been studying Spanish for months, and still isn’t able to order what he wants from the juice bar, I thought I might be able to help him out. And I could. So perhaps all those lessons weren’t such a waste after all.

*****************

Mexico has been a feast of the senses. Sound, taste, sight – everything. It’s a bit of an overload, and I hate the fact I can’t delve deeper into this huge country, but there’s always another time.

If I could somehow record and distribute the soundtrack to this past week, I reckon I’d make a fortune. Rocking up in Merida yesterday, we stumbled upon a huge brass band playing salsa music for hours. It seemed that most of the town had turned out to dance the streets from morning till night. Some people are just born with rhythm, and no matter that they’re 80 years old, and struggling to walk, they can still dance. I wish I was born in Mexico …

Reckon I’d be a better cook too if I was from Mexico. They just seem to grill a bit of chicken, cut up a few tomatoes and avocados, whack it in a tortilla, and two minutes later you’ve got a bloody tasty meal.

I don’t think I’ll be taking up the country’s challenge for busking on the bus however. I’ve taken a few long bus rides in Mexico, and there always seems to be entertainment in some form or another. Yesterday was a particular highlight. The bus pulled up in the middle of nowhere … just a huge field about 30km from the nearest town. People got on and off, as they tend to do in random places in central America. One of the new passengers on the bus stood up the front and started going on a rant about something. I thought he was trying to sell something (a bus is the best place to buy street food with the amount of people getting on and selling stuff), but no – he was performing magic tricks. First of all the egg and the hanky … made it disappear, reappear, that sort of thing. Then he pulled a chicken from his armpit. A live chook. Seemed to appear from nowhere, and then it was allowed to roam the bus while he finished his show. After asking for a few pesos for his troubles, the man got off (with his chicken), into another field, waiting for the next bus to pop along.

It hasn’t all been ‘genuine’ Mexico however. The fake tourism in the Yucatan (well, basically around Cancun) makes the Gold Coast look like some hidden holiday treasure, waiting to be discovered. You can buy the most ridiculous crap. And of course, people do. Staying on an island half an hour from Cancun, I thought we’d be safe from the huge commercialism. But it’s spread everywhere in that part of Mexico, so we took advantage of the free food on offer from the giant hotels, swam at the beautiful beaches with the beautiful people, then buggered off out of there after a couple of days. I’m really not above that type of travel, and there’s not much I like more than a pool bar, but sometimes when you travel this far, you want to see something different. So we left.

I have to go back tonight – purely because my flight to Vancouver leaves from Cancun, and I’m leaving Mexico in about 30 hours. But until then, I am enjoying the last ‘real’ Mexico on offer, and I plan to salsa step all the way to the bus stop.

Basking in Belizie

You’ve gotta love a country where the post office doesn’t sell stamps. Being a good friend/tourist, I’d bought post cards the day after I arrived in Belize. I am still to send them – though not for a lack of trying.

Staying on a tiny Caribbean island about an hour’s boat ride from Belize City, I was in heaven. Caye Caulker is made up of about 5 or 6 sandy streets. Most wooden hostels and hotels are on the beach, and many – like mine – have a few hammocks under palm trees where you can take a rest from the 10 metre walk from your bed to the ocean.

The attitude reflects the island too. “You’d better Belize it man” is the nation’s tourist slogan, and they really are that cool. ‘Hey mun, you’re in paradise mun’ a cool as f*@k Caribbean man greeted me as I stepped off the bus in Belize City. He was right too – the reggae beat to the nation reflects the laid back attitudes, and somehow adds to the beauty of the place.

The laid back attitudes do extend to service though. I don’t like to admit it, but I’m really not patient enough to handle backpacking in random places sometimes. (Liz, maybe I could attend teacher training with you to grow a bit of patience??) After years of travel, I’ve trained myself to expect bad, slow, or non existent service. Drinks can take half an hour to arrive, food – sometimes and hour and a half. You can’t really complain though when you’re sitting on a swing under a palm tree as a gentle breeze tames the harsh Caribbean sun.

What I’ve never come across, in all my years of travel to random corners of the globe is a post office that doesn’t sell stamps. That’s taking ‘laid back’ to a whole new level. Trying to be organised, I bought a few post cards and wrote them while I waited for friends to finish shopping. As they were clearly going to be a while purchasing random stuff, I thought I’d wander up to the post office. After strolling a couple of blocks in the harsh midday sun, I was glad to find the small door covered in lists of names of locals who had mail to pick up. When I wandered in and asked how much a stamp costs, the one staff member simply shrugged and said “We don’t have stamps. We might get some in a few days, I dunno”.

Usually that lack of organised service would piss me off. But in Belize, I found it so ridiculous – so in tune with the atmosphere of the island – that I started laughing. And the lovely Caribbean lady joined me for a giggle too.

As you may be able to tell from reading this, I did very little in Belize. Most of my time was spent lying around. Number one location for lying around was ‘The Split’ – a point where the island was ‘broken’ in half by a hurricane about 40 years ago, and now is the best swimming beach on the island, complete with bits of concrete to sunbake on (I think it was an old pier), or jump off for a swim if you felt the sunbaking was getting a bit too much.

Number two location for lying around was one of the many hammocks scattered around the island. It’s very possible to spend your entire day in a hammock on Caye Caulker. You can go to restaurants with hammocks, bars, even laze on a hammock tied to a pier above the warm, pale green seas. A good book is necessary of course, but what I found most enjoyable about the place was the friendliness of everyone. I met two cool chicks (22 and 24 year old commercial pilots … made me feel a bit inadequate) within about 20 seconds of arriving, and the rest of the time was spent just hanging with awesome people.

As I write this I think I might chuck in my plans for Canada … Belize sounds much more fun.