Back in ten

2006-05-19T03:58:00.000-07:00

further thoughts and ideas are now available at http://sheffield10.blogspot.com

2006-04-09T03:19:00.001-07:00

This could be pre-emptive but my journey is now over. My bags sit packed, surf board suitable insulated, in the Hong Kong hostel where I am out-staying my welcome. My flight is around 8am tomorrow so to make check in via public transport I have to leave tonight at 10 then sleep/not sleep at the airport.

Hong Kong is the last stop on my trip because that is where I was born all of 22 years ago. I didn't return in a particularly asupicious manner, five hours on the plane, a vague idea of where to stay and incorrect change so I had to skip the bus fare. I had been worried about wandering Kowloon with all my bags since in every picture I have seen the chinese stand cheek to shoulder with one another but it was fine. After Bali where the sun went down at 7pm and street lights are scarce it was a change to be under the neon lights and pressure selling of electronic goods small and smaller. Its not just bus drivers and airline meal providers who like things diminutive.

On Monday I embarked on a personal cultural tour within Kowloon to the former site of the British Military Hospital. The city doesn't make much sense in the day, with most businesses shut and the fog lending to the bleached appearance of everything. I risked SARS by asking directions in the Queen Elizabeth Hospital, this is't a joke the hospital was on a high alert. Whilst I appreciate the poetry of dying in the hospital opposite the one I was born in, this blog isn't worth such sacrifices. The BMH site is now taken up by a block of trendy flats which I photographed. On to Broadcast Avenue and to the flat we used to live in. This too has been ripped down and the air is so poor that people there wear surgical masks. My appartment is a hospital and my hospital an apartment.

Having weathered the possible identity crisis I set about the last two days of the trip. Yesterday I took the iconic star ferry to Hong Kong Island, a centre of commerce and shopping as well as home to the Victoria Peak tramway. This rides up a steep hill to a plateau giving specatcular views of the city, even with the seasonal fog. It is 5c cooler than the city and breezy making it a tranquil retreat above the pneumatic drills and pedestrian crossings. There are still a few colonial buildings standing, one of which is a tea museum which convinces you through sights, poetry and sounds of the wonders of tea only to not serve it on the premisis. Later I read of a traditional tea/dim sung restauarant in the area so today went there for breakfast only to be serverely priced out and even charged $20 HK for the usually complimentary tea. All was rectified after a trip to a tea shop where the kind lady was continually brewing tiny pots in the traditional fashion. The best one, a floral oolong, tasted of apricots.

Since this trip was supposed to serve some sort of eductional purpose I went to the Hong Kong Museum of History, a multimilliondollar enterprise that walks you through artifacts and reconstructions from 400 Million BC to 1997. The final exhibit is a movie of the 156 year British lease of area with a strong focus on China's interest in the area and the bold Modernist future under the People's Republic, Kowloon Disneyland included.

Tomorrow after 189 days Britain gets me back.

2006-04-09T03:19:00.000-07:00

This could be pre-emptive but my journey is now over. My bags sit packed, surf baord suitable insulated, in the Hong Kong hostel where I am out-staying my welcome. My flight is around 8am tomorrow so to make check in via public transport I have to leave tonight at 10 then sleep/not sleep at the airport.

Hong Kong is the last stop on my trip because that is where I was born all of 22 years ago. I didn't return in a particularly asupicious manner, five hours on the plane, a vague idea of where to stay and incorrect change so I had to skip the bus fare. I had been worried about wandering Kowloon with all my bags since in every picture I have seen the chinese stand cheek to shoulder with one another but it was fine. After Bali where the sun went down at 7pm and street lights are scarce it was a change to be under the neon lights and pressure selling of electronic goods small and smaller. Its not just bus drivers and airline meal providers who like things diminutive.

On Monday I embarked on a personal cultural tour within Kowloon to the former site of the British Military Hospital. The city doesn't make much sense in the day, with most businesses shut and the fog lending to the bleached appearance of everything. I risked SARS by asking directions in the Queen Elizabeth Hospital, this is't a joke the hospital was on a high alert. Whilst I appreciate the poetry of dying in the hospital opposite the one I was born in, this blog isn't worth such sacrifices. The BMH site is now taken up by a block of trendy flats which I photographed. On to Broadcast Avenue and to the flat we used to live in. This too has been ripped down and the air is so poor that people there wear surgical masks. My appartment is a hospital and my hospital an apartment.

Having weathered the possible identity crisis I set about the last two days of the trip. Yesterday I took the iconic star ferry to Hong Kong Island, a centre of commerce and shopping as well as home to the Victoria Peak tramway. This rides up a steep hill to a plateau giving specatcular views of the city, even with the seasonal fog. It is 5c cooler than the city and breezy making it a tranquil retreat above the pneumatic drills and pedestrian crossings. There are still a few colonial buildings standing, one of which is a tea museum which convinces you through sights, poetry and sounds of the wonders of tea only to not serve it on the premisis. Later I read of a traditional tea/dim sung restauarant in the area so today went there for breakfast only to be serverely priced out and even charged $20 HK for the usually complimentary tea. All was rectified after a trip to a tea shop where the kind lady was continually brewing tiny pots in the traditional fashion. The best one, a floral oolong, tasted of apricots.

Since this trip was supposed to serve some sort of eductional purpose I went to the Hong Kong Museum of History, a multimilliondollar enterprise that walks you through artifacts and reconstructions from 400 Million BC to 1997. The final exhibit is a movie of the 156 year British lease of area with a strong focus on China's interest in the area and the bold Modernist future under the People's Republic, Kowloon Disneyland included.

Tomorrow after 189 days Britain gets me back.

2006-04-02T19:31:00.000-07:00

I have a new flight date which gets in to London on 10th April.

Bali without waves might as well be Basingstoke

2006-03-30T22:09:00.000-08:00

Not too much to report really.

I didn't stay on Lombok very long, just a night before driving up to Gili Trawangan. That was a definate change in pace from the scooters and stray dogs. The main modes of transport are bmx, horse drawn cart and aside from the mosquitoes the only animal life was stray kittens.

The guide book described the losmen I stayed at as "uninspiring" which was pretty accurate although they made a mean pancake for breakfast. The Island is suffering from low crowds as a knock on from the bombing last autumn but I met a few people who were there working in the dive shops. Over the course of dinner I was successfully talked in to doing an introductory dive which cost about 30 pounds and involved pool training and 45 minutes on the reef. I found diving really meditative becuase of the initial shock of being able to breath under water and the amount you have to focus on not holding your breath. The afternoon was less sunny than the morning which was bad for visibility but it was still good. My instructor took me down on wall reef on Gili Meno which had abundant marine life. I didn't win many style points becuase I swam to upright.

I was back on Bali by Saturday night after a long drive. Road signs here, and where they do exist they are frequently covered by tree branches. There was a good swell running over the weekend and I caught a many times overhead wave at Uluwatu which was very satisfying. Sadly the apettite that spot has developed for my board resurfaced on Monday during a savage hold down on the reef. To make matters worse the very next day I took it out at the beach and rode straight over to two guys who were trying to drop in on me. Two days lost to board damage in a row then a sloppy day made for a bad end to the Balinese Year 1927.

New year here is called Nyepi and was celebrated on the 29th with a parade of floats some of which were huge and traditional and others featured surfers, motorbikes and David Beckham. They are carried down the street and then from midnight until 6 am on the 31st there is complete silence and house arrest with external house lights being banned. I chose to spend the day praying and fasting which was made more difficult by everyone I was with deciding to spend it eating and drinking but the day passed fairly quickly. To the best of my knowledge nobody saw any spirits.

Today sound and movement returned but not the surf although I am expecting great things of my last week here.

2006-03-22T01:03:00.000-08:00

Adventure. The word on everybodys lips. Getting off the beaten track. In an utterly guide book approved manner.

In my case this has proved altogether too literal since the only maps I have are photocopy of the lonely planet one and a larger one for a ferry company. Neither corresponds that well with the other, let alone the roads but the lonely planet listed 4 places of interest, Ubud, Danau Bratan, Batur so I dilligently linked them all together over the last 2 days. First stop was Ubud which is famous for its artist community, culutral activity and sacred monkey forrest. I took in the forrest first and even got to feed bananas to the monkeys which has to be done quickly else they grab food from your pockets. Later I went to the gallery ARMA gallery which worked out particularly well since the one picture I stopped to note the painter of turned out to have be painted by the attendant's father who lived near by. After work I was taken to meet him at his studio. His famous piece is an elephant made up of people which he was kind enough to sketch in my journal. His job is a precarious one since the neighbourhood kids delight in exploding things outside his door. I wonder how many paintings that has ruined.

Yesterday I headed for Danau Bratan which has a botanical gardens and beautiful temple as well as being a stunning ride on the bike. There is far more village life out of the cities and it was really nice to pass so much vibrancy by. The strangest thing is that people by the side of the raod insist on trying to communicate large pieces of informatiobn to you. invariably you catch none of it as you speed by. After Danau Bratan, I turned down through the coffee plantations and was able to freewheel to the coast before turning East to Lovina which is supposedly a laid back beach down. When I arrived it was an overcast beach town and every single hawker descended upon me. I escaped to a cafe and watched 2 exceptionally fried looking caged parrots climb around their cage using claws and beak. To shake this depression I got back on the bike for the climb up in to the mountains for my stop at Kitamani where I planned to set off from for a sunirse walk at the Holy Mount Batur. Two other guys in my homestay were doing the same so we found a guide and then set the alarms for 4 am. It was gone 10 by the time we returned since although the rain held of for the sunrise it penned us in on the summit then on the ride home the bike I was riding of the back of was blindsided by an idiot in bell bottom trousers. I was unhurt but the front wheel of my guide's bike looked distinctly square and he had bad cuts and bruises. It was while before we could get a ride back in a car and I could push on for the coast.

The next few days I am headed to Lombok which is East of Bali. It has some surf in the south and some paradise islands in the noerth so the plan is to see both before returning to Bali for the new years celebrations on the 30th.

2006-03-15T17:22:00.000-08:00

To say that everybody should come to Bali at least once is a silly cliche. For instance if you only came once for a day then it would be more accurate that everybody should come to Bali thirty times.

Chronology uber alles, however. Australia. Hot, some surf. Lots of jelly fish. Nice hostel but everyone was french, even our allies the Canadians. I only stayed a week because its damned expensive and just as western as all my previous stops. The plan had been to travel all the way up the East coast, Sydney to Cairns, but I had no idea how big the country was and the thought of another coach brought that dusty dry retch reflex up in my throat.

So Bali. My planning, as ever haphazard, meant that what I thought would be a 2 hour flight was in fact 5. I based the earlier assumption on a flight from 2 hours further north with no consideration of time zone changes. No matter, more galling was the confiscation of $20 board resin, paying 20 sterling for 25 US to pay the entry visa. Fortunately I was let off $70 in overweight bags, my check in attendant probably recognised somebody on the verge of the kind of flamboyant huffing fit common amongst cabins staff. Possibly halucinogenic in the presence of resin. There was a funny moment when I got a call out of the PA, having got away with out paying, only for it to be to collect my itinery that I left with said saint of Australian Airlines.

Landing in Bali was a complete shock. Culturally I mean, I had every intention of landing there physically. The first encounter with locals was the 3 porters who carried my bags, I felt like Jonn Q Colonial with an embarrased grin not a parasol. It was only when the asked for money that I found out they weren't airport employess. I just looked at them blankly, having no currency and they gave up. Sheer desire to get to a hotel meant that haggling over the taxi wasn't an option. Yes here take my money, stop telling that its a special price and don't apologise for everything.

The hotel is a very nice budget one in traditional bungalows with good air conditioning, bed, occasional table and an ensuite occasional toilet. There is a surf break at the bottom of the street which runs between the 2 Legian Streets. Helpful. Surfing here is like eating out. You have an enormous menu and you know its all good but where to begin. Being without wheels I spent the first 2 days surfing the beach which is pretty consistant before the breeze picks up, then passable in the evening. The water temperature is like a bath only with lots of litter in it. I'm not squeamish but things touching me in the water, especially after the jelly fish in Oz and fabled great white in Taranaki sets me on edge.

I now have transport. A 50cc Honda FxFit which I ride like Steve McQueen and Uma Thurman's love child. In my mind. The procurement process went something like this. Have you got an international license, no, ok give 200,000 rupees and we will get a police report that is good for a month. In the meanwhile I spent the day riding back and forth in the alley making the occasional roar or screech that proabably did little to instill confidence in the lender. The following morning one of the staff, Wayan, had a day off so took me and Kitty by the real roads to a surf spot. The ride was insane, through alleys and chickens and more motorcycles than I could count. The sun out here is an intense orange orb of heat which singles you out individually for punishment. There is always something on fire and coming through fragrent temple smoke and paddy fields is one of the best experiences of this trip.

My next bike excursion came later that day when some dutch guys, with very Irish Ebglish accents, were heading out to Dreamland, a friendly deep reef break. They took Kitty and I followe, PI style, through traffic. It was both possible and fun to imagine Kitty had been kidnapped and I was the trail. The only sour note was the 60km freeway stretches, scary, especially with misdirected mirrors showing all too clearly the past folly on my right elbow. As Nathan once said, "smith, for one who can be so intelligent you do some very stupid things".

Yesterday was an eventful trip to one of the crowning breaks (as in world class but breaks heads), Uluwatu. The ride there was a sketchy since I had to keep up with 3 more experienced riders. I knew that day was off to a bad start when I mistook a Canadian for an American, couldn't get a board rack and made soem erratic lurches on the bike, all within the space of 11.45. Later we got pulled over by the police, which was funny. They looked at mine and Sol's police reports, laughed to each other and let us go having given me some riding pointers. My Balinese is more disintegrated than broken but I knew they didn't buy the 2 licenses stolen in the same street line but somewhere along the line that 200 g's bought them so on we went.

I got 3 very nice waves at a not too crowded Uluwatu which outnumbered the 2 holes in my board but not the 5 in my feet from coral, the lesson is boots in future. The disastorous day, in a paradise island sense, was given its icing moment when I ran up a 200,500 phone bill with the wallet to back it up. It was all smoothed over with a crisis lone from the Canadian, not American, Cole so perhaps they are our allies after all.

2006-03-03T17:56:00.000-08:00

New Zealand, as I may have mentioned is a beautiful place. But sometimes, with 22 years of wisdom I can say, mere beauty is not enough. Having departed with my material possessions (Kitty), I began what Monks call a Perigrination in to the West Coast wilderness beginning with Queenstown. The original intention had been to surf at Kaikoura but the road hugs the coast and it just wasn't happening the day I arrived. Faced with a night in a whale watching hotspot where people wear t-shirts saying "club sandwhiches not seals" I was swiftly back on the bus and arrived in Christchurch.

Queenstown is apparantly the 10th most visited place on the planet, I assume by tourist rather than extra-terrestrials. Its reputation grew out of the bungy jumping exploits of some guy and its ski-hills and now is home to anything that pits man against gravity in an under-dog fight. The cheapest way to prove my mettle was downhill mountain biking in the trails that by way of orientation traverse a hill with a gondala on it. Sadly the heli-drop and mini-bus expedition were out of range so I had to push my bike Frodo (so called because it possesed just the one ring) up the Mount of my impending Doom. The trails available ranged from a DH world cup training run to intermediate single track with inviting names like the rock-garden. To my credit I only went over the bars once and that was because of over-braking rather than reckless machoism/masochism. The second tumble cost a little arm skin but the tan is ok so don't worry yourselves. Unfortunately the weather came in that afternoon so I didn't really make the most of the day. It was the kind of rain that made you think it had passed the worst then got harder which is why, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I spent my last evening as a 21 year-old watching desperate house wives at a campsite.

The following day, the 28th, I celebrated my birthday and shrove tuesday in one with a pancake breakfast in the kind of restaurant where you say something to the staff, they nod comprehendingly (page 17 of "working abroad"(Harper Collins, 2005)), then it doesn't happen. My plan to go to Milford Sound was thwarted by the sheer distance, likewise Mt Cook which I did get a good look at on the way through. Instead I hitched to Wanaka via 3 lifts and a free nectarine from the road-side stall (an unwitting birthdtay present). Wanaka is a more tranquil Queenstown but my idiocy budget was exhausted so save a skate I left unscathed for Haast which is big on my YHA map because it has a hostel and small on anything to do. I walked to the beach (14km), the wind blew and by 9.30 I was so entirely out of ideas I went to bed.

Haast was redeemed by a trip to The Fox Glacier, in the town of Fox Glacier, with two English ladies. It did have a poetic Maori naming stemming from the legend of a lost lover and his missus's tears, but some whitey in shorts preferred his own name.The weather obscured the drive down although there were several newly formed water falls about. After a walk to the impressive Glacier, further progress onto it requiring a guide, I was content to spend the afternoon watching idiotic movies from the extensive hostel collection and rotating who I stole milk from to make tea. That night was the coldest I have ever spent in a tent but was also the turning point.

I had planned to walk to Lake Matheson which before the wind gets up is perfectly still and has a relfection of Mt Cook and Mt Tasman in it, both snow capped. I caught a Ride with Gregor a German guy in my hostel and a Belgian we picked up (he later announced he had slept in a phonebox and had a hat that made this statement extemely credible). It took a little over half an hour for the mist to clear but the wait was worth it since the reflection came through perfectly before the first breath of breeze shattered it. The path back was the west coast writ large since all those leaving knew it was gone and all those going thought we were suckers for seeing 8 in the am. Very similarly all those going North on route 6 look pityingly at you when you say your next stop is Greymouth whilst they are pleased as punch to finally getting to see Haast.

Gregor, and his more sleep inclined girlfriend Nadine, were my next lift. That is after we had jump started the car which had been left all morning with the lights on. The weather returned and we headed North via cafes, jade jewelry shops and various turnings and lakes. Greymouth hostel is the best in the country having an amazing kitchen and a warden who casually bakes muffins for everyone. We used these to supplement the BBQ we had, the days eating being hugely disrupted, I for my part eating 375g of finest biscuits for lunch. The meal was so pleasant I decided that that was my birthday, a rare luxury of not getting a 29th for real.

This ability to see what you want to see may be useful when grilling lamb and brinking ale but has altogether different consequences when the bus timetable is involved. My casual booking revealed I was 2 days shy of Chirstchurch and had insufficient funds on my pass say nothing of the flight I'd miss. Christchurch isn't an easy word to fit on to a piece of A4 paper (don't try it, I'm telling you) but mine was legible enough to have a ride this morning inside of an hour at the turn off. The road winds through the Southern Alps and ended at the hostel door which pretty much does for the NZ leg.

2006-02-22T20:27:00.000-08:00

This week I am in the North West of the South Island. Even kiwis acknowledge a cerain lack of finesse when it came to naming places since the North Island is called just that. Better still was the small town of National Park where I was in the other night. No matter the beauty speaks for it self.

These last few days I was walking on the Abel Tasman track which follows from Marahau to Wainui via some stunning golden sand beaches and mercifully shady winding paths. I had to book this in advance and subsequently did so with no grasp for where things were. It was only when I set out that I realised my 4 nights accomodation were never more than 3 hours walk from one another. Having consulted a map I decided to just show up at the most useful campsite and hope that everything would work out. The peak season has just passed so I was in luck although 8 hours on the track doesn't make you a very able explainer. "I er yes, um , Paul Smith, tent please".

The first day I walked in the company of an Onatrio resident who outlined his walking plans that seemed to take in most of New Zealand before heading to Australia to run a marathon. Unsurprisingly I didn't have the pace to stick with him for all the crafty breathers I managed to grab when he was taking photos. My first nights camping spot was reached by 3 in the afternoon which was perfect time to swim and read whilst avoiding being eaten alive by sand fly.

I am presently reading the Return of the King which was the only book on the exchange shelf more preferable to staring blankly in to space. Subsequently everything I now do is imbued with a heroic colouring. Pull out some pipe weed and I will tell tales of crossing vultures creek to keep you awake at night. It must have been at least ankle deep and flowing like holiday traffic on the A303.

The second day ended at an estuary which could be crossed only at low tide which presently fell after 6 in the evening and before 11 in the morning so I deided to wait for the morning. Strangely for the middle of a national park there was a fairly swanky lodge resort where the wilderness receded slightly to allow for the niceties of internet access and cold beer.

The last day was probably the hardest since I had been carrying all my camping gear and my feet were considering a divorce. Having ditched my pack at campsite I back tracked to Seperation Point which is the effective meeting point of West and North coast. Any hopes of triuphant photograph died when my camera did likewise but the view was worth it.

This morning I walked the hour and a half to the tracks end and then a fair way up the road out of the park itself before thumbing a ride back to Nelson. This came via a local engineer who dropped me in a crossraods town where I was picked up by a family of 4 that live in a converted coach. The grandparents were along for the ride and I think they, like the dad was German whilst his wife was English and the kids sounded like New Zealanders. There didn't care what I was up to so I didn't ask any questions. Finally the last stretch was completed after a short wait during which a policeman pulled up heaving mistaken me for someone else. The last driver was a German girl heading to the surf town of Kaikoura on Saturday so I may go with if I can't find some apple picking work here.

2006-02-17T21:45:00.000-08:00

Yeah so anyway these posts are getting shorter and shorter and less interesting and for that I can only apologise. New Zealand struck upon this wonderful idea of a slow balanced pace of life and of necessity that makes things like internet cafes harder to find and more expensive. Also the pace of life is insiduous and its all that one can do to sit in a campsite all week waiting for the wind to die down and clean up the beach break or cruise surf highway 45 for something else.

Today I am in Wellington, the Southern most tip of the North Island, awaiting a ferry at ridiculous o'clock to the South Island. The plan is to walk the Abel Tasman track which takes about 4 nights and follows the coast of a peninsula in the Tasman sea. It is pretty popular so I had to pre-book, missing out on the preferred Milford Sound in the South. Kitty is going to get the cold shoulder for a few days since I then plan to head South either by bus or hitching and there aren't many waves down there. With any luck there will be a reunion in time to surf Kaikoura.

Sadly (depending on who you are and your expectations for my survival) I didn't get to jump out of a plane for reasons of expense and weather. On Sunday my compadre Stefan and I took on the Tongariro Crossing through many prominent filming sights (Mount Doom, Emyn Muil, Mordor). Sadly visibility was good only for making the experience cold, wet, low in visibilty and pretty eerie. Occasionally the fast moving fog would illuminate the scenary or our shoes but we spent most of the time staring blankly from one guidance post to another so that we entirely missed the volcanoe.

Hopefully I will have better luck down south which is said to be an entirely different experience to the North. I leave you with the wise words of a dairy farmer I met in the pub. Don't Panic, you shoot the ones that Panic.

2006-02-09T22:10:00.000-08:00

It is with great trepidation that I write this from my current location. Last time I stayed at this backpackers it was a public holiday weekend and most of the inhabitants were 60+. Added to which the elderly proprieters were forever hovering around the tv set showing provincial British doctor dramas. It felt like the perpetual sunday evening of a covalesence home.

Since then I have been in Raglan which is much more happening as the kids say. Famed in Bruce Brown's Endless Summer for the left hander at Manu Bay I just had to go see it. It is just coming to the end of the kiwi summer and the weather put on a complete show transition from glorious sunshine Monday and Tuesday to torrential rain Wednesday through today. I regret chosing wednesday as the perfect time to move to a campsite.

The hostel was one of the nicest I have stayed in with views of the estuary and a shady square in which to sit reading. The beach is 45 minutes walk or a regular hitch hike away so I got there everyday. The surf was best on Monday when I got in at the beach for the afternoon then died off Tuesday when motivation was correspondingly curtailed by the previous night's Mexican revelry. Wednesday I got to surf the point which is a far more challenging wave. Thursday was off the hook which is NZ for 8-10 foot and pounding. I had arranged an early surf with Stefan but neither of us had any inclination to go in either then or 5 hours later although it was pretty enjoyable just sitting out and watching others rip or get torn as talent dictated.

The town was getting busy this weekend for the Rip Curl Masters which coincided with a marked drop of in swell that saw the beach working well enough for me. The worst thing about New Zealand is how hard it is to get around on public transport. Most places only have one service a day so to get to Taupo tomorrow I had to leave Raglan this afternoon at the expense of watching fllod-lit surfing tonight. Hitch-hiking would be the better option if not for the surf board I am carrying. Everybody say hello to Kitty. She is 6'4", Californian, likes walks on the beach and holding ankles at sunset.

The plan for the next few days is to walk to the Tonagriro crossing, some say the best one day hike in NZ, then head to Gisborne to surf with Stefan once he catches up. Taupo has the cheapest sky dive in the country so chances are I may throw my self out of a plane before the week is out.

2006-02-02T21:16:00.000-08:00

Greetings from Aukland. I landed safely yesterday morning with out too much jet lag because of the time difference of almost 20 hours. It just felt like I'd had a rubbish night's sleep in a piddly little upright chair which is funny because I had.

Aukland is a very pleasant city on the coast which is reassuringly British. I mean in the sense that unlike San Diego or Santa Barbara it wasn't all built in a productive afternoon with buildings the same colour as the road. There are more angles due to the lack of a grid and grass everywhere. The afternoon yesterday was spent getting better aquainted with this grass in a inter-hostel football tournament. My team played ok when nothing was a stake (drew 2 lost 1) then got thumped in our semifinal 3-0. Strangely a suspect goal against and a disallowed one for us didn't cancel each other out.

This afternoon has been mostly scheming after coming to the realisation I want to see everything but can't. I had a free city tour this morning which took in a bizarre meeting with a Maori chief who had some things to say about tourism and whale bones. He is a priest and a certified warrior which involves 4 days of having ink marking hammered on to your back by albatross bone. I would have got a picture but I used my last exposure getting a photo taken of me standing on an artificial toadstall with a volcanoe in the background. Not a brilliant decision.

Tomorrow I am heading to the Bay of Island which is North of here. Sunday I will catch a bus to Raglan to see if it had the best surf as some say before taking in a comparison of the equally vaunted east coast. You can't go to a former colony without being empirical.

2006-01-26T22:12:00.000-08:00

Santa Cruz Sun Riz

Backside Turn, Scotts Valley

Steamer Lane, Santa Cruz

The American Fronteir, Monterey Peninsula

Big Sur Point

Frisco Tourist Photo 2,000,000,001
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2006-01-26T09:28:00.000-08:00

As hard as it was to drag ourselves away from perfect Rincon the South was calling so Thierry and I hit the freeway at 8pm. THe intention was a nice and easy 2 hour drive to Hermosa Beach LA but we missed our turn off and had to circumnavigate a lake which really wasn't all that scenic in the dark. 4 hours and a jalpeno burger later we were checked in to a dive hostel with no locks and assorted bed linen to accompany the loony tunes tourist towels you got. If love at first sight is possible then so is hatred.

I learned a lot sitting behind Thierry, the surf board not allowing the passenger seat to be used, such as the ying and yang of the continental European. How someone can be tres philosophique about snapping two boards in a month, talking about seaguls and trawlers, then get behind the wheel and come over all Selhurst Park when undertaken. No matter we got we where going which was LAX to change a ticket.

I have always been quite sceptical about the whole gangster image of rap music bringing out criminal tendencies but am now reconsidering. Having parked in the strictly no waiting zone I was left with the car which I kept saying would be there just 2 more minutes, well past the point that even i believed it. Eventually the bicycle-mounted police were called and said move it leaving me with little choice to do so or else it would be towed, probably detonated and I would be in Guantanamo Bay by bed time. 12 hours in LA and I was already stealing a car and driving without insurance. 3 excruciatingly careful laps of the departures loop and I decided to park up and get an ice cream.

We made it to San Diego without drama and found a spot called Swarmis with a wave running. The only boards available to us were 6'4" tourist specials which I gladly paddled out on but Thierry was lacking the famous french sense of humour about he whole affair. His loss, I got to surf with a pod of dolphins at sunset which felt for all the world like being on the cover of an easy listening album. With that image in my brain I had no trouble getting to sleep instead of being plagued by the essential right or wrongness in absolute moral terms of driving illegally.

2006-01-23T19:30:00.000-08:00

Santa Barbara is a ridiculously perfect looking place. I mean freakishly so like something weird is going on. No matter, there was also a no cover live music night going on near the hostel so I wandered in on the recommendation of a man I stopped to ask directions. The standard was really good and the beer welcome after a day on the bus.

The decor was pretty idiosyncratic including a red phone box full of brooms and mops as well as an enormous throne that had it been made of gold wouldn't have been out of place in Scarface. The only place to sit was on the floor where there were cusions where upon I got in to converasation with a few local students. One of whom Katie mentioned that there was a spare room in their house as well as a spare longboard so left me with a number to call. What she didn't give me ws the knowledge that cellphones require an extra one at the start so all attempts to call drew a blank.

No matter there was another concrete skatepark on the seafront so I spent the day being shown up by kids young enough to your parent's drunken mistake leaving only to call home and book NZ national park walking. At sundown on saturdays there is a drummers circle on East Beach so I sat and listened and was writing when I got in to conversation with a local who told me about the missing 1.

I managed to get hold of Katie who's 'student' house shared with 5 others is in Montecido, one of the most affluent zipcodes in America. Think summer house, with meadow and garage twice the size of every house in Crookes. That evening I went out to a party with Katie and her housemates Colleen and Katie (one of about 100,000). I am not sure who had a harder job explaining who I was since everyone else there was from the same College but it was fun to be mysterious.

The longer the party went on the later the start time for surfing Rincon (a wave so good it gets a mention in the Beach Boys' Surfin USA) got which was fine, except that I don't have an alarm clock so was relying on the hostle being noisy and unpleasant. Which it was in spades, although a redeeming feature was Thierry who was of a like mind toward surfing so we took his car and followed Katie and Colleen. The water was fairly uncrowded and the weather in the high 60s. To make the southern california day complete we spent the afternoon playing tennis at the college. I can feel a face lift and sports utility vehicle coming on.

Monday got up just as beautiful as the one before so Thierry and I headed to Rincon again before lunch. It was the evening session that was really awesome though. 5ft waves coming through and peeling through 3 sections giving 30 second rides. Thats if you can catch them between the 50 odd people in the water. I was just happy watching the sunset and trying desperately not to take waves that other people were on, a fast route to an ass kicking in these parts. Right at the very end I caught about 3 waves and walked up the beach smiling like the man who surfed the bank at Montecido.

2006-01-20T21:04:00.000-08:00

I split this to save people mistaking this for my autobiography.

Monday just gone was martin luther king jr public holiday which is fine so long as you don't a) need a bank b) need a post ofice c) have designs on using the public library to view the original manuscript to On The Road. I fell in to categories b and c so it was pretty frustrating day. Fortunately my room mate lent me a walking tour book of literary Frisco so I spent some time in coffee shops around North Beach (the old italian district) and then touristed it up around the bridge hoping to photgaph the surfers who brave the rocky point there.

When I got back to the hostel I found that said room mate had split for monterey to see a friend there by ditching the planned poetry evening. I was left with an hour to make the bus to santa cruz which indeed I did having gaffa taped together a box from the street corner to save packing properly. It seems the difference between boho and hobo is the order that you put the syllables. The upshot of this decision was an evening greyhound ride with the crazies that come free with the ticket. Quote of the evening was my neighbour observing that playing guitar kept him ff the roof with a scope and a high powered rifle after a nice lady mentioned her son's own playing.

Santa Cruz is a quiet place where everything shuts at ten so dinner was out of the question. The hostel was series of bungalows licensced from the state so there was a strict curfew of 11pm. This gave it a weird institutional feel so I only stayed two nights. Santa Cruz has an awesome free skatepark in the valley so I spent most of the day there meeting an assortment of 80s single kicktail revivalists

and traditional teenage rippers who always do the trick you are failing at in one try. I was pretty fortunate to be able to use a spare helmet since there is a $350 fine for non-usage. hopefully I will have some pictures soon. It was reassuring to know I hadn't got worse in the lay off since July, I am hoping this applies to my university learned skills to becuase all I know now is catching busses and cooking pasta.

In the evening I completed the california skate day by going to a punk show by No Use For a Name and Pennywise who had some songs to play and things to say about Bush. A fair few of the over 21 skaters were out one of whom knew the NUFAN drummer. Cool by association.

Santa Cruz dawned rainy so I took a bus to Monterey on the Central Coast. My intention was to go to Big Sur, the remote but exceptionally beautiful stretch of costline and national parks served by route 1. The bus only runs there from may so I compromised by staying in Carmel Valley which is made up of viniculture, mystical retreats of all stripes, multimilliondollar homes and ranches. There isn't a great heap to do after sun goes down or before it gets up at 8 the next day so I stuck to making pasta and conserving body heat. On Thursday after a bout of bus catching and pasta buying I decided that 26 miles was a safe enough distance to hitch so made a Subterranean Homesick blues style sign and set about looking non threatening. Eventually a lady stopped and I got a ride to the Pfieffer Big Sur state park in enough time to pitch my tent and find the locals secret beach which was taking a shoing from the recent storm. The road down was 2 miles or concrete so I had a pleasant woodland skate. I would say this was surreal except that everything after Heathrow has been lacking a 'real' from which to deviate.

More pasta and 12 hours in bed and I was about done for Big Sur. I made a sign for Carmel and just for a laugh wrote LA (250 miles South) on the flipside which got more smiles than rides. The lady who did stop, Rosy had a Mazda convertable and knew the area well enough to give a tourist run of the exquisite Spindrift headland where the surf was still pounding and out to sea there were whales surfacing and spouting. In Monterey I was able top catch a local bus back to the Greyhound headed for Santa Barbara which luckily for me was delayed 10 minutes.

Santa Barbara is another surf town like Santa Cruz except it is in So. Cal. just north of LA. I am staying in a ropey hotel at least until Sunday morning. Sadly the surf isn't here and a ride down to Rincon fell through this afternoon so it has been more skateboarding. Next is probably Oxnard, Huntington/Long Beach and then La Jolla San Diego where I can only hope the surf gods accept burned pasta offerings.

2006-01-20T20:52:00.000-08:00

Yeah so now I am in California, as of the 9th as I recall. My main reason for wanting to come to San Francisco was to check out all the old beat poets haunts in the north beach area which indeed I did over the course of a few days. On Thursday of last week I set off for the yosemite national park via the greyhound bus which goes as far as Merced before the local transpost picks you up. Owing to its irregularity I wound up staying the night at the bug hotel you outside the park itself which was very nice and I beleive where I wrote the last post from.

The park was unbelievably beautiful and global warming has held back the snow so I got a day of full blown sunshine for the walking. To compensate for my lack of water I ate snow, although none of it yellow, which left a mingled alpine taste in my mouth all day. My companions were both east coasters, one a walking guide and the other a medic, which made for great company along the way. I have some beautiful pictures of the falls and granite monoliths that yosemite is famous for but it would take more time than I have to put them up now. The following day couldn't have been more different since as scheduled by the weather service a full 14inches of snow fell during the day making the tree look as it does and my tent an igloo. I didn't have the dry cloths to make staying another night a pleasant option so packed up and walked all day with a group of berkley students having stashed my stuff all day in a food locker. The afternoon ended in the Awahnee hotel which is not for likes of me but they didn't object to some orderly defrosting in front of their fire.

I had decided not to head all the way back to san francisco that evening so tried the bug hostel again only to be told that there booking system was down and I couldn't stay. As a contingency I made a cup of tea and jam bagel and mulled things over, in the meanwhile to two girls from Wrexham with a private room and a spare bed said I could stay there for free. One proper cooked dinner and evening of old timey mountain music and the world seemed rosier. I only had a lumberjack shirt left dry to wear so sat there loking like the band' biggest fan.

2006-01-16T17:21:00.000-08:00

One week in Frisco montage.

Sorry there wasn't anytime to write the usual blah blah blah this is where I am lame joke bit so look out for a post that puts these pictures in some order soon. First prize of a dollar bill to any correct guesses submitted before the clarifying post appears.

2006-01-12T20:01:00.000-08:00

And with a maximum amount of undignified lugging of too many bags and dropping of things when i was meant to be leaving the bus I have left Vancouver and headed south. My flight was straight forward with a brief stop over in LA where my scarf and snow jacket made me feel more overdressed than that time on Perranporth nudist beach.

I hadn't checked a hostel out before hand so when I landed in San Francisco there was a brief period of wandering round looking for first a bus then the bart system train to get down town. After sufficient retracing of steps it began to feel like a platform computer game (no pun intended). I found the hostel after first taking a street car to the wrong end of the right street but was checked in by 9. Tuesday felt much like my first couple of days in Van sincce I was a tourist again withh camera bag and street map. Bryan from Boston who I met in the hostel was up for exploring so we wandered out in what has been called San Francisco's perpetual spring to pier 39 for views of the golden gate bridge and Alcatraz as well as the resident sea lions. After a wander back through Chinatown via the fabled hills I was still in time to call Jen before confronting an afternoon of further touristdom.

Haight Ashbury has a much vaunted hippy heritage which is still very visible although in a t-shirts for tourists form. The evening was taken up with a meal in china town and then on to a jazz event on Mission St. It had been in the paper as electronica and live break beats by the Realistic Orchestra but was actually a coloaboration between several local bands who make up the Jazz Mafia. the nine piece included 4 trombonists, a conga player, drummer, timpani player, keys and a bassist and played a mixture of originals and standards. On Sunday I saw 3 Secret Chiefs who played rock/soundscapes using a variety of Iraqi/Chinese instruments which in all made for a good week of live music.

I am writing this from the youth hostel just outside of Yosemite National Park which I spent all of today reaching. It has a roaring fire and far cheaper pints then Vancouver so all is not lost. I had hoped to be in the park by nightfall but the loccal transit is lame in the evening so I spent 3 hours in a dull city called merced trying not to read the only book I have with me too fast. I went out to buy supplies last night but found a book store as well and spent as much money in there. I hope I am always this practical.

If I can get up in time then I will be on the bus by quarter after six tomorrow and then pitched in time to get on the trail by 9. The snow has held off this season so camping is still fine so long as you stow your food in a bear proof locker.

2006-01-03T14:25:00.000-08:00

On the 8th day of Christmas my true love (for the purposes of this song) sent to me 1 foot of snow.

My snowboarding insurance ran out on the same day that the heavens opened and whistler got a huge dump of snow, making a total of 100cm that week. I had to take a greyhound from downtown at 6 in the morning which left me feeling very muggable but fortunately I got by unscathed. For some reason the driver went back and forth around the city for an hour before actually getting on the road, probably having a hard time adjusting from his old sightseeing job. By 11 o'clock I was on blackcomb which looked as if it had swelled with pride at the prospect of actually doing what it does best.

7th heaven (http://www.whistlerblackcomb.com/mountain/maps/index.htm), the top right hand corner of the mountain was open for the first time, many peoples favorite place to ride. It took a while to adapt to riding powder, there is far less contact with the board and nearly everything gives way once you ride over it. To compound matters my tousers were letting in snow. The glacier was even sweeter than before. It was slightly warmer so instead of the snow making a polystyrene noise like trying to prize a stereo out of its box it just made a barely audible wummph. I would buy that sound on cd.

I was only there for a day trip this time but I got 5 hours riding, without pause or strap malfunction. The return bus was 4.30, whereupon absolutely everyone on it fell fast asleep.

Monday was my last day at Kits Coffee, its just a shame it was such a rubbish day. The manager has neglected to employ 8 necessary replacements for the holiday season so we were pretty stretched. Added to which the 3 of us who were there were variously tired and hung-over to the point we would have gladly paid our wages (including time and a half) not to be there. The evening before had been spent watching a latino funk at Malones with most of the other Brits. At one point I left to find a warehouse party but even I know its not a good idea to wander around the Eastside at 2 in the morning with a quite possibly misremebered address to guide me.

This will probably be my last post from Canada since the next few days are taken up with packing, buying camping stuff, a road trip in to the province then its my flight on Monday.

(at this point is optional sing the oc theme tune)

2005-12-31T10:52:00.000-08:00

Any plans for a white christmas were well and truly defeated by what has been described as a Hawaiian breeze which has seen temperatures in and around 10c for most of the last few weeks. Great.

I actually got two Christmases (Christmi?)this year owing to a very kind invite from my frined Terrence's mother to celebrate in the Polish tradition on Christmas eve. Being a Catholic country they forgo meat on the 24th as on Fridays so I got to sample perogees and many fish based salads and cold dishes. It was sort of like mexican food without the salsa and folding but very tasty. I was even included in the gift exchange which was extremely genererous. Too much sitting round the fire and Terrence's gift for mixing rum and eggnog made for drowsyness so we left at about 11 so as to avoid seeing santa. Back at mine the upstair neighbours were still up so we put a head round to say Merry Christmas only to end up playing darts and listening to black sabbath until 3 in the morning.

Christmas day itself was pretty entertaining. I had intended to go to church but misjudged the walk considerably and left late because my secret santa gift need finishing. When I did arrive I mistook the smile I received for a hearty christmas wlecome, it was more in the line of see you in 3 minutes for coffee. I did get half of Hark the Herald Angel and the Dismissal so it wasn't a complete wasted effort.

The plan for lunch was for 15 of us to go Chris & Debs (congratulations), Simon and Andy's house for a roast dinner at 1. Unfortunately the oven gave up that morning and the landlord had to be called out. He offered to take the food to his mum's house but in the end called the neighbours and let us in to their kitchen to cook. As Ian rightly pointed out, this is like the Christmas day episode of a sitcom except you can't eat canned laughter. I was pretty redundant in the cooking of things so wandered out to phone Jen, an ordeal in itself since one pay phone gave up and the nearest one was a 4 block walk.

Before any of that I was hailed by a Chinese lady having trouble with the air pump at the gas station. Having offered to help it turned out she was trying to pump up two inflateable cushions for her Ktisalano rat dogs (high maintainance handbags) so they could see out of the windscreen. If it is any indication of size the dogs were called dinky, mimi and cissy. The latter actually sits on a lap cushion. In the end I blew them up by mouth and was rewarded with 6 beers which had apparantly been for her brother-in-law. That must have been an interesting conversation later.

Dinner eventually arrived at 6 by which time most people had held it together by eating sandwhiches and watching channel 4 which was showing a looped video of a yule log burning all day. Oh the drama when the bepearled hand appeared to add more fuel. My secret santa gift was very kindly thought out from ideas on this page, thanks Ellie and whoever taught me to write. The dinner was an enormous success and the pictionary was as competitive as hoped for.

2005-12-20T15:13:00.000-08:00

A hard day at the grind
Hawwwwwkeeeeey
Better Things
Me
Ice Hockey on Lost Lake
The only Place Whiter than Whistler
Your mother was a snow blower

2005-12-16T12:33:00.000-08:00

Christmas has been slow starting in Vancouver, for me at least. No school holiday to impose the end of the year and no Christmas songs are getting played at the cafe, at least not in block rotation. The boss has failed on 3 seperate occaions to put up the fairy lights so we are keeping it lo-maintenance. My room mate has been a more seasonal influence, buying lights and some really quite special sweaters. All of this changed recently however with a trip to Narnia.

Between the Whistler and Blackcomb mountains you can follow Edmunds foot prints from the Gondola to the WItch's house. Alternatively you can strap on your board and traverse the glacier bowl through a few feet of snow, cutting fresh tracks then wind down about 2000 feet on the narrow ridge run. Probably the most beautiful place I have ever been.

I am sure I wont be top of anyone's 'people I pity in 2005 list', but I was blighted by techinical failures. Of the two riding days the first ended with my right binding inverting so my leading foot was in a dangerous position. As far as I know this is only possible with a screw driver but somehow it happened without my notice. Tuesday I lost an hour because my toe strap snapped just before lunch, then having replaced it I got up the first 400 feet of lift to discover the heel ladder was gone. Blunt fury abounded, at a tremendous risk to my impending visit from Santa Clause. The guy in the shop was working an angle with a female colleague so I tightened up the new strap, having had to pay for the first one, and just said "call it a hard luck bonus". I have no idea if he heard.

With just an hour and half of lift time left, they stop just after 3, I got two fairly long runs in. The last of which actually took me down 4000 feet to the village. Although the snow is still early season there are snow canons, they have a fearsome artillary when you factor in the t-shirt bazukas, which meant there was a lot of fresh snow to ride on. If you don't believe me that they make snow in Canada then I will put a picture up. For the purists out there, I can tell you that it looks, rides and tastes like snow but all the snow flakes are identical.

Yesterday was a return to the relative mundanity of coffee shop life. There was some drama added by the inquest in to who had failed to freeze $400 worth of soup that had now gone bad in the stoor-room. Long answer everyone, because we all walked past it. Short answer, me, because I signed for it. In my defense it was a hectic weekend and I couldn't rember when it arrived, luckily the representaive turned up with a photocopy of the mandate, neatly initialed PDS. I offered to pay for it but the boss was very kind and din't even fire me, which he would have been well advised/within his rights to do.

Let that be a lesson: Generosity the true meaning of Christmas

2005-12-12T17:47:00.000-08:00

Dun Dun Dunt Der, Dun Dun Dun Dunt Der, Diddle Det Det Der. Hockey!

Last Friday I finally got to GM Place for a Vancouver Canucks game. And not just any game, a trans-conference top the NHL clash with the Ottawa Senators, the 100th straight sell out crowd. For such a stop/start game it works pretty well as a live spectacle due to igenous crowd pleasing tricks such as using a bazuka to fire t-shirts in to the stands and having a whale blimp that drops prizes. Because it was an all Canada tie they sang the national anthem, Oh Canada, which was a new one on me. Apparantly it doesn't go "Oh Canada you see by the light of the dawn...". Local pride was also stirred up by a video on the 8 sided jumbo-tron hanging over the ice of how great Vancouver is. My personal favorite thing is the way they make the players appear all friendly inspite of the fact you have just watched them try and seat their opposite number somewhere through the glass. This takes the form of showing them going into schools and letting the kids teach them to read, and visiting hospitals. Waking up to find a 6' 6" hockey player standing by your bed is as ubiquitous in the experience of Canadian children as knowing you are sick in the UK because there are badly drawn Disney characters everywhere.

Having only seen the game played once in the UK (where the Sheffield Stealers downed the Nottingham Pansies), on tv and in an excellent series of movies (check the Christmas Radio Times) it was difficult to follow the play. The jumbo-tron helpfully had one blacked out square that meant even on replays it was nearas impossible to see where the puck had gone. The on ice personnel changes very rapidly and there is no commentator saying when a particular line was on the ice, i.e. the top line of best players. The most exciting passages of play were when one of the teams was short-handed ( a player in the penalty box) since the other team can just work the puck out and take a heap of shots. The game ended 2-2. It was scoreless in overtime then a shootout, a new addition for the 2005/6 season. The guy next to me helpfully said that this was the first time in GM Place history, I was just proud to say I was there to witness it. The Canucks won in suddden death after a 1-1 tie. 20,000 people went off there collective faces since there isn't any away supporters owing to Ottawa being 40 days dog sled ride from Vancouver.

2005-12-05T16:00:00.000-08:00

The sky above the clouds
The back country
Good things
Ozomatli's En Floor
Snow on 17th

2005-12-05T12:17:00.000-08:00

December arrived last week and with it the snow. Where I work has several large windows so it is very festive to be able to watch it falling all day on Christmas shoppers. It actualy began in Earnest last Monday which came as something of a surprise since I had just left the Ozomatli show at the Commadore Ballroom. The band finished the set by forming a conga line and playing through the audience winding up on the main stairway. To go from Sunny California to freezing Canada was much like walking through a warddrobe door without the benefit of a fur coat.

I also saw the super furry animals last week with a very good band called Caribou. It was at that Richards on Richards place again so as ever a good atmosphere although I think anyone from outside of the UK would have been at a loss as to what the very Welsh lead singer was talking about between songs. Ice Hockey is now the primamry entertainment since I have a ticket for the Canucks vs Ottawa Senators (NHL leaders) on Friday then for the Edmonton Oilers on the following Saturday with my room mate. Hockey tickets are like gold dust since they all go on sale in September except if you are a member of the YHA in which case you can get them at face value (20-25 sterling) as they are gradually resold to tourists. I could probably get about $120 for my ottawa ticket but at the cost of all my Mighty Duck/Street Hockey fantasies.

The most useful by product of snow in the city is heaps of powder on Cypress Mountain where I went for the 3rd time last Friday. It was minus 10c at the bottom of the runs and colder still once you were enveloped in the mist at the top. The highlight of the day was the opening of the very top chair for the first time all season which meant that weaks and weaks of unridden snow had all amassed. It was beautiful. I managed to do some intermediate runs for the first time all though the ones on the windward side had some pretty substantial ice build up since all the poweder gets blown away. It snowed throughout much of the day and I was without goggles which was pretty uncomfortable. In the end I borrowed some from lost and found, having forst scored some honesty points by handing some car keys I had found. I had to leave my drivers license as a deposit, library cards not being acceptable. I am planning to go to Whistler for 3 days next week if I can secure a floor to sleep on.

Work is gearing up for Christmas with various new drinks such as eggnog latte (truly, truly, disgusting) and snow flake mochas. There isn't a particular policy on christmas songs but I am sure they are coming soon. Its our staff meal tomorrow before a fair few members of staff go home whilst I am only working until the end of the year. My resignation wan't too devestating although it was immensly satisfying to say "I have to go down to California then around the world". Considerations of whether to say it was for artistic reasons were best left in the pub.

2005-11-24T16:12:00.000-08:00

sunrise from the nanaimo ferry.
And you may find yourself living in a shot gun shack
and you may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile
and you will ask youself how did I get here?
this is my beautiful coffee shop
this is where I would like to work
this is my borrowed snowboard
this is that mountie (bad focusing)
this is granville street which is nice pre-dark then a hole.
watching the days go by, like water in the stream. Leaf echo on 4th av., shoes the model's own (fault)

2005-11-23T15:25:00.000-08:00

New word: inversion

Vancouver had been gripped by an inversion these last few days which means there is freezing fog everywhere, visibility is about 5-10m and things happens very slowly. For the Seasonal Adjutment inclined amongst us this is unfortuante since sunlight is a scarce commodity and sleeping 13 hours a night seems a really good idea.

Another draw back of the inversion is that it doesn't rain here which means no snow on the mountains, whilst above the clouds it is 60f so what little there is keeps melting. The same bus riding Canadians who spent the first half of the month silently whispering 'early snow, early snow' to nobody in partcicular now curse this weather as being typical of February and consider animal sacrifices to placate the divine disfavour state of affairs.

Happy go Lucky Brits with new camera films are undettered and instead spend a merry few hours trying to avoid smashing their cocyx into next february and taking pictures of the trails. Of the intermediate runs there are two categories, shade side which are deadly to descend because of the ice and sunnyside which are slush and not easy to restart on. Hopefully I will get his film finished in the next week or so since it was pretty stunning, with the mountains tops out of the cloud sea. I swear I saw a few whales jumping.

My last few weeks have acatually been plagued by Moby Dick. In the long tradition of the song you can't get out of your head whilst surfing comes the ski lift song, my selection being pretty impossible to recreate faithfully on the safety rail. He then showed up on the radio and in a childrens cartoon as Moby Duck for no good reason. I started reading the book for clarity where I found this:

"By reason of these things, then, the whaling voyage was welcome; the great flood-gates of the wonder-world swung open, and in the wild conceits that swayed me to my purpose, two and two there floated into my inmost soul, endless processions of the whale, and, mid most of them all, one grand hooded phantom, like a snow hill in the air".

Everything is significant when you sleep half your day.

2005-11-17T13:09:00.000-08:00

I Miss Jen.

3 horizon broadening experiences this week. In chronological order: a canadian mum-cut which has almost returned ears to view; line drawing and writing with a 73 year old nude model; snowboarding. The less said about the first two the better.

I had a false start on tuesday with a small but vital part of the binding going missing between a friends house and mine so had to get that replaced at the expense of catching the last shuttle to Cypress. It takes about an hour and a half to reach the peak from my house but you have to endure lots of tuts from the people whose toes get a stood on or heads slapsticked with a snowboard. Wednesday was more successful and I finally got to see what a good idea snowsports are even if the warning on my board advised that death can result.

I would like to say that I used the learning curve as a launch ramp but that would be untrue. The biggest difference between snowboarding and skateboarding was that I was always sliding even when turned parallel to the slope which made for much undignified falling over scrabbling back up again. During a more prolongoued trip to the deck I landed in ear shot of the instruction class so gleaned the knowledge vital to staying upright and not moving. From there I progressed to heel side carving then pivoting to ride heel side fakie rather than digging the toe edge in.

There were 3 lifts open so I progressed to the middway which disconcertingly merged with the steeper run on a bend which is sort of like pulling out without looking at Silverstone in a peddle car. In one of those strange happenstances I shared a lift with a guy earlier in the day who I bumped in to in the next que up. His father-in-law is from Church Crookham which was sufficient bond to warrant teaching me to use the toe edge which improved the experience greatly. The main weakness to my style was trying to take all the speed off on my heel so just blazing down the slope then turning to late. The best comparison is really really trying to jam the chuck key in to a moving drill but snow is a more forgiving surface than the Crookesmoor Rd. By the end of the day I could rail to rail the beginners slope (with only one fall) which I slid down on my face in the first instance.

Today aches, mostly in the shoulders from pulling myself up again, but I should be out again next week after my run of shifts. There is a second peak at cypress which opens later in the season, which really hits its stride in late December. For now it is good to ride without big ques. The whole day cost about 30 sterling (travel included) which is pretty good. I figure if I have to tighten my belt to make it possible to go more often then less snow gets in.

2005-11-14T11:10:00.000-08:00

It happened, it finally happened, no not a chest hair, I saw a Mountie with a hat and everything. She came in to work so I touristed out and took a photograph. They seem to have a particular pose that they use for such occasions which leads me to beleive a) that it happens a lot and b) their crime fighting ability is severely impaired during the summer.

Disappointingly I missed David Le Roth's visit to the coffee shop last week although apparantly he serenaded the newest member of staff for about 3 minutes with a song about why he was leaving LA. The poor girl is only 18 and didn't have a clue who he was. I drew the short straw at work and had to go on the milk run which involves buying about 120 gallons of milk. I don't have my job with Newsround yet so can't give you an approximate olympic sized swimming pool or 'area the size of wales' comparison but it weighed enough to make me plead vegan next time.

The writing course is still really interesting. If you have any time to waste trying writing sentences or poems using only one vowel. This is called Eunoia. My best so far is:

Must rush, bus. Run, lungs hurt, gut bust. Bus shut. turn, run, churn up dust. jump curb. truck. bump. unhurt but curt. blunt fury unfurls. nuns blush.

I still haven't written this weeks assignement which goes to prove that even when it is for fun work can be avoided in a myriad of imaginative ways.

It has been a good week for live music. Friday night was Ben Lee who is big in Australia and I think has done some stuff with Ben Folds. He told an amusing story about kissing David Hasslehof at an awards ceremony. On Saturday night I went to a jazz club hidden inside of some storage space. The furniture was all sofas and low cabinets with candles on. Apparantly the police aren't to bothered about its lack of a liquor license because the jazz crowd isn't known to be the most troublesome.

The house now has a tv with cable and more cutlery, in a few weeks it might feel like staying in a travel inn. You can always dream. The mystery on the perm chair became a little clearer when I found two sets of hair clippers in the bathroom cabinet (curiosity killed the sideburns). Nearly every shop in Kerrisdale is for yuppy pets, barkeries, hairdressers, hydrotherapy and day care so I assume the flat was formerly a secret underground barbers for those afraid to publicly spend money on anyting other than their dog.

Tomorrow is my first day of snowboarding which I am very excited about. The whole city was elated by the snow coming early to Grouse, Seymour and Cypress. Canadians like snow.

2005-11-07T15:15:00.000-08:00

A few more photos instead of anything insightful.

Gavin in his full Hunter S Thompson glory

Our tasteful sitting room which is now less bare. Interior styling by Gavin.

2005-11-01T13:17:00.000-08:00

Not sure how it got around to Novemeber but that makes a full month out of the country. The clocks fell back on Sunday morning was a surprise although 11 o'clock is a perfectly respecatble time to have lunch. As of today I am a proper Vancouverite with fixed address and buspass. Our landlady is pretty lacidasical, we haven't signed a lease or even spoken to her, and has an idiosyncratic approach to buying furniture. The lounge has no fewer than 3 rocking chairs and inexplicably a perm machine in the laundry. My hair is almost long enough to see if it works although I'm not sure Canada is ready for a Kevin Keegan.

This past week I only had 3 days of work which was an accidental bonus, I am trying to keep Sundays free so was simply cut one day on the rota to save juggling. Tuesday
I took a ferry from Horseshoe Bay to Nanaimo on Vancouver Island for the purpose of visting the rainforest coast at Tofino. The bus ride over was pretty Jurassic Park since the Island is brutally ugly in the middle and the torrential rain obscured everything except the immediate roadside which had an unnerving number of toppled pilons. Add some headphoned Bjork and you get a pretty atmospheric 3 hours.

Tofino is a surf town but none of the shops would hire equipment owing to the force 6 gale that apparantly doesn't let up between now and March. The surfshop owner is a local legend, known for paddling out in 18' conditions and also looked like Jack Nicholson. I elected to walk the beach which was far easier with the wind behind you.

Thursday I went to JJ Bean Coffee School which involved a 3 hours lesson on coffee. I had not previously known that the bean is actually the stone of a cherry and all the good stuff is in oils released by grinding. The upshot of this and other profound insights is I get to make coffee at work. Imagine being given several thousand pounds worth of new toys dedicated to making amazing tastes and smells. Too much fun.

Haloween is a pretty big deal out here so has been going on since Friday. The governemnt even took the step of inviting the scariest person on the planet Condoliza "Skeletor" Rice for a visit. I assume this was to scare the children straight before Christmas so that their bad behaviour doesn't stall the economy by forfeiting presents. Hopefully there will be some pictures up from last night soon. My flatmates Fear and Loathing was so good a stranger put a Long Island Iced Tea is in his hand and said "as your attorney I advise that you drink this quickly".

2005-10-24T11:21:00.000-07:00

Unbelievably I have actually managed to post some pictures on the blog. By way of explanation the first picture is a disused railway line in West Vancouver so I was on no danger. The second is pretty self explanatory. The third and fourth come from a trip to the Capialano Canyon. That salmon is about to leap up the step ladder as the punch line to a cruel evolutionary joke. The suspension bridge was a lot of fun and there were bald eagles nesting in the trees around it.The 5th picture is the view of the snow capped north shore from the UBC peninsula beaches, usually nudist but not in October. The final photo is the view from the bridge that I cross on the way to work from the hostel. There was supposed to be an arty shot of the Vanouver library as well but the computer was in no mood.

This has been a pretty glamourous week. On Thursday I managed to sort out a house with Gavin. It is a bright place on 13th and Oak (a good location)with the ramshackle look that befits my status as an artist. That is an artist by virtue of not being a tinker, tailor, soldier, hairdresser, teacher, doctor, clergyman, or lawyer. Actually I comprehensively failed to do my 1 hour assignment for tonight's class all week so need to do that now. It has to include a character, an entrance, a mirror, a stool and then lead in to a story.

So the glamour. Thursday night was a label party for Saved by Radio from Calgary with 4 of their bands on the bill as part of the Western Canadian Music Awards. I was living it up with a college radio semi-star called Dash Rockmore (probably not by his parents). He was outlining in detail his plans for a acapella heavy rock album that he would market under the pretence of being a scandalously overlooked mythical jem from the 80s. I say good luck.

At some point between Friday night and Saturday morning a screen writer from LA appeared in the bunk above me mumbling something about, too drunk, important meeting tomorrow. He had that city's talent for self promotion, knowing exactly where his business cards were even when everything else was falling apart. Self promotion is all well and good but it made it very hard to go arrange going to the cinema. Do you wanna go see a film later?. "My films out oh-six". I think the squid and the whale is on at 5th Av. "Its called the Philosophy of Strontium 90 and isn't out yet". Despite the gap between hearing and listening I did get to schmooze with an genuine industry type.

This morning the road the hostel is on was blocked because Al Paccino was filming 88 Minutes on Thurlow St. I took one photo of lots of people standing around before a minder told be to "keep it on the QT because they will take your camera away". Part of me wishes he said "beat it kid" since that is much more movie-like. I had heard that Vancouver gets called Hollywood North but this was my first experience of it. A guy who drinks at the coffee shop is working on X-Men 3 so the insider goss will all be here. Apparantly the new director is a bit of a novice and they wasted several million on one failed stunt shot using only the secondary crew (Is this slander or libel, I forget?).

Then the gents toilet at work got jammed and I received a 5 minute tutorial in how to use a plunger.

2005-10-24T10:26:00.000-07:00

2005-10-19T18:31:00.000-07:00

Well I lasted a full 4 months outside of a classroom but I finally cracked on Monday night when Word Play ( the creative writing course) kicked off on Granville Island. In the spirit of the Emily Carr Institute I will not hold up any part of it up for mockery which is a goliath effort when you consider that Exercise 1 was a 5 minute meditation upon a hazlenut with strict instructions to not write anything or eat it. The main objective is just to consider new styles and the process of writing, approximately 50% of the whole, rather than breaking yourself in pursuit of a polished article which is covered by the 50% which is re-editing. I put an enjoi sticker on the front of my work journal (which very uncreatively had a to be a uniform 8.5 by 11 inches) to remind myself that the main point is meant to be having fun. We didn't get much further than the name tag and introduce the person next to you thing, a golden opportunity missed to rebrand myself with a more arty name than Smith. The emphasis is on peer sharing in open session so I will let you know of any interesting developments or good work that occurs.

Philosophical poser for the week "where does the body go when you are writing?"

Work continues to be pretty cool, I am trying to get away with 4 days a week since that frees up more time for exploring. It will mean more frugal living than at the moment, its pretty much impossible to cook well in the hostel. The staff ratio is weighted about 8-3 against the guys so we have to circle the wagons in our last stand defence of the stereo from all things rubbish. The latest trick is streaming internet radio off of the unprotected wireless network in the apartment above although mix cds will be graciously received if anyone is inspired? (Paul Smith c/o swap vancouver, suite 710, 602 West Hastings St, Vancouver, BC v6b1p2).

Saturday I closed out the day with Terrence so we wound up going to a bar on 4th with co-worker Peter and his room-mate. Canadian bars are pretty cool since you get table service in most places saving you from a surveying the pitiful state of your wallet until your fuzzy enough for it not matter.

Monday/Tuesday I had off which meant house hunting with Gavin, Alan having had to take drastic action to get out of his girlfriend's house before the mid-term exams. This was a mixed expereince. We were working from Saturday's listings which are the main one so if you call late then you will usually get someone who yells "ITS GONE" in your ear. After a lazy cafe afternoon our success rate dipped noticeably, Gavin was giving out an innacurate phone number. The phrase putting sugar on your chips springs to mind. To compound matters he was out of credit and hasn't managed to change his automatic answerphone message from french so who knows what those who could call back thought. This has been resolved now but only after 3 calls to the voice activated helpline which struggled with his Glaswegian GCSE-French.

Last night was Nada Surf at Richards on Richards which is a really cool little club with a capacity of about 600. The only song of theirs I knew was the recent single that was getting some play in the UK. Something about "to be loved you gotta be someone you love" off the album 'The Weight is a Gift'. They dropped that number 2 in the set so from there on out it was an education. They play really tight guitar pop and seemed to have a pretty large local fan base. The Vancouver scene is pretty active, something every night usually, with tons of free magazines and entertainments weeklys. Ozomatli, Damien Marley, Bedouin Sound Clash are all playing soon which accounts for a depressing number of 4 pounds an hour work. Zulu Records (about 2 blocks from work) is an unfortunate discovery since they sell returned recent releases for 5/6 sterling so I am now the proud owner of the new Blackalicous and Ryan (not Bryan) Adams albums.

Tonight the event at the Readers and writers festival I wanted to go to is sold out so I think I will take an early night prior to work at 7 tomorrow.

2005-10-13T12:34:00.000-07:00

The sign outside where I am writing this says says internet coffee, but it doesn't sell coffee, perhaps it is meant to say cafe, except its not a cafe. The only other explanation is a sign with 14 letters costs as much as 8 so the owners went for a value appraoch.

Vancouver is dry today and I have a day off. The plan is (drum roll please) to go join the library which is cooler than it sounds but I can tell you don't believe me. The coffee shop (an actual one) has a staff-choice cd player but all the inhouse ones have been done to death so I will get new music for free. I also need to find the climbing gym which apparantly is the biggest in North America.

Work is pretty rad, all the staff are sub-25 and the few I've met so far snowboard and there is the outside chance of a surf trip to Tofino on Vancouver Island before Christmas. The manager is a cheerful fella, although perhaps too enthusiastic. "Great job on buying some work shirts Paaaaaul". Um thanks. I have only done 2 shifts and still am still yet to meet David Le Roth who apparantly is a regular.

I am in the hostel for at least another night, after that I have a floor at a more organised friends, which means a 30 min trek to work. Actually the walk is pretty attractive, crossing the Burrard Bridge, above the million dollar penthouses and yacht marinas on False Creak as well as Stanley Park(same guy who invented the cup) to the North West. I look like a complete misrebalist in my black work trousers, shirt and cardi but the boho coffee shop look isn't about smiling except when trying to elicit tips.

Last night I met up with Ananta who I last saw at the Duke of Yorks when I was 13. I spotted him immediately, strode purposefully across the room and tapped his shoulder in the spirit of meaningful reunion. It wasn't him. The unfortuante consequence was that whilst waiting for the real ananta I was limited in standing places since no one ever yells "stalker" in a good way. The evening was pretty entertaining both before and after my friends arrival, (the winner of the most plucked eye brow competion had a look of near permenant surprise), especially being initiated into the complex campuses dating rules. There is a traffic light policy of spoken consent although no one was in a fit state to explain what amber meant. Maybe its like a green light but both parties have the right to point-blank denial afterward. Suggestions?

Tonight is one of the last shows in the spoken word festival which should be cool. On Monday I start a creative writing class at the Emily Carr Institute (where Ekin's friend Katy goes) on Granville Island which is scenicly located under a bridge at sea with a ferry and everything. Its 8 weeks of 3 hours monday evening classes with input from a local author as well as a lecturer. This could be the last entry with any narrative structure since I will be so postmodern it hurts in no time.

2005-10-09T18:35:00.000-07:00

Happy 22nd Birthday Al Frost.

I have a job. By simply embellishing on the exact experience garnered from flipping burgers in recent summers I am now a fully fledged Barrista. The beans are roasted locally so I get a field trip to gain understanding of the process or something equally hippyish. I started by looking at the bigger chains (Starbucks, Blenz etc.) figuring that I could just leave if something better/more ethical came up but the prevelence of canadian soft rock would have left me so scarred that I decided against.

Kits Coffee is on 4th Av in the student district called Kitsalano (or K-Town to the initiated). Its disturbing how quickly the latent americanisms picked up from saved by the bell have slipped out. Sentences like "I am just going to the store on robson at jerome to get cell phone credit" trip all too naturally off the tongue.

This weekend is Thanksgiving which has slowed down the process of looking for a house. The hostel is 12.50 sterling a night (with breakfast) but that is because they don't charge you per crazy you have to cohabit with. My bunk mate has a defribulator which some bright spark mistook for scuba equipment inviting an embarrasing explanation. On the plus side lots of other BUNAC folks are staying there. After the social last wednesday watching the Vancouver Canucks game in a bar it transpires I am hunting with 2 scots. We saw one basement apartment yesterday which had only 6ft of standing space, ideal for oompa lumpas but otherwise plain inconvenient.

The city has stayed fairly dry and the snow isn't expected in the surrounding mountains until november, whereupon I gain 3 sweet snowboarding spots in an hours reach. This month I will have to settle for the international film festival and creative writing fortnight (I think my resume has been shortlisted).

2005-10-03T21:23:00.000-07:00

Hi,
just a short note to say that I have landed safely in vancouver and even have hostel for the night. its 9.25 local time but 4.25 between the ears so ths post will have to be expanded on later.

night.

2005-09-28T17:57:00.000-07:00

Hi,
I have set this blog up because I hate group emails so won't be sending any during my trip. They usually only contain a line for you to the effect that the sea in Indo is wet, hidden between the 'hi grans' and 'guess how much weed I could fit in a brylcream tub's that typify the genre. I thought I would use this first post to share my itinery (kindly prepared by STA sheffield) because then if you catch yourself musing 'where's smith?' the answer is easily at hand. The information is accomanied by a useful mileage running total.

3/10/2005- Heathrow to Vancouver Depart: 17.10 Duration: 9hrs 25 (4713)
9/1/2006- Vancouver to LA Depart: 10.41 Duration: 2hrs 52 (5784)
9/1/2006- LA to San Francisco Depart: 16.25 Duration: 1hr 17 (6014)
6/2/2006- LA to Aukland (north island) Depart: 20.30 Duration: 12hrs 35* (6344)
12/3/2006- Chirstchurch (south island) to Sydney Depart: 15.35 Duration; 3hrs 20 (12866)+
2/4/2006- Cairns to Darwin Depart: 18.20 Duration: 2hrs 30 (14200)
2/4/2006- Darwin to Denpasar (Bali) Depart: 22.15 Duration: 2hrs 35 (15297)
23/4/2006- Denapasar to Hong Kong Depart: 15.55 Duration: 4hrs 50 (17445)
28/4/2006- Hong Kong to Heathrow Depart: 23.45 Duration: 12.50 (23415)

*incidently because of timezone violations I land on 8/2/2006 havng entirely missed tuesday 7th February although I am told it catches up eventually.

+This marks the furthest point away on the whole trip.

Hopefully this will be fairly regularly updated keeping you all informed of my misadventures.

Smith