The One Where I'm Actually In Canada

I'm here!

Turned up at Terminal 3 to discover that my bag was just 1 1/2 kg over the limit so Mumma Barr didn't have to pay anything in excess baggage. Result! It turns out that 23kg is actually a lot heavier than I thought it was. But the good times at Heathrow didn't last long. Mumma Barr and I had to go separate ways to get up to the departures floor and I, unthinkingly, raced through security. I went to go pick up my Travelex card and realised I'd gone to the wrong one and that since I was already scanned and secured, I would not be able to go back and say goodbye to my mum. Well, I burst into tears and sobbed hysterically at a security person who took a great amount of pity on me and allowed me to cross back through security and into the arms of my mum who I then continued to sob at some more.

Screw feminism; a girl crying got what she wanted.

The rest was quite uneventful. I bought perfume in duty free. (Why yes, I am gorgeous enough to wear something so tartilly named as Juicy Couture.) Boarded, got moved seats, didn't kill anyone trying to store a bag into the overhead locker. Take off delayed by half an hour because the hold door wouldn't open. The solution to the problem was to switch the plane off and then back on again. Seriously. That's what I do with my computer when it's being funny, that's not what you should be doing with something so major and dangerous as a flipping plane!

As for the flight itself...

Pros:

• Didn't cry during take off.
• Didn't puke on anybody.
• Zac Efron in "The Lucky One."
• Bagged a free blanket. I think. Otherwise I've stolen a blanket.
• Didn't die.

Cons:

• Grumpy person sat next to me who's pen lid I dropped and then couldn't find, which really didn't help to engratiate me to her anymore.
• Screaming children for nearly 8 hours.
• Airline "chicken" that should have read "plastic."
• No leg room and no bar on the seat in front to use as a foot rest.

Bag pickup was smooth. Once again, I inwardly mocked the fools who insist on flying with undistinguishable black suitcases as I smugly picked up my bright purple bag with flurescent strap. Before falling over under the sheer weight on 24 1/2kg which is approximately 22kg more than my arthritic arms can bear. Smiling sweetly at Customs Man 1 worked. Smiling sweetly at Customs Man 2 also worked. And Customs Man 3 stared at my tits as he stapled in my study permit, so smiling sweetly at him too, obviously worked.

Stepping out of the airport was like stepping into Madrid at the height of summer. Whenever I've told anyone I'm going to Ottawa, everyone's always commented on how cold it is there. Yeah, well it ain't cold now my friends. It's flipping boiling! My landlord, Dee, picked me up and demonstrated a distinct disregard for lane lines, but I'm alive, so it's okay. We chatted a bit about how cold it gets and how small Ottawa is - population one million. The house isn't Penny C standard, but then Penny C could give certain Monopoly Board hotels a run for their money quality wise. But I can't really complain about the location!

So, what for day number one in Canada land?

Small cry down the phone to the mother once the enormity of being thousands of miles away from home knowing literally no-one. A panicked Facebook message to Krista the pseudo-Canadian asking for help. Walking for what must have been miles to try and sniff out some shops. This was before Krista told me that high streets don't exist in Canada, so the amazing centre of shops I was hoping to stumble upon this morning, doesn't exist.

However, I did find Byward Market and lots and lots and lots of shops selling beautiful beautiful beautiful earrings. Please be super proud of me when I inform you that I resisted all temptation to even enquire about them, let alone purchase them. That resistance may not last long. Won't last long. Hashtag I love earrings.

At lunch, I made friends with an 80 year old lady named Esther, who has no skin on her bottom after falling off a window ledge (long story.) She loves Princess Diana. I thought I'd impress her with the my-mum-worked-at-her-wedding anecdote, but she wasn't that interested for an ardent Di fan. Other interesting/peculiar Canadians encountered include a roller-skating pensioner who was wearing knee pads to protect his (I assume) arthritic knees but yet was helmet-less and whichever Canadian(s) it was flying a plane around the Parliament buildings with a banner reading "Stephen Harper nous deteste ca." We'll name that Canadian Francois.

Unable to uncover anything useful such as a bank, phone shop, stationery shop etc, plus feeling very close to sun stroke, combined with the stunning scenery of the Rideau Canal, I went on a boat cruise. By myself. Yes I did. Me, the girl who won't go to the toilet without a friend, not only had lunch by myself (until Esther's appearance) and then went on a boat cruise, willingly, by myself. Be. Proud. Of. Me.

I didn't laugh at the boat conducter's jokes. We'll put that down to me being English and therefore having a superior sense of humour. That was until, right at the very end, he made the following pun phenomenon to which I did do a Sheldon Cooper-esque noise of humour recognition.

"Steve here went to Carleton uni, is $40,000 in debt and now has a great job as the driver of this vessel. Mind you, I'm at Ottawa U, and we're in the same boat."

It was funner when he told it.

Anway, Rideau Canal is super gorgeous and I was quite envious of the folks canoeing down it. Yes, she who can't swim wanted to get in a tiny boat, centimetres from km deep water. What has the Canadian air done to my sensibilities?

A quick look around the Ottawa U campus and I now have one student card for the use of. Sweaty and make up-less, but I don't look like a serial killer as I do in my driving license photo. At the student shop, the cashier said to me, "I love your accent! What part of America are you from?" Yep. Somebody who sounds more American than I do like the Queen, thought I was American. Quite frankly, I was insulted!

It's ok, I'm over it now!

 

 

It's been a super-long today and I'm so tired, and housemate-less which means no being forced into being sociable! Plus a reassuring phone call with Krista the pseudo-Canadian (born in France, grew up in Nigeria, boarding school and uni in UK but Canadian passport and accent, hence the psuedo) and the promise of church tomorrow means today has, all in all, been quite successful. I'm still lacking anything useful, tangibly useful. But the thing is, I've made it to a completely different continent all by myself and been braver and more outgoing than I could ever imagine I could be.

Maybe tightrope walking over Niagara Falls is a possibility?