Revelation.. the travelling version.

Let me begin by saying, I love travelling. And I mean, love. When the opportunity presents itself, I rarely, if ever pass up the opportunity regardless of how busy I should be and how much money I don't have. In case you're not a fellow traveller, you might be wondering, what is the draw? Well, for one, it generally means that you're experiencing something different, that you're not stuck in the same daily grind. And that's a good thing. A very good thing. On top of that, you're learning more about how the world works. I learn more whilst travelling than I ever have reading any text book, novel, magazine or scientific journal. There is definitely something to be said for experiencing things first hand, particularly at a younger age. I think it helps me gain unparalleled perspective and an appreciation for all things in my life. It also feel it makes me more adept at handling different personalities and situations within my own life... essentially I feel comfortable at most if not at all times. Bust most of all, and I know it already sounds like a lot, I learn the most about myself.

I generally tend to travel by myself. Sometimes out of necessity, but sometimes out of convenience. In fact, given the choice in the past, I would probably have preferred travelling by myself. It is just so much easier; you don't need to plan around someone else's schedule, hoping that they want to see the same things and for the same amount of time you do and you don't risk alienating them by sometimes choosing to do, buy or eat expensive things. But also, you learn to hang out with yourself. And I don't mean in the third person. I think sometimes we are too afraid to be by ourselves and really enjoy the solitariness of our own company. That may sound a bit depressing, but how can we expect others to like us, if we do not like ourselves (a bit introspective and philosophical, but I somewhat believe this). Turns out, I like the person I have become and hope that others do too.

Recently, I've experienced a paradigm shift in my way of thinking with regards to solo travel. While my love for travel has definitely not waned, my enjoyment for solo travel has. Perhaps its my age or maybe I'm starting to dislike myself, but with each subsequent trip that I seem to go on, I come to the same conclusions... I wish I could share this with someone. Not to sound funny, but I go to some pretty amazing places (for example now I am blogging in Cape Town), and not being devoid of sense and emotion, I can't help but feel envious when I see couples enjoying these moments together. Maybe I have become too comfortable with travelling alone that I may not make the transition easily, but I'll definitely give it a shot! Just one slight problem though...

Over-reaction: it's so hot right now.

Unless you've been dead for the past week, your life has been, in some form or another, affected by the ash cloud. Whether it has cancelled yours or a loved ones travel plans, put you out of a job temporarily, or just taken up more of the news than you had hoped, it is clear that this has emerged as one of the biggest stories of 2010 thus far. Never before has airspace been closed for this long. Not even after September 11th. Now we all know that I have some strong feelings about people's perception of flying and the flying process, but this has volcanic ash stuff is ridiculous.

People are calling the handling of the situation an 'over-reaction'. This is not verbatim, but you have people high up in the british conservative party and airline companies saying stuff such as, "the airspace should not have been closed due to a lack of understanding of the affects of ash cloud on airplane engines". That what was done was "unnecessary and costly". Pardon me? Since when was gathering more information about an unknown subject "unnecessary and costly"? Would they rather have blood on their hands or err on the side of caution? When people's lives are at stake, I think the answer is obvious. What is 6 days of our lives to just be a little bit cautious? And i'm speaking as one of the affected ones - I'm meant to fly to Cape Town later today. Sure, I'd love to fly and get to Cape Town; after all, i've heard its one of the best cities in the world. However, I wouldn't want to get there at the expense of my life. I think that sounds reasonable.

This whole aftermath is a prime example of what is going wrong with this world. You have people with no scientific experience (read: airplane CEOs, political leaders) telling the CAA (Airport authority) and british government that they need to be held accountable for their actions. Held accountable for protecting human life? Oh, so we're gonna issue them medals? Cool. Oh, wait. No. You mean hold an investigation and play on the hearts of society. Of course you would have handled things differently if you were in charge. And obviously, you're saying all of this once the matter has been taken care of. Convenient. And this is just my point. Someone is always looking over our shoulders telling us how to do a job that they have no idea about. They just know that every situation has a political angle and they're right there to capitolise. Sad. Now, I would call THAT an over-reaction. Let's look at the bottom line: No lives lost, we're flying again and we were able to update our standards for volcanic ash concentration. All in all, I would say that it was handled successfully, so why all the scrutiny?

Everyone just needs to chill out and stop over-reacting.

Nothing says happy birthday like a cigarette.

This past weekend I travelled up to Liverpool with a few friends. It also doubled as my birthday weekend as you may know and as a 'present', my friend Kath volunteered me to dress up as a cigarette and walk around the pitch before the Everton-West Ham match. While I was extremely nervous (mainly cos I thought people would embarrass myself like they do in the movies... like, someone kicks a ball at me, i fall over, costume comes off and suddenly I'm naked and people throw stuff at me... THAT kind of embarrassment!), I thought I should try new things. After all, I was 29 and it was just another box to tick. In the end, it was an enjoyable experience and none of my fears came to fruition. Well, except that I knocked over one of the skysports cameras behind the goal. But other than that, I'd like to think I made a difference to the thousands of people out there. Some might even say that I was the best cigarette mascot ever and that I should be inducted into the mascot hall. I'll leave the debate up to you.

Birthday Weekend

Twenty-Nine. Another year older, a little bit wiser, but still just as immature.

Watch the Everton-West Ham footy match on Sunday for more info :-)

Details in the following days.

Intermission: I'm the one who...

Pardon the interruption, but I need to take a moment to talk about family. Just consider this a commercial from the regularly scheduled programming and bear with me as this will not be my most light-hearted entry. You know how in every family there is a label that you can comfortably pin on each member? Like Jane is the hopeless romantic, Grant is the computer guy, Diana is the shopaholic, Tom is the impulsive gambler and so forth. Well, I'm the one who wears his heart on his sleeve and can't control his emotions (amongst other things I'm sure).

You see, this past week, I flew home to celebrate the life of my grandmother. She was my last remaining grandparent and one who I had lived with for roughly 11 years of my life. Granted that 'life' was seemingly ages ago, it was hard to discount the impact that it had. When I first heard on the 21st of March (my parents had called), I was overcome with the type of sadness you would expect. I did not shed any tears, but at the same time, it was not a time to be jovial. To me, now this might sound harsh, my grandmother had passed away a long time ago. Not because I was in England and she was still in Toronto, but because it's almost what she wanted. She had faked the inability to walk so that she could get a wheelchair. She faked sickness so that she wouldn't have to eat. Heck, she even faked alzheimer's and pretended she didn't know who I was. This was not the grandmother I had grown up with.

Under these conditions, one would have thought I would have dealt with this a long time ago. Admittedly, I did too. But as she lay there peacefully and each of my relatives paid their respects, I couldn't fight my emotion. I couldn't speak. I could barely stand. I just sat there letting the tears pepper my black cashmere sweater. While I thought I was personally okay wiht it all, I couldn't help but feel their emotion or the emotion that I thought they were going through. It's not that I am close to my family; in fact, we're probably quite far from it. It's just that, without her, there's no me. And if I think of how much my mom (and dad) have done for me, I couldn't help but feel remorse. All she ever really wanted, it seems, was for her children to pay attention to her.

Growing up, my grandma was born into a very rich family in China. To say that she was spoiled was probably an understatement according to my dad. With all the riches and people to take care of her, she married my grandfather who was also part of a rich family. Soon after, they gave birth to my dad and everything was setting itself up for an easy and comfortable lifestyle. That is, until communist China came in. My grandparents and their family's lives were spared in exchange for their riches. Everything they couldn't hide, they had to surrender to the government, regardless of sentimental value. And even what little they could hide, they couldn't wear or use for trading because people would wonder where it came from. Therefore, they had to live common folk lives. As someone who had been pampered well into her early adulthood, this was a shock to my grandmother. The only lifestyle she had ever known was gone.

Now other people in the same position would probably fight and regain their prosperity over time. This, unfortunately, was not her. While my grandfather and dad moved to british ruled HK for better opportunities and a more free lifestyle, they had to literally start over. While she did go to HK for a short while, my grandma returned home to be with her parents as she knew they would provide the type of attention she craved. Rather than send her back into the real world, they held onto her daughter and continued to shelter her. This continued until my grandfather and all of his kids were able to fully support themselves. Since her parents had not moved, she now looked to her kids for the attention she missed. This was fine while they were still young, but as they started their own families, time was sparse. That and her attitude never changed. She alienated people with her grandeur lifestyle. She made people within her own financial and social class feel bad about themselves because they had not experienced what she had. Needless to say, she did not hold onto many friends. As such, she would always run back to the arms of family. It was a vicious circle.

Now, I only heard about all of this stuff this past weekend, but it gave me perspective. And as she still laid there in peace, all I could think is that she was never given much of a chance through no fault of anyone but herself. It does make me very thankful for all my parents have done for me, but I'm not the one that needs this type of thing to gain perspective. Remember, I'm the one who wears his heart on his sleeve.

All the best, grandma - you'll always be a part of me.

Olympics, part two: Let the games begin...

Sitting on the greyhound, I was quite nervous, but I was also very tired. Naturally, I was too tired for nerves and took a short nap. I knew that I should seize any opportunity to enjoy unemcumbered sleep, particularly over the first four days since I did not have any accommodation! I drift in-and-out of sleep, somewhat visualing what my trip may be like while overhearing fellow passengers having the same anxieties. I wasn't even sure I would recognise Vancouver because it had probably been over 10 years since I had last visited. As the bus neared the station, there was still no feel for the Olympics. Sure there were banners and maybe some traffic cones to close off certain routes, but there were no people, no crowds, no excitement and more importantly... no GOOOOOOOOOOOOLD MEDALS! (look up Danny Kinda on YouTube for that reference).

That would soon change as I walked out of the other side of the bus terminal. Suddenly, I was right there. The area immediately around the terminal was littered with Olympic volunteers dressed in their bright blue jackets, policemen directing traffic, loads of confused locals and tourists all trying to soak it in,while up above, the SkyTrain goes whizzing past. Like the sheep I am, I follow the crowds, expecting them to know where they are going. Within minutes, I am at the Russky Dom (Russia House), a large domed building used to showcase the plans for Sochi 2014 and show off their culture. I wouldn't even had realised that this was a big deal if not for the massive sea of people trying to get in. I make a mental note: come back later. I continue to walk along the water and survey the people I pass. Though I was 'home', I felt like I was a foreigner. Aside from Vancouver being over 4000 km away from Toronto, everyone was wearing red canada mitts... but me. And that brought me to mental note #2: buy red mitts.

As I continue to walk along the water, I see a sea of inukshuks lining false creek on my left and a fenced off pavilion to my left. Straight ahead of me is BC place/Olympic Stadium and GM Place. I follow signs for the ticket box office and begin to queue. Within minutes, I realise that only cash and Visa's are accepted. Not accepting any other forms of payments was probably the bane of my existence during this trip. Knowing that I have about $100 CAD in my wallet, I quickly look for the nearest ATM. Chinatown, they say. As I walk over, I am like a salmon heading up stream. Hoards of people in hockey jerseys from all over the world rush past me as I weave my way through. Not knowing the costs of events and what other general shenanigans I will get up tonight, I pack my wallet with $500. I make my way back to the ticket office where the queue is longer than before. Luckily, patience is one of my best assets. As I near the front, there is a Chinese couple enquiring about tickets. They must have asked about every event in the book and spent almost an hour trying to purchase tickets. Understandably, no one was happy with them, particularly the man directly in front of me who was pretty much heckling them in frenglish (some sort of custom mold of french and english he had made up.. either that or he was very drunk, both of which are possibilities!!).

I got to the front and in typical uninformed and vague fashion ask, "do you have any tickets available for anything?". The agent at the window holds back a smile as if to say 'of course we do... we're a ticket office'. Turns out they have tickets to pretty much everything, including a Sweden v Germany ice hockey match in 30 minutes! The only thing they didn't sell tickets for were Cypress Mountain and Whistler. Bummer. So I bought the hockey tickets and scooped up some curling tickets and was on my way. Before you make your judgement, let me just say, going to see curling was probably one of the most fun and entertaining events of sport I have ever seen... and I've been to numerous baseball, basketball, football (american) and tennis (including Wimbledon, French and US Opens) matches. It really is JUST that good. It typically mixes in old and young, knowledgeable and ignorant, but most importantly drunk and really drunk. The banter is unparalleled, particularly if you mix in the hockey type atmosphere. It is the one event I would tell everyone to go see, especially since it is also one of the cheaper ones out there. The ice hockey was good too, but that would be like comparing 1-ply and 2-ply toilet paper (I mean, either way you're happy to have the TP, but who wouldn't prefer a little 2-ply action??!).

Over my first four days, my nights and mornings were pretty much the same routine. After a night of light-to-heavy night of drinking, I would retire to my hotel (read: car parked at River Rock Casino in Richmond). I would sleep for 3-5 hours in my bed (read: trunk with backseats pushed down), wake-up and then spend the morning playing poker til the sun came out. Now I now what you're thinking, 'what kind of life is that?'. Thing is, I really had no better option unless I wanted to spend $250 CAD a night in a hotel. And let's consider this: the parking lot was an enclosed structure with security cameras and the casino is open 24 hrs so I have access to toilets, drinks of all sorts and even food! Oh, also, this was costing me $2/day. While you may start seeing the merits of this, you may start to wonder, 'but no shower for 4 days after drinking and sleeping in your car? you must have been in some sort of state!'. Wrong. This casino also happens to double as a hotel resort. A hotel resort with a swimming pool. And for $10, you can pay to use the swimming pool, jacuzzi and gym. This wasn't even a re-occurring cost either as I tried the card the very next day and it worked again! (let this be a tip for you all!!). So every day, I could have a little work out, a little nap in the jacuzzi and a hot shower. I also happened to find very good places to nap in and around Vancouver, which just added to the overall experience.

On my last day of the car living, I made it up to Whistler to see some action in some actual snow (up until now the weather was still beautiful). I had not made up my mind what events I wanted to see, but I was pretty much at the mercy of the ticket office and any ticket touts/scalpers I would run into. To give myself the best chance of securing a ticket, I set off at 5.30 am. As luck would have it, I run into a group of friends in front of me who is in the same situation as me... and a scalper was in the queue right behind us! We start to butter him up, but then it is time to board and more importantly for me, time to go to bed! When we arrive, one of the girls has a 1-on-1 convo and scores us some ski jump tickets for only $20 more than face value. I considered this to be a relative deal. Too bad the actual event itself was less than eventful. To me, every jump looked the same, and there wasn't a competitive atmosphere since everyone was going one at a time. Also, we were only allowed at the base of the mountain so they just seemed like really small flying bird before they whizzed past us at the bottom. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy that I saw it, but I'm not sure I would do that again. Thankfully the company I was with was good and the weather was beautiful, to the point where I was wearing flip flops. We also got the opportunity to take a picture with the silver medallist and his skis, so all was not lost.

The third installment is still yet to come...

Olympics, part one: the pre-amble.

So I arrived back in the UK on monday morning and since then I've pretty much been nothing but ill. I think it was my mind and body telling me, in a round-about way, that you're not young anymore, that you need to slow down. And really, I don't blame it for its response after the two weeks I just put it through. But given the chance, would I do it again? In a heartbeat...

I arrived in Seattle on the 15th of Feb, grabbed my bag and hit the road to Portland. I know that's an interesting way to start my Olympics adventure since that just happens to be the exact opposite direction to Vancouver. Well thing is, I love watching sports and relish the opportunity to see a new arena or stadium so it only made sense to go see a Trail-Blazers game. That and the weekend before I left, I had just had a volleyball tournament and wanted a couple days to recoup before getting the festivities underway. This was probably the smartest thing I did all trip long. These couple nights of sleep are probably what helped me last the rest of the trip. So I toured Portland, I looked for touristy things to do, but ultimately wasted time til the game. In the end, it was just another concrete building, but admittedly with a really good environment (even if it was against the clips!).

On the morning of the 17th, I finally headed to Vancouver. It was finally Olympics time! I headed up the I-5 through Seattle and took exit 231 onto Chuckanut Drive. I had done some research and it was said that this was a drive not to miss. So drive it I did and I'm glad that I did it. From there, it was onto the border. Admittedly, I was a bit anxious about the border crossing because I had heard that Canadian residents that cross the border into Canada with an american rental car would not be admitted on grounds of tax evasion. A bit silly, I thought, but a real concern nonetheless. I already had it in my head that if push came to shove, i would play the whole "i'm a citizen, not a resident"-card. Luckily, the crossing went without a hitch, and back to my homeland I returned (albeit 5 flying hours away from what I would consider my actual homeland). I parked my car in Langley, BC mainly because this was one of the furthest approved Olympic park-and-ride locations since I had no feel for how busy it truly was going to be in Vancouver. I figured, the further, the better. I suppose I was right because there only seemed to be one other car there! I made my way to the Greyhound Station and took the first bus off to Vancouver... TBC