To BC and Back

Mum, Dad and I went to visit Bean in British Columbia at the beginning of the month.  It was AWESOME, save for the several hours we spent each day in the car…once we were there, though, everything was amazing.

 

I could quite easily live in British Columbia…or anywhere with mountains, really.  The scenery seems to attract artists too, if the gallery in Golden is anything to go by.  Also, I’ve noticed that a lot of people there are selling their crocheted things for…rather a lot.  Gives me hope.  If I can come up with individual enough designs, and make them, then I should be able to do something similar.  The problem is, of course, being able to make the damn things…

 

Anyway when Bean comes home in may, she wants to go on a two week hike, just us girls (me and Vicky being the other girls) before busing it back across country.  It’s one more thing I’ll need a job for, though…I really want to go, so I hope I don’t just piddle around like I did last year.

 

Sometimes…I really don’t like myself.

Lazy River Ride

There is a outdoor pool/minigolf/gokarting place near here called the Earl Haig Family Fun Park. It's got this one thing called the Lazy River, which his basically a long, meandering pool with a bit of a current in it. The idea is that you appropriate some sort of floatation device and then drift...

Got the worst sunburn of my life doing that...

Anyway, Bean and I decided at some point that we were going to do something similar, only with the real river. The Grand River. It's not especially deep by us - in fact, if it gets over five feet then there's something to be said - but it is rather wide. Lot of history bound up in that river too, but I won't get into it.

So, Bean and I hit up Walmart. We got cheap air mattresses, of the sort that go in a pool, I got a hat, and then, yesterday, we hit the river.

We also almost hit a bridge abutment, but more about that later.

We took along a waterproof disposable camera. There's still three pictures left on the damn thing, and both of us are broke, so we likely won't get it developed any time soon. Took me back, though...it's been a long time since I've had to actually suppress my picture-taking instincts and keep track of the number of pictures I've used. Digital photography has spoiled me.

We went up river a bit to a good spot to get into the water, blew up our air mattresses (this took a while, but we've got lungs of steel), and then proceeded to proove to a couple of very small children that their elders don't necessarily know better by marching into the river with inflatables and then climbing on and drifting away.

It was awesome. The river wasn't too cold, the air mattresses held, I could scull easily enough with my hands to keep myself steady, and - best of all, it was relaxing. Saw a turtle on a rock, a Blue Heron standing there and being all noble, geese, ducks...

Current picked up as we got closer to the Lorne Bridge, but we expected that. We tried to aim for the middle of the bridge, but the current had other ideas, and it very quickly became apparent that a) it was quite shallow here and b) faster than we thought it was and then - c) there was no way to avoid the massive, concrete bridge abutment that didn't involve jumping off the air mattresses and digging in our heels.

So we did that, and lived to tell the tale. Laughed ourselves silly because it was better than freaking out, and then we got up, fought against the current to smoother waters, got back on the air mattresses, and continued on our way.

...and then got stuck when the water got especially shallow, so we took a detour. We were still really nervous about the next bridge (there are three in quick succession, the second two left over from the days of the rail ways and the canal that no longer is. These second two are the bridges we make a go of speed walking over when we work out.) so we went around it.

Our detour took us past the second bridge and a little away from it. We found somewhere to get back down to the water's edge and then spent a good twenty minutes climbing through high grasses, fallen trees, branches, bits of plant, and uneaven ground to actually get close to the waters edge.

Mercifully, we didn't pop our air mattresses on errant twigs.

The trip went much more smoothly from here on. The water was deeper, and calmer and we were able to avoid the family of Canada Geese before we went under the third bridge. Went past another bridge (this one's the Brant Southern Access Route, or Useless Pain In The Ass Highway That Connects New Development Land With The Rest Of The World), and...it was nice. Quiet. Saw more Herons, more geese, untold numbers of dragonflies...heard song birds etc.

Athena kept insisting that we'd get out at the next bridge, except that there isn't a 'next bridge' for a very long way. Eventually, we paddled our way over to the side of the river and got out.

Of course, we had to pick the one spot where we couldn't see the path we were aiming at. We had passed what had used to be the Gilkison Flats (I think), were I can remember there being people picnicking and bbqing and stuff, but (after the tail end of Hurricane Andrew made the river flood in 1992) became less public park and more reclaimed forest with a bike path through it.

I directly encountered a stining nettle plant. This did not amuse me. We also got govered with bugs and had to fight our way to the path by trying not to step in a fridgid, smelly run-off stream that reeked of poo. But we got back to the path in the end. Dried off on the way back home. Got looked at because we were soaking wet and carrying flaming pink, clear, pool air mattresses, and I was wearing a giant bucket hat, but we weren't given to caring because it was awesome.

Everyone should give it a go!

So...moral of the story: avoid bridge abutments. Next time, we're going to get in on the other side of the Lorne Bridge. >:)

Midnight Musings

So...I have to start over.

I don't know if I even have the energy to do that.

I'm in the process of constructing myself a carry-on bag of epically large proportions. And yes, I mean 'heroically'.

It's bloody huge.

I'm also looking into a job at some post office or other. Well, Aunty Joan is. I might try looking around in buttford for something similar, seeing as how a job in shittysauga would mean staying in shittysauga...

...Which could have its benefits...

Whatever happens, if I am ever to GTFO, I will need a job.

Setbacks = Fail

My options are as follows:

1) Pay $350 to have my ticket put on standby and fly with no money or,
2) Buy a new ticket.

This blows. Unfortunately, no matter how much I rage, I can only blame myself for not getting a proper job back in January.

Motives for why I didn't? Can't really explain that. People ask, I shrug. Mum's asked, Kiran's asked, Chantelle's asked, Jon's asked. Best reason I can come up with is that I feel safer in my head than out, and that's not any reason at all.

So, now I have to start afresh. I'm looking into oversea's temping, because that way I'll go with a job, and will have a better chance of staying there long enough to get my UK Citizenship.

Once I have my citizenship, school is apparently free, or as close to it as you can get. Also, healthcare. Taxes are going to suck, though.

Question, though...do I even want my UK Citizenship? I mean, really...if I'm barely willing to put the effort into going when the plane there is paid for, how fair is it for me to sign up for something like a life-time commitment to another country?

At the same time, I think that if I had defied the gods and gone anyway, this past Monday, things would have turned out nasty.

Still. It stings every time I see a plane go overhead, and every time I think "If I hadn't been such a dumbass, I'd be in Wales right now."

Buggerit

A couple of things.

Firstly, I found, via Bean, The Cutest Blog On The Block, which has all manner of cute and - most importantly, free - backgrounds. It's where I got this one, and why I need to fiddle with my header until it no longer clashes.

Secondly...I was supposed to have left yesterday. I didn't. Mum didn't set my ticket ahead either, on account of money, so now Jon and I have to go down to the terminal where I would have left from on Monday to beg for my ticket to be bumped.

If they can't...then I will have wasted the last five months, my mother's gift, and what might just have been my only chance to get out of here.

Buggerit

Heh

So, I've screwed things up royally.

Apparently, my only option at this point (brought about by the fact that I'm an idiot), is to postpone my trip until I have more money. Any money, actually.

Bollocks.

The upside: my passport will be done by the 14th, and I'll be able to go get it.

Couple of things...

I have an answer to the mp3 problem: my phone. It plays mp3's, which is good. I just thought it'd be impractical because it doesn't store that many mp3's (up to 100, currently), and I can't use it for anything but while I'm away because the roaming charges would be out-of-this-world expensive.

And then I thought...micro SD cards. My phone takes them. They're ridiculously cheap, for what they are. I DON'T HAVE TO BUY A NEW MP3 PLAYER.

Awesome.

I would love to get new Magnum Boots, too...they make them with memory foam insoles now, and mine are four years old and started to loose their comfort. However, even though they're ratty and smell something fierce, they are still waterproff to a spectacular degree. I've never had shoes last this long. I recommend them for EVERYONE.

So, I'm thinking - instead of buying/breaking in new ones, I might as well just hang on to these ones and get some doctor shoals insoles or something, and some waterproofing spray just to be sure. They're not elegant, and they're not pretty, but they're black and wonderfully comfy.

There you have it...insoles and micro SD cards will save me nearly $300 in trip preparation monies. YAY.

If I GET $300 in trip preparation monies, then, I'll probably get a decent camera, or something.

Also...

I bought a small sketch book thingy from the Dollar Store. Not to sketch in (I've got those) but so I can tape down several wallet sized pictures that I've been printing. Like a scrap book, only small. The pictures I can print with the photo printers at the office (which is what I've been doing), and double-sided tape works wonders. I can't scrap book worth a damn, but that's not what I'm aiming at. I just want to be able to take pictures with me for those nights when I'm feeling nostalgic and lonely.

Aaaaand, finally, I've been looking up hostels in Cardiff. Apparently, you can get a decent bed for $30/night. Bit steep, but...I suppose it's better than a ditch/mooching off family friends.

Little Something, Anyway

I got my passport picture taken today...finally. Aunty Joan gave me $50 for my birthday, and so far, that's what I've gotten with it.

It's not the best picture, and it won't actually get my any closer to getting my passport renewed without the money to pay for that, but it's a step that makes me feel at least somewhat accomplished.

Not the best picture, though I've seen worse:




The reason the quality sucks is two fold: it's a picture of a picture, and I took it on a shutter speed of 1 1/3 of a second with no flash and no tripod. Not too worried about it, though, because that just means it'll be harder for anyone else to tinker with.

With the rest of my birthday money, I hope to acquire some little things. I'm thinking a giant bag of socks, or a groundsheet-tarpaulin-backpack cover, or maybe a jumbo pack of disposible razors. Very glamarous birthday presents, that...I'm betting it's not what Aunty Joan had in mind.

Speaking of Aunty Joan, she was saying that she and Nan are probably moving back soon - to England, I mean, and once they have a place I can stay for as long as I want. I'm liking the sounds of this, because it means that when I decide to go for my citizenship, I will have a place to stay. I suspect that I'd have to pay room and board if that were the case, provided I got a job with the Ancestry Visa and all that, but...definitely a plus.

Things I Still Need To Do:

• win the lottery
• stop panicking
• start figuring out what will fit in my backpack and what won't
• start printing off those maps and directions, and figure out wtf I'm going to be storing them in when I do
• figure out wtf I'm going to do about Darwin
• breathe

Update...

Still no job...

Still no plan...

Still panicking.

Only, now I'm 25 and hating myself.

I'm going to end up living under a bridge in Aberystwyth, I just know it.

Oh god.

Darwin

I'm still trying to decide whether or not to bring Darwin with me.

A little back history, which may or may not explain why I find this a subject to debate:

In 1988, mum gave me an old prop from her Sooter's Studio. It was a stuffed chimpanzee puppet thing, with long skinny arms and a squeaker box thingy so you could make it 'sound like a monkey' while entertaining kids.

I named him Darwin, because even at four I had a very odd sense of humor.

Anyway, Darwin very quickly became my answer to the whole security blanket phenomenon. I took him everywhere with me. Camping, on road trips, to sleep overs (even if I was only going to Grandma and Grandpa's house) Guide camp...everywhere. Darwin's been to Charleston, SC, and Myrtle Beach, and Costa Rica. He's been to Maine, and Cape Breton, and PEI, and Algonquin Park...he's gotten worn, and thin, and one of the grabby mechanisms in his hand doesn't work, and the squeaker box has long since vanished, and the sides of his mouth are split, and I seriously believe that his purple shirt hasn't been washed in the 21 odd years that he's been in my possession. But I don't care.

Darwin has been my constant companion since I was four. I don't know if I can give that up. He has helped me through more bouts of homesickness than can count, through teenaged emo-angst and pure sadness.

So the choice is before me: a) Take Darwin with me to England and beyond. Possibly forever. Hug him when it's dark and scary and I'm all alone. Run the risk of loosing him somewhere, of him getting damaged in the rain, stolen, lost, destroyed...

b) Don't take him with me. Keep him home, safe. Give up a piece of my childhood, something that would keep me grounded and sane, would stave off homesickness and loneliness. But he would be safe.

The choice isn't as easy as it looks. Because of who I am I very quickly imbue objects with human emotions and feelings. If something were to happen to Darwin...

I just don't know if I can make that choice. I likely won't be able to until the last possible instant.

Sleepy...and a tad worried

There is a great deal that I have to do before I go...five months isn't nearly enough time to get it all done.

At some point (preferably very soon) I need to get a job. Tomorrow (technically today) I have to work for Uncle Steve, which is nice, but I would need to work full time at minimum wage to get even half of what I'll need before I go. And most of that will be for stuff that I need while I'm there.

Both Mum and Chantelle figure about $7000 will do it. Which means I've got just over $6000 to make in the next five and a bit months, and I'm currently unemployed. Were I to get a decent paying job tomorrow, I could probably do it. I don't pay rent. I would have to start contributing to the cell phone bill, but I wouldn't have to pay utilities or interwebs or anything like that, and so I would be able to keep most of my monies for other things.

In theory.

What I am most worried about is that the universe will notice me again, and something will happen, and because of that, I won't be able to go. I tell myself that it's unlikely that, out of the six billion or more people on the planet, I would be singled out to be screwed over, but then, I wouldn't be singled out, I would just be screwed over like so many others. Is it wrong to hope and pray that some other poor bastard gets screwed so that my dreams can be fulfilled in some way?

Very probably.

But then, these worries are normal. Money worries...well, they hit everyone. And they're especially pertinent because, as much as I'm sure I'm going to love Cardiff, I don't want to live under any bridge, let alone one in Cardiff.

In other news, I'm making myself a wee travel bag. It's for my journal, I think, the one Chantelle gave me. Or my passport/travel documents. It's got a TARDIS on it, which signifies my desire to journey, to escape, to run away into the unknown. To take that step off into true oblivion and see what's out there. The pioneering spirit.

I'm not sure I have enough of that spirit to be a true pioneer, but I do want to eventually live in Wales, see places I've never been, things I've never dreamt of...journey.

(I'm also, for those of you who don't know, a giant nerd)

Either way, I'm going to line it with waterproof fabric, I think, if I can find some that the texture of which doesn't bother me a great deal. I don't want my journal to get ruined. Or my passport/travel documents, depending on what I decide to keep in there.

Change of Thought

So...upon further reading, I think the UK Ancestry visa is the way to go for now. I think I was misreading/understanding what the pages were saying about citizenship before...

So, when Mum and Dad and I and whoever else go to Ottawa at the end of the month (there's a decent chance Bean will come too), that's what I'll be asking about first.

Without a visa, I can stay in the UK for a maximum of six months. This might be a good thing, because six months should be enough time to figure out whether or not I want to actually live there and commit to getting my citizenship. Then again, if I still don't have a means of getting home at the end of those six months, how the bloody hell am I going to find a job without a work permit?

Jon's beginning to question how our relationship is going to survive a trans-oceanic long-distance relationship. While I see why he worries, at the same time, Chantelle and Ari have been doing just fine for nearly as long. They're getting married next year. Well, technically later this year, because that's the easiest way to get his Canadian citizenship. But the full, 'official' wedding isn't until next year.

What frightens me is that I'm going anyway. This is something I've needed to do for years. Wanted to do for years. Leap off the proverbial precipice and see if I can actually fly, or if I plummet like a stone. And if that wasn't a lame enough metaphor for you, you'll just have to deal.

Wee update...

Mum's said that we can go up to Ottawa to the UK Embassy at the end of the month, when my dad has some time off. Make a long weekend of it.

I'm hoping that (because I better damn well have a job by then) I'll be able to get the time off. If the time is running the photography studio in some capacity, this shouldn't be a problem; it'll be by appointment only.

If it's anything else, though...

Anyway, I'm hoping it won't cost too much to start the repatriation thing going. Last I checked, because I was born after Jan 1, 1983, I was pretty much good to go. But, these sorts of regulations change, so I'll need to take another look at the UK Border Agency website.

Hmm.

At some point this week, mum wants to go to Toronto to a) pick up my diploma and b) check out the UK Consolate and ask them what I need to do to repatriate and how much it'll cost.

I'm a little nervous, about both. The initial shock of knowing I'm actually going has worn off somewhat, and I think that actually making the leap to starting the process of repatriating will make the upcoming trip (and the fact I have no way back) real.

At the same time, I think that if I had a way back, I wouldn't get anything out of this trip. It would just be a holiday. It wouldn't be the life-changing experience I seem to need. Spending two months in Costa Rica wasn't much help either, because I knew when I was leaving. It was stressful, knowing I had to come back here. The fact that we had to deal with the theft of Bean's stuff on our trip to Jaco, and then those stupid whores that took Bean's computer and my ring wasn't much help either.

Costa Rica is a nice place to visit, and I did see an active Volcano, which was awesome, but...whatever it was that I was looking for when I left, I didn't find.

Maybe having a one-way ticket will give me the time to find whatever it is that I'm looking for.

Musings

Mum was saying that Bean might come too, at least for a while, because I leave around the same time that she wants to set out on her 'wander'. I think I like this idea, though I know that if Bean and I are together while we're there we won't separate, and I'll probably end up wandering with her. Or her with me. Which is fine, because these things are always safer with company.

Chantelle thinks it would be best if I could push the date ahead on my ticket, to go a little later to give me a little more time...I find that idea appealing, but I know that if I do that I'll never get out of here. I need to leave. This post-post-secondary school lethargy has gone on long enough. Life awaits.

She was also asking me - in an attempt to help me plan - what I want to get out of this trip, and where I want to go, etc. I'm not entirely sure. I know I want to get my UK citizenship, and I know this means that I'll likely have to spend five years living in the UK. Which I'm fine with, because there's no point in becoming a citizen of a country you're not prepared to live in.

I want to see the "Land of My Fathers"...well, mother. I have half a mind (or a quarter, at least) to looking up my mum's biological parents. Not to meet, but to find out who they were so I can trace my ancestry on that side back beyond mum.

I want to see the place that Gran and Granddad grew up in. It's called Cogan, and apparently it's in Penarth.

I want a piece of bluestone to wear around my neck so I can make other fluffbunies jealous. And another piece that I can mail back to Chantelle to add to her collection of rocks and crystals.

I want to go to Scotland to take a picture of Uncle Tom's statue. And so I can go to Scotland.

I want to walk from one end of Wales to the other along the coast, and go camping and stay in bed and breakfastses, and take awesome pictures of stuff.

I want to see Stonehenge, and Woodhenge, and other neolithic sites, in Wales and England and Ireland and Scotland.

I want my own little studio somewhere, where I can write and take pictures and learn how to draw better. And sell my own pictures, too.

I want to learn what it really means to be Welsh.

Is that enough? Should I want more out of this? That last on the list...I've often scoffed at the idea of anyone wanting to learn about their cultural identy, because I've never seen the point. How can anyone not know? And why does it matter, anyway? I am ME, and I always will be, even if ME is changing constantly due to personal evolution. But in recent years (and in no small part because I've finished my degree and now don't know what to do with it) I've been thinking that merely because my ancestry is Welsh doesn't mean I am Welsh. Especially since I was born and raised in Canada.

But then, Canada's cultural identity is based on the fact that we don't actually have one. Our 'culture' has to be determined by government offices because our population is made up of various stages of immigrants from elsewhere. And, I don't like hockey, I rarely eat poutine, W.O Mitchell and Margaret Atwood SUCK, and I neither fish nor farm on a prairie. So am I really Canadian?

I hope to find that out. And, like all pilgrims in search of wisdom, my journey must begin elsewhere.

Damn. This could be the preface to my autobiography, or a photojournal, or something. I suppose, in a way, that's what I'm actually writing. Only on the internet. And I'm not getting any money out of it.

Things I Will Need

Here is a list of what I'm going to need before I go/while I'm there. It's a preliminary list, merely because I haven't gotten my head out of the clouds enough to figure out precisely what I'm going to need...and because I've never gone on a trip that didn't have an end date attached, and so I can't really say what I'm going to need after the first few weeks or so...except more of the same stuff.

So I'm going to use the Heinleinian method of trip preparation, which is to list everything that could possibly ever be useful and then slowly pare it down by scrapping things that are simply too large/heavy/unnecessary to bring.

Any that look like this have been obtained.

• A bigass backpack
• Money. Lots and lots of money
• A knife
• Camping gear - tent, sleeping-bag, stove, pots, utensils
• A damn good pair of boots
• Two weeks worth of clothes - shirts, pants, skirts, socks and undies and bras (three weeks worth of each), sweaters, shorts, pjs
  
• A very large book of maps/Google Maps print-outs
• Darwin
• RAIN GEAR
• One of those groundsheet thingies to go over said bigass backpack
• A rucksack similar to the one I made for Clayton
• The rucksack I made for Clayton, only finished, so I can give it to him while I'm there
  
• The Journal that Chantelle gave me for my birthday
• Sketch book, pencils, pens, erasers
• A DAMN GOOD CAMERA with film/memory cards and batteries
• A UK power converter
• An iPod or similar device, with which I can listen to music
• Notebooks in which I can write stories, in case I can't bring a laptop. This is not the same as the journal that Chantelle gave me, because that has a very specific purpose.
  
• A laptop, preferably a very light one with a decent amount of memory for picture uploading/writing/internet surfage where possible
  
• Somewhere to stay.
• A ticket home
• A work visa
• UK Citizenship
  

Better Late Than Never

I started this blog...a while ago...for the express purpose of writing random things at random times. Then, characteristically, I forgot about it.

Now I've decided to use it to chronicle the things I have to do to get ready - and go - to England and Wales in May. There are a lot of things, on account of the fact that my mum sprung this trip on me at Christmas.

So here are the basic details:

I leave May 18th, 2009
I have to pick up my diploma before I go
I have to renew my passport
I have to earn enough money to make sure I don't starve while I'm there, and
I have to earn enough money to make sure I CAN GET BACK

Because it's a one-way ticket.

To say that I'm terrified is...actually pretty accurate. I've never been to England, or Wales, despite the fact that this is where I've been drawn to for my whole life. My Mum and Gran know people over there, and I'll likely end up staying with them for some time while I figure out wtf I'm going to be doing...

*deep breath*

It's going to be a journey, that's for sure.