Coming soon...

On November 8.

The lives of three individuals will change.
When they move out of their hostel... and away from Russell Square.

Stay tuned.

rain

Rainy London Day in Trafalgar Square - note* Canadian Flag outside Canada House

Its hard to know when to give up the fight
Two things you want will just never be right
Its never rained like it has to night before
Now I don't wanna beg you baby
For something maybe you could never give
I'm not looking for the rest of your life
I just want another chance to live

Strange how hard it rains now
Rows and rows of big dark clouds
When I'm holding on underneath this shroud
Rain

the true north, strong and free.

O.k. Here it is. My home away from home for the last 3 weeks. The Maple Leaf. Yes, sometimes I wonder if they hired me because of my resume or if it was simply because I was Canadian – but what does it matter? A job is a job. A home is a home. Since I don’t have a “home” to call my own at this point in time, The Maple Leaf is the closest thing. I work a lot, yes, but I feel like since I’ve been working there, I’m part of something.

The worst thing about moving to London has been this overwhelming feeling that I am nothing in the middle of this busy and crowded city. A feeling that I don’t really belong here. I’m not British (despite the fact my UK passport says I am – I AM CANADIAN, and very proud to be!) I don’t know the areas of London, I have yet to visit in infamous Camden Town Markets or Brick Lane. I’m still learning the Tube (although, getting quite good), have no idea which night bus to catch home to the hostel after work and ask for directions at least once a day.

Maybe it’s the fact that all of the girls behind the bar are Canadians (except for one, who’s from NY) but I’ve met a group of people who I can generally relate to and who have been where I am. Not only do we relate on a level that we share the same pride for our home country, but they’ve been through the hostel life, looking for a job, looking for a flat… I find myself wanting to go there, even on my days off.  

Today was a long day. I worked a double shift (lunch shift until close at 10:30 pm on a Sunday night). Usually, on a Sunday, I am engrossed in the “football” – I’m trying my very hardest to get into it … and my boss has threatened my job if I don’t cheer for Chelsea. I don’t know the rules of football, nor do I know the teams…I just know that Englishmen don’t take their eyes off the screen, even while trying to hand them a pint over the bar.

Tonight though, I looked around and the Leaf Game was on. I can honestly say, I almost cried. I sat down for my hour break and watched the game. I haven’t “watched the game” in what feels like forever… and there is nothing better then watching your team play with a bunch of Englishmen. They really have no idea when it comes to hockey… “Where’s the bloody puck?!” “Are there any rules to this game, at all? They just hammer each other?” It’s refreshing to feel like I know what’s going on in a city of constant "moving and shaking" resulting in a constant feeling of uncertainty. 

Although it doesn't happen too often, it being London and all, but tonight we had a group of Canadians in. When a Canadian walks into the Maple Leaf, you can almost feel them relax. The hockey commentary on in the background, with a pint of Sleeman in hand and an order of poutine on the way, what could be a better way to spend an afternoon? Right now, I fail to think of one.

So yes, I am Canadian. Yes. I am from "Taaarrrroonnto" and yes, when I tell people that, they almost ALWAYS mimic my accent (yes, apparently, I have an accent)

So, if you're in the area (and I hope most of you who know me, will someday visit me in my new city) drop in and "watch the game" with me.

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the hangover

This won't be a long post as it is 2:00am and I am extremely tired... So instead of lying in bed, with my eyes closed, not sleeping, I thought I'd spend some time writing it down.

Since University ended just over a year ago, my life has been pretty eventful. I moved out of my student house in St. Catharines, ON and home to Mum and Dad and my younger sister… Do you feel like I’m moving backwards?

I did.

Since I have moved back home, I have felt the urge to bang my head against my Ikea desk, while my Brock University degree stares at me questioningly. Even now I am struggling with what theme to write for this blog, but why not start with introducing myself.

There is not much to know about me as of right now.... perhaps I'm approaching a quarter-life crisis?

Pretty much just young, broke and fabulous.

In June, after completing a graduate program and despite my internal voice yelling “GET A JOB!” I did the opposite. I took my hard earned money and took a trip of a lifetime. I can sit here now and tell you, I have visited 47 cities in over 20 countries (not all in the span of 3 months, no, but in my lifetime, yes). I will tell you that I am a firm believer in rich ingredients... not just in food, but in love and life…  If you hadn’t guessed it already, clearly I have a passion for travel and want to experience as much as I can while I’m young and able.

Maybe it was this newfound attitude or feeling that I needed to keep living this adventure. After spending almost 7 weeks with some of the best people you will meet in your life. Living everyday with them, traveling around Europe, experiencing everything from the long cues and the crowds at The Louvre, Versailles, The Coliseum and the Grand Bazaar… experiencing sickness (*Contiki Cough*) or general homesickness. Making friends and falling in love. Through this entire experience I was on a high… and when it ended… What a hangover. I couldn’t let it go. Part of me still doesn’t want to.

So, having a UK passport, I’ve picked up and moved to London. Yes, entirely on a whim. I didn’t have any arrangements of where to stay, how to pay for it, no job. Of course, when I announced to friends and family that I was “moving to London” the first thing they asked me was… “what’s his name?” 

I have a history of making decisions very quickly about men. I have always fallen in love fast and without measuring risks. I have a tendency not only to see the best in everyone, but to assume that everyone is emotionally capable of reaching his highest potential. Many times in romance I have been a victim of my own optimism. To no surprise, following this incredibly kind-hearted, handsome Australian to London was not my brightest idea…it didn’t work out… to say the very least. However, I must give credit where credit is due… not just to this individual, but to several who have torn down my walls and smacked me awake. They have pushed me to doing something I have always talked about doing, but in truth, probably would have never had the faith to take the leap…

I’ve taken the leap… even with no one to catch me.

It's hard to explain how a person can be excited yet terrified at the same time. I want to be centre stage yet I also want to hide in a corner. I’ve always spent my life making plans and following a set path. Things haven’t always been easy for me, but generally speaking, I haven’t exactly had a rough life. Since being in London, I am learning that life isn’t always easy. I’ve been settled here and working in a pub (no my dream job obviously) and living in a hostel for almost 4 weeks now. I’m learning that it doesn’t matter how badly I want that job, or that flat… things aren’t instant. I’m learning to compromise. I’m learning to give myself more credit for my accomplishments… even if I am working in a pub in Covent Garden, at least I have a job! One thing at a time.

For now, I am happy here in London. I can honestly say this for the first time since I’ve been here. And someday I will look back on these moments, no matter how long they last, as such a sweet time of grieving. I’ll see that I was in mourning of my past life… of my student life, my Contiki life… my heart was broken but my life is changing…