It’s Abooot Time.

I have arrived. Canada, here I am. And what a tormented weather situation going on here. One day hot, next day cold and I AM BEING MOCKED FOR WEARING MY COAT WHEN IT IS COLD. Clothing etiquette defies just about everything here. Yesterday was a tad on the chilly side yet I passed a guy wearing shorts, a cut off shirt and flip-flops. Now, while he did have a rather impressive array of tattoos to show off, I was horrified at the amount of skin he was displaying in lukewarm weather.

Mutter.

So, getting here was relatively uneventful. Heathrow was Heathrow…. A mind-boggling sea of illogical thinking, Duty Free seems to have erased the “duty” and “free” aspects of the concept and communication barriers are loud and proud. . There was an unpleasant incident with my feta cheese tart- I couldn’t understand the waiter and he couldn’t understand me. I got my tart eventually but kept checking for an unsanitary or nasty little surprise.

I thoroughly recommend British Airways for all your aeronautical needs. A delightful airline complete with air stewards that fill you up with too much wine and compliment you on your perfume. Wonderful boys. However, Pearson airport wasn’t such a barrel of laughs. Immigration, as with all countries, is never a barrel of laughs. However, this was the first time that I was taken to one of those side rooms where you assume criminals are taken, not those on a valid work visa. I was asked to wait in an area with families from India and Pakistan among others. Fine you think, and find it would have been, had I not been left there without any information, without any guidance and without anyone even attempting to help me. Immigration Officers kept passing by ignoring my requests until finally a lovely female immigration officer approached me and asked, “Do you have a passport?”. The fact that I had just entered the country via an airplane was wasted. However, she instantly got into action and got me all visaed up.

Retrieving my bags was another matter. I love how airport personnel place charges on luggage carts. This is a reasonable action as it cuts down on inappropriate cart gatherings, however it really does not facilitate the traveler who doesn’t turn up with any local change. Then, to add insult to injury, you try getting change for that stupid cart machine. Yeah, it’s a rather large pain, particularly if you have to deal with the sour faced oompa loompa behind her bulletproof glass and the idiots that are oblivious to the queue concept.

Once out of the turmoil of international travel, things recovered themselves well… apart from the flood of tears when I saw Ian, (an odd blend of happiness, exhaustion and anger). So now that I am back on the old stomping ground it’s all good. Well, apart from the fact that I don’t have a job and am getting more and more depressed as the days go by. It’s one thing to have international experience, but quite another to have Canadian experience. It’s the old Catch 22 situation here and it is driving me nuts. I’m trying not to just settle for anything, instead utilizing the years and years I spent at university to some good use, and not falling foul to the immigrant trap.

Ian and I are getting on great, apart from his odd desire to see Spiderman 3. A film slated by critics. A film starring Tobey Maguire. Who should be slated with something solid. It is just me or is there something fiercely annoying about Mr. Maguire. However, in the name of international peace relations I have agreed to see it with Ian and two of his friends this week. The excitement just might kill me.

In shock news, Ian and I are considering buying bicycles to get fit. I know. Who would have thought? We have been walking lots, but Ian’s PC Plod pace does nothing for our relationship, so at least I can let him loose on Heber Downs, (local flora and fauna area) while I cycle around and around in circles on completely and utterly flat areas as I am loathe to pedal up a hill and too scared to freewheel down one. Well, the brakes could fail!

I shall write about my Orientation Day tomorrow as it is the finest definition of "ridiculous" I can think of.