'Beksinski'

I have a dilemma. I can't decide if I'm becoming an old fart or not.

I was browsing 9Gag the other night (as I do every single other night) and came across a post about an artist called Beksinski. Beksinski was a Polish artist and his work, for want of a better word, is creepy. Really creepy. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm old for finding another artist I appreciate but I'm also young because I found out about him on 9Gag. Make any sense?

People who know me, know that I don't really like horror movies. I won't go and see one in the cinema because I am all appreciative of a good night sleep without worrying that a fire-breathing, purple with pink polka-dots demon will grab my ankle that is hanging off the side of the bed and drag me straight to Hell. No-one needs that sort of thought-process before going to sleep. However, no matter how much I insist, I find the whole genre very interesting and I find these paintings very interesting. Like my previous rant about 'real art', these painting represent something: people's worst nightmares. And they're very scary, they're like photos a tourist who recently had an all-inclusive week in Hell took. And some of them match up with how I imagine 'Hell' to look like. But these paintings 'mean' something and just by looking at them, you can deduce the meaning (or find your own).

Bekinski often painted what he saw in his dreams, which makes me feel pretty sorry for the guy if this is all you're seeing in your dreams. And he lived quite the tragic life as well too.

So, Afremov and Bekinski. My two favourite artists. My ONLY two favourite artists. The only problem with Bekinski's works is that in my head, when I have the perfect family living in a perfect house, I wouldn't feel comfortable with my children seeing all these scary paintings hanging up in the living room (Original works, of course). Maybe they could be installed in the house situated on my private island. Oh well, a girl can dream...

http://www.beksinski.pl/

I think this one scares me the most. Although, add feathers and he'd look like  Aku-Aku from Crash Bandicoot.

None of these are particularly cheery but even orange, a warm colour can't make this painting look any less depressing.

This is what Hell looks like.

So yeah, that was a depressing blog. Here's a cute picture of a puppy to cheer you up!

My Montréal Bucket List

I really like bucket lists. The reason being that they always give you something to look forward to or something to try. Basically, my bucket list serves the purpose of keeping me grounded but above all, makes life just a little bit more interesting.

I have also become self-conscious that instead of blogging about the cool things I do in Montréal, all I do is consistently moan about life and all the little things that upset the natural order of things. Therefore, in a bid  to sound less depressing like Kurt Cobain and more happy like Ellen DeGeneres, with the kind assistance of my flatmates, I have made the below bucket list of things to do in Montréal before I leave in May. 

1. St Joseph's Oratory
2. The Notre Dame Basilica
3. Igloofest
4. The Snow Festival
5. La Banquise (For REAL Poutine)
6. Real Montréal - Style Bagels
7. Attend a Hockey Match
8. Visit Beaudry Metro Station (Cool Architecture)
9. Visit Old Port during the day
10. Visit the Grand Prix Circuit
11. Pilgrimage to the Bioware Studios (for my inner gamer geek)
12. Schwartz (Smoked Meat Restaurant)
13. Olympic Park and Tower
14. Biodome
15. Museum Visits
16. Beavertails Pastries
17. Juliet + Chocolat
18. High Lights Festival

An Open Letter to the Denizens of Facebook Who Are Moaning About The Weather...

(Please Note: This blog was written in an attempt to procrastinate. I'm waiting for the American Horror Story Finale at 10pm but don't really wish to read the case study for tomorrow's class either)

Dear Facebook Friends from Scotland

Once upon a time, I was like you. Once upon a time, I would have considered a temperature of -1°C unbearable. Once upon a time, six inches of snow would have resulted in a mandatory period of hibernation. Once upon a time, I would have moaned about the weather consistently.

However, my eyes have been opened and to quote the great Johnny Nash song, 'I can see clearly now that the "snow" has gone'. You see, whilst you are all whining about a minuscule layer of frost on the path, I have to walk on pure ice. Every step I take is a matter of either life or having to use my health insurance. Shall I talk about the snow? Well, I've been here nearly four weeks and there has always been snow. It's like grass now. The worst thing is that nowadays, I pray for snow. I pray for snow because it is easier to walk on than ice. I hate snow. 

Don't get me wrong, I love this city so far. The culture is great and there are so many things to see and do. The people are very friendly (even the bus drivers say 'Hi', I'm not used to that) and HEC is probably the nicest university I've ever been to, let alone study in. However, when I chose North America for exchange, I was hoping for a climate more 'Florida' than 'Siberia'. I don't wish to sound ungrateful (even though I'm probably coming across ungrateful anyway), just hold in there, I'm going to say something nice now!

Yet, despite all this, Montreal just shrugs it off and gets on with life. 30cm of snow? Well, you better get your snowshoes on because neither work or university is closed and you're expected in. Buses and Trains? Always running and are still reliable. The thing is, people here have balls. They don't let anything get in their stride, they don't make excuses and they don't moan. It's admirable. I admit, the latter is something I'm still struggling with. I'm the moaniest person I know and not a day goes by without me remarking how cold it is (I say remarking, I mean ranting). So, I guess I'm hoping that if I can take anything from this experience, it's that I learn to 'man up' about the Scottish weather.

To show you what I mean, here are a few exhibits I wish to show to the 'court'.

Exbitit A: Snow Level

Okay, so I'm not going to lie to you, this was taken a short time after the 'freak snowstorm' hit Montreal. This amount of snow is a rare occurrence but still, SNOW.

Exhibit B: Clothing Layers

This is a hideous picture, it should come with a disclaimer about going blind but for the sake of fairness, I am allowing it to be published. This picture was taken today, when I had a pair of leggings, jeans, two tops, two scarves, large fleece, winter jacket, hat and earmuffs on. And I was still cold. Why? It was -26°C. 

Exhibit C: Paths

I can deal with most things here. Snow is okay now. But pure ice on the path? No. I've fallen over twice and both times wasn't pretty. I walk slower than the elderly here and that is shameful. But I'm so frightened of breaking my legs.

So, I guess the point of this open letter was to tell my Scottish friends who feel the constant need to moan about the weather TO MAN THE FUCK UP AND GET A GRIP. PEOPLE HAVE TO DEAL WITH FAR WORSE. EVEN FAR WORSE THAN WHAT I'M DEALING WITH. STOP BEING PUSSIES AND GET ON WITH IT. 

'Ahem' have a nice day!

Amy :)

P.S. Yesterday, my Auntie's gorgeous Golden Retriever, Robbie, sadly passed away. I know he was only a dog and perhaps some people don't appreciate how upsetting this can be to people but I was gutted to hear about his death (and cried on FaceTime, I'm not even ashamed). He was such a nice-natured dog, with his dopey wee eyes and inability to climb stairs without a push. We will always have the memories, such as when he jumped on my parent's bed on Christmas Day when we looked after him. So, God love you Robbie Dog, you will be sadly missed!

Welcome To My New Life.

Okay, I can hear all the complaints for not blogging all the way from Canada, so pipe down! I apologise for being pretty silent on the blog front in the last week or so but the reason is quite simple: I've been ill and pretty much done nothing. See, Canada didn't like me to begin with so I think it tried to kill me off. However, I persevered and now, I have a health bar at about 90%.

So, in a bid to satiate all of your appetites and jump back on the wagon, I've cheated by not blogging in a traditional sense (mwahaha) and instead, made a video starring me as myself and my flat. I hope you enjoy my dulcet, albeit slightly wheezy tones.

There is such a thing as a free lunch...

Apart from pain and heartache, the worst feeling in the world is hearing your alarm go off in the morning. The same, familiar beep always induces a painful groan at having to abandon the warmth of your bed and actually 'do stuff'. What's worse is that if you use a song that you like as your alarm, you eventually associate it with the negative painfulness of waking up and you begin to hate the song. To this day, I cannot listen to 'Sahara' by Nightwish without feeling physically sick.

Luckily, I didn't sleep through the alarm on Thursday morning as I usually do and woke at 7am. I put some toast in the toaster before realising that the university were providing it today and gleefully put it back in the cupboard (another day's lunch, woo hoo)! We all got ready and headed to the university which is about a ten minute walk (or fifteen minutes for slow walkers like me...) and got to the steps of HEC Montreal and ventured inside. We asked at reception where we were due to go and was directed to go up the stairs to the cafeteria. It's hard to describe how I felt when I saw inside for the first time but I was quite overwhelmed with how beautiful it is. It's so modern, sleek, clean, white, fresh and ... cool. Cool is probably the perfect word to describe it. We were told to register at a desk and we were given a sticker with our name and home country on it before being directed to the breakfast table. I have to say, I was very impressed, it was like a Hilton Breakfast (which I am now very accustomed to and can vouch they are awesome). Settling for a Croissant and what looked like Pain au Chocolat, I sat with my flatmates. 

After about half an hour we were directed into the 'Amphitheatre' (loving all the posh rooms already) and were introduced to International Exchange Office personnel, who were all very nice, friendly and warm. They gave us a lecture on Montreal, how to survive Winter (hibernation isn't an option apparently, damn) and a basic introduction into life here. We were then directed to the cafeteria again and waited for lunch to be served (my purse was rejoicing). Lunch was amazing, nice sandwiches, pasta, houmous... I can tell you all right now that Strathclyde would never prepare a spread like that. The Danish Whirls were also pretty awesome. Whilst collecting our lunch, we were given our 'Fresher's Week' wristbands, which would give us access to pretty much every activity under the sun (or snow, whatever). 

After lunch, we explored a bit more of the building and discovered that there are no room numbers in HEC, rather they are all named after local businesses, who probably sponsor them (quite clever I think). For example, there was Scotia Banque, KPMG, Xerox Canada etc. (None of these I have heard of, of course). The rooms look amazing inside as well, comfy chairs, big screens. It really does make Strathclyde look like a rubbish heap and even though I may crave for home, I doubt I will look forward to returning to the Strathclyde campus (or starting a dissertation for that matter).

After delaying the inevitable, we finally joined the back of the registration queue to pay for our health insurance. I'm not even exaggerating when I say the queue didn't move for an hour and then we had to go and show our passport to someone and that took about twenty minutes too. However, as soon as it was done, we decided to show Ludovica where the supermarket was and help her get some stuff. The paths were really slippy that day and I was taking my time but also lagging behind (normal Amy speed really). We eventually made it to the supermarket, albeit, the scenic route and I was celebrating having made it. Until I put my foot off the kerb and slipped on a bit of ice. It was weird, as I was falling backwards, I had enough time to think 'Oh no' before I landed. Luckily, I landed on my bum and my bones were still intact. This is a win for me. Never have I been so happy to carry excess weight! However, I made a decision there and then to avoid shortcuts and follow all paths. It's weird, you lose your confidence a wee bit but you have to get back out there. 

We walked to Pharmaprix, a sort of Boots and I looked for painkillers, having been blessed with the foresight that I was going to have a very sore arse in the morning. However, at $10 for a packet of Tylenol  I preferred suffering the pain. I'm not sure why they don't do 39p packets of Paracetamol here, the prices here are just ridiculous. We then waited at Fido for about an hour before going to the shops. By the time we got home, it was about seven and we needed to leave the house at quarter to eight to go to the first bar of  Fresher's Week. I managed to wolf down some left over pasta from the day before (I am so into the leftover food movement, it's glorious) and put a bit of slap on before heading to HEC. We then had to walk to the bar, which was for me, a hard slog of a walk and we passed Decelles, the other building which I have the misfortune of having a class at 8.30am on a Tuesday. We then went to Bar Tabasco, which turned out to be a ten minute walk from our apartment. We had gone in a circle. Lovely.

Bar Tabasco was great. The drink prices were not too shabby and I got the opportunity to speak to a lot of my fellow exchange students, in a relaxed environment, where we could head each other speak. We then walked home after a few hours and went to bed early, to be up and ready for another amazeballs lecture (yay).

Tea in a Saucepan is how we roll...

Wednesday arrived with a 'clatterboom' as I heard my landlady's shrill voice at 9am, heralding the arrival of our Chinese flatmate, Ka Ki (or Katrina). All I can say is that I'm glad Aziza was up and about otherwise they would have been standing behind that door for a long time. An interesting thing that I should point out which I have noticed both at Strathclyde last year and in Montreal is that students coming from China often choose English-sounding names as monikers during their studies. As cool as this is, I also feel slightly sorry that Chinese people feel the need to choose names that people find easier to pronounce. For example, I would hate to simplify my name, it's my name and everyone should know it (I'm not sure why I'm going on a bizarre tangent here, I'm tired).

Anyway, I hurriedly pulled on my clothes, not wanting to meet my new flatmate in nothing but pyjamas and tried in vain to mould my hair into an acceptable style. We introduced ourselves and spoke to her for a while. She had had an insane 18-hour journey from Hong Kong and was very jet-lagged, poor thing. Leaving Ka Ki to adjust and settle in, I went into the kitchen to prepare a seemingly simple breakfast of toast. Except the fact that the toaster is broken and you have to physically hold the toast down whilst it cooks. I mean, Jesus wept and that's all I have to say on the matter.

However, at around 11am, the landlady very kindly offered to drive us around the block and show us the local landmarks. Firstly she took us to the shopping centre near us, which is probably similar to a retail park. Inside, there was a supermarket, Metro, which I would describe as the equivalent of Morrison's, a shop very similar to B&M and 'Dollarama', a one-dollar shop and possibly my favourite shop here so far (I am a genuinely poor student now, after all). The landlady very kindly waited whilst we did some shopping and then drove us back home, which was great considering how heavy our bags were, via HEC Montreal, which was the first time I had seen it in reality. I have to say, It's quite an impressive building, if not slightly ugly. Although, as my cousin said, it was 'probably sexy in the nineties'.

After we were dropped back home, I fluttered around, trying to make sense of my biggest enemy since the rope frame at the gym, the American-style washing machine. I believe that the washing machine is its own entity, has its own mind and has one goal and one goal only, the goal being to confuse every single international student who uses it. There are so many dials on this thing... I didn't even know where to begin. By a random act of divine intervention or magic, I managed to get some things washed but they didn't turn out very well (although, it might be because the detergent is from Dollarama, go figure).

It's always after you've been shopping that you realise you have forgotten something and I realised that I needed to get another pillow. I have a King-Size bed in Montreal (which I'm not used to, I still use only one side of it, although I intend to learn the spread eagle position momentarily) and I only had one pillow. Not only do I have four at home (don't gasp at me, they are flat and firm, not these big, soft fluffy monstrosities) but the bed just doesn't look right with one pillow. So, I decided to be a big girl and venture out on my own, back to the retail park. I was quite proud of myself for undertaking this expedition, mainly because if I fell and injured myself, I would probably be left to die in the snow (like what happens to climbers on Mount Everest).

I made it to the retail park unscathed and headed to SUPERMAX (the B&M) and found a pillow for $8, which I thought was pretty good. The other thing I needed was a king size sheet because the double one I bought would not fit, no matter how many times I pulled and stretched it. The cheapest one they had was $35 so I think I can live with the double sheet not quite fitting the whole bed for the moment (I've taken student living to extremes). Then, I headed to Dollarama, which is genuinely amazing, bought a few bits and pieces before buying milk at Metro and making my way home. And I made it back alive. Put it this way, if it was socially acceptable to high five yourself, I would have, I was so proud of myself.

Then, I Facetimed my family and it was genuinely great to see them all. It's probably the best part of my day. But then as soon as I sign off, I get a wee bit teary-eyed and start to miss them. Sometimes, I wish they'd just put my sister's iPhone on the sofa, in front of the TV and then I could be with them for a few hours, sort of like a robot. But that would be silly (but possible, I think it could work, wishful thinking...) I'm not sure if these bouts of homesickness are going to pass or not but I hope so. Sometimes, I think I'm being silly because I see my flatmates and they don't seem as homesick as me. Bleurgh!

Around about 8pm, Nana, our Japanese flatmate arrived with her two friends to move some of her stuff into the apartment. When I say 'some' stuff, I mean it looked like she had robbed a shop because she had about fifteen different bags with different things in them. I thought the apartment might explode. Once her friends had helped her move in, we all sat down and had a wee chat (and her friends had a well-deserved rest) before they all went to the bar. It seems I'm not as hardcore as I like to think I am because I didn't go. About an hour later, Ludovica, the last flatmate arrived with friends of her family and she settled in, before going to bed, exhausted from a day's flying. Whilst she was getting a tour, Aziza, Ka Ki and me decided it was a good idea to have a cup of tea and retrieved the kettle. All was well until we looked inside the kettle and discovered it was as black as night. Yuck. So, we settled for the next best thing, a saucepan. Lovely. The best part was that as we were huddled around this saucepan waiting for the water to boil, the landlady described our kitchen to Ludovica as 'well-equipped'. Uh huh.

However, the tea was a success and after a nice wee chat and a laugh, we decided to go to bed because some bright spark at HEC Montreal thought that everyone would like to come for a welcome meeting at 8.30am. Nom.

New Year, New Me...

Despite going to bed at 4am after getting back from Old Port, I was bright-eyed and bushy tailed at 9.30am and set about packing my case in preparation for moving into my new apartment later that day. It felt great not having to live out of a suitcase anymore but I was really nervous and I felt sad that I was leaving the safe, cotton-wool environment that I had experienced with my cousin and Benoit. It was like a bird flying from the nest, setting out on its own. And I was worried about whether my flatmates would like me or not. Stressing about everything, no different from reality really.

We had lunch and chilled for a few hours. Luckily, because my cousin and Benoit are so nice, they took one of my cases each and all I had to carry was my rucksack and shopping bags. I felt a bit like a Princess, truth be told. And lazy.

We had to take two buses and traipse through enough snow to bury an Eskimo but we eventually made it to Avenue de Kent, my home for the next four months. The street overlooks a park, which although covered in snow, would probably look lovely in Summer. We made it to the apartment and were greeted by the landlady, who took us upstairs and showed me my room. Usually, when you see pictures of an apartment on the internet, you can't tell if your room is going to be like that but I was pleasantly surprised. My room is lovely and very spacious (not something I'm used to).

Then, I met my first lovely flatmate, Aziza, who is from Milan, Italy with Egyptian origins (quite exotic)! We spoke to the landlady for a little while before she started 'cleaning' again. (I think her standards of cleaning are very different to Aziza and my standards of cleaning). I was then very rude to my new flat mate and left for a few hours to have New Year's Day pizza round my cousin's, courtesy of Pizza Pizza. The cool thing about this company is that as soon as you order online, there is a 20-minute countdown timer and if your order is not ready in 20 minutes, you get it for free! Sadly, that didn't happen to us. However, the better news is that the pizza was amazing and so were the chicken nuggets (Omnomnom).

Then, Michael and I got the two buses back to my apartment and arrived at my humble abode where we bid farewell. It was sad seeing the only familiar face in Montreal leave me but I mustered up my stiff British upper lip and carried on to the front door, which I couldn't open and had to get Aziza to open it instead. What a fail.

How the Brave New World Arrives...

I have to say, I find myself strange but usually, I really can take or leave New Year. I always find it a sad time of year, whether its looking back and saying 'Goodbye' to a really amazing year or remembering the events that happened to make a year not so great. Additionally, I cannot put my hands up and say I've ever been truly 'blootered' at New Year before either. And it's not through lack of trying. For example, if we look at Exhibit A, this is a picture of my alcohol from two years ago.

A valiant effort, I think you will agree

I only had half a half bottle of Vodka left over from that and I felt nothing more than tipsy, what a let down. But this is not to say I don't enjoy New Year. I love going up to Inverness for the celebrations and I was sad that I couldn't take part in the revelry this year. 2012 was sort of a 'meh' year for me, mainly because nothing really exciting happened. Sure, I had a great time in Wales and Norfolk but missing T in the Park was disappointing, no matter how much mud there was. So, I have endeavoured to make 2013 the greatest year ever (especially seeing as we didn't die in the apocalypse).

On Monday, we went through our normal routine, which I'm sure you are all familiar with by now and decided to go to the supermarket that was down the road from my cousin's. As it turns out, this was my first taste of fending for myself as I was given the reins to do some shopping of my own. My bill eventually came to about $50 and that was just for the bare minimum of basics. Butter, cheese slices, ham, bread, shampoo, conditioner, bubble bath, pringles (which were the cheapest crisps, believe me) besides others. I could cry but I can't afford the tissues to wipe the tears away.

We then headed back to the apartment and chilled for a few hours before getting ready to go out. At 7pm, we rang out respective mothers and fathers who were both spending New Year with each other to wish them a 'Happy New Year'. It was quite strange, ringing them from the past when they were already in 2013. Not that they cared anyway, I think most of them were pretty sozzled! We then caught the bus to the Old Port where we were going to spend New Year. We had booked a table at a Mexican restaurant for half eight and was given the set menu. I can't even describe how yummy the food was. For starter, we had a plate of traditional Mexican food, such as Nachos, Guacamole, Salsa, Black Beans... Oh my, I was in food heaven and that was before my enchilada came. Om nom nom. All washed down with a few Pina Coladas. And the best part about that was the fact that neither my cousin or Benoit liked cherries so I got those as well (part of your five a day, glaces cherries...).

However, The best part about the restaurant was the entertainment. Halfway through our meal, a two-man Mariachi band went round each table and played a song for each table. When he got to my table, he asked if I had any requests. In hindsight, I should have requested 'Gangnam Style' but I think Santana was about as modern as it got with this band and stated I had no preference. It didn't matter though because they were amazing and they made my night.

After the meal, we headed down to the Old Port where the street party was just getting underway. There was a lot of hustle and bustle and the Old Port definitely wins the most prettiest part of the city award. There are just so many old, pretty and grand buildings, it's all very impressive. We made it onto the main street, where a live band were playing songs by artists such as One Direction, which although aren't my favourite (and that's an understatement), it got the mood going. We then crossed the road to the waterway and were given a pair of what looked like retro 3D glasses. It wasn't until we put them on, we realised that they had a kaleidoscope effect on lights. And they were amazing. Amazing in a sort of trippy, psychedelic LSD trip. In fact, I'm pretty sure I know how The Beatles felt like when they tried LSD.

We then took a walk around, past the Ice Skating rink before taking our position for the bells and the beginning of fireworks. There was the big countdown, the cheering and fist pumps to welcome 2013 before the fireworks started. And they were fantastic. Although I'm not sure if it was the glasses that made them more spectacular. In fact, those glasses would probably make any back garden fare look spectacular. It is my theory that they mass produced these glasses because it was cheaper than buying amazing fireworks. But in any case, it still looked amazing and I will be taking these glasses to every firework display I go to now (because I go to firework displays so regularly, of course).

After the fireworks, the party really got started, with a Coca Cola sponsored DJ set, which was amazing. The setlist was excellent and there was free cans of Coca Cola just flitting about. My cousin, Benoit and me spent the next hour just dancing in the snow, even doing Gangnam Style in it (and I don't think many people could say they have done that). We then headed back to the apartment and eventually got in about 4am, which to someone who had just started a sleeping pattern, was quite tiring. 

I can safely say that that was one of the best New Year celebrations I've ever been to. So maybe in the future I won't be such a sourpuss (well, not about New Year anyway, I'm still an eighty-year old woman stuck in a twenty year old's body). And that will never change. Fact.

You can take the girl out of Sainsbury's but you can't take Sainsbury's out of the girl...

Sunday arrived and already, my cousin, his flatmate and me had already settled into a familial routine. We'd all get up around half ten, have a spot of breakfast, watch a bit of TV or go on the internet, shower, make a sandwich and then go out for about 1pm. Today, after a slight debate between the shops or the Old Port, we decided to go to the shopping hub of Montreal, St. Catherine's. St. Catherine's has its fair share of normal malls of course but it is the underground city that is really worth seeing. We grabbed a bus which took us downtown and then walked (or slid in my case) a wee bit until we got to a snowman-guarded entrance and descended into a mall.

Now, I guess it isn't very impressive because it just looks and feels like a mall but when you realise that you're underground, that's when the impressiveness hits you. The best thing is, it's pretty much never-ending because as one mall ends, another one begins. It genuinely goes on for miles and there are so many shops, I wouldn't like to guess how many there were but I would hazard a guess and say 'a lot' (which is a correct description of quantity, thank you very much). 

We wandered a fair bit and eventually came across Montreal's main train station, which looked slightly like central. Here, you can catch a train to most of the major cities in the vicinity, including Toronto, Quebec City and New York. Definitely something to bear in mind methinks. Beyond the train station, we hit the 1000 centre, which had the prettiest Christmas decorations I think I've ever seen. Inside the centre, there was an Ice Rink. My cousin, his flatmate (who is called Benoit, much easier to use) and me all looked at each other and collectively chickened out. At least it runs in the family...

Eventually, we made it back and hit IGA again, albeit a different branch. We bought some stuff for Caesar Salad and then went through the Self Scan. Now, maybe I was being over zealous but I thought that by leaving the country, I could escape the bane of my life. But alas, life doesn't work like that because as it turns out, IGA have installed the exact same Self Scan machines Sainsbury's use. And then, when my cousin pointed out that every time he scanned an item, it didn't beep, I knew exactly how to fix it. Sad as fuck.

We then got a metro and bus back to the apartment and settled down to a nice Caesar Salad, which was pretty awesome. We then watched NCIS, Criminal Minds etc. I thought that because I was in 'North America', these would be brand new episodes but it turns out Canada likes to show repeats as well. Sounds about right. We also ate cake during NCIS, a cake called Elizabeth cake which is a sort of Coconut concoction. 

To be honest, if everyday was like this, life wouldn't be so bad. Shame I don't have disposable income to spend in the shops anymore. Sigh, paying bills sucks!