The Home Run

Right Now: 'The Vortex' - Hadouken!

"Day 83 in the big Montreal House". These very words terrify me. I can't even believe it's possible that those many days have gone by since I first set foot in Montreal. And it's been a period of time where there has been a lot of highs and of course, with any new experience, a few lows too.

I cannot lie, exchange life hasn't always a bed of roses. There were the infestations of mice and recently, ants that I've had to contend with, which doubled with my other flatmates 'rocky' relationship with our landlady (she loves me, she gave me a Chinese pear) has not helped. Then, there's of course the weather, which really is nothing short of abysmal, especially when about 12 inches of snow decides to dump all over Montreal at the end of March. It's rather unacceptable. And of course, the most obvious factor is the constant longing to see my best friends and family again. I think, you could travel the entire world, experience and see the most wonderful things the globe has to offer and yet, I don't think there is anywhere quite like home (even East Kilbride, even East Kilbride). It's a deep-rooted connection that can't be broken, you can hear it calling you back and there comes a time when you just can't fight it anymore.

However, and this is a big 'However'. I am now getting to the stage where I'm so settled into a routine here that it almost feels like home. I realised it today when I walked 'home' from university and I didn't have to think about which way to go or which path to take. I just did it automatically and when the experience has entered your sub conscience, it starts to hit you that this place maybe means slightly more to you than you first thought. I enjoy being able to wake up when I want to, choosing when to eat, what to eat, when to shop, where to go out for dinner... The freedom of choice is literally limitless and that for me, is something which is priceless. I have also had great opportunities to travel, the highlight being meeting my family in New York City. It was a dream to go there and usually, when you people say 'OhmyGosh, New York is the best place ever' you wonder, can it really be that good? Well, I can tell you honestly it is. Boston was also a very beautiful place and somewhere I really think I would enjoy living permanently. Finally and the most important thing is, I have met some truly lovely people here who I hope I can be friends with for life. At first, I found it difficult because I missed a lot of fresher's week due to illness and other factors. I admit, I felt out of the loop for a long time. But gradually, you build on it and you meet new people. I mean, if I had to put it in simple terms, sixteen people came out for my birthday and I've known them around two and a half months. Last year, about fourteen people came out for my birthday and I've known them for years. It's nice to know that wherever I go in Asia, I will always have a friend there and I hope these people they will always have a friend in Scotland too.

So, now it's the home run. I have 53 days left to make this exchange the best experience of my life so far. And with events such as Toronto and Niagara Falls and Spring coming, I don't think it will difficult! 

NB: As some of you may have seen, I recently became a blogger for Fireball Liqueur Official UK. My  first blog hasn't been published yet but I'm really excited! I'm not sure how this is going to affect the frequency of this blog (which you know, is pretty much non-existant anyway) but I really want to try keeping them both going. So, I would really appreciate it if I could see the same level of support for my Fireball blog as I do for this one (plus you might actually win goodies and you'll be getting a guaranteed blog from me twice a month).

Thanks dear readers!

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.

The Pork Chop Analogy

A few months ago, I posted a blog in which I promised to explain something I have affectionately named 'The Pork Chop Analogy'. It's been a while since that blog post now but I think you're all finally ready to hear the explanation as it is only fair.

The premise is pretty simple really. You just need to accept the fact that the pork chop is the most horrible and disgusting foodstuff in the entire world.

Never has anything graced my plate so tasteless, oily, tough, pale, fatty, grisly, chewy, bland and quite frankly, crap like a pork chop. It is the pinnacle of bad food. When I hear from mutti that tonight's dinner is Pork Chops, my heart genuinely sinks into the pit of my stomach, hoping it's digested before it has to provide the blood flow to digest the pork chop. To be honest, it just makes me sad, really sad and I can't explain why I feel so strongly about them. It's amazing to think that bacon, glorious bacon comes from the same animal as a pork chop does. The humble pig is food heaven and hell in the same entity, astonishing. I feel so strongly about pork chops that if I had the free time, I would campaign to have them banned but alas, no-one has that much time on their hands and pledging that my future children will never have to suffer it will have to do.

Now, that has been explained, back to the analogy. If you're looking for a wonderful insult to use, you can use 'The Pork Chop Analogy'.

For example: 'You're just a big pork chop' would probably reduce me to tears.

If you're having a bad day: 'That was a pork chop of a day' conveys the same meaning as 'That was a shitter of a day.'

And so on and so forth.

So, next time someone's giving you grief, tell them that they are a pork chop. Or not...

Boak.