The Journey to Asianhood

It's 2.48am in the morning and I've been lying in my bed for the past hour doing nothing but watch K-Pop videos. Then, I was hit with a realisation not too dissimilar from getting figuratively slapped in the face with a wet fish. Not only has it been about an age since I last wrote a blog but also, a huge change in my life has occurred that should be given the chance to take centre stage and bow with pride. Therefore, I want my readers to be happy that I am dedicated enough to blog when I could be getting precious sleep (the real reason is that I will forget in the morning so don't feel guilty).

I'll try not beat around the bush (although from the title, I'm sure you can guess where I'm heading with this).When I came on exchange, I was expecting to embrace the Quebecoise culture (not the Canadian culture sadly, Quebec is virtually its own country). However, instead of eating snails or actively pursuing a career of permanently wearing berets, I have seized the opportunity to reject my Scottish roots and become something completely different.

Ladies and Gentlemen, it's time I came out from behind the Oriental screen (I tried googling Japanese closet and it never really worked, my analogies are getting worse).

I am Asian.

Okay, I'm not Asian but I want to be and since I have had the pleasure of making very good friends with people from Japan, South Korea, Thailand, Taiwan and China (I'm so multi-cultural now), I have taken the best parts of each culture and melded them together to become a 'Super-Mega Happy Asian'. I admit, it sounds bizarre but bare with me (and since when have I ever been normal).

Here below I will list the various areas of 'Asianhood' that I have adopted.

Photos

It seems I've been Asian for quite sometime because I am infamous for taking photos. I am the bane of my friend's lives because no matter where we go, my trusty camera is always ready, whether it is to catch a questionable facial expression or taking tourist photos in Bangor (It was my first time in Wales, give me a break).

Chopsticks

When I first sat around the table with my Asian friends for dinner and picked up my chopsticks and used them with the grace of a geisha (albeit a clumsy geisha), there were some gasps of surprise, shock that I could even hold them properly, let alone use them. Not one to shy away from basking in glory, I felt a sense of pride but ashamedly, I didn't tell them that not only can most people use them but my own sister has been using them since she was like nine. However, whilst my skills in 'chopstickery' are not particularly noteworthy, what is noteworthy is that I am now the proud owner of my own pair of bright pink chopsticks which I received for my 21st birthday. It was probably one of the best presents I've ever received. Ah, the simple things in life, who'd have known one could get so excited by eating utensils?

My very own pair of Chopsticks, I will be whipping these out at Yo Sushi!

Food

Obviously, a natural deviation from chopsticks would be the food you eat with them. I have always said this and I'll say it again. I could happily live on Asian food for the rest of my life. I can assure you that I all eat here is Teriyaki Chicken. It's 'phuking' awesome. Additionally, I've had Taiwanese cuisine, copious amounts of sushi made by my wonderful Japanese flatmate Nana, Thai noodles and Chinese dumplings. I swear, I will be the size of a sumo wrestler but I will be full of happiness. God, it's so good.

Samples from the Tai-Thai dinner

'So Sad'

The origins of 'So Sad' are blurry. I believe Nana said it first and it's something that has caught like WILDFIRE. It's hard to explain but I think that describing a situation as 'so sad' is a very Asian thing to say (I don't know how to describe it, I'm just natural Asian now). I say 'So sad' all the time. ALL THE TIME. Now, I even say it to people back home. And if the situation is not sad, it's 'so cute'. Even my language is changing.

Film and Television

Okay, I was already in the foray of Japanese films with my fandom concerning Deathnote and Battle Royale. However, after watching Deathnote with Nana, I found it a better experience. And, I watched a South Korean programme called 'Running Man' with Ka Ki which seemed to be like a gameshow. I had no idea what was going on if I'm honest but it was funny.

Karaoke

I consider doing Karaoke with Asians a rite of passage towards Asianhood. I mean, how many people can say they've done karaoke with Taiwanese, South Korean, Chinese and Japanese people? Additionally, karaoke is completely different experience with Asians (and sober). For one, they're actually all pretty good at it but they also take it serious, pouring raw emotion into their singing. There's no laughing either, it's a nice environment. I have to admit that I was surprised by the quality of songs that were sang. Even Keane's 'Somewhere Only We Know' was chosen. Unfortunately, however, I have a complete inability to choose a song that is not cheesy in some way. I chose 'Mamma Mia' and sang a duet with Rocio of 'Summer Nights'... Yeah.

KARAOKE.

Music

I've left the best till last. I have always had an ecletic music taste, it's true and with my love of Eurovision being proof that music does not need to be in my own language to enjoy it, it was only natural that I would develop a love for K-Pop. However, there is one band that I nigh-obsessed with and that band is called 'Super Junior'. It's a pop group made up of about 13 boys and their songs are so good.

Not only have I spent the last few evenings attempting to learn all of their names but I have also identified my favourites, Siwon and Khuhyun. Nom is all that is left to be said.

My love began during the aforementioned karaoke session when some bright and wonderful spark chose a song called 'Sorry Sorry'. I got home and googled it and immediately fell in love. I downloaded it off iTunes and repeated it on my iPod ever since. Then, last week, I discovered another song called 'Mr Simple' which has reached number 21 on my Top 25 Most Played list already. I'm not sure whether I am to feel ashamed or proud. And tonight, I have found another song that beats all of them, A-Cha. Already downloaded. The thing about Super Junior is that the majority of them are hot, they are insanely good at dancing and the songs are completely catchy. They could be about the taste of miso soup for all I know but they're still epic songs. Another honourable K-Pop mention would be Girl Generation.

YES.

'Sorry Sorry' Dance

This obsession with K-Pop has culminated in a phenomenon known as the 'Sorry Sorry' dance. Due to prolonged exposure of the 'Sorry Sorry' video, I became automatically synchronised with the dance at the chorus. It came to a head during the gala where we performed the dance to any song that matched the beat. Good times.

So yeah, I think I have put forward a compelling (and long) argument towards becoming an accepted denizen of 'Asianhood'. Having been told by many of my friends that I am more Asian than them, I am extremely confident that my application will be accepted.

Long live Asia (and Super Junior).

I will leave with one of their videos so you can all fall in love with them, just like I have. Additionally, please be sure to look up 'Sorry Sorry' and 'Mr Simple'. And if you want more, check out 'Gee' by Girls Generation. I feel like a K-Pop master.

Sugar Shack: Another Québécoise Experience...

On Friday night, Nana, Aziza, Jungyoon (who convieniently lives next door) and I went to a 'Cabane á Sucre' or a 'Sugar Shack', about an hour outside of Montréal. Believe me, calling it a sugar shack is an understatement but more of that later.

In simple terms, a sugar shack is a front for producers of maple syrup. The 'harvesting' time for maple syrup, typically tends to be between March and April and so, whilst there is still plenty of maple syrup to go around, these producers tend to open sugar shacks during this period so both Montréalers and foreign visitors such as yours truly can sample the delectable delights of a traditional and sweet Quebec meal.

We all got into the coach and made our way there. You have no idea how cool it is to be going places on a coach again. It's like I've been transported back in time to school, where school trips used to induce excitement and happiness. I love having that feeling again. Anyway, we arrived at the sugar shack just as the sun was setting and it was pretty much exactly as I had imagined it. A shack. There was nothing particularly special about it and inside was pretty much your standard log cabin decor (or what I imagine to be a pretty standard log cabin, not that I am an expert in the interior design of log cabins, that might be Lawrence Llewellyn Bowen's field of expertise more than mine).

Yes, the icicles are real!

We were shown into a room where there were large tables set out and we all settled down to enjoy this meal. The process is simply sit down and a waitress will bring you your food (and you can ask for as many helpings as you want). As we had all starved ourselves for this promised meal of majestic quality (and quantity), the bread sitting on the table looked too inviting and we all practically wolfed it down in mere seconds. Alexandre, one of the organisers, told us not to eat too much bread because we would need room for later. Obviously, Alexandre had underestimated the power of my stomach because I can not describe the level of hunger I was feeling.

The first course came out, which was a nice and gentle Pea soup to get the ball rolling. However, after one sip, something was not quite right about it. I couldn't really put my finger on it but continued to eat it anyway (refer back to previous paragraph about starvation for more clarification). It was only when I hit the bottom of the bowl that I realised that maple syrup had been added to the recipe. Now, I have a sweet tooth (obviously) but c'mon, really? After the soup was finished (and I did finish it, I am not quitter), there was a small amount of time between the soup being cleared away and the main course, we decided to have a peek at some of the condiments on offer. Now, usually, I'm not a huge fan of pickles but as the ravenous part of my personality came out to play, I decided to try one. I am not even lying when I say that the pickles were pickled in maple syrup. However, there was a lovely chutney that deserves a mention because even though that had maple syrup in it, it was good. Pickles in maple syrup however, are not acceptable.

Finally, after what had seemed like an age, the main meal came out. It was almost like an English breakfast with scrambled eggs, smoked sausage, ham, baked beans and potatoes. Except, of course, everything has maple syrup in it. I'm not even lying, if you were unaware of the fact you were diabetic, you would have definitely known after this meal. It was crazy. Even the baked beans were in maple syrup... And then pudding. Need I talk about pudding? Cake with maple syrup or Maple syrup tart? My heart was racing faster than a fat man in a cake shop (ironic really). Probably the craziest part of the meal though was when Nana discovered the odd but rather tasty combination of Pork scratchings drizzled with maple syrup (yeah, we were pretty much all having heart attacks at this point).

English breakfast or Quebec Tradition? Only one way to find out...

Once the plates were all cleared away, the table was strewn like a battlefield. Everywhere I turned, I could see defeat in all of my friend's eyes. Food had beaten us all once again. And then, some soul announced that they were serving maple syrup taffy outside on ice. Well, didn't we all just stand up and make our way outside? Yes, yes we did and I don't regret a thing.

We made our way around to the back of the cabin where there were troughs filled with snow. Then this guy poured boiled maple syrup over the snow where it cooled just enough so that it became a sort of sticky, pliable consistency, which when rolled with a lolly pop stick, could be consumed easily. Long story short, it tasted awesome. And the guy kept coming round with this jug whilst we were being educated on how maple syrup was made (I can't lie, I wasn't really concentrating). I think the worst part was that I heard someone lamenting how they had had two whilst I was popping my fourth into my mouth (no regrets).

Showing how it's done!

After a small tour of the workshop and a group photo, it was decided that we would all get back onto the bus and make our way back to Montréal.

There's two things about this experience I would like to point out. One, it is probably the only time and opportunity I will have to ever visit a sugar shack as it is very ingrained in the Quebec culture and not necessarily obvious to outsiders. Plus the fact I hope I never come back here in March or April. And two, I did not fall over at all (which is what usually happens during trips with HEChange). Hooray!

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.

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.

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!

Bonjour Montreal!

Bonjour from Montreal! Finally, I now have the opportunity to sit down and blog about my first proper day here in this wonderful, albeit snowy city before I forget all the details. Currently, I'm unable to post pictures but I will endeavour to do so on Tuesday, when I move into my OWN apartment (super mega adult mode activated).

So, where do I begin? Well, as the immortal Julie Andrews once said, the beginning is a very good place to start (and I think I just out-camped myself there, bravo).

After spending a wonderful, sordid four hours sleeping in my own bed for the last time, I was rudely awakened at 5.50am by my alarm and had my last ever Scottish shower, which I felt had to be noted. I'm not sure if other people do this when they go on holiday or what not but I actually went upstairs said 'Goodbye' to my bedroom out loud. I can't really decide if that's mental or not but it felt right. It's the little things in life...

We all left the house at 7am and drove to the airport and a strange occurrence happened on the way there, when 'Good Riddance' by Green Day came on the radio. Never have those lyrics been so apt and appropriate. It was like some weird, divine intervention sort of thing. We arrived at the airport and checked in before heading up to just outside security where the time came to bid farewell to my family. I'm not even lying when I say it was absolute horrific, everyone was crying, even the boys! Seriously, between my mother and myself, wet floor signs were probably placed and a mop needed after we had left. Somehow, I managed to leave them behind though and head through security before buying a few bottles of water and a necessary, obligatory puzzle book from WHSmith.

Now, one thing about flying from Glasgow to London is that you don't get much time to roam about in the Duty Free, which was quite sad although, from another perspective, it was crazy how efficient it was. All in all, the flight down to London Heathrow was superb, the only thing that happened was that the plane dipped for about two seconds and I genuinely thought that we were either going to crash, or if it happened again, I would die of a heart attack because mine's was racing. This was made worse by the fact that I was playing Temple Run and I do this bizarre, stupid thing when I play it, where I bet myself that if I don't get above a certain score, something bad will happen, which then turns up the pressure and usually gets me through. For some reason, I decided to tempt fate by saying if I didn't get above a million, the plane would crash. Why my scumbag of a brain decided to think this up, I don't know. But I will never do it again. Idiot.

I arrived at Heathrow and made it straight into Terminal 5... which was one of the coolest things I've ever seen. It was like a shopping mall. You had your WHSmith, Boots, then you sort of worked your way up, past souvenirs and Duty Free to the really high end shops, such as Gucci and Prada. Needless to say, I did not venture into these shops because I looked exactly like Oscar the Grouch from Sesame Street, minus the bin. I roamed for a bit as I had a good three hours to kill before my connecting flight to Montreal and then 12pm hit which meant lunchtime. I went upstairs I was confronted with the worst dilemma I've come across in a while. Wagamama's or Giraffe. Genuinely, I walked between them about five times, deciding which one to go to. I was surprised I wasn't accosted by security and taken for questioning because I must have looked suspicious. It was a hard call but at the end of the day, I decided on Giraffe. Now, at first, I felt a bit pathetic asking for a table for one, until you're suddenly front of the queue and shown to your table immediately. After that, I soon forget about being on my lonesome and celebrated the solitude with a diet coke (I actually typed 'cock' there, thought you all oughta know that). After some Chicken Popsticks and a weird combination of Mac n' Cheese with tortilla chips (I regretted that choice afterwards, the burger sounded so much better), I got a seat somewhere and relaxed before getting a tram to my boarding gate and boarded my flight.

The flight to Montreal was amazing and went surprisingly quick. The in-flight entertainment was impeccable, with The Big Bang Theory, How I Met Your Mother, Michael McIntyre's Comedy Roadshow, Inception and Brave all getting nommed. The meals were actually decent too. And I got a snooze, which never happens on a plane. Ever.

Finally, after seven hours, we touched down in Montreal and I have to say, seeing all the city lights from the sky got me all excited and buzzing in general. My first contact with the cold was when I noticed the access corridor from the plane to the terminal was frozen and covered with ice. I can't say that was a great sign of things to come.

I think I have bored everyone now which this overly long and unnecessary blog about airports. Sorry! Part two coming to a screen near you soon!

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.