Week 7 & 8: Working in Whistler

It has become something of a habit (dare I say a hobby) that when starting a new job, one of my first priorities is to locate the best place to go to the toilet. As crude and unnecessary as this sounds, I seriously believe that the only place one can find peace and solitude at work is in the toilet... but unfortunately not all toilets offer this - some are noisy and messy and shared with god knows how many other people. So, I'm sure you'll agree that location is key.

At my previous job at the University of Surrey, my favourite toilet was located right on the top floor of the Psychology building, up a flight of stairs that did not lead to anywhere apart from the said toilet. As a result very few people frequented this toilet and I could be sure to have a nice moment to myself away from the stress of everyday work.

So when I started my current job in the Four Seasons Hotel, I immediately set about locating for the best place to go to the toilet. I thought it might save a lot of fruitless searching if I just asked current staff members, but decided against it as I don't think this would be the best way to make new friends and it would probably alienate a lot of people. However, after a few days working, I discovered quite by accident an unmarked door on the 6th floor of the west wing which lo and behold contained a hidden staff toilet. Success! I felt like Mary Lennox the moment she opened to the door to the secret garden! So while the working day doesn't exactly fly by, it has become a lot less stressful.

As the staff are reminded daily, the Four Seasons Whistler Resort has recently been awarded 5 diamonds by AAA making it the only 5-diamond resort in Canada. It is ridiculously classy; rooms at Christmas range from about $800 (£400) to $4000 (£2000) per night. At the Four Seasons, even dogs are given bottled mineral water to drink!

For that price, the hotel apparently offers a incomparable, unique and innovative level of service. The staff, for example, are all encouraged to address the guests personally using their names. Groundbreaking, eh? When delivering a bathrobe to a guest, you are encourages to say "Good afternoon Mr Smith. How are you? Here is a bathrobe. Bye". However, the guest names are never as straightforward as 'Smith'. I had a Mr and Mrs Surface a few days ago. Although this name is not rude, complicated or difficult to pronounce; it is hard to say "Good Evening Mr Surface" confidently without vocally implying that you think there has been an error on the system. It could be worse though. One room attendant told the story of how she had to service the room of a Mr Kuunt. In that instance, the 5 Diamond level of service went out of the window and a simple "Good morning" was enough!

So, just to give you an idea of what goes on in my job - a typical day will probably involve:

• stocking the linen closets with fresh linen
• vacuuming the corridors
• delivering specialist items to rooms
  
• going to the secret toilet
• cleaning the secret toilet
• dealing with any guest requests

Unfortunately, when all of the above have been completed, my job normally involves just wandering around the corridors and looking busy - an activity that can become dull very quickly. Sometimes I pretend the hotel is haunted just to make the day go a bit quicker, but it is not overly satisfying. If a river of blood came sweeping down the stairwell and along the corridor then it would probably be my job to clean it up.

The astonishingly high prices means that the hotel attracts a certain type of guest. Sometimes celebrities check-in for a week of skiing... we did apparently have wacky comedian and notorious baby-denier Eddie Murphy staying a few days ago. Unfortunately I didn't even see him, yet alone have any contact with him. Maybe that's just as well, as I would have had to fight an overpowering urge to put a cot into his room.

All in all, the job is not bad. It is bloody boring and sometimes quite degrading, but I wouldn't call it a bad job. I am lucky to be working with such nice people and the good aspects of the job just about outweigh the bad! Having another four months working in that place is a slightly daunting thought, but as I keep telling myself, 4 months is less than half a pregnancy. And in that thought there is a lot of comfort to be obtained.

Right, I'm off. It is 8.30 on Christmas Eve and I should probably be doing other things... like placing the presents I haven't got under the Christmas tree that doesn't exist! Ho ho ho. Hope everyone is well and have a very Merry Christmas!

Chris

Weeks 5 & 6: Up Into The Mountains

Sorry for the massive delay in writing this blog entry. I have had quite a lot of stuff to do and the Internet hasn't been particularly accessible. But I don't really have any proper excuses...

So since the last entry I have left Vancouver and moved on to the Whistler Ski Resort, which is about 3 hours up the road... Although 3 hours does not seem like much, this definitely feels like the first significant 'step' I have taken in my traveling. And if the size of the 'step' is proportionate to the amount of opposing doubt, then this is probably going to be the biggest step I am going to make while over in Canada.

Just to fill you in... I had already sorted out a job in the Four Seasons Hotel in Whistler before coming to Canada. They held interviews in London and I was lucky(ish) enough to get a housekeeping job. Before coming over to Canada, I assumed that I would be sick of Vancouver after 5 weeks and be itching to move on to somewhere more permanent. But that really was not the case. It was friends I made in Vancouver who made it so very hard to move on. I apologise if that sounds sickly, but it is the truth; I miss you guys such a lot and really appreciate how easy you made it for me to settle down in Vancouver.

Right, enough of the soppy stuff. Whistler, home of the 2010 Winter Olympics, is essentially Narnia with more Australians. I am still half-expecting Mr Tumnus to emerge from behind a tree clasping a can of Fosters*. It really is a beautiful place; the looming mountains surrounding the village and snow-covered fir trees refuse to be smothered by the large amount of commercialism. It is refreshing that the town doesn't need to succumb to the tourists and become tacky, there is so much natural beauty here already that twinkling fairy lights just wouldn't add anything.

As I have never skied or snowboarded before, moving to Whistler for 5 months seems a little strange - especially as the majority of people who work in Whistler for the season come solely for the winter sports. When meeting people for the first time, most ask "Are you a skier or a snowboarder?". It sounds a bit pathetic to say "um, neither, although a few years ago it was a bit snowy and we got the sledge out of the loft". So at the moment I feel a bit irrelevant... like a guy who has never watched Star Trek turning up at a Star Trek Convention and just wandering around aimlessly, making small talk about the weather and the free buffet but subtly trying to direct all conversation away from the subject of Star Trek.

That said, I did have my first skiing lesson the other day and by the end of it I could do a 'trick'! Well, I call it a trick, I'm not sure if anyone else would - Imagine skiing down a hill in a straight line and then suddenly moving your legs so that you are skiing at a 45' angle to the right instead. And then after that, continuing to ski down the hill in a straight line. I think the pros call it a 'turn' or something, but I'm not really into all that technical stuff! Anyway, I can't deny it, the lesson was a lot of fun and I really enjoyed the liberating feeling of drifting down the slope and pulling some 'turns' in front of the ladies! I hope that in a few weeks time, I will be into skiing as much as everyone else here.

Apart from skiing and snowboarding, and talking about skiing and snowboarding, many of the folks in Whistler like to drink lots of alcohol and then talk about skiing and snowboarding in a louder voice. This was illustrated the other night when a hippy Australian in a bar shouted "Who wants to get drunk?" over the PA system. The general consensus clearly seemed to be "yes, we would like to get drunk". There were a few cautious punters who shouted "yes, but in moderation" and a few people who didn't bother shouting back because it was a waste of energy which could have otherwise been spent lifting a beer. It is unfair to say that Whistler is one big binge-fest - there are a lot of people who don't have any interest in drinking - but going out partying every night seems to be the norm. I don't have a problem with this, but I guess after 3 years of university, I just can't be bothered with it all the time.

Something I do adore about Whistler is the atmosphere and general buzz about the place. It is hard to explain, but as a general point, many of the people who live in cities are there because they were born there, or work there, or have connections there - but in Whistler the people here want to be here. And as a result there is a general positive attitude around the place and an excitement that only occurs when people are deeply passionate where they are and what they are doing.

So at the moment, I am desperately trying to adjust to the way of life up here and get into the 'Spirit of Whistler' (as the locals call it). I think this will just take time, although I have a funny feeling that to fully appreciate the Whistler Spirit, I may just have to pour it into a glass and down it in one. Only time will tell whether I am able to do that or not...

I know that was a bit of a confused blog entry. I hope it didn't sound too negative, because that isn't how I feel at all; I am very fond of this place. I guess I am just trying to thrash out my thoughts and feelings and arrive at some kind of conclusion, but have failed to do so!

Anyway, photos of my last week in Vancouver can be found at: http://picasaweb.google.com/chrischivers/TheFifthWeek

And photos of my first week in Whistler can be found at:
http://picasaweb.google.com/chrischivers/TheSixthWeek

Hope you are all well and just in case I don't post another entry for a while, have a lovely Christmas!

Chris

* I am unsure if Mr Tumnus has hoofs or hands - can someone let me know please as this will affect whether he can hold a can of Fosters. Thanks.

Week Four: You Do The Math

Well Hello!

Canada is a country of hidden costs. Say what you will about the deceptive small print littering the UK, but at least the price displayed in a supermarket is the price you pay at the till. Unfortunately, that is not true in this place.

Apparently Canada is one of the few countries in the world where tax is not included in the price advertised. This is a real pain as $3 does not mean $3 – it means $3.21 or something silly like that. As a result, I find myself being weighed down by a pocket full of 1 cent coins and finding it increasingly difficult to get rid of them. Aside from tax, there are so many other things that you need to fork out for that you would not dream of doing so in the UK. For example, you are strongly obliged to tip anyone working in the service industry (including coffee shops, pubs and restaurants), you are charged for depositing/withdrawing money from your own bank account and charged to receive incoming mobile phone calls.

Just to illustrate this... If I went to a cheesecake shop and purchased a big slice of cheesecake; the amount I would end up paying would probably be about a dollar more than the advertised price:

Cheesecake display price: $4.00
Provincial Tax @ 7%: $0.28
Federal Tax @ 6%: $0.24
Obligatory tip @ 10+%: $0.40
TOTAL: $4.92

Also, if I paid for it using my TD Bank Card, I would quite possibly have to pay an addition $0.65 transaction fee.*

As well as all that, if I happened to take a shine to the cheesecake-waitress and discretely slipped her my mobile number; I would get charged whenever she called which presumably would be loads. Incidentally, there is a really irritating advert for a Canadian mobile phone tariff being displayed around Vancouver. The poster shows a stereotypical English policeman crying his eyes out in front of the Houses of Parliament. The accompanying quote reads “Unfortunately, you have to live here to get it!”. Oh yes, I'm sooo upset that I'm not being charged for people to ring me. Boo Hoo.

Canada's one saving grace in terms of money saving is a shop called Dollarama. Dollarama is a magical place, at least I thought it was magical until a few days ago. The store is the Canadian equivalent of 'Poundland' in the UK, except everything (obviously) costs a dollar and not a pound. At the current exchange rate, this would actually be '47p-Land'. I wonder if you can imagine what that would be like? Think about it – that's 2.13 times better than Poundland!

In Dollarama you can buy everything from cups to hangers. Sorry, that wasn't a very exciting sentence – I bet you were expecting something crazy like “You can buy everything from Antelopes to Xylophones!!!” But things like that are going to cost more than 47p.... Craziness has a high price; that's just the way of the world.

Anyway, a few days ago I popped into Dollarama to buy some shampoo (a detail which has nothing to do with the following story) and could not believe the offer I saw before me. In felt-tip pen on a scrap of old cardboard, I was informed that all the old Halloween candy was being sold for the ludicrous price of ten items for one dollar. And each item of candy was big – we're talking entire bags of chocolates, two foot marshmallows, variety packs etc. It was truly overwhelming. Just to do some quick number-crunching, it works out at $0.10 for each bag of candy. If a bag of candy contains 10 sweets, then that's $0.01 per sweet, in the UK, that works out at a half a penny per sweet! Wow wee!

I quickly filled up my shopping basket and took it over to the checkout. I had to double check with the grubby looking girl on the till that there hadn't been some huge misunderstanding. “You can't beat that value” she knowingly responded, but as she said it, I could have sworn that that there was a distant glint in her eye. It was very subtle but it was definitely there... a far off look, something lurking behind the blank stare of depressed tedium that I guess is required for the position of cashier at Dollarama. The customers in the queue behind me would not have noticed, I only saw it because I was looking directly into her eyes as she handed me a handful of 1 cent coins as change. Very strange. It wasn't until later that day that I realised what that look had actually meant; it was the twinkling of pure evil.

So, I took my ten bags of sweets back home and began eating. It was a long hard process. After two bags, in a display of uncharacteristic generosity, I offered to share my stash of sweets with Greg, my roommate. Fifteen minutes later, after he had polished off his first bag, he said “These are shit aren't they?”. But still we kept on eating.

I had to agree with him completely. The development team at the Halloween Candy Company had clearly put little or no effort into the development of flavour. Come to think of it, smell touch and texture didn't really have much going for them either. The only aspect of the product that satisfied me was the look. As much as I hate to say anything positive about them, the sweets did at least look like Halloween sweets; I mean there was a vampire, a ghost, a pumpkin etc. But to come up with those designs didn't exactly really require much thought or effort by the bone-idle employees in the Halloween Candy development team.

It was one of the most miserable periods of my life. After 5 bags had been demolished, I consciously acknowledged the fact I wasn't enjoying them - I was feeling bloated, sick and desperately needed to get a glass of water, but still I kept on eating. After another bag, I hesitantly had a look at the nutritional information on the back of the pack and guess what; 35 f**king calories per sweet! That's around 350 per bag, and after about 5 bags that works out at 1750 calories; 70% of my recommended daily calorie intake! And as if that wasn't bad enough, the list of E-numbers read like a record of car number plates registered in the UK in 1988 (thanks Wikipedia). As the evening approached, I found myself eating my way through dinner and on into the night...

On the second day, as we neared the end of our binge, Greg and I made an executive decision to throw the remaining two bags of sweets into the bin. Possibly one of the most important decisions I've made since moving here. The look in the eyes of the cashier at Dollarama made complete sense; these Halloween-themed sweets were capable of turning two normal people into fat greedy monsters (the irony of which, I hope was not lost on her). The lesson to be learnt here is that, yes, the best things in life are free, but the worst things in life are very cheap.

As usual, there are a whole bunch of photos in my photo album. Most of these were taken on a trip to Victoria (the capital of British Columbia) on Vancouver Island...

Fourth Week photos: http://picasaweb.google.com/chrischivers/TheFourthWeek
All photos so far: http://picasaweb.google.com/chrischivers

Take care

Chris

* Just to clarify some boring details - in a Canadian bank, you have to pay a monthly fee (about $3.75) and they kindly give you 10 free transactions per month. Once you have used up all these transactions, you are charged $0.65 per transaction. There is an account you can open where you have unlimited transactions, but of course you have to pay $12.95 per month.

Week Three: Homosexuality and Homelessness

I am currently faced with a dilemma. I am finding it hard to write this thing and make it suitable for both family, friends at home and friends over here! There are things that are more appropriate to one group than the other and this entry is probably more suited to friends than family, but I have tried to filter it down and I apologise in advance if this is not the type of thing you want to read. Nevertheless, it is the type of thing I want to write about...

Last Saturday, after enjoying a lovely Japanese meal, my friend and I went to a gay bar. I should point out that these two events are not connected. The choice to go to a colourful bar on Davie Street (the gay neighborhood in Vancouver) was not directly related to the success of the meal – neither was it the natural way to continue our evening together. It was, I guess, a spontaneous and not particularly well thought out decision made by two heterosexual males.

Davie Street is my favourite part of this city. Not only is it lined with Rainbow flags and pink bus-stops, it also has an amazing parade of restaurants serving food from all over the world at cheap prices. Going for dinner on Davie Street is always unpredictable, and selecting a restaurant at random to have dinner in is a terrifically liberating feeling - a feeling that I have never felt in London. The restaurants in London are more often than not too expensive, too busy or too shabby.

So, we hesitantly stepped into the Oasis bar and ordered two pints of lager from the dusty looking tap at the end of the bar. The tap hadn't been used for so long that it practically needed oiling - a substance that could have easily been obtained from the hair of most of the males in that place. We propped ourselves against the bar and talked about anything other than the hairy drag queen on the table next to us. We must have stood out like a pair of sore thumbs. Compared to the other sharply dressed, well-groomed men in the room, we had clearly made no effort whatsoever. To a passing observer, it must have looked like we had clumsily strolled in after watching a football match and were cheerfully oblivious to our surroundings. But as it happens, we did have a passing observer - Cliff.

Cliff was the friendliest Canadian I had met so far. He was also the most forward. Cliff has recently filed for divorce from his wife and established out access-rights to his two children in order to pursue the gay lifestyle – a lifestyle which he did not hold back from discussing in depth with us. Without going into details, we ended up talking to this guy for about two hours and it was honestly the weirdest two hours I have ever spent in the company of another person. We both left the bar feeling overwhelmed, confused and mentally violated.

When you filter out all the filth, Cliff did raise a couple of interesting points, particularly in regards to the existence of homosexuality. Cliff suggested that homosexuality itself was not inherent from birth, but the need for an individual to seek a father figure is. As a result, homosexuality is apparently more common among men who do not have a close relationship with their fathers and seek that closeness with other men. It sounds like a valid point and I found myself agreeing with it although it does not provide an explanation for the existence of heterosexuality, but, err... I guess there are probably books out there on this and are backed up by far more reliable sources than some guy down the pub. Read them!

From the bright lights and unashamed cross-dressers of Davie Street, I want to move on to talk about the dark side of Vancouver; the Downtown Eastside. This neighborhood is overflowing with the homeless, the mentally ill and the drug addicts. In most cases all three are blended into one, given a beard and a shopping trolley and are left to haunt the backstreets. I recently read that AIDS and Hepatitis C rates in this district are the highest in North America and are at Third World Levels; a quite shocking statistic. Although I have not yet ventured into the heart of this neighborhood, I would say the number of homeless/beggars in the main part of Vancouver is still pretty damn high – higher than those in London. At night, it is common to be asked for ‘spare change’ at least once every couple of blocks.

Being asked for money is so common, that you can effectively place tramps into various categories based on their begging technique. My favourite group of tramps has to be those who have a ‘trick’ or a one-liner that has proven successful in the past and has been reused time and time again. In my first week here, I foolishly accepted a challenge proposed by a tramp. “I can tell you where you got your shoes” the tramp boldly declared. The deal was that if he guessed correctly, I had to give him money. As Millets is an English chain, I thought I would have him stumped – ‘no food for you tonight!’ I secretly thought. The tramp then smugly pointed out that I had got my shoes on my feet. Oh god, I could have thumped him!

Promising myself that I would never fall into that trap again, I just walked on by when I was approached by another homeless guy who claimed to be a ‘word definer’. “Give me any word and I will define it” he yelled at my retreating figure. The irritating thing is that after spending hours thinking about what his smart-arse one liner would be and reaching no conclusions, I now wish I had challenged him. Maybe he was an actual English Language prodigy!

My least favourite sub-category of tramps is those who are in disguise. These guys have realized that they can get more money from passers-by if they invest in a nice suit and draw you in with some story about needing some money to get the bus to work. One of my friends was terribly frustrated after giving a tramp a couple of dollars for the bus only to hear them ask the next passer-by the exact same question. I think a law should be passed requiring all tramps to look like tramps. If all tramps walked around clean-shaven in a suit then no one would know where they stand! It would generate a kind of uneasy, post-9/11 climate of suspicion but with business-men not Muslims. Unbearable.

So that's the end of that entry. Again, I apologise (to my family in particular) if you expected to read some stuff about pretty rivers. However, to make up for it, I do have some nice photos for you to look through. Check out: http://picasaweb.google.com/chrischivers/TheThirdWeek

Week Two: Working In Vancouver

Hello - or as the Canadians say "Hi".

I am writing this in a cafe called 'Trees' which apparently has been voted the #1 place for Cheesecake in Vancouver. I was a little sceptical at first, as asking people to vote for their favorite Cheesecake-serving cafe in Vancouver seems a little too specific a subject for a poll. But the Cheesecake turned out to be delicious - so delicious that I have decided to go against the rules of grammar and capitalize the word. It really is good stuff. I would definitely vote for this place if asked to list my favourite Cheesecake cafes in Vancouver. Actually, seeing as I've only been to one, I would put this place at the top and then just list the others in any old order to give the impression that I am something of a Cheesecake connoisseur.

Enough Cheesecake. Since being in Vancouver, I have had a total of 4 different job placements acquired through a temping agency. These have ranged from the ridiculous to the downright dull. Most recently I have been making boxes in a clothing warehouse... um, and I honestly can't elaborate any more on that. Making boxes - those two words completely sum up the job description, the job responsibilities, the job requirements, the skills acquired, the high points and the low points of the job. Oh Christ, it was terrible - I spent a total of 17 hours making boxes. Every so often the supervisor would walk past and offer such encouraging words as "Keep making boxes!" I can't for the life of me think why he felt the need to keep saying that - it wasn't as if I was suddenly going to decide to wander off and start driving the forklift truck around.

But there was a glimmer of hope. On the first day, after about 4 hours of box making, the supervisor asks me if I fancied a change and leads me to the other side of the warehouse "OK, these boxes are a little smaller, but you assemble them in just the same way". And just in case I didn't understand or needed reminding he added "Keep making boxes!" Anyway, that job has finished now and I promised myself I would never sink that low again.

While temping, I found myself crossing paths with a guy (Canadian for 'man') called Paul on a couple of occasions. Paul, 50-ish, is also employed by the temping agency and occasionally we are assigned to the same job. I was in two minds whether to write about Paul, but he is someone who has stuck in my mind and is a living reminder that success is fickle and failure is never far away. Paul is sad and has no life. That is not a cheap, derogatory swipe, but the actual truth. He isn't happy because he left his previous job (as a finance manager) to travel the world and after spending all of his money found himself unable to get back into a stable work position. As a result he lives, unmarried, in a small room in a tower block on the rough side of town and gets about one day of work a week out of the employment agency.

Paul confessed that the reason he doesn't get any work is because he is not very good with computers and is better with his hands. He shared the hilarious anecdote of how he was given a job position in an office and was there for 10 minutes, staring blankly at Excel, before being asked to leave! Actually, I don't think he found it particularly hilarious. And come to think of it neither did I. And yesterday, after being confronted by a roll of sellotape, he gave in and admitted that he wasn't very good with his hands either, which begs the question; does this man have any skills at all? This question was in the back of my mind on the way home and I came to the conclusion that yes, he does have a skill, the skill to keep smiling and not kill himself. Poor guy.

Um, oh dear, this has gone wildly off track. I'm not sure whether I should delete the last couple of paragraphs as it seems inappropriate, lacks any kind of relevance and isn't even that interesting. But I won't.

Before the warehouse position I found myself assisting with a Sales conference at a hotel which was much more interesting. The conference was being given by a big-shot called Tom Hopkins who was apparently a successful salesman and for as little $500 a ticket he shared his wisdom and knowledge with a bunch of sales piranhas. For example, a nugget of wisdom divulged by old Tom was "Never give the customer the option to say 'no' or 'I will think about it' - when arranging an appointment don't ask the customer what is a good time for them".

Seeing this conference confirmed to me that the world of sales is built on a slimy foundation of misdirection, mistrust and general inhumanity. It brings out the very worst in people; those who are willing to squeeze a sale out of the most vulnerable of customers by piling on the pressure and subconsciously manipulating them into buying whatever trash they are selling. The whole thing was a complete con... imagine paying $500 and being told "When answering the phone, answer on the third ring and always put the customer on hold for the optimal time of seventeen seconds". It was utter rubbish and everyone in that room should be thoroughly ashamed of themselves.

Still, it wasn't all bad. As a thank you for helping, Tom kindly gave me one of his books "Laugh Your Way to Health and Wealth" - a book where even the universal concept of laughter has been twisted into some kind of money making ploy.

Well, that's about it for now. Hope you are all well and I haven't offended anyone. I have uploaded some more pictures to my photo album at: http://picasaweb.google.com/chrischivers/TheSecondWeek

Chris

The First Week

The First Week

Hello. I didn't realise how hard it would be to start a ""blog"". It's not that there is nothing to say, it's just that I can't think of an interesting way to say it - I'm worried I'll fall in to the trap of saying everything's amazing in an attempt to convince myself that I'm having the best time ever and rub it in the faces of you lot back at home. But I will try and veer away from that type of stuff.

So, I've been in the beautiful city of Vancouver for just over a week now. By the way, it's ok for me to call it beautiful; all the vehicle license plates have "Beautiful British Columbia" proudly engraved onto them. However, it did take me a good few days to realise just what these cars were going on about...

When the plane landed at the airport last Wednesday, it marked the beginning of 5 days of constant rain. According to the locals, rain is very common this time of year - this time of year being until bloody May. Oddly, for a city that apparently has so much rain, the drainage system seems pretty poor. The streets are commonly lined with a good inch or two of water meaning a soggy foot is all but inevitable. Sorry, this is hopelessly veering off track, I'm sure there are more interesting things to talk about other than the drainage system.

On Monday, the weather changed dramatically - the rain stopped, the clouds lifted and the sun came out practically wearing a hat upon his incandescent head. I found myself with some time to spare. I had landed a job in the afternoon through a temping agency. The job was described to me by the disinterested woman on the phone as "...just moving some tables about really". So, I made the most of the sunny weather by going for a stroll around Stanley Park and was just staggered by the beauty of the city. The combination of snow capped mountains, skyscrapers and luscious blue waters was enough to make me stop in my tracks. (well I didn't actually stop. I was running a bit behind and needed to get to work. Those tables weren't going to move themselves). I have never seen anything like this before. I tried to take some photos to capture the feel of this place, but seeing as I don't have any experience in photography I ended up just pointing the camera hopelessly at the mountains and hoping for the best!

I am currently staying in a hostel in Downtown Vancouver which is pretty central and has lots of cheap places to eat. The food in Vancouver is ridiculously priced. It cost's about $6 (about 3 quid) to have a cheap meal out, but a weekly shopping session at the local 'Super-Valu' supermarket will probably cost double what it does in the UK. I don't really understand why and have made no attempt to find out - but eating out every night works out fine for me!

Like London (and probably every other city in the world), Vancouver contains a number of sub-districts which can usually be summed up in one word; posh, gay, cheap, dirty, boring etc. They all seem to be pretty safe apart from the East Side which is full of mental tramps. The tall lady* at the orientation talk said this was because Vancouver used to have a mental hospital but it was closed down and the patients were left to wander the street. She then added "it's not funny guys".

Hmm, I feel like I should talk about the people I have met, but I don't want say things like "everyone is lovely" or "I have made hundreds of friends". It has, after all, only been a week and the lovely people could turn out to be cheeky thieving bastards. But I don't think they will. I have found myself settling into a group of about 6 people who are ever so nice and we are facing the job/accommodation hunting struggle together.

So in my first week, I have been proved that the license plates are indeed correct; Vancouver is an extremely beautiful city. At the moment, I am very happy with everything, although thats probably down to the cocaine! (only joking, mum!)

Anyway, that's my first, long-overdue blog entry. I have uploaded some photos to the web: http://picasaweb.google.com/chrischivers/TheFirstWeek

Chris

*Hmm, is 'tall' really the extent of my vocabulary these days? I'm sure there are more descriptive and linguistically interesting things to say about her. But she was quite tall. Long arms...