No more fun for me thanks, I'm employed

The last week or so has been spent either falling over spectacularly on huge glaciers or getting employed. So I now have a job and a painful neck/back combo. Successful week!

The most spectacular crash came last week. Blackcomb, the mountain opposite Whistler, opened last Thursday. Having crawled out of bed at about midday, Nick and I met Joe and Jim on the mountain and hiked round to a huge glacier, which was covered in powder about a metre thick. Perfect snowboarding conditions, except I'm actually useless when it comes to riding powder. I set off down the hill behind the rest, with Jim taking photos from the bottom. I was speeding down, wind in my hair, looking every bit the pro snowboarder.

I was about half way down the glacier when I realised I might be going a touch too fast, and might need to put a turn or two in. It was at this point I learned two things: one, that turning in powder is not the same as turning on a groomed slope and two, that landing on your neck is fairly painful. All I saw when I bailed was the sky, quickly followed by a lot of snow. According to the lads, who had prime viewing position at the bottom of the slope, I suddenly turned into a cloud of snow whilst two small objects (later revealed to be my hat and goggles) flew about five metres ahead of me.

Luckily, I am not crippled and have been riding several times since. I think I might spend a bit more time improving my technique before I plunge headfirst into the unknown again.

In more positive news, someone made the brave decision to hire me. I now work at the Billabong shop in Whistler Village, which seems like a good job. There are a bunch of fun people working there, and they sell Billabong, Element and Von Zipper gear, which is all very nice (and all available to me at a cheeky 40% discount). They're also very into their brand philosophies - Element, for example, is all about recycling, renewing and helping the earth - which gives me something to talk to customers about other than how sick, sweet or rad their new hat is.

I plan to spend the next week or so improving my riding and taking advantage of the free pizza at Creek Bread just down the road. Joe, who is taking his instructor course at the moment, has been telling me how bad my technique is (probably explains the glacier incident). Apparently your stance should be fairly upright and relaxed - a bit like a chimpanzee, say. Mine, on the other hand, is hunched over like an orangutan. The girls are taking a camera out tomorrow, so there might be a video to prove that soon.

Today's wisdom: Less King Louie, more Curious George.

Es schneit

SNOW! Tonnes of the stuff. Snow has been the story of the week, and has been involved in most of the notable events as well. The most notable of which was Nick getting arrested in the midst of an epic snowball fight on Saturday night.

This weekend was my 22^nd birthday, and was also the weekend the lifts opened. After a good day’s riding, some hut tub action and the now-traditional Steak Saturday, a bunch of us went out on Saturday night to celebrate the monumental occasion. A couple of drinking games later and we were at the bus stop hurling snowballs at each other (or at the ground in my case – it turns out alcohol doesn’t improve your aim).  The bus ride into the village was eventful as usual. It turns out alcohol also makes Joe much more gullible, and when I told him to get off the bus he duly did. I had, of course, told him the wrong stop, and Joe and Damien had to be rescued by Jim once we arrived in the village.

Anyway, to cut what is becoming a long and boring story short, another snowball fight broke out whilst we were waiting for the bus home. Everything that moved seemed to be fair game, which was bad news for cars and anyone not involved in the fight. As part of the mighty team Middle of the Road (vs. ‘just like watching Wednesday’ Team Bus Stop) Nick and me were thrilling men, women and children alike with our snow-lobbing skills. The bus eventually turned up, and unfortunately for Nick he chose the moment two policemen appeared behind him to throw a snowball straight at it. The last we saw of Nick, he was being frog-marched away as we were getting on the bus.

Luckily Nick wasn’t charged, and although he spent the night in the delightful company of Whistler’s police (I can’t say for sure whether the guy from Due South was involved, but I’d say there’s a 70% chance he was) he was let home in the morning.

The past week hasn’t all been law-breaking though, and I’ve almost got a job sorted at Longhorns. Longhorns is an awesome bar at the bottom of the main slope and gondola, and I’ve been called back to talk to the head chef and sous chef on Wednesday. Working there would be awesome, as not only does it have a great atmosphere and a bunch of cool people working there, but they also want to train me up to be a prep cook. I know I am King Masterchef, but I could still learn a couple of things I’m sure.

I haven’t ridden (snowboarded when you’re not in Whistler) since Saturday, and pretty much all my muscles are aching, so I’m doing the sensible thing and getting a full day on the slopes in tomorrow. My board is awesome, and pretty much everyone I’ve met is a better boarder than me, so I should hopefully start improving soon. The terrain is so much more varied on the slopes than anywhere else I’ve been, and the powder has been unbelievable so far. Phil, you will love it! I’m totally going to do a backflip before the end of the season.

I’m now watching Twilight, which needs far more Wesley Snipes and/or Sarah Michelle Gellar. Next entry soon, along with some snow photos to amaze you all.

Today’s Wisdom: Vampires don't sparkle.

Always Sunday in Whistler

It’s been a decade or two since my last blog, and whilst I’d like to say I’ve been far too busy in my new job as a highly paid hot-tub tester, that wouldn’t be entirely true. I’ve not got a job yet, although not for want of trying. Unfortunately, it seems almost every business in town is holding off until the end of November to employ people. There are a couple of job fairs coming up next week though, and I’ve had two interviews in the last few days, so it shouldn’t be too long until someone takes pity on me and gives me a job scraping the grease from the chip pan in McDonald’s.

The past two weeks have been a bit of a blur, for various reasons. Last week started off productively, as Brent and I went into the village to look for jobs and check out snowboard prices. Unfortunately for productivity’s sake, we then met Brent’s friend Tom, and decided to celebrate having woken up before lunchtime with a pint and some chicken wings (ten for $3.50 – bargain!).  Celebrating minor victories became the week’s theme. Tom and his Austrian housemate Val stayed with us for a couple of days whilst their house was made habitable, and in the name of celebration much fun was had.

We also discovered the joys of FIFA World Cup 2002 for the Xbox last week. I’ll not bore you with the details, but it’s the most fantastic(ally awful) footy game I’ve ever played. Playing a world cup after a night out has become a bit of a ritual for Nick and I, and winning it with mighty Belgium on Wednesday was such an achievement I had to take a photo.

We also have four new housemates. The two couples have moved in - Jim, Nat, Joe and Vicky - and all seem like excellent fun. They're a bit older than us and have had proper jobs for a while now, but we've already had an awesome night out together, and it looks like we'll get on alright.

Don’t worry though – I’ve not spent the last two weeks doing nothing but drinking and playing Xbox. I can do that at home fairly well, as you know. I must have dropped off about 30 résumés (no CVs over here) to pubs, restaurants and shops so I won’t be unemployed for too much longer. I’ll try and knock out these blogs a bit more often, and I’m sure I’ve missed a bunch of good stories in this one, but for the time being here are a few photos from Halloween. After a great night at Moe Joe’s, we managed to find ourselves a full moon party, and walked home at about 7am (and got straight into the hot tub, haha!). Whilst that’s probably the reason I have man flu now, it was also the best night out I’ve had in ages. Que?

Today’s Wisdom: Never leave a spaceman in charge of the rice.

Up the Raptors!

What a real freezer should look like

Our first bear sighting

El pumpkino

Amazing costumes. Flashing lights and everything!

DOG THE BOUNTY HUNTER!!! They won the $500 prize for best costume

Nick's first taste of romance

The best pumpkin I've ever seen, making its rounds of the full moon party

No caption needed

The Dream House

Well, today I have officially been in Whistler for a whole week. It feels about four times that long I’ve been doing so much, but I’m finally settled in.  Nick and I found a house – in fact, THE house – to live in. We christened it the Dream House, and although it’s a touch more expensive than most in the area, it also has a hot tub, a trampoline and a heated boot room. The hot tub and boot room will be perfect after a long day riding (as we have been told to call boarding). Throwing off all my gear and jumping in the hot tub whilst the snow falls around, before heading back onto the slopes with nice dry gear the next day is something that won’t get old, I’m sure.

The house hunt took us a couple of days, during which we stayed in a hostel in Whistler. I say in Whistler, it was about an hour’s walk away, and that’s when you don’t take a wrong turn and end up walking in the opposite direction. That wouldn’t have been so bad – I need the exercise, to be honest – except we left the hostel at about six o’clock, when the mountains start to get dark. There were no streetlights on this road, and you can’t walk more than five metres in Whistler without seeing signs warning what to do if bears attack. We managed not to get eaten though, and found our way to Tapley’s sports bar, which has swiftly become our local.

Whistler is fairly dead during the day at the moment, and the job hunt has not gone too well because people aren’t hiring for another couple of weeks. The nightlife is completely the opposite though, if you know where to go. After a fun but uneventful night at Longhorns on Sunday, we headed to Buffalo Bill’s on Wednesday on the advice of Nick’s mate Simon. Wednesday is local’s night, and if you can prove you live in Whistler, you can get in free. They don’t require much proof though – I’m pretty sure if you just said a random street name from the Whistler A-Z they’d give you the locals sticker.

Anyway, in Bill’s we met Brent, a guy from South Africa who I’d spoken to on Facebook a couple of times, and Tif, a BC (British Columbia – the province Whistler is in) native who’d been in Whistler for four months already. After throwing some incredible shapes to some pretty poor AC/DC remixes and having an impromptu reunion with some of the BUNAC crew, we headed to the bus stop. Buses are great over here – they run til three in the morning, and any journey costs two dollars. Naturally, I didn’t have two dollars, so pulled the old switcheroo with Tif’s day pass.

The highlight of the night was a little Filipino Aussie, who seemed to be pissed off at everything. He refused to believe I had Scottish relatives, and was pretty keen on rounding everyone up by nationality. In my drunken state though, I somehow managed to crack the line of the night. Whilst squaring up to anyone he could find, little Fil told us all that he was always looking for a challenge. I asked him if he’d ever tried the Travelator, which did the unthinkable and shut him up for a few seconds.

This week has been pretty hectic, especially as the Dream House’s owners Chris and Maria have been here doing the place up. They left last night though, and Nick and I pretty much have the place to ourselves for the next month or so. Party? Party.

Oh, and here are some photos as proof that I’m not at home in a tent in my back garden. Today’s wisdom: Don’t say things about serving girls in bars whilst they’re still in earshot.

The most amazing Chinese in the world

The most amazing Chinese meal in the world

The view from the hostel

Skate ramp and trampoline outside house? Check

The house from the back

Getting in a bit of jet washing in return for beer

I can't believe I forgot about Lucky Charms

The only way to enjoy a hot tub (that's Nick, by the way)

The route back to the Dream House, once it snows

Death by Denny's

I’m sat on a Greyhound bus on the way to Whistler, having just eaten a breakfast that contained my total calorie count for this week at least. This morning, my new travelling buddy Nick and I were introduced to the wonder that is Denny’s. Hungry for bacon and eager to get out of the torrential Vancouver rain, we stumbled into what looked to be our saviour. With such delights on the menu as the Grand Slamwich (Fried bread drenched in maple syrup, bacon, sausage, scrambled egg, a ridiculous amount of processed cheese and fried potato bits) we seemed to have found a winner.
Twenty minutes later though, we were wondering how long it would be before we could talk without getting out of breath. As good as a Denny’s breakfast is, I think I’ll only be having them sparingly. A triple heart bypass is not on my list of things to achieve in Canada.

Yesterday was both productive and extremely fortunate. We got Canadian phones and bank accounts set up, and managed to get a decent deal on both. One thing that has become apparent about Canada though is their determination to charge you for the most ridiculous things. You have to pay to have a bank account, for example, and my account only lets me make 25 debit card transactions (including taking money out of cash machines) before they start charging 65 cents each time. Silly. More bizarre is the monthly charge for the privilege of caller ID on your phone. This isn’t some fancy feature that we don’t get in England; caller ID is the remarkable technological breakthrough of being able to see which of your contacts is ringing you. I actually had to get the guy in the shop to explain to me what caller ID was, because I didn’t think they’d be cheeky enough to charge you for what is essentially a basic function of any phone back home. Still, I got a decent phone for about £18 and now I don’t have to put up with my Sony Ericsson turning itself off every five minutes.

After orientation yesterday we headed to Chinatown, via the heroin district. In the space of two minutes we were given directions to a vintage Chinese furniture shop by some weird old man, and followed down the street by a homeless guy asking for drug money. We found our way out of Smackville easy enough though, and discovered what is officially my favourite Chinese restaurant. Foo’s Ho-Ho Restaurant is run by a tiny Chinese lady, who I can only presume is the titular Foo, and she was amazing. Bustling round the plastic tables, she put all her energy into making sure every customer in the place was happy and knew that their dinner was on its way. I almost went for the standard beef in black bean sauce, but decided to be a bit more adventurous and plumped for the special steamed sole (but still in black bean sauce. It’s almost as good as gravy). For just under $20 I got two beers, two egg rolls and the nicest Chinese meal I think I’ve ever eaten. Foo-king excellent.

Last night we managed to stumble across more goodness. After another burger for dinner in an Irish bar called Johnnie Fox’s, we paid about £3 for a luxury Snakebite – which sat alongside Black’n’Tan and Irish Shandy on the menu – and almost enjoyed a game of baseball on the telly. We then somehow managed to blag free tickets into a battle of the bands gig, at which the best band was the house band doing Zeppelin covers as part of ‘British Night’. After a few too many rum and/or Southern Comfort and cokes and a pact to play ‘Stonehenge’ by Spinal Tap at an open mic night in Whistler, Nick and I continued our stumbling back to the hostel, blissfully unaware of the artery-attack to come the following morning.

According to an Aussie who lives there, jobs are fairly easy to come by in Whistler, so the priority today is getting a house. Once I have my own bed and can finally empty my Tardis-proportioned hand luggage, the adventure can properly begin.

Today’s wisdom: in Denny’s, honesty is the best policy. Ordering food is the worst.

NOTE: just passed through a place called Furry Creek. Megalolz.

The dangers of rainbows

Pub. Beer. Food. That was all us weary travellers wanted when we arrived in Vancouver, so we went in the first bar we saw. It had a sign with a picture of beer on it outside, which was a promising start. We got the beers in – I went for the appealing Dead Frog Nut Brown Ale – and found a table. After a few sips of (completely necessary) ice-cold beer, conversation switched to the pub’s décor. The bar was surrounded with the usual sports memorabilia, and there was a jukebox in the corner. On the far wall though, were two six-foot high paintings of headless naked men. Suddenly, the rainbow flag above the doorway made sense. Yes, in a move that could only be described as misguided, we had stumbled straight into the nearest gay bar. Welcome to Canada, lads!

Alright, it wasn’t that bad and the Dead Frog was actually pretty nice, if a touch expensive. We soon moved on and found a burger restaurant called the Red Robin to quench our thirst and feed our hunger. Bottomless Steak Fries are my new favourite meal. Canada was finally off to a good start.

So after sleeping off my jet lag last night, I woke up at 8am this morning (unthinkable yesterday) and took advantage of the free breakfast in the hostel. No bacon, had to do my own washing up, but at least I got a decent cup of tea. It’s raining this morning, and Vancouver seems to be twinned with Sheffield when it comes to precipitation, but I’m looking forward to exploring a bit of the city today before heading to Whistler tomorrow.  Only a short blog today, but I’ve not really done much yet. Expect a longer one in a few days about how no-one will employ me and how I’m living in someone’s coal shed.

Today’s wisdom: watch out for rainbows.