Kitsilano

After looking at many different places I finally found a place in the perfect location, with the perfect set up at the right price…the compromise was living in an older building that was really due for renovation…oh well it has character.

So I’m living in Kitsilano, in a perfect location for my needs. I’m one block from the beach, three blocks from the shopping area on 4th Avenue and 10 minutes from downtown on the bus…including waiting for the bus. In fact I can cycle downtown in about 12 minutes without breaking a sweat.

I’m sharing a two bedroom, two bathroom apartment with a 30 year old actor from Alberta. He’s starred in a few episodes of Stargate, some other local TV shows and had the lead in low budget horror film. He is a classic guy and all his actor friends are really cool and fun to hang out with and all the girls are gorgeous – that’s a win. In fairness he’s not working at the moment and it might be a stretch for him to put ‘actor’ on his tax return as most of his income is from waiting tables these days – its such a cliché but all his actor friends are working similar gigs. He auditions about once a week and listening to him practice lines in his bedroom is priceless. If you have ever seen Entourage – think Johnny Chase – and yes he goes to the gym everyday and our house has five full length mirrors that are over 6 foot wide.

As Fairlie pointed out Kitsilano, or Kits as it is affectionately known, is quite a cool suburb. In the 1960’s it was the home of the hippie movement in Vancouver and yes it was the birthplace of Greenpeace. Environmentalist David Suzuki calls Kits home and the area is full of young singles and couples with a strong hippie undertone. There are literally hundreds of cafes and small bars which are all very relaxed and reasonably inexpensive – especially if you go on nights that they have specials. For instance my local Mexican restaurant offers $2 tacos on a Thursday to locals and the pub on the corner does a burger with chips and a pint of your choice for $10 once a week. I tend to cook at home apart from these two nights to save my pesos but it is quite affordable to eat out around home should the need arise.

This weekend is the 40th Anniversary of Woodstock and to celebrate Kits is throwing a Woodstock party. Stretching 10 city blocks along 4th Avenue they have erected four stages for 7 hours of live music, tie dye t-shirts, beads and free love (I made up the last bit). That’s a very Kits thing to do. Everyone in Kits is health conscious and every second girl walks the street with a yoga mat tucked under her arm. There a yoga studios everywhere, free open air yoga classes on a Thursday that attract over 200 people to the grass in front of the pool and its just generally very outdoorsy. The local pool is 135m long and a popular lap swimming pool in the summer. I have been a member for the past two months and apart from no one here knowing the ‘road rules’ in the pool it’s a pleasant swimming experience. Eight laps makes a kilometer and when you breath to the north you can see across the water to the mountains. The pool is two blocks from home so everything is walking or more recently skateboarding distance from home.

I’m currently working away restoring a 1970’s Raleigh Three Speed bicycle so I have vintage wheels to ride around in my hippie commune and I’m torn between the bead making and the tie dying for tomorrow’s festival.

Peace

Mick and I settled into our unemployed life a little too well some might say. We set ourselves a strict regime to justify our afternoons in the warm Vancouver sun. We both rose at 8am each morning and would ‘work’ the various websites applying for positions and making contact with recruitment agents for the rest of the morning. Then in the afternoon with our conscience clear that we had done everything possible to secure ourselves gainful employment we would meet at Mick’s place to spend the afternoon at our leisure.

Mick’s girl Liz had a great job with the operations team putting together the ceremonies for the Olympics. Her office is on the Downtown east side near the ‘freezone’ and not far from BC Place, the largest air supported stadium in the world, which will host the opening and closing ceremonies for the Olympics.

Vancouver has undergone some change over the past 10 years with many historic downtown areas having undergone some serious urban gentrification. The two most significant areas being Gastown, which was the original site of downtown Vancouver and is now home to trendy warehouse apartments, bars and eateries, and Yaletown, a former site of warehouses and light industry which has been transformed into a world of high rise apartments and inner-city commercial living.

BC Place forms part of Yaletown and so in the interest of being close to work Liz chose to live in an amazing brand new apartment complex right on false creek. It’s the real trendy place to live in a city that has made downtown living the new black. So much so that some people live downtown and commute out of town to work! The rent is astronomical but Liz can walk to work and is over the road from the stadium in preparation for games time. The upside for Mick and I was that we had this very modern chic apartment on the 15th floor overlooking the water to just, hang out in, every afternoon of our unemployed lives. With a 24 hour concierge and a kitchen most housewives would die for we were really living large for two unemployed blokes on the wrong side of the globe.

Of course our life of luxury was asset rich but cash poor - we had some serious cash flow problems. We needed to entertain ourselves basically for free and then clean the house from top to bottom to hide any evidence of us having had fun throughout the day so when Liz came home the place was spotless. We called them craft afternoons. Liz’s apartment, whilst beautiful to live in, had only plain walls and simple but elegant furniture. Mick took it upon himself, and I just got swept up in the motion, to make some art for the walls.

We got proficient with photo shop and starting producing some simple images to teach ourselves how to stencil. I know Wil El-dropper has ventured into such pastimes before so it was a little copycat of me but it was largely free and passed the time beautifully. With a 6 pack of beer or a bottle of red every afternoon we would turn Liz’s apartment into a studio. It was like we were famous New York artists in our inner-city apartment just without dirty heroin habits or heiresses for girlfriends. We referred to each other as artists and enjoyed our new imaginative persona's.

After some initial test sprays in the afternoon sun we started to get the hang of it and went from simple black on white stencils to trying to add depth, colour and shading into our work. We experimented with painting faces that included multiple skin tones and some cityscape's with intricate window details, layered shadows and long perspectives. Mick was a few stencils better than me (let’s face it I’ve never been the most arty of people) but we were both happy with the rate we were progressing and with each spray we were learning some new tricks from our mistakes.

The two hard parts are finding the right image to start with and the cutting. The photo shop bit takes but a moment with a modern Mac and the spraying is fun but boy the cutting – it does your head in. A complex stencil for me would be nine or ten layers meaning I had to cut about six stencils, cutting different layers of the image each time. Some stencils would be used twice in the spraying process simply covering some cuts with tape to save time and money. Even still it would take two days of solid cutting to get a good stencil with enough detail for a good A4 sized image. Basically we could manage one good image a week. It was the perfect time waster as you felt like you had actually made something and it took our minds off the employment search. We would share music and watch downloaded TV as we cut each afternoon in the apartment. Life was great – apart from the whole no money thing.

Mick and I enjoyed this creative lifestyle for some time. In fact Mick’s still enjoying it as I write this but his world comes to a halt in a few weeks when he must return home to Sydney. He has landed himself a much sort after production management type gig with the Sydney Festival. I’m not sure of his title exactly but he will be responsible for pulling all the details together to make the festival happen in the summer of 2010. It is a great gig and he has worked for years on smaller festivals and productions to work his way up to something as big as the Sydney Festival. If any of you are in Sydney next summer – go check it out – it’s a great event of music and the arts.

Our craft was rudely interrupted one afternoon by the dulcet tones of my cell phone. On the other end was a Japanese guy. I could not make out his initial words clearly through his Japanese/Canadian accent but I had a vague recollection of emailing a Japanese guy about some gardening work so I am sure it’s got something to do with a job. After some clarification and some slow talking to get past the fact neither of us could understand much of what each other were saying despite both speaking English I agree to meet him the next morning at 8am on the corner of Broadway and Cambie. It’s only a short bus ride from my house so it seems easy enough. His main concern as we hang up is that I will actually show up the next morning – it seems the search for good general employment is difficult on both sides of the equation.

I rock up slightly early the next morning and am there before anyone else but I am sure I am in the right place. As requested I am holding a hard hat, some work gloves and am wearing my hiking boots which are masquerading as steel toed boots.

It turns out Takashi is a super nice guy who manages the installation of vertical gardens for a modern landscape architecture company in downtown Vancouver. They make green walls or vertical and rooftop gardens for inner city developments. Most notably they built the vertical garden in Seattle on the outside of the original Starbucks store which was a giant living mural of the companies ‘twin tailed siren’ logo and a large rooftop and vertical garden in the new Shangri-La Hotel here in Vancouver.

Takashi is cool mix of modern Vancouver and old Japan. He is a blend of white and blue collar worker with a wonderful work ethic and gentle persona – once I’m working for him he seems forever concerned that I am comfortable at work and reassures me I will be paid on Friday by cheque. I’m not sure if I am over sensitive to how pleasant the work environment is having dealt with Marty over the previous few weeks but I am certainly more comfortable in this environment of mutual respect.

Before us stands a massive vertical garden which stretches half a city block down the side of Whole Foods which is one of those urban supermarkets with lots of great fresh food and organic products and prices that make your eyes water. It turns out one of the species of plants that makes the second highest row of the garden did not survive the super cold winter we just had - the same cold spell that took the end of my nose earlier in the trip.

My job was to re-plant all the dead plants. I had to dig each dead plant out with a fork, clear the hole for the new roots and jam a new plant where the dead one once was. It was a simple task that I needed to repeat about 3,500 times along the length of the wall. I was given an electric scissor lift to get me up about 15 feet above the ground which proved to be quite a safe and fun working platform. I lied that I had worked in one before and just hoped it would be simple to operate so I could live out my lie. Turns out it had a simple joystick operation and very clear pictures on the controls so I looked quite comfortable despite not having a clue what I was doing.

After a few hours it was clear that the two days they had budgeted to get the job done was not going to be enough – the task whilst simple was quite slow and they were keen to do a good job to avoid the embarrassment of having to re-plant any sections a third time. They had only hired the scissor lift for two days so there was concern about how we would get the job done. Takashi was confident we needed another person to help me. I spoke with him about the inconsistency of workers he found on the Internet and that he was happy with me so I offered to call Mick to get the two of us on the job. A quick call to Mick and he was on his bike heading our way. For the second time in a fortnight I had hand balled Mick a few days work – it was perfect.

We spent the next few days taking our minds off the tedious nature of our task by talking through every aspect of our lives which had landed us up on this scissor lift. We were working in an affluent part of town and it was quite a fun exercise in people watching. From our perch above the sidewalk we watched the crowd of mainly university students, young professional couples and yummy mummies making their way into the store - it was good cheap entertainment. Mick and I seemed just high enough off the ground to be out of everyone’s view and thoughts and not so high as to attract attention to ourselves. It was a fun few days.

At the end of the job Takashi was happy with our efforts and despite not having enough work for the two of us he offered me two weeks full time out at the airport. I was stoked – two weeks of full time work would take the heat out of finding that month’s rent.

The job at the airport was enormous, a giant 70 foot high wall that would greet all international arrivals at the newly renovated Vancouver Airport. They have spent billions getting the airport up to scratch for the games next year including a train service from the airport to downtown and enormous additions to the terminals and car parks. Over the next two weeks I planted a wall that millions of visitors to Vancouver will see as they step outside on Canadian soil following their arrival. It’s an awesome structure and I am quite stoked to have helped build it. By the time I got involved with building this wall the steel sub-frame was in place and we were simply hanging the stainless steel boxes which hold 13 small plants each and building the reticulation to complete the structure. I was working with two Canadian guys harnessed in to a giant diesel powered scissor lift 70 feet in the air – it was not for the faint hearted but I quite liked it.

True to his word Takashi has a cheque for me every Friday and even gave me a raise for the airport job as he was so happy with the way we had replanted the Whole Foods wall and my ability to pull in Mick on short notice.

The whole time I worked on the gardens I was continuing to make applications in the evenings for professional work. Every few days I would finish work and listen to a voice message from one recruitment agent or another usually offering me nothing or telling me I had missed out on an interview again. There are plenty of skilled Canadians competing for work with me so I was an unattractive candidate on paper in this climate.

Conveniently on the second Thursday out at the airport I finished work to find eight missed calls on my phone. I don’t even know eight people in Vancouver so something was up. They were all from the same number – a good recruitment firm downtown. I knew it was good news because recruitment agents are obvious in their choice of communication. They usually email bad news and telephone good news – I hate that.

I called her back and left her a message. When she called me back I was on a packed bus travelling home from the airport. The feeling of having landed a job when it seemed like the impossible was overwhelming. Everyone on the that bus knew the call was good news, I hung up, cranked the volume on my i-pod and floated back into the city – I’d done it – I don’t think I have ever been so proud of myself. I think I learnt more from this experience than I have from anything else so far.

I had interviewed for the role two weeks earlier. I remember leaving the interview confident that it had gone well but also a little disheartened by the one hour, three bus commute to get to their office. I hate commuting.

So here I am. Travelling to and from work each day reading my book and happy to be working in an office environment and taking home a weekly cheque with a comma in it justifying years of education.

I’m living in an apartment in Kitsilano with an actor. I found my place during the whole job search process – I’ll write a little post about my place and the search for it soon.

Vancouver

Where were we up to...oh that's right I had just arrived in Vancouver...the problem with filling my weekends with trips out of town is that not only do I not find the time to write on this thing but the list of things I now need to write about keeps growing.


I'm considering sub-contracting out the blog writing...any takers?


Back to the story...

I arrived in Vancouver on Wednesday April 29 with Amy and Jess. The two girls had been living together in Whistler for the winter and were about to embark on a trip through the US and then split up, Jess to fly home to her honours thesis and Amy on to Europe with her family.


The Greyhound dropped us right in the middle of downtown Vancouver about 5:45pm just as the city's office towers were emptying - it was mayhem on the streets and the three of us with a backpack, ski bag and laptop each were definitely the cats amongst the pigeons. We made our way down to the new convention centre where we met up with Tim, of North Vancouver fame. He took us home on the Sea Bus and kindly allowed all three of us to stay in his lounge room for the night before the girls had a bus to catch in the morning and I had a life to construct.


I hit the ground running from Thursday...quite simply because I had to. I had $1,400 to my name and I knew one person in Vancouver - the odds were against me.


I must acknowledge again the impact Tim of North Vancouver fame has had on my trip. You may remember I was introduced to Tim through email by a guy I worked with in Perth. They were old friends and the guy who made the electronic introduction thought we might get along. On the back of this brief introduction Tim opened his house to me when I first landed in BC, drove me across the province to Big White (an refused to take petrol money), came to visit me twice through the winter and was now once again opening his living room to me to let me try to find my feet. I like to think I am a good house guest and I was very conscious of overstaying my welcome so I was working hard for him as well.


To put Tim's generosity into perspective - to stay in the cheapest hostel in Vancouver (that is only just humane - I know I stayed there once) would have cost me $30 a night. Admittedly there is one in the 'free zone' (more on that later) which is $10 a night and it comes with free clean syringes so I did have choices. But it is not just the money for accommodation Tim was providing...it was a home, a place to base myself to apply for work, an address to put on the hundreds of forms and a level head and good set of ears to help me every night after day after day of rejected applications and unanswered calls.


Firstly I had to decide if it was worth it...wasting my Aussie savings and the small amount of money I had in Canada only to go home a few months later having lived a frugal existence trying to find work - would I be better spending that money travelling on the way home?? But I was here, I had one friend, a Visa till October 2010 and above all I just flat out wanted to make it happen. To prove to myself that I could, that beyond what all the world was telling me and what the media was shoving down my throat about the financial doomsday that a good man will get good work in a good town if he wants it.


Survival

I realised I was not going to walk into a professional posting within a few weeks or even within an acceptable time frame that would not overstay my welcome on Tim's couch. So I changed it up. The goal: to find work, any work that would let me put together a deposit and a month's rent to get my own place, then live month by month till I landed what I wanted. Balancing working dead end jobs through the day with being available to interview for real jobs and paying the rent and feeding myself. The job was on.


Even finding general laboring work in the unskilled section of the employment papers was near on impossible. One boss later admitted to me that at the moment when he places an ad for a general helper at $11 an hour he will get a call within ten minutes of it going live on the web and will field sometimes 30 calls from applicants over the next few days.


I literally applied for EVERY SINGLE accounting, finance and banking job advertised on the four major employment websites in Western Canada...classifying each ad into two categories. Those I liked and thought I was a chance with and those that I was just applying for in a hit and hope fashion. The former received a structured specific cover letter and tailored resume, the later a more general application. I was averaging 3-4 applications a day for jobs from the first category and countless others from the second.

Following that, I would apply for EVERY SINGLE general labour/employment position that I found which paid more than $10 per hour and was a job that on the face of the advertisement would not put me in any danger, make me sick or was SO embarrassing I could not tell people what I did. On average I made 10+ applications for work like this EVERY day.

These numbers might seem high, or even unrealistic, but I can assure you in this current environment if you are not hitting numbers like this - you're going to eat rice and sweet chilli sauce for longer than I did.

After two weeks I realised the enormity of the task that lay before me and the false reality that I had lived in for the past 5 years. I was part of the working generation that had not lived through the tough times. I walked out of university and straight into a graduate position in a top tier international firm on the back of a half hour interview and a friend's recommendation. I lived in Perth where for the last 5 years any monkey could make money and people could hold a job simply by offering to turn up on time and sometimes not even that. But here, on the other side of the world, in the midst of the greatest recession of my working life and with not a single connection to the working world, it was tough - really tough.


After two weeks, I had managed to meet three recruitment agents who had nothing for me but at least had agreed to meet me and take my resume. Every other avenue was a blank. With my money drying up fast I changed tactics again. I was not even getting responses for general laboring positions and then I worked out why - these positions would be advertised at 7 in the morning and filled by 8am. So I started looking at those first thing in the morning and concentrating on the 'real' applications in the evening. In the third week...success.

Marty's Painting and Decorating
The job advertisement read a little like this:

Painters Helper: No experience necessary, must be clean and reliable with work permit. Comfortable at height and on ladders. $12.50/hour call Marty 604 ### ####.

By lunchtime that day I was on site and slapping paint on the walls of a tiny granny flat in West Vancouver with a 5'6" heavily overweight, slightly Italian looking, Canadian born man called Marty. He seemed fine for the first few hours and even offered to buy me a coffee for afternoon smoko. Then he sat down for a bite to eat and he showed a little of his 'personality'

He was 59, but admittedly looked a little younger, and that was his party trick. Everyone we met, the customers, the lady at Starbucks, the person at the gas station...everyone got asked: "How old, c'mon how old do you think I am?" and of course everyone trying not to be rude aimed lower than they thought and he would sickeningly turn to me with smug look on his face about how cool that was...kill me...3 years at UWA, 5 years in a Big 4 firm, 2 post graduate degrees and I have listen to a fat man in Vancouver get his rocks off with the same joke very few minutes. But I had no choice it was that, a huge credit card debt or fly home, so I sucked it up and laughed along with him.

But that wasn't the worst part about Marty. He was the kind of guy that would show you a newspaper clip of himself in a local rag, from 5 years ago, when the fresh faced journalist wrote a two page home decorating spread and admitted he called Marty because he was listed in the yellow pages as 'AAA Marty's Painting and Decorating' and was near the office. Marty would find the clipping for me to proudly display it - a yellowing piece of 5 year old news print. Then as he makes his way into the kitchen to put on his boots he makes a throw away - "Oh there it is" and there on the wall is a blown up version of the article and picture in a frame. "Forgot that was there" he quips as he pulls on his old boots...kill me!!

Now you are probably thinking..oh Pablo stop being such a private school boy and let the old man enjoy his twilight years, and that was the same approach I was taking, until after a few days he started to really open up to me.

You see Marty wasn't just a 59 year old man with a fresh face. He was a complex ego of old lonely man, depression, hyper-sexuality and dogged determination all mixed together and driven by a force of chronic mania.

He would tell the same story three times a week and I would pretend I had never heard it.

He would tell me all about sex and his sexual drive and fantasies in more detail than this blog and its readers deserve (after a few wines in an adult setting i'll give you the real story)

He was always right and knew the best way to do everything.

He was flat our lazy, addicted to fast food and everything I do not want to be when I am 59.

But, he paid me cash, rounded up when we finished a little early, overlooked lunch breaks that went too long cause he was telling me the same story I had heard yesterday and always paid me at the end of the week. So I bit my tongue and took his money.

In the first week I built scaffolding around an entire two storey home on my own with Marty yelling directions from the ground - I hated it - I'm sure it contravened some OHS rules and I wanted to leave many times but my back was up against the wall and he and I both knew that. He worked me hard knowing I had no other choice and I did what I was told.

I had made two new friends in my first few weeks in Vancouver. A lovely couple from Sydney, Liz and Mick, who were here for the 2010 Games. Liz works for the Australian production company charged with the role of producing the opening and closing ceremonies and the medal presentations. The same company that put together the ceremonies for Sydney and Athens. Mick, was here to support her and was looking for odd jobs like I was. In the second week of scaffolding the house I suggested to Marty that maybe two young Aussie blokes would be better than one so the next day Mick joined me on site.

I had warned Mick about the stories and his personality. That one moment you were the best man he had ever worked with and the next minute he would snap and bite your head off for not putting the hammer away properly despite the fact he had never told you where to put it and that you were still using it. We found it difficult to look at each other at work without laughing uncontrollably.

Towards the end of the week Marty mentioned to Mick that it would be warm next week and that we should wear shorts to work. I was already working in an old pair of shorts but Mick was wearing long pants and did not have any shorts with him here in Vancouver. That weekend we each did our thing and Mick was busy entertaining Liz's parents who were in town to visit. On Monday we turned up, 5 minutes early as always and the scene went a little like this:

Mick and Pablo: "Morning"

Marty: "Morning boys how was your weekend"

Pablo: "Great thanks Marty just looked for a place to rent for the summer, saw a couple of nice places"

Marty (interrupting): "What are they?" (points at Mick's legs)

Mick: "What are what?"

Marty: "I thought I told you that you HAD to wear shorts this week" (Manic looks sweeps across his face and I can see he is in one of his 'zones')

Mick: "Are you joking? I was busy all weekend, Liz's folks were in town"

Marty: "Get out" (points down the road)

Mick: "Are you joking?"

Marty: "I'm serious I told you to wear shorts get out of my sight"

Pablo: "Hang on a minute Marty, show Mick a little respect, he is a grown man and at 28 I think he can dress himself, he was busy all weekend I can vouch for that and besides its only going to be 22 degrees today, we're Australian - it's hardly hot here mate"

Marty: "So you're coming to his defense"

Pablo: "I'm just pointing out that it doesn't really matter what Mick's wearing we both work hard and you are happy with the work so let him wear what he wants - there is no safety concern"

Marty: "Both of you get out"

And with that the old man stormed off in a rage of red face and flabby neck movements. He hopped in van and drove off leaving Mick and I standing in the driveway of a strange lady's house at 8am on a Monday morning.

"I think we just got sacked" I said..."I think we did" quipped Mick and the two of us burst out laughing. "What do we do now" I continued, "we go to mine and cook breakfast" replied Mick. We walked down the road and caught the bus back into town in disbelief. How was Marty ever going to finish the job without us...has anyone ever been fired for not wearing shorts?

In the end it had a silver lining. I promise I'll let you know what that is sooner rather than later.

A more civilised trip across the Coquihalla

At the end of the season everyone packed their bags and made their way off the hill. The final engagement was a fun round of golf at local course in Kelowna for all Big White staff. It was a great morning walking about on grass in shorts for the first time in months. I played my nine holes and said my goodbyes and Amy and I caught a cab into the heart of Kelowna to pick up a hire car.

I had sold my half of the trusty Ford Windstar to my neighbours who together with Pup (the other owner) were heading down the west coast of America in the car before flying home. I was sad to say goodbye to the old girl but thankful that she had treated me well over a gruelling winter of driving. I recovered all but $25 from the sale of the car and was happy with that. Those guys have recently finished their trip and flown out of the US...the fate of the Windstar remains a mystery. I`ll ask them where her final resting place was...

Back in Kelowna, Amy and I stuffed two large ski bags and our backpacks into our rented Hyundai Sonata and headed west to Whistler. That afternoon we made it as far as Hope a quaint town about 2-3 hours east of Vancouver. It`s claim to fame...they shot the movie Rambo there.

We had dinner at a great pub in town and made camp about 8km east of Hope next to the raging Coquihalla River. Between the noise of the river, the constant drone of passing trucks on the nearby highway, the feral cats that lived in the bush next to our tent, the mosquitoes, the frogs, the other campers and occasional trucks that passed less than 25 metres from the end of our tent we enjoyed a tranquil night in the serene BC wilderness. But we saved a lot of money and made a fire and had a few beers - it was super fun.

In the morning I woke and tried to pull a trout from a man made lake in the campground. Despite there being over 80 decent sized trout in a puddle a few times larger than mum`s pool we were forced to drive into town for breakfast.

We made our way through Vancouver that afternoon and on to Whistler where we were staying with some friends in their nice apartment right near the base of Blackcomb. I filled and returned the hire car and we settled into Whistler life. We spent the next 10 days living with Brad and Christie - we skied every day testing out 2010 skis to see what we might like to buy for next year's season. In the evenings we played pool, hot tubbed, swam and cooked awesome meals. Brad is a qualified chef and he took some time every evening to help me prepare the meal - I learnt some cool new tricks in the kitchen.

We repeated this lifestyle for 10 days before it was time to board my first ever Greyhound bus and head to Vancouver...to face reality, to find a job, to find a place to live and to settle down for the next 12-18 months. More on that to come...for now some pictures of the trip across the Coquihalla, Whistler life and the Peak 2 Peak.

Driving the Coquihalla in Spring

Dinner at the Gold Rush Pub

We didn't have a torch so we bought this wind up torch...it made finding things in the dark a lot easier

I built a fire

Home Sweet Home

Lunch at MOUNTAIN WoMAN (this is actually how it appears on the sign and it coined a whole new term for women who does man's things)

View of Seventh Heaven on Blackcomb Mountain from the Peak 2 Peak Gondola

Somewhere on Whistler

A Peak 2 Peak Carriage

Driving the Peak 2 Peak

Lost Lake - Whistler

View from lunch on Blackcomb

Somewhere on Whistler

Apres' at the bottom of Blackcomb

Apres' Apres'

Please remain seated until the Sea Bus come to a full stop

Finally, the merry-go-round that is moving your life to the alternative hemisphere has stopped, but will I prefer it, or will I simply stay long enough to save enough money for my next ticket to ride?

Last we spoke I was enjoying the dizzy heights of Whistler in the spring. Today I sit in my apartment in Vancouver, my last day as a free man. Tomorrow I will rise with the sparrows, commute across the city in a shirt and tie and sit at desk to produce pieces of paper with ink on them for a boss I have known for less than an hour. For this, I'll be paid a cheque on a Friday which will allow me buy food to eat, clothes to keep me warm and entertainment on weekends. Part of me is deliriously excited, the other half just wants another week of walking the sea wall, living on two dollars a day and enjoying the simple life. I think deep down the former creates the comfortable lifestyle I prefer and the latter will remain a source of drive to get out of bed in the morning. It's not over yet...

I've been trying to think of way to get everyone up to date on the last 6 weeks...I have decided to write a series of posts capturing each week or major events beginning with the end...of Big White - ill try to be brief to save everyone's sanity.

Leaving Big White

The season closed on April 19 - it was a great day on the hill and a fitting end to a great six months. The day climaxed with a t-bar party near the summit, an annual tradition to see out the season. About 2pm everyone with a strong connection to the hill that year made their way up the t-bar to the summit with backpacks full of drinks. We found a suitable ridge line with a view across the entire Okanagan Valley.

Within an hour hundreds of us gathered on the ridge drinking and saying goodbye to friends we had made over the season. As the afternoon continued things got a little rowdy and by 3pm the now enormous group had split into two factions which each built walls of protection out of snowboards and skis and an enormous snowball fight erupted. With a no-mans land gap of about 10metres between the groups it was a great way to end the year. The only thing that brought the two groups together was the advent of a passing skier. The cry of "skier" would go out across the group and both factions turned their snowballs on the unsuspecting skier - hundreds of snowballs thrown mercilessly and the poor bloke.

Around 4pm the local RCMP officer skied toward the party...alone and easily outnumbered he addressed the crowd simply asking that we respect the hill and clean up after ourselves...that seemed fair. Then one young fellow threw a snowball at the officer who foolishly brushed it off with a throw away comment about how he was not bothered by such things...Leroy called out to the crowd..."it's OK he is wearing a snowball proof jacket" and with that hundreds of snowballs were launched at the cop who grabbed his poles and retreated down the hill. Around 5pm the drinks ran dry and everyone made their way back to the village in the fading light following their favourite path home, one last ride down the hill from top to village. It was a fitting end to the season. The following photos in this post were all taken at the t-bar party.



Of course boys will be boys and after a few cans of Sprite a small ramp was built and everyone took turns throwing themselves of it. Six beers deep Scott brought the house down with this near perfect backflip off a 1 foot kicker.

Update

I'm having trouble getting my laptop to connect to the Internet hence no photos that I promised. I will get there. I'm also flat out everyday trying to find work. I am in Vancouver again staying with Tim of North Vancouver fame. I'm busy applying for every job I can see and getting my face in front of every recruitment person in Vancouver - its tough times - I should know someone tells me that about every 2 hours at the moment.

Despite the global doom and gloom I do have a couple of leads and they have not come from any website or recruitment agency but rather from some good old fashioned Pablo flesh pressing. I don't want to say anymore at this stage so I don't jinx myself but its a cracker of a job if I can land it.

Other than that its just cool to be in Vancouver - the weather is great and this city is super fun. I'm going camping tonight in Squamish, a town about half way to Whistler along the Sea to Sky Highway - should be fun.

More this week - standby...

Whistler...again

Pablo is in Whistler.

He took many a photograph on the road to Whistler to keep Fairlie happy.

He intends to spend the next week here just relaxing and watching some live music at the Telus Festival which is on here at the moment.

He will write a summary of the last few days (with Pictures) soon - stand by.

For now..he's going to the village centre for some lunch, a haircut and maybe a ski if he feels like stretching the legs for the afternoon. He wishes you all a nice day!*

*Pablo exits