Birthdays and Boarding

So things are really heating up (or perhaps that should be cooling down...) in Canada, which is good for a variety of reasons, the most important being I finally have some news worth blogging about. After all, nobody likes a rambaling blogger, much like nobody likes a musician at an open mic night who is smitten with the sound of their own voice.

First and foremost, it was my birthday last week and I turned 23. Yet another milestone celebrated on the other side of the world. (For reference, other milestones have included eating gator sausage, watching Steph Holt get her first tattoo and being photographed unawares in a Steakouts advertisement. I am easily satisfied.) The benefit of being from Australia and celebrating your birthday in a different country is that you essentially get an additional 17 hours of celebration time. I saw in my Canadian birthday over pool and (a few too many) shots at The Gap and had Mexican that following evening with my roommates and neighbours, my now Canadian family, who were a fine replacement from the people who would have taken me out in Australia to get me drunk on my birthday. This fine replacement also sat me down to watch the movie, The Number 23, and now I am positive something bad is going to happen to me this year courtesy of the 23 enigma.

After a disappointingly warm introduction to winter, it has FINALLY started snowing! It started dumping last weekend and now everything looks like its coated in a thick layer of icing sugar. Unfortunately, snow doesn't taste anything like icing sugar but it looks pretty none the less. So, with snow to cap its peaks, Sunshine Mountain finally opened its doors to the public and I officially started waitressing at Trappers. My first day on the job was much like being thrown into the sea and told to either sink or swim, but I came out the other side with a better appreciation for northern service expectations and $120 in tips. God bless gratuities.

Like the weather hasn't been bipolar enough over the last month, the temperature plumeted to a very uncomfortable -38 degrees this week, forcing the mountain to close and everyone to seek refuge indoors. Despite it being cold enough to freeze your eyelashes together, Sunshine re-opened for part of the day so that only those crazy skiers and snowboarders who are addicted to the snow like Cher is addicted to the knife, could go up and get frostbite.

With all this snow falling out of the sky, I decided it was time to get my boarding butt on some slopes. I went and bought my snowboarding boots - a pair of peppermint-coloured Thirty Two's which are, in my opinion, the snowboarding equivalent of a pair of Jimmy Choo's but make my feet feel like they're being pushed through a meat mincer. Apparently fashion, and snowboarding, is pain. So with new boots in tow and my neighbour's old snowboard under one arm, I went up the mountain yesterday for my first ride of the season. Having been six years since I was last on the slopes, I greatly underestimated how much I remembered of how to snowboard. I spent most of my first run down the hill on my ass and at one point, jarred my thumb so that it bruised up to the size of a small sausage. By my third run, I had re-mastered the act of balancing but I've got a long way to go before I'll be boarding alongside Shawn White.

But the most exciting news is that, after getting the go-ahead from BUNAC, I should be making my way back across the border for Appel Farm 2011.

I've got my apple, you've got your apple...

Ciao for now. xo

No News, No Snow, No Sanity

I wish this post was bursting with news from abroad. I wish I could say that I've been run off my feet at work, hitting the slopes every other second I get, making enough money to cover my coffee addiction and the layby debt I've established at almost every ski and snowboarding store in Banff.

But unfortunately, none of this is true.

I am still waiting to start work.

I have not hit the slopes.

This is because there is about as much snow up on the mountain as I have things to fill my day with.

And I don't have any of my snowboarding gear as it's all still sitting on layby and can't be paid off until I start work. The only piece of snow gear I have acquired is my WestBeach jacket, which is as warm as it is smashingly attractive. Let's just say that if I get trapped in an avalanche, my jacket will save me. It's a beacon of colour. It's the Skittles of snowboarding jackets.

Unfortantely, all this spare time means I have acquired some seriously bad habits. I now sleep in until at least 10:30am. This is partly because it's too cold in the morning, partly because I know I have nothing better to do than stay in bed and usually because I'm sleeping off a night of 'playing pool' at the Devil's Gap Bar. I skip breakfast and move straight on to lunch, followed by a mid-afternoon nap which gives me enough energy to return to the Devil's Gap at 9pm for more pool. I realise this is far from a healthy lifestyle.

But this week, apart from sitting around watching reruns of How I Met Your Mother, praying for snow and pining for Appel Farm, my small achievement was playing my first gig at Bruno's Bar and Grill. My housemates, assorted neighbours and spattering of friends from around town all turned up to watch my first show and made for an appreciative audience. I play again next week and am hoping I can find a cheap used guitar before then so I can play more songs than just those I learnt in 10th grade music.

I hope my participation in Banff's cultural community might appease the snow gods and in return they will award me with snow.

I never thought I would be so impatient for a dump.

(Okay, that was cheap and nasty - my apologies).

Ciao for now. xo

Halloweening (Off-a the Candy)

It's been an eventful week in Banff, Alberta as me and my new housemates settled into our new home and tried to establish some sort of normalcy in our lives.  But it's hard to feel normal when every day seems to offer up some new Canadian experience.

This week, it was Halloween.

The costumes were outrageous, the candy consumed phenomenal and I'm not even talking about the kids. Trick-or-Treat is a child's game. Trick-or-Try-and-get-as-drunk-as-possible-while-dressed-up-in-a-skantily-clad-costume is the adult interpretation.

Halloween at the Muskrat St house didn't get off to a stereotypical start. We left it until the day of Halloween to buy our pumpkin to carve, only to find out that Banff, and probably the entirity of Alberta, was completely sold out of pumpkins. We didn't bother to buy any candy to hand out and none of our costumes were inspired by porn stars or showed a jaw-dropping amount of flesh (it's just too damn cold for that sort of thing).

But dress up we did - a pirate, an 80s skier, an All Black and a rastifarian - and when we woke the next morning, the demolished pumpkin heads lining the streets weren't the only heads that felt like they'd been kicked in.

This week also marked my first day of work and my first visit to the top of Sunshine Mountain (I was, quite literally, walking on Sunshine). I met the team I'll be working with over the next eight months, started the mass preparation that is setting up Trappers and got a feel for what life is going to be like working up on the mountain. As Sunshine isn't officially open yet (and won't open for at least another week), a lot of the runs remain untouched. That's right, smooth, white untouched powder - like icing on a cake - just begging to be carved across.

And carve across it I will on my beautiful new Arbor snowboard, which waits patiently for me at the ski and snow store in Banff. With my official start day at Trappers still a week away and pay day another fortnight after that, I haven't been able to formally purchase my snowboarding gear and have consequently, set up lay-by debts in multiple stores around Banff. It's either eat, or buy my board. Tricky... very tricky.

But the real blast out of the blue this week came in the form of an open mic night at Bruno's Bar and Grill. Still living a little off the high of performing at Appel Farm, I put myself back on stage and busted out a few original songs at the open mic night for a crowd of appreciative music fans. What resulted was the supervisor asking me to play a regular set at the bar every Thursday night, unpaid but compensated in drinks. It's going to be advertised in the local newspaper, my new friend Jay-the-bongo-player is going to back me up on percussion, they're going to provide me with a guitar to play on and I get to play whatever I want.

Missy Higgins, here I come.

Ciao for now. xo