What I've Learnt From Living in Banff, Canada

After eight months of living in the Land of Maple Syrup, I have officially left Banff and therefore, Canada. A couple of tough goodbyes, not to mention a teary farewell at Calgary Airport with the people I have shared every waking moment, every drunken night, every drunken drama, every snowboard stack and every game of pool, reassured me that my time in Canada has left me a changed person.


You certainly can't spend eight months in a foreign country - even Canada - and not learn a little something about yourself and the place that you've temporarily called home.

So here are a couple of things I've learnt about Canada, Canadians and what it's like to exist in their country.

1. Tim Hortons - the purveyor of doughnuts, 'doughnut holes' (referred to by CAers as TimBits), bagels and other sugary treats and the brewer of what CAers consider to be gourmet coffee - is not just a Canadian institution, but a deliciously cheap religious experience.

2. Just like How I Met Your Mother insinuates, Canadians really do put 'eh' on the end of everything, therefore turning everything into a question. It's such a strange custom, eh?

3. Eight months living in a ski town has turned me into a professional at pool. I am also in the draft to turn pro at foosball - wicked attack line. Not so great at defence.

4. Clamato juice and tomato juice are two different things.

5. Which brings me to ceasers. While at first I turned my nose up at Canada's national beverage, I can't deny I have developed quite a thirst for these little cocktail concoctions. Vodka, clamato juice (which, for the life of me, I STILL don't know what is made out of), a splash of tobasco, a shake of worcestershire, a couple of olives and a green bean, all topped off in a celery salt rimmed glass. Hello, I'm drunk.

7. Don't live in Banff if you don't like Jagermeister. Something like 30 per cent of all Jager is ingested in Banff (Okay, so that's not a real statistic. But when you’re knocking back the 50 bazillionth shot of jager in the last two hours, it sure as hell feels true). Statistic or not, live in Banff and be prepared to drink Jager like its running water.

8. After a surprisingly drunk night where we both woke up asking, "What the hell happened?", Housemate Maadi and I decided, under no circumstances, should we be left at home alone with a bottle of Housemate Luke's Jager, a ski shooter and a couple of leftover party hats.

9. Ski shooter = a ski with four or five shot glasses attached to it, wherein the people shotting must hold the ski, lift it together and drink their shot all at the same time. Inability to do this results in Jager down your front.

10. When it's -15 degrees outside and your freezer is too full to hold the giant punnet of vanilla ice cream you bought for Christmas, you would think putting it outside on the patio would keep it frozen. This isn't true. The ice cream melts and gluttonous deer try to eat it.

11. In a similar idea, leaving cans of coke out on the patio in -15 degree weather doesn't keep the coke cold. It makes the cans explode.

12. When you live in a ski town and you want some coke, be sure to call it coca cola. Coke is something different altogether.

13. Every national or international holiday, regardless of whether you celebrate it in your own country or not, are guaranteed to be celebrated in Banff. Drunkenly.

14. Being a musician in Banff is surprisingly lucrative. I think it comes down to hotels, bars and establishments being kind of lazy when it comes to finding talent, not when they can simply steal their competitors' instead. And I'm certainly not complaining. In all seriousness though, Banff is extremely supportive of local artists and being a musician as your full time job is certainly do-able.

15. When it's -30 degrees outside, never underestimate how many layers you can actually wear. However, no matter how many thermals you put on under your jeans or how many t-shirts you wear under your coat, your hair, your eyelashes and your snot will still freeze.

16. Living in a house with four girls, results in a lot of hair ending up tangled around the drain. It's embarrassing when the hot plumber has to come over and yank it out.

17. No matter what the boys in your house think at the time, finding an 80s exercise bike on the side of the street is like striking gold. It might rattle a bit when you ride it, but it makes for the best clothes horse.

18. Milk and bread crates stolen from the backdoor of the pub make for the best shoe racks.

19. Give it eight months and you're guaranteed to become as freaking ice hockey-crazed as every other puck enthusiast in the country.

20. Canada might be Australia's version of New Zealand - the USA's overshadowed side-kick who gets bullied and poked-fun at - but after eight months of living there, you're quick to realise that the side-kick has his own attributes to offer. I may have been on the other side of the world, but I found commonalities between Oz and Canada which made me feel strangely at home. And it's the reason I intend on returning and moving to Vancouver in August.

Ciao for now, Canada. xo

Slush Slush Slush

On Monday 23rd May, 4500 very drunk, very colourful, very rowdy snow enthusiasts arrived at Sunshine Village to celebrate the end of eight months of record breaking snowfall. And they did that by skiing and snowboarding down a hill and trying to make it across a dug-out of chilly, winter water.

This is what they call Slush Cup.

From the beginning of the season, Slush Cup had been pegged as the loosest, craziest, busiest day we would experience on hill and its reputation certainly delivered. After a few days of bipolar weather patterns, the sun got its act together at the last minute and rewarded us with a beautiful, blue bird spring day for our last day at SSV.

My boss at Trappers very kindly gave me the day off (as well as the Saturday and Sunday before it) to play my final gigs at Sunshine with Lisa Baskin. We spent one and half very memorable hours playing our final show together on the main stage that morning. It was the perfect way to end my season - playing my music in front of the snowy hills that hold so many happy and unfogettable memories.

It was my pleasure to then boot up, line Bluejuice up on my iPod and ride those snowy hills one last time before fighting my way through the crowds to buy a jug of Richards Red and a good posie for the big show.

Slush Cup is a well-known Sunshine Village tradition and 2011 marked the 83rd year that skiing and snowboarding extremists have streamlined down Angel run in hope of making it across the watery dug out. While many of the snowboarders crashed to their aquatic end, a few skiers had the skill to make it without getting their feet wet and were rewarded by an appreciative drunk crowd.

After polishing off a jug of beer to myself, it was back to the slopes with all the confidence and bravado of a professional. Needless to say, I ended up back at the bar with a spiced ceaser on one arm and a bloody, ice graze up the other.

But beneath the beer haze, I hardly felt the pain. All I could feel was happy. A happiness that continued well into the evening until the ceasers, snowboarding and sun-burn sent me home around 2am.

Yes, my snow season was over. But that was not the point. The point was that it happened.

Ciao for now. xo

The Sister Dearest Series: Part Two

I’ll admit - it was a little strange having Sister Dearest in Banff.

Strange in the way that absolutely nothing has changed in the 12 months since I’ve been out of the country. We still cracked the same personal jokes, still bantered like we were the Gilmore Girls, still obsessed over poached eggs and espresso coffee and still couldn’t understand when people said we looked exactly alike.

I just don’t see it, people.

I did my best to give Sister Dearest the royal Banff treatment, right down to pizza at Aardarks after stumbling home from a 2am dance session at HooDoo’s. It’s something she would probably prefer to forget, but midnight pizza is crucial to anyone’s overall Banff experience.

Thanks to it being Spring Break, I had to work most of the days she was here but we found time to ride most afternoons, leaving my days-off free for more interesting things.

Like dog-sledding.

Dog-sledding is a long-practiced Canadian tradition, originally used to transport produce and medicine back in the day when there were no highways or semi-trailers. Now, dog-sledding does more for the tourism trade than it does anything else, putting willing (and sometimes unwilling) tourists in the driving seat of seven over-excited huskies.

The dogs were gorgeous, but not quite as gorgeous as our tour guide, Phil. Phil was especially gorgeous when he was holding a puppy. I regret to admit, I may have shamelessly lusted in his direction in hope that we might live happily ever after in his mountain lodge.

After Phil and the huskies, Sister Dearest and I took a break from Sunshine and went riding at Lake Louise. I hadn’t been to The Lake since the start of the season when the runs were covered in ice and the snow-guns were working overtime. I was pleasantly surprised at the conditions and the steeper terrain, a welcome change from Sunshine. We spent the better part of an hour building a pathetic-looking kicker off a green run on Larch and the better part of an hour throwing ourselves off it as we took photos.

The expiry date on Sister Dearest and I’s time together came all too quickly and before I knew it, I was standing on the footpath waving goodbye to her as she headed back to Calgary airport. Being back together after so long apart was like reuniting Lorelei and Rory and then cancelling the Gilmore Girls all over again.

Who knows when we will see each other again, but until then, we will always have our memories of Banff.

And Phil.

Ciao for now. xo

The Sister Dearest Series: Part One

It’s been a month after the fact, but my sister was here. In Banff. With me. 

Thought I should tell you all. It seemed like something worthy of blogging about. Even if it has been almost a month since she was here.

Tale of the tardy blogger strikes again.

Given that it had been six months since we had last seen each other (the last time being our jaunt in ol’ N.Y.C), we decided the occasion should be marked by a little trip to Whistler, BC – home of the 2010 Winter Olympics and pretty much every sexually transmitted disease known to man, thanks to the hordes of 20-something snowboard and skiing extremists who flood its village every winter season.

As Bethany was flying in from Sydney, we decided to meet in Vancouver and make stop-over. We spent a whole 24 hours there which was just enough time for me to decide that I wanted to move there after summer camp finishes in August – consequently adding another 12 months to my never ending North American adventure.

While 24 hours definitely wasn’t sufficient time to see everything Vancouver has to offer, we squeezed in as much as possible to our time-pressed itinerary. Such experiences included:

- Afternoon tea with Zosia Cassie, my beloved bunk director from Appel Farm
- An afternoon stroll through the famous Stanley Park

- Breakfast at 'Crave' on Main Street. No espresso coffee, but deliciously gooey poached eggs made up for it

- Shopping, wandering and more shopping
- Lunch in Yaletown, the yuppie-ville of Vancouver where sister dearest fit right in

But the real gem in the Vancouver crown was dinner at 'Salt', a wine-and-cheese bar where the menu consists of nothing but cheese, meats and condiments and all you drink is wine, wine and more wine. We had a lovely waiter who received a rather generous tip, given that he was considerably more delicious than the blue-cheese cheesecake he recommended for dessert.

From Vancouver, we made the two and a half hour bus trip to Whistler where I was reunited with Clare Thomas, another Appel Farm friend who was to be our host for the next two days. Even on arrival, it was clear why Whistler reigns supreme as the leading destination for snow bums. Not only is Whistler Village like an alpine country town that you just want to paint red, but the mountain is so close you can see the runs from the highway exit.

It must be awfully nice dragging one’s hungover butt out of bed and stumbling straight onto the mountain. Instead of, say, a 40 minute bus and gondola commute that could make any iron stomach churn with last night’s bad decisions.

We spent two days riding Whistler and Blackcomb mountains, a fairly expensive experience which was without a doubt, worth every penny. Both mountains are a bevy of green, blue and black runs where one not only experiences every form of terrain, but every form of weather as well. The mountains are both so high that riding from top to bottom can take you from bluebird sunshine to snow to white-out to spring slush in all of 20 minutes. We were there Monday and Tuesday and even then, the lift lines were that bit too long, which only made me wonder what the weekend warriors must put up with every Saturday and Sunday.

When we weren’t snowboarding ourselves into a powder high, we were experiencing the village’s evening delights. With Clare as our guide, we visited Moe Joe’s club, Longhorns Saloon, did a spot of karaoke at Crystal Lounge (okay, so I did a spot of karaoke while Clare and Sister Dearest watched) and ate a few too many late-night poutines from Zog’s (where I’d make a reference to Peak Season – MTV’s reality TV representation of working in a snow town – but that would mean admitting that I’ve watched an episode.... or seven.)

Despite trying not to, I found myself constantly comparing Whistler with Banff and feeling just that wee-bit jealous. It is easy to be immediately smitten with everything Whistler has to offer – the village atmosphere, the incredible mountain conditions, the simple satisfaction of saying that’s where you did a season. It was so different to what I’ve known for the last half of the year and with Banff beginning to feel like the winter of my discontent, I wondered if I had made the right decision choosing Sunshine Village.

But on returning to Banff, with Sister Dearest in tow, I couldn’t help but feel a little proud of the town I’ve called home for seven months. The Rocky Mountains looming tall in every direction, being recognised as ‘that girl who sings at Bruno’s’ when I’m walking down the street and the days when the sky on top of Goat’s Eye mountain is so blue and so clear that there’s nothing hidden on the national park’s rocky outcrop.

Fine. I heart Banff.

Whatever.

Ciao for now. xo

Banffing In The New Year

Happy New Year!

So I'm nine days late. Cut a girl some slack.

I welcomed the end of 2010 and the bright shiney future of 2011 in the main street of Banff, surrounded by hundreds of drunk, probably high, if not completely pilled up, party-goers. While the only drugs in my system where some vodka and the sheer joy of waving goodbye to what has been a turbulent 2010, I still had a memorable and enjoyable new years eve. But let's face it - after I up-ended in a garden bed, lost a hoop earring, most of the skin off my shins and the entirity of my dignity at last year's celebration, 2011 would have had to bring something pretty mean to top 2010. But with the worst being that I smashed my favourite mug on the floor of my neighbour's house party, I've got a good feeling about where 2011 is heading.

And to start the new year off, my housemate's and I decided it was time to head out beyond our Banff boundaries and explore our other local landmark, Lake Louise. The Lake is located about 40 minutes from Banff and while being as the name suggests, a lake, Lake Louise is also the sister ski-hill to Sunshine Village, which means employees of either ski for free. Being a steeper mountain to Sunshine, the terrain is a lot different and while the snow machines keep the runs covered, boarding on real powder verses fake powder is like eating meat and then living of tofu for the rest of your life. But the idea was to board outside our comfort zone and I would rather board on fake powder, than no powder at all.

With the Christmas/New Year mania over, business has slowed right down at Sunshine which is a major relief to its staff. And as Mother Nature's christmas gift to us, she rolled in the clouds and sent a massive snow dump our way, just in time for the majority of the mountain to come down with the flu. And when one worker bee gets a cold, they share it with the whole hive (and we all know how that happens, don't we...). With most of us laid up on the couch watching Friends reruns (okay, so maybe that's just me) and the snow falling like wedding confetti outside, you could say it's been a slow, painful start to 2011.

But powder is powder, and even if I'm not out in it, I'm not complaining.

Ciao for now. xo