Of Montreal

I'm here, but not without incident it must be said. Yesterday I do believe Simon, the God of small obstacles, was paying close personal attention to me. The rot started Saturday morning where I was suppose to meet a new college at a train station and share a taxi to the airport at 6AM. Having had a big Friday I didn't set my alarm properly and was only awakened on the 3rd (somewhat frenzied) call at about 6:45 wanting to know where the hell I was. Having not packed already I randomly stuffed objects into a bag and jumped into a cab. I just made the plane in addition to making a wonderful first impression with my new college.

I was hang over for most of the trip and then a balls-up at JFK airport saw me having to take a flight 4 hours after the guy I was traveling with to Montreal before realising that all I had to go on for the Hotel was 'The Novotel'; no address, no booking number and no telephone number. Add to this neither of my SIM cards seem to roam on Canadian soil and I was drifting up the creek.

I then caught a bus into town and waited around for ages for a supposed shuttle bus to take me to the airport. This never eventuated so I tagged along with a German tour group and got on their minibus and convinced the driver that I was with the group but merely staying at a different hotel. Anyway, turns out the city Novotel is not the one I'd been booked into so I had to get a cab back out to the burbs. I was then unable to withdraw cash from either my Australian or UK banks so had to struggle by on hotel conversion rates from Stirling. The cab driver then didn't know where he was going and we drove around asking people for the next hour. Finally made it here and watched ice hockey with the locals in the bar before I passed out.

Anyway, other observations of note; who would've thunk French Canadians speak French? And all the signs are in French? Apart from this rather crippling trait however the local people, to a person, seem to be really nice. This is in stark contrast to the Americans that I met at JFK who all seemed to have sticks inserted in uncomfortable locations.

The upside to all this is I can now say I've been inside John F. Kennedy.* It was rather bloated, a little smelly and full of American spirit; just like I always imagined.

I'll leave you with this this track from 'Of Montreal' which I quite like. Try to ignore the stupid sylable extensions the lead singer throws in and it ain't a bad track.

*International Airport