Victoria: Day Three | 30th August 2011 | 21:00 PDT

Having taken in most of Greater Victoria and with sore feet, probably best I narrow my exploration to Downtown, though I got off to a false start when my initial coffee and muffin tasted like a piece of crap, so I went all over Downtown looking for a decent place, I did find one but now I have to retrace my steps again to absorb what I just saw through decaffeinated eyes.

Chinatown - Oldest in Canada, featuring dragons, grand entrance, unusual food, Chinese symbols everywhere, usual boring shit you get from these places.
Market Square - An enclosed area filled with restaurants and shops, that should be a lot busier than it was, because it was actually a really pleasant place to be.
Centennial Square - Fountain... whoop-de-doo.
Maritime Museum - Didn't go around it because I don't care about stories about scurvy and listening to a soundtrack of a boat creaking for 3 hours.
Antiques Row - On Fort Street a gathering of antique stores concentrated into one area, interesting few hours could be wasted looking around these small free museums
Art Gallery of Victoria - Way to expensive to justify looking around, so I didn't, nice little building though.

Castle house home

Craigdarroch Castle - I've been to a proper castle before, so a home made to look like a castle has the inkling of roped off areas with signs saying “this is how this room could've been” - and a few boring tapestries of elk or something.
Government House - You see one garden, you've seen them all, but as these were officially free to have a look around and was surprised how well maintained and loved everything looked.
Christ Church Cathedral - Ugliest. Church. Ever. (inside)

Ivy Hotel called Empress

Empress - Old hotel covered in ivy.
Royal BC Museum - I didn't fancy an expensive long lecture about how the native locals would be happy without the evil white man coming along stealing their fish and causing global warming, killing everyone and making it feel like it's all my fault. You never feel upbeat from being in a museum, you just leave feeling empty and worthless in the universe.
Parliament Building - Free to have a look around, was fairly interesting looking at old photos of Victoria and how it has changed, but when I entered a room with a giant painting of The Queen staring at me, I had to leave and find a bucket to vomit in.

View over the harbour

Harbour - Short walkway with buskers, vendors and stalls selling handmade goods.
Emily Carr House - I've no idea who this person is, but she lived in a wooden house and things I read about her, make her seem like a big douchebag.
Fisherman's Wharf Float Home - Floating community of houseboats, with fish n chip restaurants  with long queues.
Beacon Hill Park - Massive massive totem pole!

Big colourful wood!

Beach - Relaxed on the beach for a few hours, watching the waves and gathering my thoughts as kitesurfers rushed up and down the shoreline, very quiet and serene.
Harbour Wall - Probably the coldest walk getting there in all my life, as the wind had picked up, I grabbed a Hot Chocolate from a nearby café and watched my final sunset in Victoria

The freezing cold harbour wall

Victoria: Day Two | 29th August 2011 | 21:27 PDT

A hipster coffee a bit of water and a 25 mile walk later, I saw...

Quadra

Cinema thing

A small village consumed by Greater Victoria with a the usual high street selection, such a vegan restaurant, Caribbean café and a cinema in what looks like a military hanger.

Cedar Hill Road

Church thing

An increasingly forested road the further north you head, filled with a mixture of low lying wooden shacks and being surrounded by the colour green, everywhere! And a shit load of deer roaming around without a care in the world.

Mt Douglas Park

Peak thing

Clambered up the steep side to get to the peak of this 227m mountain for a 360˚ panoramic of Victoria and neighbouring mountain ranges and coastline of Vancouver Island, very spectacular, before descending down to the beach to have a it all to myself!

Gordon Head

Rock thing

Bit of a nothing residential area, but noticing on Google Maps there was a sculpture garden so I aimed for that. I arrived to someone's house and snooped around for a bit, until I arrived into the back garden and a disgruntled owner who was in “the zone” of working, turns out it was by appointment only, so I apologised and left. Oops!

Cadboro Bay

Beach thing

More residential purgatory, near University of Victoria – so a student filled area and a windy beach with a few shops, a comfortable area, but not much really going on as it was summer holidays for the education system.

Uplands

Post thing

Ohh, how very la-di-da! I went down Beach Drive, this road is the millionaire's mile(s) – with waterside properties of epic proportions oozing with the stench of rich people, some fantastic houses if you can see them through the big gates and thick hedges.

Oak Bay

Shop thing

Over 100 years old, the sign denotes of this quaint little coastal community, that looked like it had just been plucked out of rural England, with beach hut café with machine coffee overlooking the bay, and further inland a selection of olde pubs and shops.

Gonzales

Chimney thing

More millionaire's mansions clinging to the coast, but with one unusual feature, a Chinese Cemetery complete with a ceremonial alter with chimneys, used for burning incense. This site by the coast was chosen for its feng shui properties and bodies would be buried there for 7 years before being dug up and sent back to China for a proper burial, this tradition stopped in the 1930s when war put a stop to this practice and the burials stopped entirely in the 1950s

Fairfield

Coast thing

Following Dallas Road to Clover Point Park, I admired my final view of mountains and ocean as the weather started to close in for the night, I wandered up Cook Street Village, a typical high street but with the busiest pizza restaurant in the history of the Earth (I imagine), not for me though as I was close to completing my full circle, so I hurried along the last few blocks not before noticing a brilliantly named terrace.

Sign thing

I got back to my hostel and allowed my feet to promptly explode all over the walls, in hindsight it probably wasn't a great idea to have been wearing jeans and tennis shoes for all that, but there we, a lesson learnt for the next time I urban hike.

Victoria: Day One | 28th August 2011 | 22:58 PDT

We're skimming atop of the waves as there's a sound of an extremely loud cold bird that has all its cylinders firing at full pelt, edging closer and closer towards the Lionsgate bridge, this is my first trip in a seaplane and I'm pretty much sure that it will be over in a few seconds as we smash into the side of the suspension bridge.

Avoiding it by a few feet, I wipe the sweat from my eyes (tears) and now soaring above an incredible scenery, from Downtown Vancouver, heading over Vancouver International Airport as planes are taking off, over the Georgia Strait as cruise ships are trundling along, over pockets of islands and marinas as sail boats negotiate the rugged weather beaten coasts, over miles of forest, mountains of west Vancouver Island. The the water, buildings, boats, people getting larger and larger as we land into Victoria Harbour.

Missed it by inches (albeit, many)

Well, the weather's nice which I thought was impossible on this island as everyday up until the last few days it had been a bummer summer, but there's something more unusual about this place, it's all too familiar... we've appeared to have missed Victoria and landed in Cornwall.

Nothing like Cornwall this picture, just a pretty journey over

It's no real surprise really, given it's long history and influence from the British Empire. It originally starting life as a trading post and fort in 1843, that was created in with the outlook of the Oregon boundary dispute in mind. When gold was discovered on the mainland, Victoria became a thriving port and supply base for miners, when the gold rush concluded, Port Victoria moved into the opium trade until it's ban in the early 1900s – during this time the growth of the city stumbled a bit when the Canadian Pacific Railway built its terminus station in Vancouver, but not enough to stop a steady growth as being a capital with temperate climate has been more than enough to bring in people. It's rich history has also left many interesting (mainly Edwardian) buildings along the way to add to the city's character.

Think it's city hall, whatever it is, it's old

Passing through the town with my blinkers on, to get to my dire room with no windows at the hostel, that's also full of the most idiotic people I have ever met, I quickly leave my hippie prison and aim for any restaurant overlooking the harbour to watch the sun go down.

White hole of the sky

Ordering a small sandwich and fries, though looking at the plate when it arrived, it appeared to be meant for six African nations. I was accosted by this guy from Calgary who was out celebrating his friend's birthday and said I should join along, “Brilliant, people!” I thought.


Introducing myself to the Calgary party, there was a token girl and immigrant from England “Hello, ex-Englander” and everything from then was going well, much laughing, much story telling, everyone was in high spirits and telling me about their drunken adventures the night before where they drunkenly ordered a prostitute instead of a stripper and the embarrassing hilarity that followed. Things were good, I was being accepted as “their own”

Relaxing a little and letting my brain control my mouth without too much censorship, resulting in me blurting out some witty comment to a joke, something to do with brave raccoons, pak choi and polish zincite, probably, the guys from Calgary laughed but the English girl didn't and seemed very pissed off about the whole thing.

That very moment, I was in a Roman coliseum and my fate was being decided by either an invisible thumbs up or down of the mind. Now, seeing as she was the only girl there, what she says goes regardless, whether everyone else likes them or not – she was the princess unicorn of proceedings.

Dickhead. (via trenddelacreme.com)

I got sent to my death and took it amicable, knowing I had failed hard and fast, I finished my closing gift of wine and left with my head low and went back to my holeless box of a bedroom to think about what I'd done

...brainless British bitch, how can you not recognise that polish zincite is funny?

Fucking hilarious! (via ebay.com)

Binding the Pacific Together with Food | 27th August 2011 | 22:57 PDT

One of the must-have things to have that you mustn't miss out on in Vancouver is Japadog, it's a food stall that serves Japanese hotdogs, I had no expectation but judging that celebrities I've never heard of, except for Ice Cube and Seven Seagal, eat from here quite often (according to their sign) – it had to be good.

"Yes, many many celebs!" - "Who now?"

I order a something-or-rather dog and the guy loving spends ages assembling it all together, the love that goes into each hotdog is beautiful, I wanted to inject it straight into my soul.

I received my hotdog and it looked amazing! Like a regular hotdog that's had a stylist come in and shake things up, it had a variety of different colours and exciting looking things that lied beneath a bed of seaweed, my mouth was watering to try and I couldn't wait to inhale it.

And this ladies, is where the magic happens

Munch... Oh, wow!

This is... this is... dull!

It tastes just like a very familiar and uninteresting.budget hotdog with some seaweed thrown on it, what the hell took him so long? I could've made this quicker and tastier than this guy, only using the power of the sun to cook the hotdog and swimming to seaweedland (or wherever seaweed comes from) and it might've been tastier.

Sorry Ice Cube, Seven Seagal and the rest of you unknown celebrities but, you're all tastebudly challenged.

Chessing BBQs | 26th August 2011 | 23:34 PDT

Summer was late arriving here in Vancouver by about a month or so and as a result, the male population has have this pressure building up inside of them for longer than they're used to. The pressure is that desire to want to heat meat outside, often referred to as a BBQ. It's not unusual to walk around and spot a male man, looking out the window peering towards the sky flipping imaginary burgers on their imaginary spatula whilst drooling with anticipation for the sun to show its face.

Since the first sunny weekend the smell of cooking beef and sausages has filled the air and if you listen carefully, distant content grunts can be heard as another man starts a fire and throws a slab of dead cow on it.

Yummy! Smells like death (via gothamist.com)

I have attended more BBQs recently than ever in the history of me, and being subjected to such a high concentration of them, you start noticing a trend and hierarchy when people gather to eat heated meat and drink cold liquid bread.

King
supplies the cooking, because raw meat doesn't taste great – These burger kings are the party and why everyone is attending.

Queen
supplies the BBQ and location – if different from the cook, they open up their house and grounds in which to party, but as they are not cooking at the BBQ, they get moved down one rank.

Bishop
supplies the meat (if not done by host) or beer, but they have to bring enough to share around to earn this status, otherwise it goes to the nearest pet to the party, for supplying the entertainment “Aww, shark!”

Knights
bring the standard sharing foodstuffs you get at parties, things like crisps, dips, condiments, sausage rolls – these foods can't be good for you, because general party food that everyone likes, is never good for you.

Relax, your heart will give in soon (via gulf-shores-alabama-condo-rentals.com)

Jester
brings the dessert, a tough one as it's something that people often forget but when it comes to it people don't normally want it after consumption of the warm food, BUT and this is why it's highly ranked due to the gamble you take, when people are in the mood for a desserts (normally a small sweet thing) – it's brings nothing but unconfined joy.

Castle
bring the odd stuff, that tend to be an unusual success, and weirdly enough often healthy, things like carrots, grapes and cherry tomatoes. People keep picking at this stuff because it's no bad for them so guilt-free eating essentially – people who bring their own personal supply of meat are also in this category

Pawns
bring their own personal stack of beers, and/or beige 70s party food that never gets eaten because you can feel the chemicals of this budget foodstuffs changing your DNA.

Clodhoppers
bring fuck all or quiche and all they're really good for is tarring and feathering at the BBQ gates.

If you attend a BBQ, like I was at recently, where absolute everything is provided and cooked for you, and only your company is required then your host/cook are demi-god(s) and you are all dirty untouchable peasants – no amount of gifts to the god can ever get you promoted up the ranks and you'll always be their bitch but then, it's the least you can be for a night's free feeding.

The Poetic Gardener | 25th August 2011 | 16:43 PDT

Heading off route from the one I normally take to get to the beach, I stumbled upon this big stone abandoned house surrounded by a fence with a sign saying “Not in use” or something (that's how I knew it was abandoned”. Outside of the fence's boundary was a garden that was strangely “manicured” for such a discarded establishment.

Using my eyes to have a look at the garden curiously, I see the top of someone's back peering over some bushes, looking very busy working on some plants in the middle of the garden. Fair enough that's why the garden appears so kept, some retired lady has been looking after it and being the West End an area full of very prideful and protective busybodies, this would make perfect sense.

This is my pet plant Percy, I like to take him everywhere! (via landscapeproductsdepot.com)

Then as I'm walking in parallel to this person, a female sounding noise of loud nonsense fills the air. A lady pops up from behind the bushes, like she was using a mime elevator, she's sitting on her knees and covered in all sorts of shrubbery with flowers in her hair and I'm sure there was a branch hanging from her nose.

But faced (via kdokosart.blogspot.com)

She uttered these soft gentle insightful words at anyone who would care to listen to her angelic voice turned up to full volume, “FUCK CUNTY cunt SHIT FUCKY fuck FUCKST FFFFFUUUUU!” and as she was building up tension and suspense for the final unique word that would tie the whole verse together, her head appeared to be overwhelmed from all the weight of these wise words being shared and she plonked backwards as if she had been hit in the head by a large imaginary exercise ball.


She let out a helpful yet disgruntled grunt, to let me know she was alive and that I could move on away as it was the end of the show.

I can only assume she was a method actress preparing an audition for the role of Bill in the new live-action, reboot of 'Bill and Ben the Flower Pot Men' where weed is killed weekly by being wrapped up, set alight and inhaled. This will no doubt be popular with the kids of Vancouver.

Diamond in The Rough | 24th August 2011 | 20:23 PDT

There were five reasons why I went to New Westminster today, which is four more reasons than I had that made me want to visit Vancouver. Those reasons were:
  -  It was recommended to me.
  -  It's off the beaten track.
  -  Has a fairly interesting history.
  -  There's some unusual shops.
  -  I could massage my awesome ego.

The city was established in 1858 when Lieutenant-Governor of British Columbia, Richard Moody came along and went “Here seems nice, I shall call it Queensborough”, The Queen went “Alright, but lets call it New Westminster” so it became to be called The Royal City.

To pay for the building of the city and not to siphon out all the money form the colonial budget, import duties were put in place, unfortunately Victoria on Vancouver Island had free port access and strangled the growth of the city.

When Vancouver Island was integrated into British Columbia, there couldn't be two capitals and a heavy discussion was created within the House of Assembly to choose which would be the capital. This descended to opposition parties shuffling speech notes and popping out glasses lenses, after a break to calm down a near chap riot, the New Westminster supporter wasn't granted a second chance from the House of Assembly Speaker (and Victoria local). Voting went to Victoria's favor and won its capital status.

I wasn't there, but it probably looked a little like this (via mullerover.com)

From the 1870s to 1900s New Westminster would be kicked in the teeth repeatability through time, when railway company, Canada Pacific Railway would favour Vancouver and its port to be it's terminus town, a smallpox epidemic would hit the town and a fire would destroy most of downtown – New Westminster managed to pick itself up through being the place for retail and entertainment, when road travel was less than adequate to get to Vancouver, but in the 1960s New Westminster would be smashed in the balls with a browbar when the new freeway would bypass the city, more or less killing it. From then, it has been trying to pick itself up ever since.

When I was here, I felt like I was walking through a Sunday, everything was a few steps towards relaxation, even though it's a little bit rough around the edges. Take a river walk exploring new developments that look like a tiny Venice, admire paddle boats, seals swimming, Asian fishermen, ugly bridges, a newly renovated market and a giant playmobil character... Fair enough.

If you're going to have a tourist attracting, make it a big red man!

Heading inland to Columbia Street, I'm greeted with fantastic selection of heritage buildings and theatres, mature trees hide the modern highrises adding to the whole experience of being thrown back into another time, passing bars, restaurants, English produce store, vegan clothing and deli shop and many wedding and suit fitters, which I wasn't surprised by as this street is nicknamed Bridal Way.

...Street

I walk back to the waterfront along a street called Front Street and you're greeted with a totally different scene. The road is completely roofed by an elevated car park that blocks out the sun, making it a very moody and atmospheric place to be, no wonder it's been used in I, Robot and Shooter and many other films. It also has a high proportion of antique and second-hand stores you could spend hours in, very bizarre (in a very good way) place to be. There's also an old sign along this street left over from the now shut theatre called 'Burr Theatre', that used to be run by local resident Raymond Burr.

It's so atmospheric maaaan

My time was up and I had to leave, it's a place that's disjointed and finding it's feet, but it has a lot going for it, it's great to see those new developments are being sympathetic to the old buildings and I hope they continue to preserve them, unlike Vancouver. In 2012 this will be a great place to be (when most of the developments are finished) – I just hope the general populous agrees and sees.

...Walk by a river

Artsy German | 23rd August 2011 | 23:56 PDT

Where art thou, art? Oh, there art thou, art. As my friend and invitee to the event, points to the entrance of the exhibition. Oh, I'm now surrounded by art, but this being an art exhibition and things like art exhibitions tend to exhibit things like art.

The concept behind this particular art show is from an idea conceived in Berlin, to help reduce graffiti, people would loving make their creations on paper, which would in turn be rolled up and handed out to strangers by people riding bikes, I'm not sure on the environmental impact of a bit of spray paint vs pieces of paper, but whatever.

Littering max fine: Your Life (via nytimes.com)

The exhibit was essentially clothes lines full of doodles contributed by various contributors and the majority of them were amazingly mediocre but mainly a lot of nonsense, as is the way with art.

I showed my encouragement by saying to my friend next to me, as loud as verbally much as the daredevil inside me would allow whilst stroking my beard “That's so hauntingly beautiful, like an empty everything”, “It's so deep in meaning it's drowning, yet so afloat with passion” and “Oh, what a load of old bollocks”

Underneath the clotheslines were cardboard boxes on plinths filled with more pieces of art, and in most cases many duplicates of the art that was on display above. Using the logic that if you have more than one and everything in a cardboard box is free, my friend and I rummaged through the boxes and picked out some pieces we liked.

The exhibition. The Art. The Plinth.

“Now what, do we pay for them?”

Asking the organiser, if we could take them, make a donation or pay for them.
She replied in a German accent (as she was German) “No, I'm afraid not”
“Oh... OK. What if I roll them up, ride a bike and give it to my friend that way?”
“Absolutely not”
Defeated, we put the art back.

To me this seemed fucking stupid, here we are ready to pay for this doodle, we were going to appreciate it and give it a good home, but instead this woman wants to crumple them up and hand them out to the dumb public who will no doubt sigh, throw it on the floor and stamp on it with muddy shoes.

My whole being was wound up and annoyed by her stupidity, pretentiousness and her face, something had to be done. My friend as I parted ways as she went off to take photos of the art she couldn't have.

I wandered off in the opposite direction to the edge of the exhibition to allow me good visibility of everyone and I loitered there, half-looking at some squiggly breast “Look at it. Just LOOK at it... Simply mesmerising!” whilst secretly seeing how distracted Die Frau and her foot soldiers were in their conversations. My mind was set to video game mode and I was in Wolfenstein 3D.

In my mind (via file-extensions.org)

...waiting ...waiting ...waiting ...NOW! Everyone's busy and I make my move. Gliding swiftly over the floor as I had no feet. Die Frau was in my eyesight and only a few footsteps away and foot soldiers were patrolling the area eagerly looking for someone to chat to so they could blow even more steam up their arse. Luckily, I made it to the box where we had returned our art without any hassle.

I put myself in movie mode, deciphering how to get into the main contents of the box and scouring the items in there to find our art, I was now in The Thomas Crown Affair, my search had to be done quickly so security wouldn't notice me and that I was hovering around the box again.

No... Not that kind of hovering (via trcs.wikispaces.com)

...searching ...searching ...searching ...FOUND! I slip out the pieces slowly whilst looking around, everyone is busy except for one security guard that walks behind me, I quickly dart my eyes back to the artwork “Oh yes, this is like a tasty visual orgy on my eyebuds... Simply mesmerising!”

He ignores me and I roll up the artwork carefully and stuff it in my hoodie. I walk casually over to my friend's bag, where I make the drop off.

Mission Complete. I celebrate in my mind like I'm in The Sound of Music.

I float back into the crowd and get engrossed by someone's interpretation of a full stop “Tears. Of. Joy to my soul... Simply Mesmerising!”

We then drove off into the sunset looking this cool (via hypervocal.com)

Friendly, but Useless | 23rd August 2011 | 15:10 PDT

I'm ill, have been for a few weeks now, my throat if you must know, not that I'd get any sympathy from you as you're idly reading this, just going "Oh bloody hell, shut up about your illness already, just tell me about Canada quickly and get better in your own time without bothering us good people, dick." or words to that effect.

Tell Tiny Timberly I won't be coming home this Christmas *cough* *cough* (via coventrytelegraph.net)

Well, ha-ha-ha! Canada is known for having a really rather good healthcare system and me feeling under-par is a great way to put the former to the test using the latter and as I'm not overly interested in actually paying any money towards my well-being and good health, so I decide to visit the free health clinic.

I enter the tiny hospital looking lost until I notice the reception and I instantly know that's where I should head. I talk to the incredibly friendly receptionist to sign my life away and go sit in the waiting area next to a statue of some legs with a pile of condoms thrown on top of them.

Looking around at all the other sick people, there's an obvious aura of illness that hovers around them, but this being a youth clinic there's a smattering of guilt and regret, now I can only assume that everyone here has a few STDs floating around their system and I made them feel at ease by sitting as far away as possible and staring at them as I made my aforementioned judgements. I had a weird temptation to sing to them, the finale of Lease from Team America... I didn't

"What's wrong with me Doc?"  -  "That awful dress you're wearing."  (via michaeltanate.wordpress.com)

I get dog bored of them and go back to staring at the Mt Condom next to me and ponder how many of them would be required to make a decent scarf for winter but that was interrupted by the doctor calling me in. Finally, I've been waiting all of 10 minutes!

After the usual pleasantries with my incredibly friendly doctor, she asked me that inevitable cliché 'getting-to-know-you' question "What appears to be the problem?"
"My throat hurts, feels like a virus or something" and I go on to explain the symptoms.
"OK, let us have a look there shall we? ..." and she takes me temperature, prods my throat and looks down my gob with portable lighthouse gadget thing. "... Yes, you appear to have a bacterial infection of the larynx"
  -  I'm pretty sure I just told you that but in sans-thesaurus terms
"Any ideas what the infection/problem could be?"
"I don't know"
"Right."
"It might just go away, you could try swallowing less"
  -  Great, sterling advice, thanks for that.
"Problem is I've had it for a while and it's not gone yet, in fact it has probably got worse"
"Ah, well you have two options, you can pay for a throat swab to be done, but you'll have to deliver it to the lab yourself, on the other side of the town or I can prescribe you some medication.”
“Hmm. I think I will take the meds and see if that works”

Take one an hour for the rest of your life and you SHOULD be fine (via digitaldiscipline.wordpress.com)

In all I was really impressed by them but it was also frustrating, but to actually hate them would be impossible as it was free and everyone there was incredibly friendly, though they were probably so friendly towards me, as I made a nice change from the bombardment of of infected penises the doctor must have to deal with on a daily basis.

Rainy Day Activity | 22nd August 2011 | 16:33 PDT

It's raining and there's only so long I can spend in a coffee shop looking at it, before the staff roundhouse kicks me in the face for not injecting enough caffeine into my eyes, and there's only so long I can put caffeine in my system without food to absorb it with, if it doesn't get absorbed all sorts of crazy shit will happen and I'll wake up in a ditch in Whistler wearing a wolf's head for a mask and a banjo duct taped to my chest.

My substance of choice to keep me on the straight and narrow are cereal bars, but they're expensive here, probably, and I'm feeling “adventurous” so, I thought how hard can it be? I heading to the cheapest store I can find and I pur-chase a bunch of food stuffs that seem to make sense in order for me to accomplish such a task, roughly measuring out what looks better than the rest, I end up with this:

Granola: about three mugs
  -  this type had been made with brown sugar, honey, almonds and raisins with in it
Raisins: about three quarters of a mug
  -  because the granola didn’t have that many raisin in it.
Dried fruit mix: about one quarter of a mug
  -  included cherries, cranberries, sultanas and a dry sense of humour.
Extra fine granulated sugar: about three quarters of a mug
  -  wanted to use raw brown sugar, but was too expensive and pretentious.
Crunchy peanut butter: about half a mug
  -  I used Kraft’s because it’s horrible on bread and needed to be used up in this shit.
Honey: about half a mug
  - Cheapest I could find, was shaped like a bear, I smiled.

So essentially, sugar, sugar, sugar, fruit, fruit, granola.

Brewing puke, yummy!

• Throwing the sticky stuff together, the honey, peanut butter and sugar into a pan, I constantly stir it until it melts down into something that resembles peanut butter puke and starts to bubble and boil as it slowly sticks to the pan.
• I threw this vile looking brown shit all over the granola, raisins and fruit, because I wanted to put them together.
• I mix everything together to cover the sugar puke all over the healthy crap, by putting in some good ol’ fashioned elbow grease (not an additional ingredient, it's not like I smoothied my elbow using a cheese grater and blender to add some “extra flavour”)
• I beautifully poured it out into a baking tray, well it more like, it flumped out like some fat person sliding off a high chair where their belly reaches the ground before the rest of them.
• This was all thrown into in the fridge for a few hours to set, solidify and bond the whole shi-bang.
• After that, take it out the fridge and store it in a cool dry place so when you come to cutting it into squares, you're not having to get the chainsaw out and when you come to eat it, it's not like grinding through rock with your teeth.

About to make this diarrhoea a bit lumpier

And once you're done with all that bullshit, go to the shops and buy some decent cereal bars you tight walleted dickhead and while you're there get some decent peanut butter and a spoon – probably a lot tastier than this crap.

No longer a liquid pukey diarrhoea paste, but an actual bar (of pukey diarrhoea)

Well no, actually! They come out perfectly (for me) – chewy, with a satisfying bite, it’s not outrageously sweet (surprisingly), the sweetness mainly comes from the dried fruit so it feels healthy and has a subtle flavour of peanut butter.

Now, go make my pretties!

There's Soul Much To Do Here | 21st August 2011 | 19:53 PDT

One of my favourite areas to dip in and out of within Vancouver, is Granville Island for such a small area packs in a hell of a lot of quality substance within its shoreline, the name has a surprising large amount of history behind it.

Granville, The city originally wanted to call the area 'Industrial Island' but its current name stuck with the local people as it the Granville Street Bridge runs over the area, it's also fitting as well as Vancouver was originally called Granville.

Bridge, boat n that.

Island, is probably the strangest part to understand as it's now a peninsula (due to waterfront development). Its life began as a sand bank when False Creek used to be a lot bigger due to tidal flats, it's potential has always been recognised and though there were attempts in the past were to transform the land it wasn't until the city decided to throw money at it that  it became a profitable area within Vancouver, by dredging out bottom the creek and using that soil to form the island, this gave big ships access into the creek and naturally attracted industries.

Time, war, business changes, money and people all took their toll on the island and it businesses and eventually the once thriving island slowly burnt down, moved elsewhere or simply gave up. It wasn't until the government redeveloped the site as a 'people-friendly' place and because of that, now features a wealth of variety with its shops, galleries, eateries, entertainment, community areas, industry and landmarks that now calls Granville Island, home.

Bridger, boater n thater

In this 32 acre island, you can do things like:
  -  Eat your way around the world through samples.
  -  Watch the many live street performers and musicians.
  -  Learn the latest in art and design at Emily Carr University
  -  Appreciate the art in one of the many galleries and public works.
  -  Take in a show instead at one of 17 theatres.
  -  Sample sake from the Artisan Sake Makers.
  -  Rent kayaks from one of the many hire places
  -  Sample beers from Granville Brewing Company.
  -  Marvel Ocean Constructions a remaining industries from the old days.
  -  Watch comedy at the Improv Centre.
  -  Ignore all that and hit the spa instead.
  -  or try and find the one that gives you a free 20 minute massage.

Consume!! Consume!! Consume!!

That's just a small list of what there is to do there. It's consistently crowded, vibrant and busy, it seems to always be changing and in state of flux yet remaining, calm, composed and serene. Think I probably would've bailed on Vancouver long ago if I didn't have the safe haven of soul to retreat to... and the beaches.

Heart Attack (in a bowl) | 20th August 2011 | 19:41 PDT

“You have to try it!!”
“Eh? Who are you?!”
“It tastes so good!!”
“What does 'good' taste like exactly?”
“It's like a heart-attack in a bowl!!”
“I love heart-attacks in a bowl! – that's like my favourite thing!!”
“You will love it!!”
“Ok, I'll try it!!” and I rushed to the best place in Vancouver for such a thing, to go and have my heart failure.

This thing in question? Poutine.

It's a 1950s Quebecois invention, a dish consisting of fries, gravy and cheese curds (with additional meat if you choose). The word poutine is meant to have come from England as a derivative of pudding or someone looking like a pudding, which is where I guess its reputation for a heart-attack in bowl comes from.

Puketine, more like!

If your reaction was anything like mine, you're probably thinking “Fries? - I love fries! Gravy? - I love gravy! Cheese curds? - What the fuck is that? That sounds vile, I'm so outraged by the very thought of cheese curds running through my brain that I'd rather drive my car off a cliff than have anything called cheese curds come near me!”

I pressed on and avoided driving to the restaurant, La Belle Patate where I ordered and quickly began digging my grubby fingers into this vegetarian Montreal-mess – it was ah-mah-zing, so good! Handmade fries that were done to perfection and you'd replace your hair for, gravy so good that you'd quite happily replace all your clothing for and cheese curds (that were like tiny bits of squeaky mozzarella) that I'd happily wear as skin for my entire future.

Best of all, it didn't feel like my blood-pumper was going to tick its final tock at any point – which means I won't feel guilty for coming back here, often. To make things better La Belle Patate resides on top of a hill, so I can roll down afterwards when I've eaten far too many bowls in one sitting.

Go Away Creepy Weirdo | 19th August 2011 | 16:54 PDT

I was curious about the future developments of Vancouver so I drifted off course from my usual route around False Creek to have a look at Concord Pacific's (a construction company) temporary offices/sales room to show how great they are.

This is probably the best museum about Vancouver it had everything to keep me occupied, accurately created model buildings of highrises, before and after shots of Vancouver through the years and a tiny version of the city IN THE FUTURE! - no flying cars or regenerated dinosaurs though.

Vancouver of the future (via theresidentarchitect.com)

There was another curious guy there, being it's just us two in there would be rude to ignore him especially as he made one of those open comments like “Have you seen this?” and point wildly around the room.

I wasn't in a people-loving mood that day, but could cope with one of those casual chats with a stranger and happy to endure talking to him about himself for a few moments, then make my excuses to leave and going off to do something more productive like leaning on a wall in a black leather jacket... It was just one of those days.

To be fair he was quite interesting to talk to and had a varied life, this guy was there as he also took an interest in buildings as he studied architecture but ended up working in the police force in the Philippines, now retired at 40-something and a few pensions under his belt, he spends his time making people like me look bad as he was one of those "Outdoorsy-I'm-One-With-Nature" types, scaling mountains by jumping to the top, scuba dives without any equipment, and runs a marathon every morning carrying a 300lbs of weight, Oh, and he's writing an autobiography about himself. Pfft, whatever, autobiographies are for dickheads!

Fuck off you smiling outdoors twat, bet you got a shitty autobiography in "the works" too

Right time for you to go, you're giving off weird vibes and I don't feel comfortable with you being around me, "Nice meeting you, goodbye!"

Oh, you appear to still be here, walking to your car you say, and it's in this direction? Wonderful, simply wonderful! So, I spent another 50 minutes with this guy, going on undercover operations, snow and trees or whatever ex-police now-outdoorsy bored people do with their time, it was now time for him to go... You're still here, why are you here? I've said goodbye to you like 6 times already!

"Have you been to blah blah blah?"
"No, not been to blah blah blah, bit far away and I'm limited to public transport, so it's a day event"
"I have a car, I can take you there."
"That's very kind, but today, I'm just strolling around in the sunshine, relaxing"
"I have a convertible, enjoy the sunshine in that"
"No, I'm good thanks, very kind of you though"
"That's OK, anywhere else far away, you'd like to be dropped off?"
"No thanks, I'm really fine"

Conversation ends, I'm free! I walk off along the path and under the Cambie Bridge, passing a small inlet road to the creek. I hear this tooting.

I, of course, ignore it because only egotistical people acknowledge the noise of a car's horn, and it carries on, so I look around as I thought there could be some awesome road rage about to be unleashed. Nope, it was that guy, in his convertible with his roof down roaring down the road, smiling with his huge mouth that was like a basking shark went to a Hollywood dentist that week.

Road rage as it's awesomeness (via manicmashup.blogspot.com)

"Look, it's a convertible, see?"
"Yes, I can see"
  -  I also know that, you had a 2 minute walk to your car, the drive here is 4 minutes away, the roof takes a minute to come down on that car. I've only been walking for 3 minutes at that point.

"Sure you don't a lift?"
  -  Fuck off, my mother always told me to say no to strangers
"No, I'm really fine, but thanks – have a good day!"

And he went.
And I was relieved.

Awful though still on reflection, this isn't as bad as a middle-aged fat man with a big white beard, who very kindly offered to take me out on the town, show me around a few night clubs where “the kids hang out” then afterwards show me his big rig (truck... or otherwise). He was being charitable with his time as he was bored, as his wife is currently in Thailand “on holiday”. Which I read as, current highest bidder with 3 days to go.