Disaster in the Abode

I am an aspiring fiction writer, and though I profess to have a wild imagination attached to a formidable vocabulary I could still never imagine the things that real life comes up with.

I came home last night with the knowledge that my landlady had spoken to my horrendous roommate about some of his less than appealing habits. I was to deliver this message to my other roommate who has been a tentative ally in this entire ordeal. I got home, was ready to deliver the message and then "Bam" I was slugged in the face with a fist full of better-than-my-imagination reality.

So... he says... that roommate who had been a disaster to live with, and who does not respect us, or the place, or anything... well... When I got home I relaxed, had a shower, and started to cook supper when he came in. He wasn't alone. He came in with a girl, and he said "this is my girlfriend, she will be living with me [Insert nervous/sketchy giggle]."

Well. I have no sat down. He lives in a room the size of a closet, and now two people live there? Not to mention the competition for the bathroom, and the fridge space, and the kitchen, and the... the everything... disaster.

We talk about it for a few minutes and then decide we ought to go and inform our landlady immediately, or at least see if she knows. So we go up, and we tell that same story to our landlady, who is thoroughly in shock as well, but she has something to add do it.

She tells us that this roommate, *** we'll call him to protect his identity, has been calling and ringing on her door all day. She finally she is home and he comes to chat with her, and she lets him know that certain behaviors are unacceptable in the apartment. Well, then *** lets her know something. He says that he has just gotten married, to a Canadian girl (which is strange because he has only been in Canada for a few months and because on Saturday he we going on a "date" with her) and that he will be living with her (to which my landlady assumed that he was moving out with her...)

Evidently, not so much.

Upon more probing it would appear that he married this girl because she has been in some trouble with an MIA father, and alcoholic mother, and her residence being the home of one of here teachers (which has been pointed out to me by my landlady's daughter is sketchy). So, to help her out *** married her.

I am pretty sure their are easier ways to help someone. Not to mention there is probably a large cultural/religious conflict here.

Through our discussion with our landlady we have come to the conclusion that we do not think there are "married married" as we do not think they have had the time or the means. It is possible they are claiming that situation to try and get away with more. Either way this is a very messed up situation.

We are already in deep enough water as my other roommate and I, not ***, are clearly having stress related issues from being immersed in this situation.

I told him, and I told you "somethings gotta give."

I am having enough mental health issues on my own without this added chaos. If there is no improvement in the next few weeks I will speak with my landlady directly to see if a solution is on its way, and if not, I will start looking for a new place to live.

What a mess...

Real Life 1

Alexander 0

Carnaval de Québec Day 3

This time we did not have to get up early, but when you were as tired as us, it sure felt early. We went down for breakfast where we were to enjoy a light meal to start off our day. There I saw something welcoming... I did not have the chance to order beef, but if I had a little more time, and money, I would have.

We packed our gear and threw it on the bus. One might think that is would be where our adventure might end but no! The bus had to be loaded as we checked out, but we did not have to depart. It was now a balmy day, much warmer than the others at -27 (feels like), so we were off and running for a few hours. At this time I managed to take a picture of Parliament, which I thought I should, since we had walked passed it so many times.

After my fantastic governmental photo op we hobbled on towards the Carnaval. I suppose its not a "we" hobbled, as my cohorts walked like regular folk, but "I" hobbled with the Tendinitis in my knee being in full swing.

The Ice Sculptures we had seen over the weekend were now completed. Judges were walking around and asking which sculptures were the best. The ones being judged at the time were based on the Provinces/Territories. I definitely voted for Alberta, which some people thought might have been a bias... I don't think so...

Past the sculptures and into the Carnaval we continued exploring to see that parts we had missed earlier. There were all sorts of fun things, one of which was a big hill... In the nature of how I live my life, which seems to be if I see something that moves try to ride it, the great rafts called to me... Oh how they called...

Dizzy, tired, and out of time we(I) hobbled back to the bus. We all hopped aboard, and began the long voyage home...

Carnaval de Québec Day 2

We got up early. Evidently there is a time chance between New Brunswick and Quebec, so when the alarm went off and we groaned into motion we really did not have to. It was not until around 6:15 when we realized that it was not 7:15... what a way to start the day...

Breakfast was great. Certainly there was not enough bacon, but what can be expected, we paid very little for it. And for what we did pay... we ate like Kings. We can call that concept "Relative Eatment," the amount of goods consumed per unit currency, and we shall call the "Eatment Margin" the difference between how much food we thought we should have eaten and the amount we did.

Next on our order of events was a bus tour of Old Quebec. There was a slight issue with the temperature, as not everyone conceived the idea that the bus might stop and that we might get out, so, at -32 they hobbled around Quebec in the cold. It was not as bad as the hoochies the night before, but still, the lack of preparation was evident.

We started by going up to the Plains of Abraham. Our guide told us the story of how the British called the French to battle and the French came running. She also said that the British waited and waited whilst sipping martinis and daiquiris as the French kept sprinting so not to be late for the battle. Punkerwallers attended to the British soldiers and fanned them down with imported palm branches as still the French trotted along the plains. When the French finally did arrive the British shot them down from pool-side lounge chairs with only two rounds of ammunition. What a marvelous day.

Maybe that is not quite how it went, but that is what I heard. And don't worry all you skeptics who think I am biased... there were just as many pitiful defeat stories about the British as the French. Overall, everyone had some bad days in the war...

We left the Plains and then went into Old Quebec. We drove passed parliament, and the carnaval, and the ice palace (where Bonhomme lives), and historical buildings getting ripped down, and historical buildings being protected, and historical buildings being restored. We drove down by the St. Lawrence and looked up at Le Château Frontenac. We got out and walked around in the restored part of Quebec and listened to the guide with frozen ears. In short, Quebec City is really quite old, and not only is it quite old, but it is also battle hardened. Actually, where we were standing had apparently been bombed and razed several times... no wonder it needed reconstruction.

The tour was over and we were left to our own devices of torture through the use of freezing atmospheric temperatures. A friend and I decided to return to Old Quebec to maximize the clear sky for photo opportunities. After the tour we did not have a lot of time before we needed to eat. So, we made it to the Chateau Frontenac and then thought that we should find warmth before we died... that... and before the dogsleds.

We were lucky. It was packed, but we were able to sneak in to see the action. We were only tens of metres from the start gates, and you could hear the crowd count from 5 to 1 before the release of every team. Teams were started in two minute increments, and as they flew past you barely had time to see anything but a blur.

The dogs were fun, but we had a lot to do and very little time to do it in. We continued towards the Chateau Frontenac until we were on its doorstep, and then we continued around it. We were looking down at the St. Lawrence and enjoying the view when we noticed something else... there were people hauling toboggans around... but why? Upon further investigation we found a slide made of ice. People would take the toboggans to the top, and then race back down. We thought it would cost a fortune so we did not get our hopes up, but when we found that it only cost $2 to rend a sweet ride, we were all over that.

The Grand Toboggan Track

My fearless compadre and I (actually you can see her in that last movie on the track to my left... Oh what? She is super small?! Lost in the dust! Ahahahaha... oh wait... to be fair... her starter broke and gave me a headstart...), anyways... where was I?

My fearless compadre and I took the slide and then continued on our trek. We still had a little time, and we did not want to waste it. We took the big elevator, escalator, life thing back to the reconstructed part of the city to go shopping. I did not purchase anything, but we looked around. Frozen and short on time we walked back to the hotel for a brief reprieve. There we met up with the rest of our fearless foursome and the bus to take us to our next destination: La Hotel de Glace.

The Brief Reprieve

There are very few Ice Hotels around the world, and we are lucky enough to have one in Canada. It is away from Quebec City a bit, but we waited patiently as the bus took us there with haste. Our tour was very regimented on timing so we had to be there on schedule. We were.

The guides took us off the bus and to what looked like a big pile of snow. You know, we have all seen James Bond, and that pile of snow was not nearly as cool as the Ice Hotel there. I think some people were concerned about being disappointed... but then we went inside.

I would write about it, but I cannot do it justice. It was something to see. Rooms start at $200/personnight and on renting you are given a sleeping bag for the cold. 8 rooms have fireplaces but they do not make it any warmer. The rooms are consistently between -4 and -6 degrees celcius. The structure costs $600,000 to put up every year and uses some ridiculous amount of synthetic snow. No one has ever complained about being cold when sleeping at the Ice Hotel, though people complain about claustrophobia... when the lights are off... there is no light.

We lost our tour group... many times... but the opportunity was not wasted...

Once we found our group we made it back to the bus... which was stuck. We chilled out while one of my four compadres went to help the driver get us unstuck. I figured that my body is too old for that kinda stuff. After a while they just got a tractor to pull us out. We went back to Quebec City and back to the Carnaval.

One of my compatriots and myself were supposed to go for an Arctic Jacuzzi, where you go hot tubbing while it is -30... we were ready, with towels, and suits, and then... it was broken. Instead we just took a look around and then returned back to the hotel.

On the way there we checked out the Ice Sculptures in progress...

After that we checked out the Ice Palace, where Bonhomme (the Carnaval mascot lives)...

One More Sculpture

It was a good day, and a long day, and after getting some food at a nearby restaurant (nearby because my knee, which evidently has tendinitis, was hurting) we settled in for a long night's rest...

I can give no payment...

Note: This is deeper than I usually post on this blog... read into it as you will...

My heart was opened and life as emotion as blood flowed from it.

It never hit the ground.

Before any life was lost the wound was covered and sealed.

Life soaked rags were the mind and heart of another as they listened to the emotion burst from me.

The blood was as much mine as theirs as my pain burned from the wound.

It was their hands and their heart that were burned;

Theirs and mine, though the wounds were mine alone.

I woke up lying down.

I feel dead, or what I think dead should feel like.

On an elbow I see them hobbling away; alive but scathed.

As they fade away I climb to my feet;

Jaded.

Broken.

But Alive.

Clearly my unknown saviour took my pain unto themselves.

Clearly they were bathed in the fury of my blood, and emotion, and life.

Clearly the wounds they take with them are mine.

I have given no thanks.

I have given no payment.

I was in ruin. I was broken, and lost, and hurt, and alone, and ready to lay down into that final rest.

Ready, but not so.

As I let life flow from my wounds I was saved.

The cost was dear and full, but I did not pay it.

My scar’s grown thick, and my heart’s grown strong.

I think still of my saviour, limping into my memory, and of the debt unpaid.

I think of it often and feel guilt at the cost.

My saviour is gone.

The debt I cannot pay.

As I walk through the blackness I hear a startling sound.

It is not a cry or a wail, but the sound of life bleeding away.

I sit down beside the quivering figure and see life as emotion as blood spilling to the ground.

I reach out to catch the blood, feeling the emotion burn my hands.

I listen hard, and through the fire and the pain I stop the escape of life.

My friend in need has fallen; lowered to the ground as I free my hands.

My friend is Jaded.

Broken.

But Alive.

I stand in the slow as I feel pain that’s not mine.

I think back to my saviour as I take my steps away.

I think of the debt I’ve not paid.

Debt?

There is no debt.

What had to be done is done; the life could not be wasted.

Not while I had life.

The payment is the life saved.

My legs groan as I hobble away.

I can feel my friend behind me.

My friend will not catch me – too much life is gone.

It will not matter; very soon my friend will be stronger than ever...

And me?

I’ll recover.

As I fade into the distance my friend makes it to an elbow.

I look back once, and then step into the distance.

I can almost hear behind me in a tortured but living voice:

“I can give no payment...”

Carnaval de Québec Day 1

I did what I could for the group, and then I shirked the rest of my responsibilities. My eye seemed ok so I decided to go ahead with the planned... plans.

I woke up early. So early that I will not attach to this sentence a specific time. All I know, is that when I stepped out my door, there had clearly been a storm, as there was snow everywhere, and I was the only one in the world awake. With my bag in one arm I began the trek to the University. The snow was fresh and up to my ankle, but it was easy enough walking... if you walked on the road. So I did; walk on the road I mean. The whole time I was walking there were two cars, so it really was not a big deal, and it really is a common phenomenon in Saint John.

I made it to the University. Tossed my bag on the bus. And hopped on.

So began our voyage to Quebec City.

It actually is quite a long ride, and with the time change it can mess you up quite a bit. We were in a rather enormous blizzard so the first two hours of our trip took four, but after that we were good to go. We stopped somewhere that really shouldn't have a name... like... "Bill and Ted's house with a Timmy's next to it on a highway in the middle of nowhere." And then we stopped in Edsmonston, which though in New Brunswick, is clearly in Francophone Canada.

On we drove for about forever, or maybe two forevers, and then we reached Quebec City. We knew we were there because of the signs and the rumours shifting back from the driver and all of those type signs, but how I really knew was because when we were driving over a bridge I found that though I was mid sentence, I was speechless. The bridge was over the St. Lawrence, and only a few hundred metres was the bridge that all Canadian engineers know. It was our bridge. I explained the story to a few people as we passed it, and then when it was gone I was able to resume my sentence.

We made it to our hotel just before 4 pm.

This is where the real amazement started. To be honest... we did not pay much money for this trip. I mean, two nights in a hotel in downtown Quebec City, transportation from Saint John to Quebec and back, admission to the Carnaval, bus tour of Old Quebec, tour of the Ice Hotel... to be frank. With all of the add-ons, I would not have been surprised if we were really sleeping in the bus overnight. Well, we weren't. We were sleeping in the Palace Royal, and was it ever.

Still. We reached Quebec late, but the night was young. We ditched the Hotel and headed into Old Quebec to find some grub. It was really like walking into Europe, but in a much more affordable manner. We found a restaurant, and though it was not Tim Hortons cheap, it was affordable, and the food was great. The other reason we selected that restaurant is because if we walked another step we would have frozen. The temperature was -17... no big deal... and I was dressed for about -17... but the "feels like" was -32. It was cold.

After being warm and satiated we were ready to brave the cold for another few minutes, plus, we had no choice; very soon the Carnaval was about to have its opening ceremonies. We walked frozen to the Carnaval and went in. It did not seem like a big deal. There were not many people there, sure there were people starting to work on ice sculptures, but other than that it was pretty quiet. I suppose it was -32... Anyways. We wandered a bit, made some plans for the future when it was less cold. And went inside.

Soon the opening ceremonies would begin. Then what? Stand outside in the cold? No. That would not do. Oh wait, I saw an ice bar on the way in... let's go there... so we did. I have not ever been to an ice bar before, and though I would have preferred a non-alcoholic beverage, drinking at an ice bar is one of those few exceptions when I will consume alcohol.

Ice Bar

Then we braved the cold. We got their early, but when we look back later the entire area was full of people. They had dancing, singing, gymnastics (which all must have been very cold at -32) and then the fireworks. They were something else, that is for sure. They do it right...

Opening Ceremonies

Opening Ceremonies Gymnastics

Fireworks... Uh... Part of the Fireworks from the Opening Ceremony

I would love to have more complete video accounts of some of these things. But at -32 your camera battery freezes really quite quickly, and since you are also frozen, there really is no way to heat it up. The way that the crowed seemed to stay warm is by dancing around. It was amazing to see and be in the middle of... it was like a high school dance but where everyone was in snowsuits. Wild!

After the opening ceremonies a band was coming on to keep the crowd alive, but we thought we had had enough. We knew we could come to the Carnaval on Saturday so we thought that was sufficient for one night. We were out and on the street looking for a bar to warm up in before going back to the hotel.

There were lots of bars and restaurants and while we were walking we saw what looked like a converted mansion. Not converted into anything you know... productive... but a night club. In front of the mansion was a long long long line. Then as we walked we were passed by several hoochies wearing jackets, boots, and almost nothing in-between. Very very short skirts and shorts with legs open to the cold. Wow. Maybe they did not know the line was coming, maybe they did not care. Perhaps showing off your assets is more important than NOT FREEZING TO DEATH. Perhaps.

We had our drinks, and returned to the hotel exhausted.

Me and my MBA compadres settled into our beds and slept.

Update: Iritis

New drugs seem to be working... Quebec here I come!

Oh wait... Ethics Presentation here I come!

Then Quebec... then Quebec...

Iritis.

Evidently, Pink Eye is not a big deal.

However, when you go to the Doctor two days after treating for Pink Eye with no improvement, and in fact a deterioration of the situation, that is a problem. The Doctor looks at you much more seriously, takes you much more seriously, and is concerned... much more seriously.

Maybe all a little too seriously.

I went to the Doctor again. Yes, yes, I know I had a mid-term that night (last night) but, I couldn't sleep because of the pain and really I couldn't see much because the light hurts too much. I hobbled to the pharmacy and clinics near me only to confirm what I already knew, they would not help me. I then decided that the mid-term could piss off, and that I needed a Doctor. It was still too early to call for an "after-hours" appointment, so I went for a consolation McMuffin.

I made it home and made the call. My appointment was at 1:45. I tried to study a little, with my one eye open, and then packed my gear, hopped on the bus, and went Uptown... again... I asked the very kind bus driver to let me off at the closest stop, and the did.

200 metres later brings us to the situation with the Doctor.

I showed him what the other Doctor gave me, and he said that is what he would have given you. Then with a much more severe ambiance, the Doctor told me that it was not Pink Eye, but in fact Iritis. Sure... Iritis... Ok.... Anyways, he gave me new drops, and he said that if there is no improvement in 24-48 hours I really really need to see a Doctor.

What does this mean for my Quebec trip this weekend? It means that there is a chance I cannot go.

Next stop was the pharmacy, and the Pharmacist had something to add... if there is no improvement in 24-48 hours (48 at the very very latest) forget going to the Doctor. Go to the Hospital. At that point I will need a specialist, and topical treatment likely be ineffective.

Great.

Back home, back to studying, to the mid-term, and home.

I wore sunglasses everywhere, but even they do not block out enough light.

Iritis sucks.