Montreal

My first two impressions of Montreal are:

1. It's very French - the streets even smell like streets in France
2. It's very cold

On the train here we were stopped at the border for two hours while border officials conducted a surprisingly thorough check of each passenger. Including removing three from my carriage alone and taking them away in a van while the rest of us continued on our way into Canada. When I walked through the train after the guards had gotten off, there were frosty patches in every vestibule:

And this morning, after a shower I went out to buy milk for my breakfast and after about two minutes found that my hair was all frozen! It hadn't even occurred to me that it could be cold enough for this to happen!

I ❤ Chicago

Let me count the reasons.

Great public transport, tons of cyclists, crisp autumnal weather, neighbourhoods with local high streets and (at least) one great pub that shows the football... hmm - maybe because it's just like London?

Am treating today as my birthday instead as it was so perfect: to start with, the museum was actually open today. Then Arsenal won 4-2. Then the sun came out, and I found a pair of woolly cream coloured tights. And I listened to Sufjan Stevens and danced home.

To top it all, we are about to go to a bluegrass gig!

Joy.

Chicago IV - birthday

It started promisingly enough - I had a lot of lovely birthday messages (thank you!) and I got out on this lovely bike again. I rode the 10 miles along the lake shore from the place where I am staying to the centre of the city, where I left the bike and went for a bit of a wander.

It then deteriorated when I found that the museum I wanted to go to was closed, and the tube line I was close to didn't go to the other museum I wanted to go to... and it was pouring with rain. I decided just to try to get some lunch, but despite this city having a great reputation for food I walked for more than half an hour without finding anything except chains and dives. When I was soaked to the skin and about to give up I thankfully came across a very nice Italian restaurant and warmed up while I waited for my rigatone with wild mushrooms and tomato sauce (which was delicious).

I couldn't face the ride home so I took the bike on the tube (so civilised!).

But the evening was wonderful - one of my hosts made pumpkin miso soup, rice and black-bean-kale-and-garlic stew for dinner, which was followed by birthday brownies (complete with candles). Then we went to the "liquor store" (which prompted a discussion about why off licenses are called that) and spent the rest of the evening sitting around talking, listening to music (handsome boy modeling school, Kate Bush and something Argentinian), drinking and... taking myers briggs personality tests. Many of you will know I have an inexplicable love of these tests, so this was about the best possible way I could have spent my birthday. No, seriously!

Wednesday 17th September 2008 – 23:05 GMT, Ziemia Cieszynska (just passed Quebec City)

It strikes me that taking a long distance boat is not dissimilar from cycling. In both cases you become acutely aware of the weather, and specifically of subtle changes in it. It's something I've always appreciated about cycling, and I feel the same now.

I thought of this because the weather has been so changeable on the voyage – calm days of glorious sunshine and the tremendous waves, wind and leaden sky (and all the internal noise, chaos and seasickness that accompanies them!) when we caught the tail end of hurricane Ike, just west of Newfoundland.

Last night there was the most incredible sunset, we sailed due east, straight into 180 degrees of fuschia and glowing orange, with the full moon rising right behind us, reflecting the pink of the sky ahead.

Today we have spent most of the day in a cloud of rain and fog, so we could barely see the shore 200m away and almost missed Quebec City as we passed it.

Thursday 4th September - 21:05, Corus factory, Beverwijk (Dutch time)

Those of you who know me will know that I am not a naturally spontaneous person. I like my life planned, I like to know the parameters I am faced with in order to construct my plans within them. And I don't like it when plans change unexpectedly, or for reasons beyond my control. Well, not much anyway. So not knowing when the boat is going to depart is fraying my nerves a little. At one point we thought it would be Tuesday morning or even Monday night, but since I arrived on ship (about 2pm Tuesday) the departure time has been pushed further and further back, and now stands at Friday afternoon. It's because of the rain - we are carrying high quality steel which can only be loaded when it's dry. It's going to make cars apparently. So every time it starts raining again (which is reasonably often) my heart sinks as it means more delays.

It's not just the changeability I am finding difficult. It is also the act of waiting, which is another thing I have never liked (exam results etc). I am waiting for a journey full of unexpectedness to begin, and in the absence of it beginning my mind is filling up with fantasies (mainly bad - seasickness, boredom, not being able to get the radio to work out at sea, menningitis and appendicitis and the boat sinking etc). If it would only start I could put my mind to the task in hadn, which is supposed to be reading and thinking about America, and then writing about it. But worrying is consuming most of my mental energy, so the intellectual project is onl hold. For now at least.