Journey to… Alaska!?

December 23^rd, 2008

Coming from a ridiculously superstitious family, the only tradition that I decided to keep since I moved out of my house and took on my university journey was the thorough cleaning of my living space before the New Year arrives. Apparently this is supposed to bring you some sort of fortune in the upcoming year, and since I have nothing to loose, and much to gain from an excuse to actually clean my living space, I decide to comply to it every single year. As I sort of finished my ritualistic cleaning to welcome the New Year in my Toronto apartment (so the coming of 2009 does not catch my living environment all messy and I get to redeem the good luck from the new year in exchange to my cleanliness), I knew it was time to go home (London-ON) and finally give my parents the satisfaction of seeing me.

So, I made sure everything was turned off, including the incense candles that I had previously lighten. I also took out all the garbage that I could possibly find. Before doing so, I ate a delicious bowl of Spinach soup that my mom had prepared for me that last time I visited them, and then I did the dishes while listening to Silver Moonlight by Grazyna Auguscik. It never sounded so beautiful. That may have been due to the fact that my house was impeccable and simply harmonious. I was getting angst about leaving it. For a minute, I thought that perhaps that would have been the last time I would listen to that song. Now I know how it feels to say goodbye; one simply tends to appreciate those small things around more than usual. It was quite touching.

I took my luggage and the last bag of garbage I had, locked the door after me and began my journey back to London, where not one but at least 5 different people had requested to see me. It’s good to take a break once in a while, especially knowing that going home actually means to take a break from EVERYTHING. That everything includes:

· Lack of unnecessary sleep

· Avoidance of starvation due to lack of money to buy groceries

· Lack of a cook who actually knows what you like and how you like it

· Lack of a person who actually is pleased to do your laundry

· Lack of testosterone-related trouble

· Lack of despair caused by money-related issues

· Lack of boredom

o Thanks to Direct TV, Free PPV, and my beloved Xbox 360, as well as all my awesome books, some comics, and both my guitar and my violin.

I left my house quite early, not knowing why. I simply did, and thank goodness I chose to. I got to the bus terminal at 1:40pm, and to my surprise the ticket line-up ran from side-to-side of the bloody place. And I am talking about the Toronto Bus terminal, on Bay and Dundas, not the bus terminal at some dark place in the middle of nowhere, such as that of Timmins, Ontario for example. We are talking about the BIG TORONTO bus terminal (I hope I was able to paint the image in your head). Anyway, after waiting for about 30 minutes, I was finally able to buy my ticket. I still had about 15 minutes before my departure time. Nevertheless, I went straight to the line-up because I knew that would simply be the best thing to do… However, regardless of all my efforts, a bus was already packed with 55 people who were destined to go to London. The only problem: I was THE FIRST PERSON of the remaining passengers who did not get a spot on that bus. GOD DAMNIT! Oh well… It was still freezing, and after arguing with the bus lady for five minutes (she accused me of coming late to the station, and at this point I was ragging) I simply kept on listening to the Lotus Eater and forgot about the discussion.

Out of who knows where, some girls appeared and gave me a Red Bull! That was by far the best part about that prolonged wait. While, no one understood what was happening, I was downing that motherfucker like there is no tomorrow. Before I knew it, I was incredibly hyperactive and pretty much talking out of my ass, well not really. It was more like my head was starting to fill up with incredibly random thoughts: Wicked! A bus came shortly after that, but instead of it saying London on its destination plate, it said MIAMI! Yes, Miami! I thought that would simply be wonderful, even though I do recall traveling such distance by bus, and it can be QUITE overwhelming, so on second thought, the idea of going to London was not that bad after all. The next thing I know, I was sitting on a bus full of people who were as relieved as I was, from not having to stay out in the freezing cold.

I took out my James Orbinski book (An Imperfect Offering), which I’ve been meaning to finish, but honestly after being so damn drained with exams and just life in general, who wants to do anything besides eating, sleeping and simply being. I was starting to get really into it, as I was reading a section about his humanitarian mission in Jalalabad, Afghanistan, when without noticing I started dozing off... ZZZ…ZZZZ… I was so uncomfortable, but I clearly got my nice nap, but when I opened my eyes and looked out the window, I simply thought I had taken the wrong bus. Yes, I remember it said Miami, but this was NOTHING like anything I would see on the way to the south, nor to London I guess. This was like emerging onto a journey to the Yukon. It looked so cold, so dead, simply so freaking COLD! The first thought that crossed my mind at that moment was: Holy Shit, this looks like Siberia, or Sweden, or any of the northern territories. How did this happen? I did not know it had snowed that much, since Toronto barely had any snow (except for the snow storm we had on Sunday at around 3am, to which I was a witness, in shorts!). I just got more anxious about how London would be, considering I had only brought a pair of running shoes, which I happened to be wearing at the time.

A trip that was supposed to last 2 hours became more like 3 hours. I felt that my feet were getting swollen, so I loosened my shoes for relief, which seemed to work; however, I was still impatient to arrive. When I finally did, I saw my mother and she was certainly happy to see me. Right after doing some brief catching up she took me for some empanadas. I was so hungry! They were absolutely incredible. The drive there was justified by the taste of the food. The only disappointing thing would be the Ají (which is a type of Hot sauce made with chopped green onions, cilantro, tomatoes and some other stuff depending on who makes it. I like mine HOT! And I also make it with a lime base, instead of some sort of broth, which is what gives it that Colombian flavor). My mom loved it, and since she hates spicy food and thinks something is wrong with her daughter for eating hotter than the Mexicans, gave me every possible argument to justify that the Ají was simply perfect. After failing miserably, I simply gave up.

Finally, we made it home. There was snow everywhere. I still could not believe I was in London, especially after realizing that the winter had officially started only 2 days ago. My mom went to bed at around midnight, but as I accustom, I decided to stay up doing a course about How Nonprofit Boards run. After finishing, I had a chance to once again stare out the window, to witness that the snowing situation was not getting any better. I guess it could be worse. I could be outside, in shorts waiting for public transportation to take me home, but no, not this time. I was all cozy, wearing my pj’s and simply enjoying the view. It reminded me of one of my recent dreams (which by the way get more messed up as the days go by), where I actually happened to be in Alaska. I remember I was freezing and I happened to be with a group of people doing some sort of excavation. I remember some yellow school buses and a motel, oh and that the air was hard to grasp… back to reality, there I was still staring into the horizon, which was not too far away for the snow storm still makes visibility an issue, at the same time makes me appreciate the season a lot more. So one thing is for sure: we will certainly have a very white Christmas this year.

LOS... Yes, Laugh out Silently

I realized that I had not made a comment for quite a while, so I thought this would be a great opportunity to contribute to my previous archives.

Besides the usual, life seems to be going alright. I mean, it's not exactly the shit at the moment, because of all the chaos risen by exam time, but you know, it could definitely be a lot worse. At the moment I happen to be waiting for a bus that will take me all the way to London to visit the rents and to "study" for my upcoming cell molecular biology exam. Let's see how that actually goes... So, this past few weeks, supposedly meant for studying, have been deeply dedicated to catch up on sleep and regain energy to waste it again on something not exactly useful, such as staying up on a Tuesday night for no apparent reason. This has actually become quite the routine, but I will not complain, for it has brought me many laughs.

I have been living with a friend for about 2 and a half months already and everything seems to be going great. We "study" together (well, she studies on behalf of both of us, I just do w/e else catches my attention), we cook together, we watch the Food Network together! It's awesome. We even share something very important: Our opinion about men. Don't get me wrong, I <3 Men, but fuck, some of them make you want to go: Hmmm..., DUH!? My first male epiphany of the day will be Bombo (For purposes bigger than my intentions, I have decided to assign each one of the following individuals an appropriate nickname that would only be understood by those worthy of divine knowledge. Well, not really, I just don't want to feed their ego for no reason. You see the thing about this men is that they actually do not understand when you are insulting them; they think you are given them some sort of a hidden complement in your words. So yeah...)

1. Bombo

Have you ever been approached by one of those male specimens who is absolutely convinced he is the owner of the last pennis on earth? I HAVE! Bombo is by far the best example I can possibly think of at the moment. Surprisingly enough, I do not have enough fingers to count the endless occasions that I have had the misfortune to share air with individuals of these kind.
This story starts about a month ago, when nature called while being under the influence of a few beers. As I had concluded my business, I was heading back to the club patio to meet my friends, who by the way happened to be very well surrounded (For clarification purposes, they were conversing with some Argentinians; for the record, I have a HUGE fetish for Argentinians).

Suddenly, an entity of unknown nature grabbed me by the arm and made verbal contact with me. This so-called male asked me if I spoke Spanish, to which I replied affirmatively. Without saying anything else, he asked me what I was doing at a Brazilian bar, since I was not Brazilian. After scanning this engender from head to toe, I simply replied that I was not aware of any prohibition laws that stopped me from going to ethnically-influenced places, which did not reflect my cultural background in anyway. I don't think he understood that I was CLEARLY mocking the stupidity of his words but anyway... To fast forward the story, he dared to demand my number. Yes, Demand I said. He did not ask, he did not blackmail me, he did not even attempt to convince me!

To his request I had the pleasure of saying NO! After hearing the way this melodious sound echoed against my guts I felt relieved. After that, the story turns fuzzy, for I met a charming specimen who happens to be driving me up the wall at the moment, in a good way though. Way too good for my own taste anyway. I forgot about Bombo, until a few weeks later, when he kind of re-appeared in my life, in a rather indirect way. The victim now: My roommate -LOS!.

How did this happen? That question is still unanswered. We simply do not know how he ended up persuading her into giving him her number, and how I ended up saving it onto his phone... No one knows! To make the story short, this dude ended up showing up at my house, for what we thought would be a fun night (totally unplanned, but whatever)