In my last blog I told of seeing snow for the first time. Although I didn’t fall to the ground and make a snow angel, make a snowball or have a play right there on the tarmac, it was snow and it was special to see for the first time.

I was very quick to get through customs thanks to an express line at Vancouver International that allows new workers through. I actually got my working visa and was the first person from the flight to get to the baggage carousel.

It was a moderately bleak evening in Vancouver, not quite as wet as Seattle but chillier. I left the airport and jumped on a bus to the hostel on Granville St. I had been warned by some people that I had been speaking to on couchsurfing.com (more on that later) that the city was a slushy mess (there was an unusual amount of snow in Vancouver in December). What was white, cute and pretty on the tarmac was perhaps the opposite in the city streets. The unmelted snow found on every sidewalk was about a foot high and resembled giant piles of steaming turd.

The hostel is nice and warm, in fact sometimes too warm. The dorm that I am in has four beds in a very small room but I can’t complain. The showers are immaculate and there is a free breakfast which includes bagels and cream cheese each morning.

The hostel also has free wireless internet which has complimented my new laptop tremendously as I have spent much time on a couch in the common area (along with a number of other people in similar situations to mine) sending off resumes.

On my first day I went venturing down Granville St (main street of Vancouver, also the street that my hostel is on) to get the equivalent of a tax file number. As I got further down the street I was awestruck by what was in front of me: big fuck off mountains. It was beautiful. I had never seen mountains before, I mean I had seen big hills and ranges and stuff with trees on them but I had never seen mountains that look like mountains (you know, no trees, a big rock with snow on top).

That night I ventured across the road from the hostel to a pub to watch the local ice hockey team play. At this point I hadn’t really met anyone in Vancouver and as I edit this a week or two after I began writing it, it was the only point where I felt a slight hint of loneliness. This is a testament to the friendliness of the people of Vancouver. A bloke who was watching the game with me at the bar struck of a conversation and introduced me to some of his buddies. These guys were nice but not the sort that you would think would do well with the ladies. I was proven wrong when one of them approached a group of about seven attractive girls who were all nurses. It proves confidence is everything (perhaps this guy has read `The Game’).

The girls ended up inviting us to a club `The Roxy’. When I got in there I ordered a bottle of champagne (ok it was sparkling white) thinking that a couple of the girls would join me for a glass. I was greeted by “What the hell are you drinking” and “What is it New Years?” I learnt something about Canadian drinking culture: men don’t drink champagne in clubs. I ended up having to drink most of the bottle myself after which I decided it was time to make the 100 metre long walk back to the hostel.

The next morning I was greeted by a lovely hangover. This was the perfect time to remind myself that I am not on holidays and I need to keep my eye on the ball here. I have since drunk only the odd beer as there will be plenty of time for silliness later.

- Peace, love, grease

Tee