After I digest all that I took in, I will give you a quick picture overview of images that struck me during this month in september.

Let s kick off with the most obvious one under the heading:
the biggest disillusions of the month

the serenity brought to us by the pitoresk town of Niagara Falls

Sunday evening 23 h58

Back on belgian soil after 4 days in Portugal for the wedding of my cousin(educational info: the openingsdance was an authentic wals jieha).
The good news was that, when my plane landed from New York, I got news that Thelma found an excuse to get away from the island to join me on mainland Portugal for a few days. Now that is what I call the perfect ending of the rollercoaster ride, the roadmovie called 'one month in september'.


Although I am turned off aviation for a while, time flew by, that's for sure.

Its: Back to work tomorrow.
And that s all I have to say about that.

Monday 24 th of September 1:03 AM

The television is on in the background while I pack my bag. It s my last night in the States. A movie just started.
When Harry met Sally.

I try to organize my bag and realize its, as usual, kind of useless, so I pick up the computer, and try to pick up where I left off...

I think we left off in rainy Vancouver, of which the first day there I slept most of the day.
I know, a shame, but frankly, I needed it, and for the first time in a long time: THE BEDS WERE ACTUALLY VERY COMFORTABLE!!! It of course also helped that, that afternoon, I wasnt acquainted yet with the 75year old swedish woman snorring, sighing and talking in her sleep in the bed above me.

Overall, rainy Vancouver cleared up the remaining time I was awake, at least most parts of the day - the moments it started to drizzled, I sheltered in the movietheatre, the rest of the time, I just wandered around.
Most of that took place in Stanley Park -which I loved ( Lonely Planet trivia: Stanley Park is one of North America'a largest urban parks). It was there that three racoons followed me along Lovers Trail -cute looking rats easily mistaken with skunks-
Yes, that was adorable in the beginning, but a little embarrassing in the end, as every couple passing looked at me like I was freaking Snow White, or at least that s the fairy tale character I think is all zen with those forest animals.

By the way, have you ever realized that when walking in a forest, everybody feels the urge to salute you... they become like these Ned Flanders and Dorothy from Oz clones. Smiling, saluting, keeping up the pace.

Anyway, besides those brief encounters, I didnt really go into conversations with anybody, I just wasnt in the mood to talk. - dont worry, people, no need for an intervention, I m on my way home, and over the phase already...
I just took in as much as I could, and I must say, after a while, the city showed me its potential. With The Rocky Mountains in the background, walking on the seaview Wall, the idea starts to build of coming back here in another frame of mind, another season, when the time is ripe - yes, you can blame the damn racoons for that idea to return-

So that s that, Vancouver is what it is, and to me that means, wanting to see more at a later date.
But for now, I had to catch a plane to Boston where I would spend my last days in the States back, at the East Coast, this time, with friends again.
Social skills were turned on again.

Small traveltime-trivia though... -and this is besides the classic story of the 5year old boy with annoying toy sitting next to me- :
The stewardess announces 2 minutes before landing that we are about to arrive in Boston and that we have to put our seats in the upright position and all that standard procedure blabla, but then she adds: 'in case of an emergency landing, please leave all your belongings behind'

In all my life I had never heared a stewardess say this just before a landing...
my life flashed before my eyes. (ok, I exagerate a little, but still, who in her right mind would say that???) Thank you United Airlines for giving me my first airplane-ride thrill.

Ok, so as you can guess, I made it, no big deal... I m still alive and kicking in Boston.

And it has been a great 4 days that just flew by, 4 days of casual sightseeing, food and drinks and good talks.
I learned a lot of random stuff again... I ll give one random example: I know for instance, that tomorrow is Suicide Monday for the students.
Suicide Monday is something the faculties of MIT and Harvard have introduced to do something about the suicide-rate amongst students.
To give them a break, to catch up with their work, these random Holiday-Mondays have been introduced, and although I applaud the initiative, I find the whole concept a little sinister...

So that is that, I am packing up to go home.
My last day in the States involved my first yoga session this morning -under the motto 'do-something-new-everyday', a bbq in the backyard in the afternoon, and a great concert of Ben Harper to top it all off.
Yes, it has been one of those good sundays.
...

Meg Ryan does her orgasm scene in the diner...
the old woman says: 'I ll have what she s having'.
And then we cut to commercials.
Typical.
But I think of doing the same, that is: cutting to commercials.
Time for a break again.

next stops: NY JFK, BRUSSELS tuesday. and wednesday: LISBON.

waiting for my plane to Vancouver:
a rare moment of peace and quiet on LAX.

This is a special message for that Lois Lane with the internet connection from hell, the task to write difficult articles for Middle Earth.
Lois, exiled on an Island sitting at a desk with the humming of broken neonlights at the local Daily Planet, surrounded by aliens from outer space.

You are reading this and thinking? Is she really talking to me?...

Yes, You, whose communication facilities with the outside world have been dismantled by the authorities,you that are stripped from any real live feed-connection from the main land by your superiors and banned to read your emails that might safe yourself from becoming one of them!
You have gone so deep undercover under the codename, Journaaaal de Funchaaal, that we start to worry.
That is why I go thru public channels to address myself to You:

JA I m talking to YOU!!!!
This is a personal blog-entry for you because I want to know an answer to the killing question: Clo, are you coming to Lisbon next week?

Roekoeh 3x in the night if you have received this message and will be able to escape from your personal Alcatraz for a few days. I m sure you can invent the Perfect Excuse. Because if somebody can do it... You can - As you are the Invent-an-unlikely-excuse-and-stick-to-it- Master.

To all you others... this entry was, even more then usual, I think of no specific interest to you -unless you are her boss of course-

Natural wildlife that makes you in awe of nature.
I just wanted to share.

Baby baboon and leopard
www.youtube.com/watch?v=yE6Z031P9rU

battle at kruger
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LU8DDYz68kM

NOTHING REALLY ENDS

As predicted...

I lie in the bed, a bed, just another bed. Disoriented.
The ceiling is white i think -like most ceilings-. although I m not sure as it s night and the UNSET alamclock flickers an unsetttling red glow in the room bringing me in a trance like state of mind.
Caught between dusk and dawn, I pressed PLAY on 'Nothing really ends' from Deus

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lO_SwOEjO_o&mode=related&search=

I become the song I hum along.

Tom Sings;
'The plan it wasn't much of a plan
I just started walking
I had enough of this old town
'had nothing else to do
It was one of those nights
you wonder how nobody died
we started talking
You didn't come here to have fun
you said: "well I just came for you"
...

In the hills.
The dirt on the dusty paved road leaves red powder on my boots and pants.
An unknown man, I call him Peter Pan, leads the way.
I feel I know him from somewhere, but then again, I have seen so much tv...that I probably have.

the song continues.
Tom Sings;

'And touch we touched the soul
the very soul, the soul of what we were then
With the old schemes of shattered dreams
lying on the floor
You looked at me
no more than sympathy
my lies you have heard them
My stories you have laughed with
my clothes you have torn'
...
Do you feel the same
Do i have a chance
Of doing that old dance again
Is it too late
For some of that romance again
Let's go away
We'll never have the chance again
...

Along the way, colors shift. From red hills, brownish trees to a rainforesty green.
The smells blend in with one another, morning glory blossoms with a hint of skunk.
Dawn has gone; the mist lifts as the sun hits the sky hard.
In Awe of the splendor, I wander and wonder..
The stranger is still in front of me, I have to keep up.
He looks back at times with a polite smile, checks if I m still there.
I am, for now.
The silence is intercut by small talk that ends where it begins.
This time, the silence says nothing. Sometimes it does.

I think we are lost. But I don't mind, for now.
I try to enjoy the moment, But then the mind wont seem to let me..
The song takes over.


(Choir sings)
You lost that feeling
You want it again
More than I'm feeling
You'll never get
You've had a go at
All that you know
You lost that feeling
So come down and show


Scattered thoughts shatter to the ground.
I wonder for example what sound a tiny hummingbird would make.
It s RANDOM. As usual.

Suddenly the channel flips.
From Neverland to soap opera.
I am the soap opera I watch. The young and the Restless.
I kill the passion with pore written dialogs and bad acting.
Of course we cut to commercial break:
Where we can buy the 'essential' junk to live the dream and everything in between.
It makes me scream, which brings relief and takes us back to the show.
I m still there, trying to deliver my line:
'Inner peace is overrated', is the line I sell myself convincingly.

I wandered off for a moment, and for a split second I was there. I saw a glimpse.
But then I snap back to the ceiling.
It s definitely white. Of course it is, all ceilings are.
I turn off the disturbing red flickering that tells a RANDOM time.
I close my eyes, and imagine the sound of nighttime crickets turning into daytime birds.
As I get used to the dark, the dark becomes light.
The moment is gone.
The smell of skunk lingers in the room, but that, I don't mind.

Tom Sings;

Don't say goodbye
let accusations fly
like in that movie
You know the one where Martin Sheen
waves his arm to the girl on the street
I once told a friend
that nothing really ends
no one can prove it
So I'm asking you now
could it possibly be
that you still love me?
And do you feel the same
Do I have a chance
of doing that old dance again
Is it too late for some of that romance again
Let's go away, we'll never have the chance again
I take it all from you...
-the backing vocals go at it-....

I help out the backing vocals as the song fades away.
'Nothing really ends' ends.
I want to hit REPEAT, but I dont, because that s something you don't do with songs you like.

Instead, I watch the paint-by-numbers portrait of Mr.Iglesias on the wall and admire the eye for detail by the artist.

I need some more sheep or towns to count.

a sunny afternoon in Quebec versus a late drizzle night in Vancouver.

Quebec Monday 10/09 - 15h28

And there I am, at the intersection waiting for a green Saturn and a driver called Pierre. I'm early so I grab my little Hopper painted'cahier' that by now is already falling to pieces, and start writing.
Fellow co sharing passengers get dropped off or sit in the lawn in front of the Petro- Canada awaiting their ride.
The magic word to start speaking to one another appears to be a hesitating; 'AlloStop?'.
While that code helps some to start a conversation, others, like me, just enjoy the alone-time in the sunshine.
Reminiscing about the previous days. My hospitality hosts took me along to another family dinner yesterday evening. Dominique and her sister would meet 'la blonde' of her father
(educational intermezzo; girlfriend in quebecois is 'la blonde' -nice and derogative- the boyfriend is called 'the chum')
As a matter of fact, I learned a lot of other trivial stuff in Quebec.

Like that when playing Jungle Speed with the Family, older men will forever be bad sports when it comes down to losing -hilarious-
I also learned about poutine. (For heart-attack lovers:these are fries served under gravy and cheese curds) and that the price of poutine in Quebec can fluctuate depending on how cold it becomes.
I explain:
In winter it can become -30degrees. - which apparantly is not 'froid'(=cold in french) anymore, but so 'froid' that they have given it the new word: 'fred'... when froid becomes fred, the price of the poutine goes down to make people come out of their homes.
So -25 degrees celcius/ -25 percent discount on the poutine....

Overall, Quebec was great, but again, not where I need to be.
Maybe it s idea of the fred or the poutine that turns me off I don t know.

Pierre pulls over. Me and two others get in. This time its different, we dont talk on the way back to Montreal. I enjoy the silence more then the small talk.
Sometimes you just do.
I look at the signs of the towns along the way back:
Saint-Guillaume, Sainte-Helene, Saint-Vincent, Sainte-Hyacinthe, Saint-Valere, Saint-Simon, Sainte-Rosalie, ..
it works like counting sheep...
I fall a sleep, hoping to wake up in LA.

Vancouver almost one week later.Sunday 11:45PM

And there I am, in Vancouver the cab drops me off at a random door of a complete stranger at 11:30 PM. Arnold is the name of the Mexican man that lets me in and shows me where I can stay that night.
I sit down on the bed. Alone again. This time I feel different.
Sentiments have shifted.
The last night in Montreal before going to LA, I first handedly figured out what bedbugs are as I got bitten all all over- That, in combination with a great time with friends in LA turned me off on backpacking for the moment.
I feel too old for this shit.
Don't get me wrong, I m not complaining about my age, because until now I love every age I hit, loving life -although maybe this split second writing is a little bit of downer-.
It s just not the same anymore, blame the bedbugs, the heavy backpack, the rain, being tired...

Life on the road, in this strange room has a gloomy feel to it. And this time the alone-time is just alone, border lining with lonely.
Nobody to share the experience with, makes me almost not want the experience at all.
On top of it all: It dawns on me, I figured out...I m not at all the adventurous type, so why do I seek it? I have no clue why I do what I do.

Yes, I know, it s just the rain and the fact that I walked into a stranger's home who will kindly ask me to leave at 6 AM as he needs to go to work that makes me feel like this.
It cant always be rainbows and teddybears (this is the G rated Disney-version of what paradise looks like of course, the R rated one is safely stored in my head)

As I take the room in, a room full with paint by numbers paintings -two especially pop out: one of a cat, and one resembling a portrait of a young mr. Julio Iglesias, I know I' m bound to wake up in the middle of the night again. I m so tired though..
...
Saint-Charles, Saint Jean-Baptiste, Saint-Mathieu, Saint-Marc, Saint-Richelieu, Saint-Bruno...

If they say so, it must be true.

At the intersection. traffic is slow. Birdwatching.

The Beverly Hilton. -it s not arty... just dont know how to flip the image...

yes, there are still a brave few that walk instead of drive

... much more to say on quebec and all... and I ll continue the logblog when I m on the open road again, as of tomorrow.
The week in LA. no words just a few pics, as I did some drive by shooting while I was stuck in LA traffic on Santa Monica Boulevard.

Niagara Falls... Need I say more...

Sad soldiers eyes on the bus from Montreal to Toronto

Quebec Sunday 09/09 8:15 AM

So recap. Toronto. Just another city, even with the glits and the glams of the Filmfestival going on, it is still a city that will soon blend in with many others.

Time to move on. Again a long busdrive and a very old busdriver... New, different characters on the bus.
Next to me 2 japanese girls that dont speak a word of english, trying to communicate with Gothic-girl from Montreal.-The conversation seems basic, yet highly complex.
In front of me an Indian older lady wants to know all about the aspirations, hopes and dreams of the two fully accesoiressed rappers (one white, one black) next to her.
In the back the 3 heavy metal dudes get left alone by everybody.

The old black man right behind me snorrs.
I love it.

I m trying something new to get to Quebec, something called Allo Stop.
I registered before I left Montreal and can now use the service.
The idea is, you call up the office saying you want to leave from Montreal to Quebec on Saturday afternoon.
They say a car is leaving at a certain point at a certain time. Be there.
In my case:
I can hitch a ride with Noemie who drives a grey Golf and will pick me up 15h30 at the corner of Cremazie and Berie.
I pay the office 6 dollars, 10 dollars to Noemie.
It works: At 15h35 the grey golf arrives at the meetingpoint, a mexican young man studying architecture in quebec and myself get in the car.
We meet Noemie, a friendly young woman who studied music at the conservatory -violin-

The 3hour drive to Quebec is one of sharing stories, jokes, history.
I explain that I was normally travelling with a friend of mine, but that she got offered an internship in Madeira at the last minute....
she says her cousin is leaving for Madeira the next day to study Portuguese at the University of Funchal (Madeira is booming. a regular hotspot!). The cousin s name leaving is Ingrid.
Life is odd.

She drops me of nearby the house of JP and Dominique (also people I met via Hospitality), exchange emails, wish eachother well and say goodbye.

After a 10 minute walk I arrive at the hospitalityhouse and get welcomed by Dominique, her two cousins and her sister. Apparently I crash their family girls night dinner. I immediately get poored a good glass of wine and the girls shatter and laughter continues. Most of the conversation is hardly understandable to me (Quebecois is french but very highpitch, nasal and fast).
Lots of wine, good food and laughter are the key ingredients that evening.
I take pictures of the girls, so they have a souvenir of their evening.
Around 11PM everybody leaves and J.P comes home from work (the hospitality contact). We have another beer all together-Dominique, J.P and I -yes indeed, I have a buzz at this time-, before going to bed.
The young couple apparently loves to travel and to encounter new people.
Their cosy apartment reflects the way they are.
As the pick-up plays old records, they tell their travelstories.
J.P insists to show me around his town tomorrow, which I kindly accept.

After that, I fall sound a sleep. But like every night, I wake up in the middle of the night and it takes me 5 minutes to figure out where I am exactly. I backtrack my steps...Oh yes;
Warm welcome in Quebec... I turn around and continue my sleep.

Toronto, 07/09 20h00
A girl from Melbourne, Laura, who I met yesterday as she slept on the bunkbed below me the first night, is visiting her vacation sweetheart here - he works during the day, so she just wanders around town.
She doesnt really like to walk, nor the town.
A honeymoon period without a honey...
Anyway, due to that damn filmfestival, we have to change rooms every evening we are here, not knowing where we will end up.
Although I must say I was lucky in comparison to her, as I continued being in the girls dorm, and only had to overhear a couple doing it in the hallway.
She on the other hand, had to share a room with 3 dudes... witnessing one of the guys completely shitfaced at 6AM, pieing against the bedpole of her bed and then wanking off... Charming.
After that, she didnt move for about an hour, just looking at the ceiling, the scent of pie slowly waking her up from the nightmare.
Finally wide awake, I met her in the lobby for free pancakes (which I now can confirm you can get sick off after a day. After a good laugh about the situation, I tried the rest of the day to lift her spirit, trying to walk off the tiny trauma (by taking a wrong turn and seeing even less lonely planet parts of Toronto).
So that was the day-plan, strolling around uninspired Toronto looking for... charm.
No such luck.

Although we did get lucky in the bed-department.
We found ourselves beds for another night... in the girls dorm. HALLELUIJA ... (at least girls are pottytrained, or at least that seems to be the observation until now).

Tonight we continue our search for pitoresk parts in Toronto, tomorrow I give up that search and move to Quebec early mornings, with a final and definitive opinion about this town.
What a cliffhanger knowing what that opinion will lean towards...

Toronto 06/9 22h06

Forgot that the filmfestival is on this weekend. I have managed to get a bed for today and tomorrow, but friday is a questionmark.
I m staying at the former Spadina Hotel (lonely planet-trivia; Jack Nickolson, The Rolling Stones, Leonard Cohen and the Tragically Hip stayed here'- my footnote here: probably when they where all underage, unknown and backpacking thru Canada... or otherwise...surely not in my room, which is pretty basic- 'It s in an optimal location and even has its own bar, hence the party atmosphere'.
I would soon find out what that means.

That night, I eat alone in a restaurant.The look of the woman when she says:'Table for 1' makes me happy with the decision to go see my friends in LA.
Afterwards I go straight to bed, ready for an early start to Niagara Falls tomorrow... the party has just started outside my bedroom-window.

The next morning we make ourselves free pancakes and coffee, then I head out to Niagara Falls to meet Mike - for the ones who are not following the soapopera: Mike is the one that is the best friend of Steve. He is the one that told me I could probably stay at Steve's, I only knew Mike via email until now.-

I count the canadian flags along the busdrive there...Apparently, the Canadians like their flags as much as the Americans do -48 on 1h30 drive-.

He picks me up and shows me around the are in his car, then we go for lunch and say goodbye as he has to had back to work, back to the vineyard.
It s funny how you go to the essence of things with strangers. I love those conversations, it makes life interesting.
He offers to help out when I am in Vancouver. I of course tell him that when he is ever in transit in Brussels, I will do the same for him. I mean it.

My impressions on Niagara as I walk on the promenade with thousands of other tourists: -random thoughts-
the promenade ends at the bridge, the bridge leads to the US. The US cant see the falls from their side, so they have constructed this ugly monstracity look-out-point to be able to see a glimpse of the real falls from their side.
The Canadians must have been chuckling in amusement knowing they had the good side...
Although what they did is nothing to be proud of either.
At their side, they have build this town looking like one giant themepark-arcade-casino, ressemling City Walk at Universal Studios.
It s amazing how Hollywood can kill the magic.

I ask several people to take a picture of me and the falls... all of them suck. Easy to digitally delete thank God.
One thing is sure: This place can be scratched of my list of places-to-go-on-a-honeymoon.
As an old couple holds hands and I take their picture, I cant help but think... maybe for a second honeymoon? Viagra Falls?

Oh well, the ideallic picture I had of Niagara . Shattered to pieces.
I snap back to reality, realizing my bus leaves in 10 minutes. so I hail my first cab in Canada. The Southafrican driver starts to talk to me in Afrikanie. He tells me his lifestory in 7 minutes: wanting to move to the US, pursuing the American dream, stranded in Canada, because here there was no problem for their 19year old daughter to come along.
He still loves America though, the land of opportunity and discipline -his words- wants to live in the desert: Nevada or Arizona... well yeah, then Niagara might not be the right place for him...

As he complaints a little bit more about his artritis from the humidity, I see my bus pass by, which means I have to wait 2 hours for the next one.
Three tibetian monks have just left the busstation, heading for Niagara.
I smile at them, they politely smile back...
They are in for a treat.

Headset goes on. Seven Nation Army by the White Stripes.

Toronto 05/09 20h00


I always underestimate traveltime. This time it was no different.
We departed at 9h30 in the morning. Arrival scheduled in Toronto for 16h15.
The busdriver that has clearly survived both worldwars welcomes us on the coach of Coach Canada in both languages. How beautiful to see that there is a country where french and english go hand in hand.
The guy in front of me tries to make eyecontact, although he tries to be subtile, he fails, as everytime he does so, he turns around 180degrees.
He seems restless, can' t sit still on his chair. His brown hair is trimmed in the back, but not recently. It s growing back.
Everytime he turns, I see his eyes. Sad, soft, young and mature at the same time.
After 4 hours he offers me gum. I thank him.
Alex, 22 and just finished his three year military service in Israel. Releaved to know its over for him, ready to go and finally live, explore the world.
He doesn't continue but his eyes speak.. still sad, but they sparkle.

Tuesday 8pm

The Japanese girl in the bed on top of me got bitten by bugbeds... I think she means bedbugs -although I don t know what that is either, but then she shows me her legs... Nasty.

She tries to communicate with me. Chineze to me. But when she offers me a beer, I accept and we continue the difficult conversation that involves a lot of gesturing.

Oh yes. Indeed, people I drink beer here, because that is what they believe that belgians do and I dont want to burst their bubble.
The Mexican guy joins us. He apparently has a new shirt on, so that is a good sign.
She smiles at him, he smiles back.
She opens her laptop .

Tuesday 11h56

So Steve is going to a convention in Minnesota tomorrow. Really weird how people open up to strangers and just tell their life stories. That is what he did to me yesterday before dropping me off at the hostal.
At the end, he trusted me that much that he wanted to pass me the key to his house while he would be away. I declined, preferring to stay at the crazy hostal then alone in an empty house.
So this is where we say goodbye and wish eachother well.

I feel, though, that this is one of the last times I will be doing traveling via youth hostals, I am getting a little bit too old for this shit.

Observation last night about backpackerstravel and how it has changed in the last couple of years... most of these young people now travel with a laptop and a cellphone.
They all sit on the terrace, with their icecold beer, relaxing, chilling, enjoying being out and about, yet chatting on the wireless internet with people back home.
The romance is gone.

A Mexican young man from Cancun starts talking to me, if I understand correctly, he lost his luggage, but that will not bring him down - I like his attitude... for him, 'Montreal is beauty, Beauty.' He forgets the 'full'. Adorable little man, but when he tries to tag along for the rest of the day, I think no... a little too happyhappy for me today. Today I want to wander alone.
So I invent a lame excuse and head off.
I need to figure out the rest of my trip.
Taking me some time, as I didnt give it any thought before coming here...
This is the crazy plan.

Going to Toronto on wednesday, then quebec, then the Westcoast/LA before heading to Vancouver -I know...it s a stretch-, but as long as I am on the continent...
and I finish off in Boston and NY.

Montreal monday, 22h10-6h=16h10

So I pick up where I left off.
Upon arrival I call up Steve again. This time he answers, so I tell him that I have a room in a youth hostal, not to worry....
He asks me if I'm sure, that he is happy to pick me up from the airport, which he says is an hour away by bus,... I decline ones, but when he asks again, I gladly accept, as the busride would cost me again and so on... So yes great! He will pick me up and I will stay at his place tonight even though I have booked that room.
I ask him what kind of car he drives so I can recognize him, he says a Lincoln. After which I realize I don't know the first thing about cars, so I ask him: 'What colour?' He says: 'Cream'. I reply: 'Which kind?'. He laughs.
Good Start.
So amazingly, we manage to meet a half an hour later, and he gives me a Montreal by night tour in his creamcoloured Lincoln.

That night I go to bed at 12AM, for me its 6AM in the morning.
I sleep like a baby... in a normal spare room, no dungeon.

This morning is Labour Day, we go for coffee. A crazy frenzy business on the streets of Montreal.27degrees C. I decide that that night I will sleep in the youth hostal as Steve is having another friend over. So we make vague plans to meet up later that day and I walk around town and take it all in.

Arriving at the hostal, a nice girl behind the counter decides to not charge me for the previous night, -jeej- , gives me a free subway ticket and a really good deal for the next 2 nights.

The glass is still halffull.

Another trip, and the entries on the blog kick of again...

JFK ... 3h40 PM

So that was that, I decided to go on vacation, alone.
Actually, it got decided for me when good old 'Thelma' annuled to get 'Tom Hanks-CAST AWAYED' on an Island called Madeira...
So, Louise was on her own. She would still go, and that was final.
Another turning point in her life, or better yet: a crossroad where she carefull looks left, then right, to finally step of the sidewalk onto the street, put on her blindfold and walks over, hoping that she doesnt get bulldozered (for a good reference on what that looks like, I would recommend watching Brad Pitt s classic carcrash in Meet Joe Black- it s in the beginning of the movie, you dont have to watch the rest of the epic story, 'cause that would be cruel torture).

Anyway, I m drifing of. Back to the clouds:
My flight here...-yes, so I m Louise... keep up please-
Actually I was kind of curious to know who would be sitting next to me...
Apparently, the empty Thelma seat was for a man, which actually was quite confusing in the beginning, because when I peaked on his declarationform to enter the US, it said ,FEMALE. The most logical theory came to mind...this man was going for his final operation to make him a man. good for him,her.
Another less obvious option, didn t come to mind... he was filling in the form for his wife sitting at the other side of the aisle...
Apparently they also went for the cheap seats at the back of the plane, the ones where the smell of urine keeps you sharp everytime the door opens, where nobody really cares if you can see the movie 5 meter before you or wether you like chicken or pasta: you get what the others didnt want -and that s chicken if you want to know-

yes, I know, I should seriously start counting those airmiles... by now I would have been bumped up to business class several times already... Aaah if only I was good at organizing that shit for myself...

So this is where I am... In transit. Story of my life, Twilight JFK
The open road awaits: jiepiekajee M.F.!

JFK 5h54PM
Starts of well...My connecting flight gets delayed for over two hours and I can t reach the Hospitality guy friend where I am staying...
- to does who dont know, i m trying out this hospitality thing, staying with the locals... that s how i came in touch with somebody who still has his profile on there after two years, but hasnt used it ever,... until now... He doesnt live in Montreal, but his friend does... I can stay there.. all good for me... until now of course-
To be on the safe side, I call a hostal and reserve a room.
part of conversation;
-yes, we have a room left in the basement.
sounds delightful, my first night in Montreal and I will be sleeping in a dungeon.
But no, That will not ruin the fun... I m still optimistic... Yet, if they push that boarding time back one more time, I dont know what I ll do.

JFK 6h30pm
And they pushed it again...
Mechanical Problems of the plane make me grab for an overprized wine in the bar, to calm the nerves... there goes my plan to do a detox vacation -who was I kidding?-

JFK 6h40pm

Typical, the second sip of my wine, and boarding starts.
The glass is still Halffull - I keep saying to myself.
Boarding, of a replacement Fisher Price-plane starts (one that seats 50 people and has only one stewardess- I cant help wondering if that isn t illegal... like having more then 30 kids in kindergarden just for one teacher,...)

I sit down next to my Thelma open seat again, A man from Algiers,who just comes back from burrying his father back home... He tries to keep it together but runs to the toilet (right next to us of course)
When he comes back, I say the only thing I can say 'my condoleances', and we both put on our headsets of our mp3player... both with our own soundtrack... mine being approbriate for him 'Sadness' from Stash - I skip the song. SHUFFFLE. 50 Cent 'It s your birthday'... hmmmm much more approbriate.