Days Septante Trois, Septante Quatre and Septante Cinq

One of the initial problems I had with the hotel I had in Stuttgart was that the curtains, they did nothing to block out the light. As a result, it was a night full of tossing and turning, sadly.

Breakfast was a little better than the sleep, thankfully. I pretty much passed over the meat and cheese that was composing the majority of the food choices and went for some toast with jam along with a hardboiled egg. Plus the best internet connection was in the breakfast room so I shot off some more emails at the same time.

I had, at this point, been nursing a bit of a cough and a cold, which I chalked up to my GO GO GO attitude towards the majority of the trip. I stopped into European grocery chain and legend from my Strasbourg days – Lidl – to get some orange juice and then ended up communicating in Spanish (?) at Shlecker to get cough syrup. Because, y’know, I can’t really read the German labels.

I decided it was time to go out for a walk, and after about an hour later I ended up at the tourist information booth to get information for the tram, and as well where to find a Deutsch Bank (no fees, thanks Scotiabank!). The Deutsch Bank was difficult to find until I turned the map upside down to coordinate where I was walking to. Then it was much easier.

The shopping in Stuttgart – well, downtown at least – is one large street, pedestrianized, which several little offshoots. I managed to find a couple of places that I wanted to go in and would have bought more than I did but the concept of using a VISA or Mastercard in most places seemed lost on these massive retailers (sarcasm mine). Apd apparently they're real big fans of Canadians.

I trudged back to the hotel as I figured I needed an afternoon nap.

And then I saw it.

There were handles on the side of the walls next to the windows. I look to the top of windows.

Blinds.

Sometimes, I’m really a dolt.

In fact, once I closed the blinds, it was pitch dark. As in you had no idea what time it was. Total sensory deprivation.

After that fine discovery, I spent the afternoon catching up on some emails, skyping (hey, it’s free, you can hardly blame me) and then popped down next door to Subway to get some dinner. Again, Spanish became the language of communication.

Finally, 6 pm arrived, it was off to see Wicked: Die Hexen Von Oz! I should preface that I went to the show, and yes it was German language, but I’ve seen the English language stage show twice and furthermore have listened to the CD hundreds of times, so I know what’s going on. The people at the tourist bureau will give you specified directions on how to get somewhere on the tram, thus after two trams I was at the complex.

And I say complex because it housed two massive theatres, shops, a casino, a hotel, etc. I first got into what I thought was the theatre and asked what was going on… a charity performance of We Will Rock You.

Hold on, I thought, that’s not what I signed up for! I was politely pointed to the theatre across the road to where Wicked was playing.

Upon entry to the theatre I went over and quickly grabbed a souvenir cd. I was really quite curious to have a copy of the foreign language show I was about to see.

The show itself was wonderful. I got goosebumps from the start – ended up being house left, on the aisle, row 14. No complaints. It was really interesting to listen to the lyrics and seeing the challenge of trying to fit German words into the original English lyrics but it came off quite nicely. I also thought this was much more difficult to perform due to the rigidness of the language as well – the lady who played Elphaba had a most difficult task.

After the show I took a minute to go and talk to the musical director/conductor. He spoke English and was nice enough to explain the difficulties of the score. I hopped a tram (and then a second) back to the hotel and got a much, MUCH nicer sleep.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I woke up at 8.30 am on Day Septante-Quatre. 8.30! For those of who know me personally, you know that’s a massive sleep in. Plus… 9 hours of sleep! I can’t remember the last time I did that well.

Breakfast, check. Pack my bags, check. Try to mail something awkward, not done, mostly because they didn’t have the right packaging at the DeutschPoste I went to. Oh well, I can mail it in France next week. Confirm reservation at DeutschBahn, check.

Food. It was 11.30 am and I figured I should pick up some lunch. After getting some pastries at the discount baker, a banana at the Chiquita fruit stand…

… and even a couple of postcards for souvenirs, I caved in and bought a cheeseburger at Burger King. Sometimes, dear readers, there are needs. I hadn’t had one in three weeks and didn’t think that made me too bad of a person.
The train, at least the first leg, was uneventful. So after a 30 minute stop over in Cologne, I was back on the next train. It turns out that while I had been lead to believe that I could travel into a country that wasn’t on my pass as long as I started in a country where I did.

Not so, the DB employee stated to me. He was just doing his job, although it was a kick in the teeth that I had to pay 23 Euros for the extra fare, and then move to second class! Hmm. Slightly frustrating.

Furthermore, I had been told by my friend Jeanette to get off at Brussels Centraal. And it turns out that this train was only going to Brussels Nord and Brussels Midi. So I got off at Brussels Nord, which turned out into an adventure unto itself, including a slightly bizarre two block walk with all of my luggage to make a connection.

I did, however, arrive at Jeanette’s place of work around 5 pm, a little harrowed from the journey, but happy that I was there. I hadn’t seen Jeanette since university, so that’s going on 8 years! We then walked to her house (as I didn’t really feel like chancing the metro again on this day). She’s got a really sweet pad, and after settling in we went to buy wine (it IS Europe, people), get some groceries and then head back to her place to make dinner.

Jeanette whipped up an AWESOME salad dressing, and along with my help and the assistance of one Dr. Oetker (he’s a personal friend of a lot of you, I imagine) dinner was ready. It was great to just sit and catch up with each other after all these years.

We then got ready to go out. One of Jeanette’s friends was celebrating her birthday, so we went out for beverages. While we were getting prepared, I threw on TF1 and watched a bit of Le Plus Grand Quiz de France. It’s sort of like American Idol meets Trivial Pursuit(the board game, NOT "America Plays"). Get 10 questions in a row right, you get to advance to the semi-finals to compete head to head.

Oh, and did I mention that they give you all of the questions and answers beforehand? All fifteen thousand of them. Apparently the British version was over 200,000…

We had a nice night out that was only marred by some shoddy service. It was a cool spot though, and it was neat meeting Jeanette’s circle of friends who probably are the most internationally diverse I’ve seen since leaving university.

Seeing as that we got home pretty late, sleep wasn’t the first thing I had on day Septante-Cinq . However I did get some good rest and around 11 am Jeanette and I headed out with her playing tour guide and me playing tourist.

One of the nice things that happens when you have someone local on your side is that they can show you all the nooks and crannies. Jeanette did an excellent job, showing me sights such as Grand Sablon, Petit Sablon, le Parc Central among others. We went into her favourite church as well as seeing a make shift Chinese tea room as part of a Euro-China partnership.

Jeanette had mentioned a chip stand named Frites-Flagey that was known to served very good fries – the Belgian way. I then got a bit more than I bargained for.
It turns out that the owner of the Frites-Flagey was a bit on edge. Someone wondered if their fries were done yet, and that just sent him into a tailspin. Ever seen that episode of Seinfeld where if the soup guy doesn’t like you, you don’t get any soup? That was EXACTLY THIS. I kid you not. After this first initial altercation, he yelled that if anyone else had a problem, that they should just leave.

Jeanette managed to order our fries, and while we were waiting, someone started a conversation with “My kind sir” which set of FF guy again… with the best quote so far… I’m in charge, you’re not, get out! (slightly paraphrased, but you get the idea). It was truly an exercise in seeing true Belgian customer service.

I’m told the Better Business Bureau doesn’t really exist in Belgium… and I can tell why!

We got back to Jeanette’s just in time for me to grab my dive gear and hop a metro/tram to the end of line 4 to get to Nemo 33!

Nemo 33, as most of you probably don’t know, is the world’s deepest diving pool. I say diving because yes, although you could swim in it, that’s not really why it exists. Through a back and forth email I was able to book a divemaster for a one hour session. I could have just shown up, however as I’ve seen on many a dive vacation (ok, two), it’s very much hit and miss what kind of diver quality you get. So for an extra fee, I rented one. As it turned out, someone else wanted one as well, so we split on the cost, which made it just that much more enjoyable!

I got to Nemo shortly after 4 for a 5 pm session, which actually turned out to be nice, as I could just watch the world go by. There are windows where those in the restaurant can see the divers, and vice versa. It’s pretty neat, especially for those who don’t dive (AND WHY NOT???) as they can sit on the dry side and watch their friends and family.
At 4.45 pm I was let into the changing area. As it turned out there was only me, two other divers and a dive master in this slot… and apart from the classes that were being run in the first 10 feet of depth, we had the run of the pool! Talk about lucky.
Just before 5 pm you get let into the pool. We met Didier, our divemaster (for hire) for this session. Instantly I felt comfortable as we started joking around… I could tell he enjoyed what he does! The first eight to ten minutes are reserved for “apnee” (free diving)… just so you can get used to the initial surroundings. Which is a good thing, because the temperature of the water is a bit shocking.

A shockingly high 90 degrees Farenheit.

Yep, you read that right. Plus it’s spa water… no chlorine. And you can’t take your own gear in, save for masks, computers (a necessity at the depth) and cameras. No wetsuits allowed – unless you shell out to rent one. Having rented my fair share of wetsuits in my time and knowing where they’ve probably been… I took a pass.

After the freediving session it was time to kit up. Now, although you pay for the use of the equipment and the pool, you still have to put it together. Not a problem for yours truly. Once Didier and I, along with Jean-Louis and the other gentleman (whose name sadly I’ve forgotten and is illegible on my dive log) were ready to go, we headed down.

It does take some getting used to… the warm pool water that is. I had been nursing on and off a bit of a sniffle for a few days so I was extremely concerned that I wouldn’t be able to go deep… thankfully not a problem! We started by going down to about 15 feet to start, then headed down a secondary well to 30 feet. In between the wells there are two grottos where you can go in, take a breather (HA!) and talk. It’s really weird though, because you get in, you start talking and because you’re 30 feet below the surface, you sound like a chipmunk. I’ve got a sound file that I’ll eventually get around to posting.

It was then time to head down the big well.

I had seen videos on youtube detailing this experience, but it was so wonderful to freefall – in a matter of speaking – down to the bottom of this very deep well, which bottoms out at 33 metres, or as my computer told me, 111 feet.
We got to spend about 7 or 8 minutes at the bottom. It was absolutely a blast, as I just started snapping pictures of my computer (to prove that I went to this depth!) and it was fun to realize that it truly was as warm as it was in the pool. Didier took a minute to take a picture of me at depth – I photoshopped it a bit but you get the idea!

Near the end of our time at the 111 foot mark, my computer started blinking. While you are taught to dive your tables – and you always should – your computer is a nice little tool to have underwater as well. I don’ think I’ve ever gotten down to only 2 minutes to go before decompression stops would set in (and trust me, you don’t want that) so it was time for all of us to head up.
We stopped and sat at 60 feet to off gas some of our collective nitrogen and I got a quick shot with Jean-Louis.

After the stop at 60 feet we moved up to 30 feet and visited the other grotto just to have a quick chat. I started singing and all Didier said was “Canadians!”

Finally it was time to surface. All in all a phenomenal experience! I do hope to go back at one point, and I know if I lived near it that I would probably spend a good chunk of my paycheque there now and then.
After drying off and changing, Jean-Louis, the mystery gentleman and I signed each other’s logs and said our goodbyes. The only thing that Nemo 33 is missing are souvenirs! I did manage to grab a couple of the placemats from the restaurant.
I got back to Jeanette’s around 7.30 pm and once she arrived back from the gym, we got some dinner and then I hit the hay. Such a busy day… but it continues to be such a fun vacation!
Cheers,
Vick.

Days Soixante-Neuf, Septante, Septante-et-Un and Septante-Deux

It was time to make tracks from Scotland. Originally I was due back to London to attend a taping of the original Who Wants to be a Millionaire? in London; however, it had been cancelled due to scheduling conflicts. Which actually turned out to be a good thing (I can’t believe I’m actually saying that). So Day Soixante-Neuf was a travel day, probably the biggest one so far since the original flight over:

Paisley-Glasgow Central on local rail; Glasgow Central-London Kings Cross on National Express East Coast (the good: once again free internet and great views; the bad: Kings Cross is currently under renovations so no chance of trying to ram a trolley through platform 9 and 3/4). London Kings Cross-Holborn-Newbury Park on the tube (Liverpool St. rail was under Sunday construction – nothing new there) and then Newbury Park-Gidea Park on a replacement bus. I actually could have gotten a ride home to Emily’s but I figured after the 9 hour travel day I needed a walk. Plus a chill night at home… which is what we got, which included planning for the next day, and a skype call home to sing happy birthday to my dad (who is now tied with mom in the who gets to age *mumblegarblegobbledygook* first).

Day Septante brought me full circle. Well, sort of. It’s weird; some people don’t want anything to do with their job when they go on a year off, but I like a little reminder once in awhile. Emily had invited me to visit her school for the day which I took up her on. She teaches year five and her kids are just adorable. We started the day with maths (yes, I’m spelling it right, stop asking) where they were working on pictograms. I was allowed to help them with questions about their homework which I quite enjoyed. After the morning break, I was up. Yes, I taught a lesson! We did some drama activities, fun games like “Darling won’t you please please smile?” and then took 20 minutes just before the end and played Countdown. As seen here!

The kids promised me that they’d watch the show when it pops up next week and I hope they do!

Emily, along with her friend Jen (who I knew from the Halloween party) and I went out for lunch at a small café and then it was back to work. Emily had prep time and had to get some things done, so I was invited to Linda’s class (Halloween party friend). It was science time, and the kids were making parachutes out of garbage bags, string, blue tack, staples, labels… a whole bunch of things. My favourite part was getting to help hand out the materials. Each group had previously composed a list of materials they were wanting to use. I got a kick out of the kids not specifying what quantity of materials the students wanted; so if they asked for four pieces of string, we made them nowhere near identical. Here’s what happened when one group asked for “lots of string”.

So a lesson was learned in qualifying what you wanted!

After school Em and her coworkers had a staff meeting and after some goofy pictures…

… Jen dropped us off at the Romford train station: Emily and I were heading into London for a West End Musical!

We started off by having dinner at Pizza Express, where we got a good deal through an internet special. The food was good, and it was nice having pizza as I miss Pizza Pizza back home terribly. We walked around Leicester Square, where, as we found out later, was a massive premiere for the video game Call of Duty (see, grade nines, I do know what it is). After finding a bank machine we wandered back to the Gielgud Theatre to see Avenue Q!

Now I had heard that Avenue Q had some, shall we say, mature situations. In fact it did, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would have been, and the whole production was very enjoyable – made even more exciting when we saw one of the actors on the tube on the way home! Although once we figured out it was him he got shy and got off the tube. That being said the production is not really for under 16s, although for you adults, go enjoy. I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner!

Day Septante-et-Un was my last in the UK. Originally I was going to have a massive travel day; instead, when Millionaire got cancelled, I took advantage to split it in two. So this day was mostly travel… walk to Gidea Park station, train to Stratford, tube to London Bridge (contrary to popular belief –it was not falling down), train to Tonbridge, train to Dover Priory, where I caught the ferry.

actual "White Cliffs of Dover", pictured

It turned out that I made good time and was able to bump up my ferry from the scheduled 3.15 pm to 2.30 pm. Which was kind of nice, because as much as I have affinity for waiting rooms, I have been in enough of them in my time. The ferry ride was really nice. It was designed for a ferry ride that would take quite awhile; however in the 90 minute ride I think I slept at least half. However I was disappointed that all passport control was look at my passport – no stamp! Boo-urns.

And thus I was in France. It has been eight years since I first stepped foot in France and even though the rain was coming down, I was EXTREMELY EXCITED to be back. I hopped a bus to the train station to sort out my first piece of business.

The whole reason that kick started my return to Europe was my EuRail massively discounted first class pass. You have 6 months to start the pass before it goes null and void. Well, Day Soixante-Onze was the second to last day to get it validated in either France, Germany or Spain (my nominated countries) before it went null and void leaving up the creek without a paddle. So first, I got it validated and secondly I booked my Calais-Paris-Stuttgart trip for the next day. After a bit of juggling, I got the reservations I needed.

Following that, it was off to the hotel, got some dinner, caught some telly, wrote some emails and skyped the rents.

I’d like to tell you that I slept well, moving from day Septante-et-un to Septante-Deux. I woke up to doors banging and thought, oh, it must be morning. Yeah, it was FOUR IN THE FREAKING AM. I was not amused. Does anyone have courtesy anymore?

So I finally tossed and turned and woke back up at around 7.30 am. I lazed around for a bit, and then decided to walk to MacDo for breakfast. Except they don’t do breakfast, not at least where I was. So it was back into the Carrefour, the grocery store where I found myself the night before as well. And I really wanted to get something for my cough, except that it’s not like the supermarket at home, so they didn’t have any and as 11th November is a holiday here in France, the pharmacie was closed as well.

At 12.35pm I found myself on my first train of the day: Calais to Paris Nord. I was sitting in 1er classe and living it up! I then had to switch from Paris Nord to Paris Est – a short 10 minute walk, even with my luggage.

Getting on the train headed for Stuttgart at Paris Est I could see some English speakers struggling with the seat numbering system (trust me, it’s not easy), so I was happy to be of assistance. Mary and Curtis are from Independence, Kansas and en route to see their daughter and her husband in Munich. We struck up a conversation and they were very nice to talk with.
The train arrived just a bit late into Stuttgart and I made my way to the hotel. Funnily enough I couldn’t get internet reception in my room so I had to sit out in the hall! After skyping Dad and writing some articles, I tucked into bed.

And, dear readers, I think that makes the first time in practically FOREVER that I’ve caught up. Four weeks still to go before I’m on home soil!

Cheers,
Vick.

Days Soixante-Six, Soixante-Sept et Soixante-Huit

After the day promenading York and sightseeing, it was time to see some other sites – from the train – on Day Soixante-Six. Kay had recommended taking the National Express train up to Glasgow because not only did it have free internet, it had some gorgeous views of the coast, as you can see here.

The ride up was a bit long, but when you know that going in, it’s not too bad. I met my friend Danielle, who I was in the Tintamarre theatre troupe with at MTA, at around 5.15pm at Glasgow Central. We then headed out to Paisley, just outside of the metropolitan centre and then walked to her house. It was a bit of a trek with the bags but I’m pretty much getting used to them.

This evening, my first in Scotland in many years, was Guy Fawkes night. Long story short: gunpowder plot to blow up the parliament. So everyone burns things to celebrate the night. We went downtown in Paisley and saw the fireworks which were set to music… so wonderfully done! I was very impressed, even when we found a place away from the rest of the crowd.

Day Soixante-Sept I was on my own to explore Glasgow. After purchasing a few more train tickets for points in France and Germany, I was off around half ten and got into Glasgow around eleven. My first stop was the museum of transport, which featured, among other things, this car. Can you movie buffs tell me what the context is, from a movie that was originally released in 2002 and is part of a series of films?

Following the Museum of Transport, I trudged through the rain over to BBC Scotland. I was hoping to get on a tour for the next day but no dice, and Danielle’s connection at the Beeb was busy so it just means I’ll have to return!

The nice thing about travelling alone on holiday is that you can pretty much do what you want when you want it. As such I got home at around half three and just took it easy. That evening though Danielle and I went to a jazz concert at the local arts centre. It was actually quite good – topped off by the fact that the artist was a great singer and by joking that “don’t I look like a student” got Danielle and I four pounds off each of our tickets! Bonus.

Day Soixante-Huit was spent at casa Danielle in the morning. I spent a good chunk of time hanging out with her step-daughter, Sarah, who enjoyed the fact that I could make funny faces!

At around 1 pm I headed off to Edinburgh for the afternoon. I had been there before so my first stop was revisiting the City of the Dead tour. It brings back chilling memories…

… and because there were no tours, I took a pass and headed off to meet up with Charlotte!

Charlotte and I worked together eight years ago when I first started as a teaching assistant back in Ontario. It was the first time we had seen each other since… and it was great to catch up! We met up with her flatmate and went out for coffee at this really nice coffee shop. I got a white chocolate hot chocolate which appeared like this –

Points for artistry, for sure! Charlotte was also good enough to tip off where I should dive when I go to Australia in the new year. Just before we parted ways, she dropped me off at a little café, where, yes, I actually ate a deep fried mars bar!

The first picture is the completed product. It wasn’t as battered as I thought it would be (I figured it would be like a chicken strip, just with chocolate inside) so it was actually quite tasty and easy to finish off. Here’s the halfway through picture.

And shortly afterwards, it was finished, and so was I, so I headed back to Glasgow, caught a train home to Paisley, hung out with Chris (Danielle’s husband), and then started surfing the web. And made an interesting discovery.

Those of you who know me know that I like to participate in speed stacking competitions, and I fancy myself quite good at it. I was in a tourney in Cleveland back in January ’09 and then again in one at Canada’s Wonderland in June ’09. At both tournaments, in my age group, I came second in each of the three events (3-3-3, 3-6-3, and cycle). Which was a bit of a bummer, because there weren’t that many involved.

HOWEVER at the Canada’s Wonderland event, they did a separate filming apart from the normal events to determine qualifying times for records. Knowing that my competitor got the record for the cycle I was disappointed and didn’t figure that I would be in the running for anything else. But googling on Day Soixante-Huit lead to discovering the following bit of a pdf file…

On the right is my 3-6-3 time which is an Ontario provincial record… and on the left is my 3-3-3 time which is a CANADIAN NATIONAL RECORD!!!! How about that???? I can now say “Ryan Vickers, National Record holder” and not be lying!

Not a bad way to end the evening!

Cheers,
Vick.

Days Soixante-Quatre and Soixante-Cinq

Well after all of the excitement at the tv studios on the previous day I was ready for a bit of a lie-in. At breakfast I met up with Anne and Trevor, as well as Joanne and her friend. It was nice to see them again for a bit before heading our separate ways.

The hotel, as most places have been nice enough to, allowed me to leave my luggage before catching the train. I spent a nice late morning/early afternoon riding the “wonderwheel” as I dubbed it in Manchester (a massive ferris wheel, not as big as the London Eye, but still)

and then caught up with some shopping before heading off on the train around half two.

I actually need to calculate how many miles I’ve done on the train already… it’s a bit mind boggling and it’s about to get bigger.

I arrived to Garforth (“Where?”, the non locals would say) around 4 pm and about 10 minutes later, out emerges my friend Kay… and we very much had a “movie reunion” moment hug which actually felt really good as I’d been nursing a massive headache since much earlier in the day (as my sleep patterns have been rotten as of late). Kay and I were in the same residence in France eight (!) years ago and we found each other on the internet earlier this year, and it was so wonderful to see her again.

It was very much hit the ground running after our walk to her house and subsequent catch up. Kay is the Akela of a scout troop, and that means she’s running the ship. I had been warned about this before and knew that I was going to talk about Scouting and life in Canada, which I did for about ten minutes, which included some entertaining questions from eight year olds, such as:

“How many pairs of socks do you have to wear when you’re in snow up to your knees”

And the even more entertaining

“Have you ever been trapped in your house because of the snow?”

Followed by the ever so dangerous

“What football club do you support?” To which I reply, in a whisper “Which should I?”

“Liverpool United”, the kid chips in.

“I support Liverpool United!”

Then there was a clear split of lovers and haters of the new Canadian at that time!

That being said, I redeemed myself when I revealed the excitement that was smores. We were having a campfire that night complete with songs (as it was Guy Fawkes night later that week). I chipped in with “Fish and Chips and Vinegar”, complete in a round. Years of camp songs with my parents was finally paying off! Later on after we finished off the smores I was delivered the compliment “That’s the best thing I’ve ever had!”

Which means I had won back one footballer.

At the time I write this, Kay is on pack holiday with her group, and that’s what she was wrapping up final plans for at the end of the meeting. I had definitely had fun at the cub scout meeting and interacting with children made me miss quite a few of them back at school (yes, I’m allowed to miss you, it’s perfectly acceptable).

We got back to the house and I got to meet Jeff, Kay’s husband. Turns out Jeff is from Rochester, New York and his relatives have a cottage very near to where I have done tons of diving. Must get their phone number… JUST KIDDING, KAY.

At about half nine we found ourselves at the local pub for quiz night. While this does exist in North America, the pub quiz night is quite prevalent in the UK. You pay five, maybe ten pounds for your team’s entry, and then you answer questions that are given over the loudspeaker. Traditionally there is also a picture round… frustratingly one picture was of a Countdown Dictionary Corner guest that I couldn’t remember the name! Go figure. In any case you write your answers down and everyone is issued a bingo card where you have your answers – so not only do you have to be good, you have to be lucky. We were on the first, but not on the second. Doesn’t really matter; turns out the prize was a gallon of beer, and given the context of the beer that night, it’s not something you would have wanted to win.

Day Soixante-Cinq brought a trip to “RePlay” to pick up more supplies for the pack holiday. Kay’s cohort in scouting crime, Helen, brought her car round and we were off to Leeds. RePlay was a small clearinghouse of craft and gaming supplies, with the theory that everyone should have access to play-things. I was very impressed, and wished that there more stores like this back home.

After our Leeds journey, we headed off to York for the day. York is a wonderful walking city. Our first stop was a pub where Guy Fawkes was thought to have hatched his famous gunpowder plot. Kay got a good kick of my hilariously theatrical fight with the ketchup bottle; I guess that’s what happens when you don’t use the malt vinegar.

Following lunch, we did a lot of window shopping – most of which I can’t talk about, because it involves gifts for some people who might be reading this blog. However I was delighted to find in a toy shop a deck of oversized playing cards – we’re talking as big as your standard piece of 8.5x11 printer paper. “Host your own game show”, it said on the back. Hmm. That’ll be a challenge.

Kay had suggested something fun so we went to Jorvik, a Viking museum. Turns out that the Vikings had lived in York many many moons ago and I was very impressed with the whole kit and caboodle - including the interactive exhibits that were quite the assault on the senses. We even saw a humongous piece of poo. Viking poo.

Truly, this blog is the height of classiness.

They even have scratch and sniff postcards (two of you are getting those, please see the humour in them).

We stopped back at Betty’s Tea Room on the way back to the train station to have high tea but it the queue was horrid so we bailed and went out for a cheeky half. A cheeky half, I’m told, is when you want just a spot of lager but not enough to get too buzzed. And it’s cheap, so we tried some local ales.

Jeff had some meetings to take care of so Kay and I looked through some of her wedding pictures; before long we headed out to a really nice Indian restaurant where we dined on naan, rice and three different chicken dishes.

Our waiter was particularly entertaining – I’ve even blagged my way to a free meal the next time I come due to my celebrity status! I tell you, this Countdown appearance is paying off!

Cheers,
Vick.

Days Soixante-deux and Soixante-trois

Well I took it a little easier on this here day. I got up, had breakfast - scaling back on the "full English breakfast" a bit... it's REALLY plentiful, and for the most part I'm a cereal and toast kind of guy - packed, then headed out. It was raining a bit and I really didn't feel like walking with all of my stuff - which is a lot - so I jumped a cab to the train station in Weymouth.

My route this day was first off to London Waterloo. Normally this wouldn't be a problem, but the train I was on was meant for longer hauls but had a lack of luggage space. As in none for big backs. That was the first knock against the British Railway system versus at least 12 plusses, so really, no harm done.

Transferred throught the tube to London Euston and met up with my friend Nick. He and I have been in correspondance for over 10 years and he being a game show guy like myself I figured he could be my guest in the hotel. We got in around 4 pm after discussing everything game show esque possible, and then hopped a taxi to the Jury's Inn in Manchester. Very impressive. Flat screen tv, spacious rooms... all comped by the production staff at Countdown. There will be more good things about them!

After watching that day's Deal or No Deal we went out to get dinner. We wandered around for awhile, and settled on a pub. However I am not a student anymore and I figured that because I'm north of 30 I don't have to listen to pulsating music when I'm eating... so we ended up back at the hotel to sit down for a quiet meal and a lager.

We went back to the room, played a round of Countdown - where I got the conundrum, shocker - and then I'm pretty sure I fell asleep in front of the telly.

So finally, Day Soixante-Trois was upon me. I was lying in bed at some horrible hour thinking this is actually happening, I'm going to be on Countdown - a bloody British institution. Turns out, as I found out later, it's their 27th birthday on this day.

Nick and I walked over to Primark to pick up a last few things (including a Krispy Kreme donut... I caved) and then over to the train station to meet up with Steph (see day LX). Unfortunately she got stuck in a train debacle so promised to meet us later on at the taping.

11.45 came and I figured that'd we better go. We arrived at ITV Granada around 12 pm and were ushered into the green room where another contestant, Elliot, had arrived. We chatted with him and his Dad quite extenstively, while others arrived.

Adele, our handler for the day, as well as Sarah, the associate producer who had answered every single inane question possible that I had asked were present. They ran through a few last minute instructions, plus a schedule of who was playing when.

As I had been told before, I was first up against the returning champion. Before we got to go on set, however, it was off to hair and make up. The stylists were very curious to hear that a Canadian was in their midst! Just as I was heading out I got to have a nice chat with Suzie Dent, who is the mainstay in Dictionary Corner. Turns out she used to teach German!

We got on set around 1pm and then there was an agonizingly long wait until taping started (probably only about 10 minutes, but still) and then you really hit the ground running. Before the show started Jeff Stelling, the host, introduced himself and asked if he could get me to something specific that I'd mentioned on my interview form. Sure, no problem.

Then the music started.

I'm on (expletive deleted) Countdown! I think.

I'd tell you more, but that wouldn't be fun, would it?

After the third show of the taping block of five, around 6 pm, it was time for "lunch". That's industry standard for "long break, go eat something" I find myself ordering fish and chips and talking to Rachel Riley, the other presenter, in the cafeteria line. Whereas in North America the separation can't be more clear, in the UK it's much more relaxed. I think part of that has to do with the fact that you really can't plan any "answers" persay for Countdown - it's just the picks of the letters and the numbers. In any case it was kind of surreal... much like the whole day. Steph and Nick left at this point - Adele called for a cab and covered the cost!

The taping day wrapped up around 9 pm. It didn't seem that long but I was having way too much fun so it didn't really matter. After the taping the staff was only too happy to let us take pictures. Here are some that I grabbed!

First, a picture of the majority of that day's contestants:

L-R is Joanne, Kirk (former series champ visiting for the day), Ryan T, me, Charlie and Elliot (Anne and a second contestant whose name escapes me weren't around for this picture).

A shot, actually taken after show #2, of the famous clock. When you sit in the seat, you can hear the music go, and when you're busy declaring your answers to Jeff, you hear some kind of "VWOOP-VWOOP" which I'm pretty sure means they're resetting the clock. If anyone knows better, do tell!

Another shot, this time from the audience. The chairs' occupants, L-R: Susie Dent, celeb guest, champ, challenger, Jeff.

Me with Rachel. She is so wonderful, very down to earth. For those of who haven't seen the show - if you live outside of the UK you kind of have an excuse - she posts the letters on the board, posts the numbers, and then does the numbers solutions. She is new to the show this year but doing a great job!!!

Finally one with Jeff, the host. Jeff was very kind throughout the day as well, and was kind enough to engage in some fun banter with me during the time that I was in the chair. His jokes are really my style... an example, when he was talking about a word he found:

"I've got a six. Grease is the word." (cue crowd groaning, but I have a good laugh).

I got back to the hotel about 9.30 pm exhausted, but not pooped enough to go have a drink with Anne and her son, as well as Joanne and her good friend. It was great to switch stories about Countdown and life in general. I went back up to my room at about 11.00 pm, truly, truly satisfied.

I will first appear on Monday, November 16th. This airs at 3.25 pm on Channel 4. For those of you reading outside the UK, I would imagine it'll pop up within the week on youtube, so you'll all get to see it! And once I've stopped appearing, I'll add in more anecdotes related to the actual gameplay.

Cheers,

Vick.

Days XL and XLI

When I first organized my trip, I figured I’d only be one night in Weymouth. That changed… and as a result, I changed guesthouses. Which is a shame, because mine was right on the beach. Never mind though… I didn’t want to be on the beach – I wanted to be in the water beside it. Which is what I was going to do on Day LX.

I met back up with Steph along with her aunt and uncle at the Old Harbour Diving Centre in Weymouth around 10.30 am. After figuring out how we were going to get our gear from the Centre to the boat location 1 mile away (someone should have mentioned this before!) Steph and I decided to walk it (with our wet suit boots on nonetheless!) while her aunt and uncle drove the gear over. Not a problem, I figured.

However when we get there the door to access the boat ramps is locked. BONUS! Eventually we get onto the boat, having taken over a good chunk of the sidewalk to repack our gear. It turns out that the boat is very spacious. There are only five or six divers on board so we have plenty of space to spread out.

The ride out is treacherous. We are swaying side to side. Everything is soaked. I am happy at this point that I have indeed taken my seasickness pills (I have the weakest stomach for a diver EVER) but secretly I’m still enjoying it. As a result we have to go to an alternate wreck site that is more sheltered. We arrive at the Spaniard at about 12.30 pm.

I was curious to see (a) how cold the water was and (b) how clear the water was. After the first dive my computer read 58F so I really wasn’t going to complain. We had a good first dive. Mostly only the bow was left on the first wreck, but there was a bit of a current so that made things exciting. We were also told that just off the wreck was another bit (ie. 5-10 minutes swim) but no luck, sadly.

We’re just about to get onto the boat when we are reminded that this particular sea going vessel has a lift. Excellent. Why do work when someone can do it for you. EXACTLY. I take the opportunity to hum the them from the cult Canadian game show Pitfall on the way up. Back on board I was very thankful to Mary our captain for making hot chocolate and sausage rolls. I find that you could probably (although not exclusively) feed me any food, including that of which I detest (ie. Cooked cabbage) after a dive and I’ll eat it. I didn’t need anything salty – swallowed enough at the surface.

We moved sites for the second dive and were informed that this dive had a latrine on it (read: toilet). Those of you who know me in a diving context know that there’s something about a porcelain palace that makes me happy. So much contentment was had amongst Steph and I when we found it at the same time! A great second dive… and my next dive, which has yet to happen, will be my 50th this year (finally).

The boat got back to shore around 4.30 pm and Steph and I headed back to the dive shop if at all a bit… well… wet. It’s a long story which doesn’t need to be told here but I’m sure you’ll get proof at some point. We get back to home base and thankfully can rinse our gear out (non divers: if you get you gear salty and don’t rinse it will crystallize and that is BAD).

I say goodbye to Steph and her relatives and look forward to seeing her on the following Monday. I then grab a taxi to my new accomodations... I am sufficiently knackered - that's for you, Nicole! - and it's barely 6 pm.

The new accomodations are nice and are only a short walk back to town. I drop my things, go for a walk, grab a sandwich and am pretty much out like a light by 10 pm, after watching the BBC One comedy double header of Have I Got News For You and Armstrong and Miller.

Day LXI starts with a bang.

Literally.

At 5 am I needed to use the facilities. I didn't have an ensuite, but I did have my own private bathroom (just as good, I figure). However what I should explain is that I was on the top floor, and it used to be the servant's quarters, and people in the late 1800's weren't as tall as me. As a result,

Thwack! (feel free to substitute other 60's era Batman words as per your wishes)

and I was awake.

I stumbled downstairs for breakfast around 8.30 am. I get chatting with a nice family who is in town for a military celebration march the next day. My host gives me a map and by about 10 am I am on my way downtown and I pain the the town red. I did some shopping to pick up a few things, and then just spent a couple of hours walking on the beach. I am always happiest around the water and the beach and it was just so peaceful.

It was so bizarre, however, when I found the following in the sand:

Funny how things work out, eh?

I took some rest on the massive boulders near the end of the beach and just took it all in. I decided then to go and have some pizza at an italian place that had been recommended for me, and for 7 pounds I got a GINORMOUS pizza and some salad. And this was the real stuff. Four cheeses later, I am pretty much done. I go back to the guest house, and crash for quite a while. A day of diving compounded with a day of walking and it's time to relax.

Unfortunately I was still kind of zonked later so I didn't decide to go out for the halloween ghost walk that is on offer, because I thought it was three hours long (and it turns out it's 10 minutes, go figure). I think this is the first halloween in FOREVER that I haven't dressed up for.

Next we'll be switching out of roman numerals as I head north!

Cheers,

Vick.