Chris and I arrived back in Portugal with just a few pennies in our pockets, a bottle of gin and a few grams of hash. Our only plan for the rest of our stay in Portugal was to lay low, find a hostel where we could tan the gin and cook ourselves dinner then go for walks in the afternoon smoking pipes of hash and stopping for Mojito’s on the bay of the river along the way. Our plan played out perfectly. One of my final memories of Lisbon was getting absolutely pissed in the hostel, constantly quoting memorable moments from our time at BOOM and playing tunes loudly. The hostel seemed pretty quiet so we didn’t seem to bother anyone else. When me and Chris get on one we can come across loud and rowdy without a doubt. My final memory of Lisbon was blacking out and waking up in the dorm in the middle of the night to the sight of Chris leaping out of the bunk on top of me, pushing another guest out the way who appeared to be praying, then running up the hallway of the hostel to be sick…. You can take the boys out of Britain…
The following morning we said our goodbyes as I set off for the last leg of the odyssey and Christ returned to the UK for the first time in 10 months. I was pleased to have a got a fortnights worth of adventure included in this trip with Chris. The man has such a positive sense of adventure and a force of friendly, welcoming energy surrounding him it makes him the perfect travel buddy and session partner. I knew I’d see him again not soon after I’d return to the UK.
All my actual travelling on this trip was done on budget and generally pretty dreadful, my flight to Montreal was no exception. I remember being particularly excited in the lead up to it because my connecting flight from Lisbon was to the famous Moroccan city of Casablanca, well famous because of the classic film set in it at least and what was more exciting is that this first part was to be done a propeller plane. This was all well and good and of course I expected the first part of the flight to be cheap and cheerful, but for some reason had this vision that a Moroccan airline would be rather lavish with delicious treats and remarkable comfort. I was wrong. The connecting flight was on a huge 747 that was rammed to the rafters with an interior that reminded me of the beige walls of the Next Generation era Starship Enterprise. There was no shortage of screaming children, the seats reclined just a few inches, the inflight entertainment didn’t work, the food was so tasteless it almost defied science, there was plenty of turbulence to keep me from sleeping and to top it all off they didn’t serve booze so I couldn’t even take the edge off the whole thing. All I had to keep me sane on that flight was the book Slaughter House 5 – which I read from cover to cover and my picture of Deirdre and the sense of anticipation of visiting her in her own city and all the adventures we were surely going to have together. The flight from Casablanca was 6 and half hours, it felt like a lifetime.
After about another hour of getting the 3rd degree from Canadian immigration and then waiting another age for my bag to appear on the carousel I met Deirdre and her mum who were to take me to her parents house where I was to be staying in the basement flat where Deirdre herself lived for a few years. She mentioned when we was in Berlin that she may be able to book me in there for my stay and I jumped at the chance. My own space would be my first bit of luxury after a whole tour of sleeping on hard ground in shit tents and crowded hostel dorms full of snoring, farting, wanking sweaty bastards. I was absolutely exhausted too, my body clock was telling me 4am but the time in Canada was only 11pm and as I mentioned the journey over was no picnic.
My restless mind and weary body weren’t to be put to rest just yet though as it was this particular evening that Deirdre was to drop an era ending piece of news that confirmed what I had thought and feared since Berlin… We were to be ‘just friends’ from now on. The intimate side of our relationship that had been in place since the first night we met all those years ago in London was officially over.
It’s hard for me to convey what exactly was said and her reasoning behind killing the intimate side of our relationship stone dead. It involves other people who have nothing to do with this blog and I also don’t really want to start spouting loudly about Deridr’s private affairs. But seeing as no one who reads this will have any idea of who I’m on about anyway, and seeing as I don’t think Deirdre will even read this, I am prepared to be a cunt on this one and just tell you anyway just for the sake of a clearer narrative, so this is what situation was…
For the last couple of years Deidre has had 2 immediate geezers in her life. ‘Chap A’ & ‘Fella B’ a couple of months before I met with Deirdre in Belgium ‘Fella B’ had mugged her off and she was justifiably upset with him. Then when we was in Berlin the reason for our sudden platonic mode setting was out of respect for ‘Chap A’s’ present situation. As I mentioned back in my Berlin post, I had no problem obliging to this request and I don’t think Deirdre can have any complaints with the way I conducted myself during that period. So anyway I arrived in my new digs, exhausted, jet lagged and confused for Deridre to tell me that she had broken things off with ‘Chap A’ and was now going to give monogamy a try with ‘Fella B’ – the geezer who just weeks ago she wanted nothing more to do with….
My immediate response was literally ‘You’ve changed your tune…’. This was an understatement, it was a change of tune so loud in pitch that it made the hounds in my mind howl to the point I thought I had tinnitus. I was in no state to properly process that information at the time. But I wasn’t mad or even particularly upset. Just confused at her complete U-turn in just a matter of weeks.
To be fair to Deirdre though this wasn’t by any means the most baffling piece of logic she’d ever abruptly chucked in my direction. For the last 4 and a half years I was always left wondering what such a beautiful, autonomous, intelligent, witty, sexy, cultured and driven bird from a well to do background actually saw in a drunken, drug addled, unpolished husk of a man, who’s entire existent revolved around a world of pointless wasted adventures and who celebrated the very few and minor of his victories in life as if it were the only thing that mattered whilst in contrast would often be crushed by even the slightest defeat. I never questioned what it was in me that Deirdre kept coming back for. I was scared that she’d genuinely question it herself.
Needless to say my first night in Montreal was a restless one.
It’s funny because I always knew at some point Deirdre and I were going to have to go platonic. I’d always hoped that be due to the stipulations of one of my own relationships, but I always expected it be her decision to do so because that’s just how my life works. But what did strike me straight away was how it didn’t really hit me as hard as I’d always predicted it would. Now regular listeners will know that I am very lonely person. It’s one of my only anxieties which granted I have been able to put a bit of a hold on in recent years but I still do get the odd night where I really struggle with not having anyone next to me in bed to cuddle up to. But no matter how bad these episodes got I would be able to bring myself down by telling myself ‘You still have Deirdre’ and that would be enough to ease the pain of loneliness. Over the last year especially I have managed to turn the hive of my mind into a wonderful metropolis of positivity, rational thinking, calm and above all else happiness. As I mentioned in previous posts, the fear that lingered over my trip to Montreal after experiencing the foreign set of boundaries put in place in Berlin was that I couldn’t envision what the conversation was going to be in regards to me and Deirdre ending the platonic truce. What I was always expecting to happen was that the city walls of this beautiful civilization that I had constructed in my psyche were to be breached by the boiling waters of loneliness and anxiety that surrounded it and engulf the peaceful utopia within them… But that didn’t happen; there was no immediate Armageddon. However these last few years my relationship with Deirdre had acted as flood barrier, with her gone I dunno how well I’m going to handle any future episodes. I’d be especially naïve to think that I’m over that phase of my life. I’m not looking forward to winter I can tell you. But then again I never do.
The one bit of panic that did set in though was that age old inevitability and issue I have and that’s now that our relationship has been devolved in some way Deirdre will now start to get bored of me and soon just stop bothering to entertain any conversation with me, just like the ones before her. I made her promise me this wouldn’t happen, but despite this there was that old horrible feeling that I hadn’t felt in a while. That sinking sense of dread that lingers at the pit of your stomach and kills your appetite and keeps you awake at night. That horrible sense that this was probably going to be the beginning of the end for the two of us, and that terrified me as much as it upset me.
So with the ‘Just Friends’ devolution of our relationship began the sordid and rather painful process of having to scrub clean any feelings it was I had left for her as well as now start the process of platonic etiquette between the two of us. There was all the little things that I was having to let go of, like the picture of her that had comforted me whenever times had got tough on the tour. Staring at that wasn’t appropriate anymore was it? Also Deirdre, along with The Boy are the only two people in my life who get referred to using the pronoun ‘babe’ This being my way of expressing that they are the most important people in my life. Even this display of silly intimacy just doesn’t feel right anymore. Then there were the other things I noticed like how all of a sudden she looked twice as beautiful as she did before. All of those memories we shared now seemed even more tender, the sex we had seemed all the more steamier and those feelings that always seemed to be illusive were now very apparent. It really does take losing something to make you realize just how important it was to you in the first place.
During this devolution process I was left wondering the answers to a few questions. Nothing too profound or intense and nothing I probably didn’t already know the answer to but nonetheless wanted to discuss them with Deirdre in person and if I knew Deirdre I knew she’d give me my day in court as it were. I mean I was going to be in town for almost 3 weeks. Aware that she was busy with a few other commitments, I assured her that I’d be alright on my own for some of the time. We’d had a few things planned to do together over the coming weeks so I knew we’d have plenty of time for me to find the opportunity to get the answer to my questions.
Our first moments spent together was on my first weekend at a punk festival in the courtyard of a warehouse complex; she is involved with one of the venues in the surrounding buildings. The festival was all right, no different to the kind of punk parties and festivals you get back home really, but a worthy use of a weekend I suppose. I particularly enjoyed the set of one geezer who was playing bluesy, rock n roll in the venue Deirdre and her friends are involved with. The set was marred however by people on the outside making a bit of a commotion. Chucking bangers into the room and constantly banging on the door. I thought at first they had a problem with this chap who was stood next to the door, then the door swung open and someone maced the cunt in the face which caused us all to vacate the building as that stuff really burns. I took a fire extinguisher to the face when I was 16 and that was a pain I have never forgotten. Being maced is a similar discomfort. I couldn’t quite get my head round what the people on the outside problem was with this geezer. I didn’t see him to do anything wrong, then when I was outside talking to the guy who was playing – who just happened to be a really lovely bloke and who I would soon see quite a lot of over the coming weeks. There was another stupid drama involving a misunderstanding about someone calling the police. What transpired is that this particular venue had nothing to do with the festival that was going on, so a neighboring rival venue had set out to sabotage them. Fucking stupid I know. It’s not even as if these were squatted warehouses and rule of the jungle was in place. Everyone pays rent for their space and it’s supposed to be a community. I did not let it in anyway hinder my first impressions of the Montreal people and took it as the actions of clichéd middle class punks throwing their non existent clout about. Those types of people are the same all over the world.
The nice guy who’s set was rudely interrupted by a moron armed with a tin of bare mace recommended I go to an open mic night at a bar just a couple streets away. Recommended on the basis that as far as open mics go, this was one of the better ones. So that’s how I spent my Sunday night. Sure enough I was pretty impressed, the bar would fall deathly silent for each act and the quality of song writing and musicianship was of a very high standard. Yea there was a few ‘meh’ acts, but considering how much a last resort open mic nights usually are this was a Sunday night well spent, so much so I went back the following weekend. It was also where I was discover 2 more facts about Montreal, the first one being if you tell someone you’re there visiting they will straight away invite you to something else later in the week and secondly always tip at the bar even if you’re not sure. In previous establishments I assumed the reason I was being given wrong change was because the bar staff were taking the service out of it, at this place I got pulled because I weren’t leaving anything. So what I found usually works is if you just tip a dollar for every drink you’ll be all right. Also when you’re buying booze in shops the tax is left off the price, which can almost lead to you wanting to kick off when you’re advertised 6 cans for $8 weighs in at a weird amount. Just so you know.
So as the days went by I was noticing I wasn’t really hearing much from Deirdre at all. We ended up not going to the Kid Koala gig she’d invited me to some time back citing that the ticket prices were a bit high. Despite my reassurance that I didn’t mind covering the ticket costs, I heard no response over what day worked for her. Then as the days went on and the messages I would send asking whether she wanted to hang out or get a drink somewhere would be answered a few hours later with her being too busy I started to grow a bit suspicious. I noticed my days would just be me riding around on her brothers old bike, popping my heads into bars and ordering food at restaurants where people couldn’t understand a word I was saying. After a few days I messaged Deirdr’ to remind her that the reason I was in Montreal was to see her, so it would be nice if we could at least make some plans to hang out. She responded indignantly. Reminding me that she’d set me up with a place to stay, sorted me a bike and that we had already seen each other the weekend before, following up with that she was busy. This made me feel like a dick and I hated myself for being such a fag. I had told her that I didn’t mind knocking about on my own if she was busy. It was just that I was bored being on my own and this little spat was just another domino in a line of what was an incredibly challenging week….
The helplessness and hopelessness of Deirdre’s decision on my arrival was tough enough to deal with. Those situations always are because there is absolutely nothing you can do about it unless you want to look like a desperate mental and lose all your dignity which will later fill you full of pathetic regret that will make you hate yourself forever. I was also not coping well with the jet lag. I’d never properly experienced it before and found it felt like an illness. Exhaustion without being able to sleep, then when you do find sleep your confused body clock wakes you up at some unsocial hour with no intentions of going back to sleep, I was also suffering from some travelers virus which turnt my shit a bile green colour and completely killed my appetite. Then just as I was getting over that I got awoken early one morning to find that a friend from my teenage years had died from a ketamine related death. Granted we hadn’t spoken for years. Incidentally it was an argument about ketamine itself. It wasn’t I was upset about the news but it did make me stare so hard into the abyss of mortality that I caught a glimpse of the end of it, and that made me shudder with discomfort. Then as the weekend approached – a time where back in the UK it would be an August bank holiday, a time where everyone would have one last hurrah for summer. BBQ’s that would turn to house parties, Notting Hill Carnival, other festivals around the city as well as the birthdays of two of my best friends were all pasted over my facebook news feed. I also had friends from back home messaging me telling me how much they missed me. I was lonely and homesick and for the first time on my trip I felt like I’d rather be back in London then on my Phileous Fog adventure. It was one of those situations where I wanted to cower in the fetal position and be cuddled by someone I loved until I fell asleep and it be alright in the morning… Unfortunately the person who I was always able to rely on to offer that service was feeling all the more distant by the day, despite the rare occasion of her being in the same city as me.
The following day though she invited me for a bike ride with a couple of friends. It was a beautiful afternoon where we swam in the river and drank beers chatting to this colourful character who pitched up next to us fishing. It was a time spent together where I felt ‘ahhh maybe things are going to be alright’ I’ve still got another week and a half to go, I’ll see her plenty of times’
Now before I go on I’m very much aware that I’ve just written several pages of rhetoric that pretty much reads as ‘waaaah I went all the way to Canada and my friend I went to visit didn’t want to hang out with me! Waaaa’ That’s pretty much what it is, so before I go on I’d like to remind you that Deirdre will have her side of the story and although I dont expect she’d make a public announcement or write a blog to tell it please do bare that in mind and not pass judgment on her. This is my side of the story and why I am upset with what occurred on my very rare first visit to Montreal…
From what I remember Deirdre’s response for not seeing much of me was always along the lines of ‘I’m busy’ now I was aware that she had her political event in town and that was to take up some of her time, as well as her job in a theatre. That’s cool, and knowing this I told her to not worry about me as I’d be alright knocking about on my own. On reflection I probably should have implied that this didn’t meant I wanted to spend my near 3 week stay completely on my own. I did see Deirdre again briefly for a drink with a bunch of her political friends a few days after our bike ride, then again briefly one Sunday afternoon for Tam Tam’s (a wonderful public gathering every Sunday in the centre of Montreal) then again briefly later that night for all of 10 minutes…. Then not again until my last day when I helped her move house. I was in town for 19 days. This is of course my side of the story and I’m not trying to paint Dierdre in a cunty light because that’s not what she deserves and I love her and don’t want to do that. Whether the reason for Deirdre’s illusiveness was because I happened to arrive at a time when she was genuinely far too busy to prioritise having lunch/dinner, go for a drink or even generally hang out with her friend and former lover of 4 plus years then ok, I’ll accept that as just bad luck.
However it wasn’t just the fact that I felt that hadn’t seen a sufficient amount of the friend I’d travelled 3200 miles to see, it was more the fact that despite us constantly talking about the prospect of me visiting Montreal for the last 2 years and despite the excitement both of us for the 6 months or whatever it was leading up to my arrival, she didn’t really seem to be particularly enthused about my presence. Any message correspondence was one-word answers. There was never anything like ‘hey what are your plans this week? What have you seen so far? Here’s an event you can go to but I’m really sorry I cant make it for whatever reason’ There was a few facebook events she chucked my way, but she never implied which ones it was she’d be going to. Or when she did I’d pop along and she wouldn’t show. Yea Deirdr’ had sorted me out some neat digs and sourced me a bike… At her parents expense, and I thanked them accordingly with the obligatory bottle of wine and thank you note and words of great appreciation because that was totally safe of them to do that. I believe it wasn’t so much that Deirdre was too busy to see me during my stay, she just didn’t want to…. And I get that.
I felt I was doing a fare job of keeping a level head on things, that was until Deirdre cancelled an arrangement that I was looking forward to all summer and one that really meant a lot to me. A chance for the two of us to see her local team Montreal Impact play.
Now I know to some of you football is absolutely meaningless so the following will sound pretty stupid to you. But 4 years ago when me and Jem were living together we organised a screening party for the Champions league final between my team Chelsea against Bayern Munich. One by one all our friends pulled out, apart from Deirdre – who at the time I had started to get pretty friendly with and who to her credit lived the furthest away out of all our friends was the only person who bothered to come down. It was a dramatic match that eventually climaxed with Chelsea legend Didier Drogba scoring the winning penalty in the shoot out winning us the trophy, the clubs greatest achievement and cementing for me as a football fan, one of the greatest moments of my life. Deirdre was there to witness me screaming, cheering and eventually crying at the telly during that match. It was also just after that night that our relationship started to gather some momentum and we spent alot of time together those last few months she was living in London. So it’s a very special memory for me. So could you imagine my delight when Drogba was to later sign for her cities club Montreal Impact, then with my ticket to the city booked this was a must do for me. The opportunity in a mans life to see one of his clubs legends later play for his friends club across the pond just before the players retirement is not one that arises often if at all ever. So when she cancelled our arrangement for something else she found more important I think I reserve the right to be hurt about this.
I went to the game anyway. Drogba scored a 30 yard free kick in the first 2 minutes but Impact conceded an equalizer straight away, then a second just before half time. Early into the second half the Impact keeper got sent off and Kaka scored the subsequent penalty making it 1-3, then Montreal got a few breaks and ended up squandering a load of chances, yet still ploughing on the pressure. Then a penalty to the Impact! Score this and they were well in with a chance of being back in the game. Up stepped Drogba with that same air of confidence he had that time in Munich, placed the ball in the exact same corner he did that night only to have the keeper save it…. How fitting. Orlando ended up going on to win 1-4. I’d enjoyed the anarchic playing style of an MLS match but I couldn’t help but feel incredibly somber considering the circumstances. I left the game before the final whistle. I didn’t feel like buying myself a jersey.
The result of this lead to an argument between the two of us, Deirdre went on to essentially say that she probably wouldn’t have the time to see me for the rest of my stay and also wouldn’t be able to talk to me about things claiming emotional exhaustion. From here I decided to meet up with Chris who was neutral but also knew her better then anyone, to see if I was indeed behaving like a dick of not. Chris told me that although I wasn’t behaving irrationally it was worth considering that she was also dealing with shit at the same time too. Which was what I’d been doing during my entire visit, however I did always think that we’d be able to get together to talk about things in more depth. I can totally understand that the timing of my visit wasn’t ideal and that the circumstances were no day at the beach for either of us. But after 2 years of talking about this trip and about 6 months of the two of use getting excited over it, also factoring in that I don’t really know when I’m going to get the chance to actually see her again, I don’t think I’m being too out of line to have been disappointed not to have a talk with her face to face. After that talk I decided to give her a wide berth, but was more then happy to help her move house on the Sunday when I was also due to leave.
I dunno what exactly I’m looking for in terms of a response from Deirdre from this episode. Apologies are pointless but I guess an acknowledgment that she didn’t act with much tact would be nice. I think what made me especially cross was that if I had a visitor come to London, regardless of my relationship to them and regardless of how busy I was I’d do my absolute best to make them feel welcome and make sure they have a good time. I didn’t feel like I received such treatment from Deirdre, to be totally brutal she really didn’t make me feel welcome at all.
But I’m not mad at her, nor should any of you be. Like I mentioned she has her own problems and it’s up to her how she deals with those. My only problem is that sinking sense that this is probably going to be the end of us has only grown and grown. If previous experiences are anything to go by this is how things will play out: Conversations will dwindle between the two of us to the point where I try my best to get some kind of dialogue going between the of us. It’ll take ages for her to reply to any messages I send and most responses as to why we aint spoken will cited as being too busy. This will continue until I feel like I don’t want to bother her anymore, then after a few months we’ll realize we aint spoken for a while. I may get a message at Christmas or on a birthday but it wont be much, by this point any plans to meet up with each other again will be non-existent. That’s just the way it goes. But in this instance since I’ve long since grown tired of being that cunt that tries hard to keep a friendship together only for the other person to not be arsed, I’m going to be giving her the witch trial treatment. This is where I leave it up to the other person to maintain contact with me for a period of time. If they put the effort in then they clearly care, if not then it was never worth bothering in the first place. Only one person in the past has ever proven themself through this method, there’s plenty who never.
Those of you who know me or who have been reading this blog since its beginnings will know how much my relationship with Dierdre means to me. Our relationship may have been devolved down to just friends but I really hope that doesn’t mean we can’t still confide in each other all the time. I’ll always have time to talk to her and will be happy to save having any deep, emotional conversations until she’s ready. I really don’t want her to fade out of my life. But then maybe I’m being naive and should accept that people move on and you cant always remain friends with some people for life. I hope that if this is the case she’ll have the decency to not break my heart by chiselling away at in by inches but do it one full swing so that I can salvage at least some dignity. I really, really hope I’m wrong on this whole thing.
But what was to my advantage was that despite the friend I was visiting feeling distant there really are many worse places to feel alone in then Montreal. The city has plenty to offer on all days of the week and if you’re a cyclist then you’re in for a treat cycling around what was probably the best city ive ever cycled in next to the mecca that is Amsterdam. Every street has a cycle path, the drivers are courteous, the grid system makes it impossible to get lost. Even all the hills are fun to sprint down once you’ve clambered up them.
Culturally the city is quite unique which I found was mainly down to it being bi-lingual. When I’d be lounging somewhere people watching and eavesdropping on conversations I’d notice that a conversation between two people would consist of someone talking in French then their friend responding to them in English. I’d also notice that some sentences would even begin in French then end English. The French spoken in Quebec is also different to what you’d hear in say Paris as it sounds like people speaking French in Canadian accents. Deirdre would often tell me that on trips to Europe some people would have trouble understanding her broad French accent. Montreal was also the city that despite being in an English speaking country not many people could understand what I was saying. I don’t blame them though as my command of the English language is technically terrible. I know my writing may suffer from bad spelling and grammar but my speaking aint exactly much better. Whats more I speak with a very nasaly South London accent, which I only noticed was completely horrible when I was having to slow it down to order food in restaurants –‘I’ll ‘ave an ‘amburger and a glass of wa’er please’.
There was plenty on to keep me busy in the evenings however I found during the day, especially on a weekday there wasn’t much to do in terms of day drinking – which is pretty much all I have interest in when visiting a foreign city and they expect me to pay for their museums. Many of the bars were either shut or empty. One particular situation, which I found quite humorous, was being sat in a queer joint in the gay village forcing a barmaid into listening to my boring and mundane patter simply because I had no one else to talk to. I had finally become that total drip of a bloke who hangs around the bar reciting pointless facts and anecdotes he’d read somewhere earlier that day. I’d become the most boring man alive and I found that pretty funny.
The evenings had many options. There was many bars and clubs with a variety of nights on and everyone is friendlier then average so making conversation was never hard. I managed to bump into my mate who’d gig we got gassed out of a few times, and he gave me many recommendations of places to go and generally made me feel the centre of attention whenever he’d introduce me to his friends as someone ‘who’d come all the way from London’ to which they’d usually be pretty impressed about. There was a period though whilst the two of us sat steaming drunk at a bar together that put the issues of my trip into perspective. As we were just about to get kicked out after last orders he asked me what my friend was up to that night. My response to this whenever I was asked had gone from ‘busy’ to an earnest ‘I don’t know’ by this point my new friend looked at me with confusion, but I think he knew better then to ask further. It then dawned on me that I’d spent more time during my visit with a complete stranger then I had with the friend I had bought the ticket to come visit.
One saving grace though was Deirdre’s friend Chris who I hung out with a few times. We went on a cycle together, hit a few clubs together and as I mentioned he was the one who lent me an ear when things between me and Deirdre got a bit heated. Considering he didn’t know me at all his understanding of the difficulty of my situation was something I was very grateful for at the time and his presence was a great help and for that I’d like to publicly thank him.
I suppose the only thing that would stop me from putting Montreal up there with one of my favourite cities is that although there’s plenty to do, its great for cycling and the people are dead friendly. I didn’t really feel like there was much here I couldn’t do in London. Some posters on the wall advertised events I’d probably have gone to if I was around at the time. Explosions in the sky were playing a gig there at the end of September and John Waters was also coming to town for ‘a conversation with…’ event. But then I realized that Explosions in the sky will most likely play London if they were to go on tour and I’d already seen John Waters in conversation the year previous at the BFI. I’d say the city reminded me of Shoreditch on a large scale – and I mean that as a compliment as I really like Shoreditch. All the bars, cafes and little shops were all nice but I never felt like there was anything there I could do that I couldn’t in my native London town. I also never felt like I saw the real Montreal. I never found any dive bars or rundown parts of town. All of it felt as if it had been gentrified for the last 15 years. These all aren’t proper judgments though, I’d recommend Montreal if you’re in that part of the world. It’s a pretty cool place.
I did also have an evening where I gained the attention of quite a nice girl. Following the rabbit hole of recommendations from a couple of previous venues I ended up in a bar down town for a bluegrass jamming sessions. As the night rolled on I got talking to the bar man and a member of the band, then the bird sitting next to me interjected on the conversation. The two of us then chatted away for the rest of the night. My awareness to her interest pricked up when I noticed how much she was playing with her hair and listening with great interest to everything I had to say, laughing at every gag I was dropping and not losing a second of eye contact. She also refrained from asking where in Australia I was from – a faux par that the people of Montreal committed on a near daily basis. Instead asking where in New Zealand was it I was from, which was a start at least. I ended up escorted her from the bar, from my bike to hers. ‘Can I get your number?’ she asked, unfortunately my phone was out of action for my stay, She told me she’d like to see me again then kind of vaguely suggested we meet up same place on Saturday ‘But just because I said to be here… doesn’t mean Ill be here’ she said with a very clear unease. I responded how I always do in these situations. I gave her a small kiss goodbye, stared straight into her eyes and said… ‘Well, goodbye’ got on my bike and cycled away. She must have thought I had no interest in her what so ever. In truth I think I condemned any possibility of shagging birds on this trip a while ago. But that typical fuck up didn’t bother me much really. She was clearly keen, if I had of met up with her again unless it was some cataclysmic fuck up I probably would have shagged her, so I know what the outcome would have been so the confidence boost is still there. Recently the ol’ casual sex is an activity that’s run its course for my interests.
On my last day I helped Deirdre move into her new house, then her and her mother gave me a lift to the airport. There was no ceremony to our goodbye, not that I particularly expected there to be. I waited in the queue to check my bag in and the thought that that was probably the last time I’d ever see her crossed my mind and it was a feeling of complete melancholy, which actually helped for the following 15 hours of delays, uncomfortable airplanes with no food or in flight entertainment and a 3 and a half hour coach journey from Dublin to Cork. Next time I do one of these trips I’m going to spend a bit more on travel.
I was always going to use my time at my parent’s house as a period of decompression. This did basically involve me sat in my bed there catching up with all the series I missed whilst on my trip. I went for a few trips with my dad, including a visit to the Jameson’s brewery where he kindly paid for me to go on the whiskey tasting master class. As I was sat in my bed one night though I noticed an American friend on facebook post a video to a festival in Houston for December, I didn’t think I’d be able to stomach another festival but the lineup just looked so damn good! And what’s more I always wanted to visit Houston. I was going to bare it in mind and float in front of a few peoples noses when I got back….
So that was it. My biggest adventure yet. Despite the relentless intoxication, travel challenges, illnesses, friend drama’s and intense weather conditions I actually found the whole thing surprisingly easy. Even when things got pretty lonely in Montreal I never let it bother me too much. I guess over all the entire trip filled me with a vain pride, which is mainly down to me achieving a goal that required me to cut back and save money and sure enough I was able to achieve it. My only goal that I jokingly set myself when going on the trip was to double my amount of facebook friends. I didn’t achieve this but there a few people I met along the way that I hope I meet up with again sometime. Best festival? I’d have to go with Boom for just how much of a transcendence experience it was and that it was great to spend it with 2 pals that I get on with so well. Best city? Berlin by quite a mile, I hadn’t experienced a city feeling like it since London used to feel like the best city in the world. Was I disappointed I didn’t shag any birds? Not particularly. I reckon it would have been nice to nail that bar bird in Montreal and I would have loved to have fucked that gorgeous Dutch number at Nowhere as well as all the Parisian women I tried chatting up along the way but it’s not something I look back in anger over. The only other bird I was particularly friendly with was Arielle who despite being a total babe I saw in no other way then platonic. I don’t have any regrets on the trip as such, just things I’d probably do differently on my next trip[ and those were to next time bring a change of shoes as steel toe capped Doc Martens get uncomfortable after a while. Also next time I reckon instead of a bag full of football jerseys I’ll instead pack more Hawaiian shirts…
Overall it was an incredible experience that has done me the world of good. I’d left the UK bored of my social life and disillusioned with a few things. I came back missing all the mates I was glad to see the back of and had gotten so bored of all the relentless excitement of hopping from one location to another that I was glad to be returning the mundane life I had left behind, confidant that I’m capable of making a change in life whenever I need to. My Odyssey may not have ended the way I wanted to but at no point did I ever feel like I was on the verge of cracking. I’m grateful to all the wonderful people I met a long the way and I’m already trying to figure out what my next adventure will entail.
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