Trip Start Jun 05, 2013
20Trip End Sep 26, 2013
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On the plus side, my overheating meant I fit right in at the bus station as I waited for my Megabus up to Kingston to start wwoofing at a farm where I stayed when in Canada in 2011. If you’ve no idea what wwoofing is then I’ll enlighten you (if you know exactly what it is I apologise for the boring explanation: feel free to skip along)
Once I’d cooled down I had to focus on avoiding eye contact at every possibility so as not to invite the other passengers to try and make conversation; I become a definitive snob when on the defensive about my appearance and get tunnel vision. Unfortunately I was so focused on my assumption that people would dismiss me anyway that I didn’t notice the construction worker holding the door for me after I bought a coffee for the ride
The bargain Megabus trip proved a success yet again, costing just $14 to travel for three hours in the comfort of an air-conditioned double-decker with more reliable Wi-Fi than some charging hotspots. As per usual I was privy to my fellow passengers’ stories as I eavesdropped on their loudly-told chronicles; this time it was the turn of a bloke who looked far too young to have a beard and had apparently cycled from Toronto to New York, and arrived at the exact time of a cycling rally. Apparently he’d just stopped next to another cyclist and said ‘dude, what should I do now? I’ve just biked from Toronto’. Riveting. I would have been more impressed by his five-hundred-mile journey if he hadn’t spent the previous half-hour detailing his exploits with a girl he worked with to someone he’d just met. He might have had the beard of a grown-up, but he was making a schoolboy error in being so publicly nonchalant about her.
My host Emily collected me from Kingston bus station, and threw in one of the most unwanted comments when arriving in a new place, ‘it’s really bad for ticks at the moment’. Fortunately my mind was taken off the possibility of blood-sucking creatures burying into my skin with a jaunt into Kingston itself for some sushi at Sushi Ya
We made our way over the lake nearby their house and let the turtle out into its new home; Zelda the dog and I watched as he poked his head out slightly to take in his new surroundings, whilst Emily waded into the high grass to collect Cat Tails. Rather than being the remnants of a feline genocide they were similar to Bulrushes, and apparently can be eaten when green before they reach the yellow pollen stage. I took Emily’s word for it and after boiling for a few minutes we ate them with butter: I’m not really a convert as they didn’t have much taste, but it’s always interesting to try new things.
As well as Emily and her partner Cameron, who unfortunately has a broken ankle after falling from a ladder onto a 2x4, there were another couple of wwoofers, Elle from England and Nils from Germany. They’re both here on work visas, and I listened in awe as Elle revealed she learnt to ski whilst staying in Rosalind, apparently the best ski town in North America, over the winter, and had progressed to the ‘experienced’ runs by the time she left. Since my one skiing lesson in Alberta last time I’ve not been convinced I could ever learn to ski, but hearing a fellow Brit had managed gave me a little impetus in case I ever find myself near a resort. Rowing is definitely a safer option for someone who trips over their feet on a daily basis.
The bullfrogs calling outside kept me awake as I tried to tune my sleep effort to the sounds of nature rather than cars in Mississauga, but I don’t remember struggling for too long and that old selective narcolepsy came in handy once more.