Right, cheers mate!

I'm sitting at a nondescript wooden table in the kitchen of Hatters Hostel in Manchester. There is also a common room and a tv room but everyone is getting smashed in those, the kitchen is the quietest place - I'm feeling anti-social tonight and don't feel like mingling. I can hear drunk people outside though, from the pub next door...

So far in my travels almost every country boasts that they are a nation of drinkers. England sure enjoys its golden nectar!

The day after arriving in Leeds our traveling trio got in a white van (apparently the guys driving these have the same reputation as our pick-up drivers, construction workers so we pretended to be "hard" for a while) and drove to a place called Gargrave, maybe an hour away from Leeds. The scenery of brick or stone houses and shops quickly gave way to running green hills, old stone walls separating grazing fields full of sheep and holy fleur de lys was it ever pretty.

This was a week ago and I'm still not used to that sight. Absolutely beautiful.

That day was spent making sure the wedding preparations were going smoothly (setting up a tipi, amongst other things) and driving around the country side. Jenny and Ben seemed afraid I would get bored but the trekk turned into a crash course of England customs, with tea, pork pie, fish n chips, beer, and more beer.

Over the course of the week leading up to the wedding I visited the Leeds city museum (which was free) and enjoyed more pints.

The wedding in question was ridiculously fun and I dare say, magical. The backdrop to the ceremony was a nice English stone B&B, and the celebration itself was in a giant tipi (dance floor, disco ball, fire place, elk pelts), the tipi itself in a field full of sheep grazing on a hill, with a line of tents that looked like Mongolian yurts as accommodation for some guests.

Epic.

Topped with a visit from our Irish Don Det friend, Ben and Jen looking ridiculously nice, a night sky lit up with countryside starlight and a horde of festive Brits...

(A special thank you to the family of the newly married for being ridiculously nice and warm)

When the Beerlao and Kraken rum started doing their work I decided that I would forgo the B&B room so generously provided to me by the hosts to sleep by the fire under a pile of elk pelts, joined by Shaun the Irishman (true to tradition he did not sleep on a mattress)!

The next morning I nursed a hangover by a field, observing sheep community life and realising that there was absolutely none, just a gathering of absent minded dumbies constantly grazing, and I decided one and for all that I did not feel bad about eating them (except lamb, eating babies is weird).

Since then I've been in Doncaster, where a north Irishman got me hammered.

I've been to beautiful York (the ORIGINAL one), with its ancient streets, Roman column, medieval pubs, cathedral, city walls and hilarious Viking museum (including an automated ride taking you through a recreated medieval York with a few robots, one of which was shown on the privy behind a short wooden fence, it's facial expression forever locked in anal agony - a nice touch).

I've also enjoyed a night out in Leeds with Ben and since we're basically the same person he took me straight to this 300 year-old pub hidden in a small alley with pic-nic tables. It was called the Turk's Head and I've seen a bunch of them named so since then... don't know why they like to decapitate Turks yet. The inside was once again awesome comparing to maybe the Old Dublin back home but with more leather benches and less light. We also went to this geek bar where they had a X-Wing arcade (one pilot, one gunner) and we were playing two young men arrived, one dressed as Skywalker and one as Solo! I SWEAR! There also was a Street Fighter arcade but when you start playing it becomes King of Fighters?

Today was quite a hectic day, I arrived in Manchester with my small backpack and shitty shoes and went straight to the Manchester museum (free admission) where I saw a T-Rex skeleton - childhood dream! - and their impressive collection of taxidermy animals and skulls.I then proceeds to walk to the Manchester United stadium... took me about an hour! Last time I tell myself "it looks close on the map".

I got the picture but didn't go in (I know) because my feet were absolutely killing me and I only had 30 minutes left to get the last admission to the Imperial War Museum (free admission, again!) which was close by. Thinking back, I wish I had gone in! Boo to physical pain and cheap shoes and making excuses to myself.

Took the tramway to my hostel and I did NOT get lost, enjoyed all the brick buildings that reminds me a lot of the Brooklyn you see in the movies, got some ok food and got lost again, after spending 3 hours organising my upcoming trip to Scotland.

The girls have just finished singing spice girls in the street to give way to a live musician trying too hard.The air is nice and fresh coming in through the window and my Carlsberg is going down quite nicely. Taking it easy tonight, tomorrow is Liverpool!

Last thing: nobody looks at each other in the eyes on the street here, guy or girl. In Montreal I always gaze at people and say hi with my eyebrows or wink randomly but here they avert their eyes instantly... except one guy in York who was pretty drunk, this sort barrel chested man with faded tattoos on his forearms. I smiled and he did not seem to appreciate so I looked away...

Enjoying everything but more excited about the weekend coming up, Jenny and Ben are spoiling me... Gonna check another box of my childhood dream list!

Cheers

I'm sitting at a small table in a busy cafe, Cafe Nero, it's a chain here that remains me of Starbucks but is more homely. Sipping on a Cappuccino I absent-mindedly listen to two men talking next to me. I can't understand a word: they greated each other with a "As-Salaam-Alaikum".

Mind you, even if they spoke English there's a good chance I would be at a loss as well. The accent is thick here for me...

So, a few days ago I was sitting at my flight's gate at the Montreal airport, having bid farewell to my parents over a gigantic plate of stale nachos. I don't know why, but I felt nervous, more than the first time I left, I felt more excited back then. This time I was nervous and anxious for reasons I cannot explain. I'm not trying to get away from anything this time and had been looking forward to this day for a year and a half... Maybe it was because this time I knew how long I was going to be gone?

The feeling dissipated once the plane left the ground and I was about to relax enough to fall asleep on the flight, a first for me.

I barely made my connection from London to Leeds. Some man tried to get past me at the security check and I showed him my ticket so he could see that I was pressed for time as well. We were getting in the same flight! The British man became more friendly and warned me of strong winds near Leeds, making the flight more... exciting. He was short and ginger and looked a lot like Simon Pegg, and in my mind I built an image of an entire nation populated by Simon Peggs.

London Heathrow was clean and well organised (besides the connection security) and the Leeds one was small and plain in retrospect.

I got my bag and met Ben who was enjoying a beer in the getting area. Awkward hugs ensued, but the excitement of seeing each other after so long quickly took over and it was like we saw each other just last week.

A quick bus ride through Leeds to go to his house and I was already in love with the country... Beautiful stone and brick houses sided the road and in between those I could see green rolling hills dotted with sheep and lined with old short stone walls... So close to the city!

Jen met us shortly at their flat with a friend and we went for a walk to the grocery store, all the while I was walking wide-eyed, looking at the architecture who seemed common here but it's only found in Old Montreal back home, or on Sherbrooke street. Me and Ben have very similar interests which include a natural curiosity for history and so he proved a pretty able guide.

We met another of their friends at the grocery store, where we looked for maple syrup (for advice on which one to get next time) but since it was "a shit one" they didn't have any.

I tried to take it all in, looking at my favourite thing to observe: the people. Canadians have a reputation of being nice, well, Brits put them to shame. No one taking the whole sidewalk, everyone talking to the clerks and such...maybe because it's a smaller town than Montreal (700,000)...our walk was pleasant. We stocked up on proper English foodstuff (including black pudding, which I only discovered post-meal that it's made of dried blood) and Cobra beer and went back to the flat whet we all shared beer and Sortilege.

That evening we went to a pub for food and trivia (couldn't really understand the organiser) and again it was beautiful. Big red benches instead of just cheap wood chairs, nice ambiance and a selection of beers I've had never tasted... great first day and welcome group!

One for the Road? Season 2 Teaser

True to the tradition, here’s a little description of my environment.

I’m writing to you in my parents’ backyard, a nice little apartment on a quiet street in NDG, near bars and restaurants. I am in the shade, under this dome of vines, with my foot petting the family dog sleeping under the table. The air is fresh and construction not too far from here breaks the silence and the birds’ melody (and my concentration, already pretty feeble).

Good morning, good evening dear friends. I know, I know, it’s been a while since I’ve written. The reason is simple: Route means Road and since my return last year, I’m pretty sedentary. Also, I found myself writing heavy stuff. Sad stories, bitching… it’s depressing! This is not how I viewed the blog when I started it almost 2 years ago!

I decided to wait, to exercise patience, and to get back at it only when I felt ready. I was expecting to lose a few dedicated readers, what with not being any updates for months at a time.

Now D day is approaching, the first step on a path that I am undertaking without any maps, kind of like last time. This time however, I do have a few objectives in sights. We’ll talk about it another time.

Some details: since I’ve been back last April, I’ve been sorta quiet. I had a plan in mind: pay off my debts (plane tickets bought on credit cards) as fast as I could, work like a maniac, not spend a dime, and be gone before winter. I gave myself 6 months to respect a promise made to Mr. Ken, my Laos brother.

Today I look back at this and laugh… it wasn’t a very realistic goal!

Oh well. 16 months after my return and I’m finally ready to leave. To everyone who have nomadic friends, and who are telling them: “You’re lucky, you can leave whenever you can, you’re free!”… Well, it’s not done with luck, it’s done with willpower. I stayed at my parents 6 out of the 16 months in Québec (being 30 years old, it kind of hurts your ego). I rented small rooms. I worked 3 jobs in an industry I’ve never worked in before. I slept alone in 7 different rooms. I sold some of my stuff and stopped myself from buying new stuff. I was a little bit more quiet than usual, I became a little bit more grumpy than in the past. I think I grew apart from my friends a little bit, but it’s finally done: the budget is reached, my minimal preparations complete. I’m ready to go.

I heard a few times – more often than last time – questions like why am I leaving again, why am I going to the same spots, what don’t I like here, have you thought about your future? WHADAYAWANNA DO IN LIFE?

Well, yes, of course I think about it. I can’t sleep at night because of it.

Thinking about it, the moment I’ve been the most happy in my life was during these 6 months exiled, up until when I came back - too early for my taste – because of small health issues. I don’t know if it’s my ego talking, but I just have to go back, and do it even bigger this time.

I must admit that I am pretty jealous of legendary Bruno Blanchet, with his books, upcoming tv show, poutine restaurant in Bangkok (he’ll tell you it’s not his, but still!)

To stay motivated with my budget goals I took my dear British friends’ date of wedding as the main goal, these friends whom I met in Chiang Mai, Thailand – with who I travelled for 3 months and with who I connected so seamlessly. I would tell myself, if I’m happy here, I’ll go to the wedding and spend 2 weeks in England and I’ll come back. If I don’t feel like staying home, I’ll buy a one-way ticket for London and we’ll see from there. 

To me, it’s no use obsessing over a single goal. Life changes, people change, we change. Better to adapt than to dig in.

Next, I explored other options. I obtained a work visa for New Zealand. I thought about moving somewhere  else in Canada. I almost invested in a small restaurant. All sort of things but in the end, with my shifting mental health I decided that finishing the trip I started 2 years ago was the best solution.

So here’s the conclusion: I have a one-way ticket for Leeds, in the north of the British Empire, where reside Jen & Ben. I will be there for 3 weeks. Then, 1 ticket one-way from London to Beijing, where I will be stocking up on gadgets compatible with the power outage of Asia (cameras are cheaper as well). From there I will be making my way towards Vietnam in the south, where I am planning on buying a motorbike that I will ride all the way to Malaysia, all the while writing to you. Because even it’s just a small project, Bière de Route, the tiny blog started clumsily on a bench park of Mont-Royal street is what gave me the most satisfaction up until now. I can’t share with you the nice messages people wrote to me, encouraging me and thanking me but it pushes me to keep going, to make it better.

That’s the basics, open to change. I can’t wait. 

Before like that however, there’s going to be a nice BBQ in Parc Lafontaine, Saturday the 16^th of August, so don’t be shy and come grill some hot-dogs and down a few cold ones!

See you soon!