A beautiful insight into the BM microcosm once more…!
And so, the Playan diary begins…
Note to self: no matter how busy you are, try packing your bag several times before you leave…
For some reason I knew this would be an area I would fall down in (organised? me?) and now I’m sat in Vancouver airport without the rather-important-piece-of-equipment known as a tent. The fire fans took up so much room in my 85L backpack nothing else would fit in – I essentially packed all my clothes into my carry-on luggage… cue lots of crying the previous night, phoning Dav in Norway without regarding the cost to both of us, and Alex from Fireworks Collective coming round to: a) give me a message for the Temple of Juno; and b) console me during a near-breakdown experience. Eventually at 12.30 a.m. I pulled myself together and finished packing, and set my alarm for 4.50 a.m. Since my hysteria had subsided I was still too excited to sleep. My first transatlantic flight! My first time in Canada! Then my first time in the US! My first burn! (My second transatlantic flight with a sub par company, and my first time in Belgium… the “firsts” began to lose their appeal after a while)
I got to Heathrow without a hitch, albeit later than I expected but looking just as awesome (like a female member of The Darkness, but slightly tired, and not brimming with innuendo), and mooched around, hoops folded and around my neck (they also didn’t fit into any of my luggage). I thought after the previous night and with my sudden head-full-of-cold-from-hell I’d be tired enough to sleep on the plane but I totally failed. There’s something oddly exciting about flying even though it takes a long time. Especially when you get hundreds of movies to choose from. I ended up watching Falling Down, The Avengers and The Illusionist (I was tempted by Silence of the Lambs – as always – but unfortunately the woman next to me had sat her child in the middle… possibly not the best idea. DAMN!). Sleep is for the weak… oh jetlag!
I arrived in Vancouver pretty excited – even though I would have to stay in the airport – my real father spent time growing up here, and I’ve always been curious to see it. And meet real Canadians! And see a waterfall in the airport. Wait. What?! Yes, that really exists. Unfortunately I didn’t think ahead during my flight and forgot to buy water – I ended up in Vancouver very dehydrated, so much so my lips cracked (N.B. My lips cracked then swelled so badly that my filtrum piercing (top lip) started to suffer) and when I passed through the US Border my fingers created no fingerprints on the scanner.
I sound so ridiculously English it almost hurts to talk to people. I sound like the Queen, if, you know, she was a rough-type from the Midlands with a potty-mouth.
I went Home. I’ve kept a day-by-day journal, the photos are uploaded, and I have a brain confused by modern life. I’m ready to talk about the playa.