Was up at 6:30 after about 3 hours sleep. Went out in Ottawa
with two mad girls from Liverpool last night and had such a hangover this morning on the train to Montreal
. Arrived at about 11am and lugged my bag the 11 blocks to my hostel. The Auberge L'Apero is one of the top 3 Hostels in North America according to Hostelbookers but is a bit of a dump according to me. The place is located above a Chinese restaurant so there was a permanent linger of cooked food in the air. The bathrooms were old and needed re-tiling and the whole place needed a lick of paint. Still most of the people were friendly.
Friendly that is apart from one guy who turned out to be the central hate figure for the Hostel.
Wilberforce B Lincoln III (I forget his exact name) is a poet from Kansas and a very strange individual: "ya know the Khyber pass massacre in 1880?" - (no) - "well Georgie Bush's family lived in England then and I would not be surprised if they were not to blame for the 30,000 deaths in Afghanistan - ya know what I'm sayin?".
Being from the UK I naturally personally got the blame for the BP oil leak in the Gulf of Mexico "I am surprised that the Queen has not got them all into Buck-ing-ham palace and banged their heads together - ya know what I'm sayin?" I was given one of his poems (entitled "Marriage is like Prostitution") to read whilst he was bragging to another hosteller on about how much money he made selling his poems in "Marseilles, France".
Went for a walk around the city centre of Montreal but was not really in the mood as my head was still foggy after last night.
I have had some generally nice meals so far on this trip but for lunch I had North American cooking at its worst. A "Sausage Special" from a local cafe was a plate of overdone fries, covered in chopped up hot dog sausages and processed cheese with sauce poured over the top. The sausages were the only edible thing and the sauce was the worst kind of "cafe gravy" from my youth. More wandering around but my feet started to hurt so sat in a park for a couple of hours reading my book.
Went back to the hostel and watched TV with my fellow travellers. Wilbur then came in and started to blame this poor Aussie lad for turning the Air Conditioning up in the room "everyone is crushing a nickel between their legs in there - ya know what I'm sayin?" - none of us did Wilbur. I counted my blessings that I was in a separate room and went to bed.