Where in the world is Ashley Churchill?

Most people only take off once or twice a year. Unlike most people, I require extended periods of nothingness to recharge my batteries. I decided to do something crazy, and go on a one week vacay. Do as the normals do.

So anyway, Christmas at the Churchill house was business as usual. After the presents are opened, I hail a cab and head straight for Pearson Airport. I arrive to a somewhat empty terminal. I chose to leave Christmas Day for two reasons. One, most people will have left by Christmas Eve. And two, if I don't stay in Christmasland for atleast a little while, my mom will kill me and sell my carcass on the black market for $50 or best offer.

My flight is 40 minutes late. BTW, why on earth do they announce 'This is the final boarding call for...' when they make said announcement 50 times? Anyway, Its not so much of a delay that I miss my connection in Frankfurt, Germany. However, Sapphire, my dear sidekick, does. So I'm stuck in the Geneva airport for three hours waiting for the next flight from Frankfurt to come in. Hopefully with her on it.

Sapphire

So after 3 hours of butchering the french language, sipping $8 diet cokes, and browsing the overpriced scarves in the shops, I reclaim custody of Sapphire and jump on the train for Interlaken.

I first visited Interlaken (twice) in 2006, while backpacking through Western Europe. I found out about the tiny tourist town shortly after that trip began. I was sitting in the Amman airport waiting to board my flight to Cairo when I run into a few other travellers who were working in Egypt. They gave me a list of 'off the beaten path' places to see longer than my list of people whom I plan to get revenge on. Interlaken was one of those places. Went there for the first time in March 2006. Loved it so much; I returned in June, right before my flight home.

Interlaken, Switzerland

So anyway, I get off the 3 hour train ride to Interlaken in the middle of the night. Fortunately; I have a fairly good memory, so finding my way back to my hostel was pretty easy, even in the dark. And Switzerland this year is really mild, about 5 degrees. So no snow to trudge through with a 15 kilo backpack! I check into my hostel completely exhausted. He tells me 'There is problem with your room..,' And I immediately think, 'hmmm... There may be a problem with the palm of my hand... bitchslapping your face!' He rectifies the problem (he lost the key), and I pass out until morning.

So day one....I normally get terrible jetlag when travelling. Infact, I've fallen asleep, in public, while having a conversation with someone on more than one occasion. But it didn't effect me at all this time. Which means that I was fully alert for my snowboarding lesson with Ian, my Scottish instructor. That's one more thing, Interlaken is such a tourist town, that even the locals are foreigners. Anyway, I've always wanted to take up snowboarding, but like judo, hot coal walking, flying aircrafts, and being nice to people, I could never found the time to do it. So I decided that this is as good of a time as any and book a lesson for my time on the Swiss Alps. I actually picked it up rather quickly. And before I knew it, I was crashing without causing bodily harm to my self or others.

Over the next four days, I get better and better. And by that, I mean I cause fewer and fewer inconveniences to people when they swerve around me as I pick my butt up off the slope. And I get to know local bar staff better and better.

The slope bar, made out of snow

On New Years Eve, aside from getting plastered and partaking in activities that I won't disclose, I decided to see what paragliding is like. One word... SNORE! While I got really high up, and was able to take some amazing pictures, not the adrenaline rush that bungee jumping or skydiving have to offer. It was a first of one minor event. My instructor, Dominik, was born and raised in Interlaken. In my previous experience, no one ever is 'from' Interlaken. But there is a first time for everything.

Dominik, setting up the chute

I spend my night testing the limits of my liver function and, well, other stuff.

New Years Day, I wake up late and spend the day shopping around for souvenirs things that I don't really need and call my mom to let her know I'm still alive (she worries... alot). Take a 3 hour train ride back to Geneva for my flight home the next morning.

In retrospect, I should have made my departure the day after I actually left. The Geveva airport wasn't just crazy on Jan 2nd, it was chemically dependent schizophrenic with bipolar tendencies and illegal substance abuse issues. I have two connetions this time. One in Vienna (the same airport with a sex shop in the terminal, just so you know), and one in London's Heathrow.

Now I don't know if you've ever been to Heathrow, but gargantuanaly massive barely describes the size of it. I walk for about 2 miles through several corridors, go through security for the third time that day, take a bus from Terminal 1 to Terminal 3, and walk about another 3 miles to the waiting area. If you want an idea what's like, imagine Eaton Centre on either Christmas Eve or Boxing Day. Both descriptions are accurate. When I checked in Geneva, I could only get boarding passes for Geneva and Vienna, I would have to check in again to get my boarding pass in Heathrow. I check in at the Air Canada desk and one of my biggest fears occurs.... THEY ASSIGN ME A CENTRE SEAT! I hate the centre seat. I am a claustrophobe that doesn't like talking to people when she can't fake a cell phone call and walk away. There is a sign on the desk that an upgrade can be purchased for the bargain basement price off $600. I didn't even think about the cost when I inquired about an upgrade. I mean, that is a pretty good price for an 8 hour flight in first or business class. Unfortunately, this particular flight is booked solid and there aren't any available.

So after chatting on facebook, British style, for a few hours to get rid of the stirling change that a forex won't take, I stroll for another 2 and a half miles to the gate and get on board. Fortunately, the people next to me can sense my irritability and don't attempt to make small talk with me. Or worse, chat up a storm with eachother! (That's what happened when I flew home from Europe in '06, incase you were wondering).

What happened at the end of the flight was a shock to everyone. The pilot announced that we will land and hour AHEAD of schedule. Pilots can sometimes make up for lost time in the air when a plane is delayed, but landing an hour early 'just because' isn't an urban myth, its just something that doesn't happen. My guess is that, after recent events, the aircrew suspected a passenger of having explosives strapped to their genitalia, yet again. And rather than create a scene and strap the person down, be proactive and get to the ground early. Thanks Air Canada, you finally did something right. So I land in my hometown of the T-dot, take the airport express bus home and now I'm here, writing about it all.

Next stop, who knows.

Peace out

AC

This is technically a 'travel blog', so I'm not sure if this story should be published. But it was one of the greatest moments of my life that I waited 2 decades for. So I'm posting it anyway.

Im recently went to Ottawa to see the New Kids On The Block in concert as well as a meet and greet. However, it didn't go so well. On the way to the concert, I tripped and fell neck deep into a ditch full of water. Leaving me soaking we for the show as well as rendering my ipod, cell phone and camera useless. So when they came back to Toronto for the summer tour, I just had to go. And I'm so glad I did, as it was AMAZING!

I arrived at Ontario Place/Moslon Ampitheatre early for the M&G this time too. Fortunately, the closest body of water to the vicinity is Lake Ontario (not Lake Erie!) and its rather difficult to trip and fall into it. I bonded pretty closely to a gang of girls coming to the concert together, We'll definitely return together next time nkotb comes to town, whenever that is. After collecting my tickets, it was time for the pre-show party. This one was much better than the one in Ottawa. I felt that they tried harder. The room was nicer, it included a great dinner, and FREE BOOZE! I also ran into a girl I went to college with many years ago. I later met the band once again. I learned from the last time that if you want to stand next to a particular band member, you have to run to him right away and don't budge. So thats exactly what I did with Joey...

With Joey McIntyre

With the rest of NKOTB

The After Party

So thats what's up with me, for now...

So I haven't had any exotic trists as of lately. I've mostly been staying at home and trying and failing at becoming an adult. My latest excursion outside of the t-dot was to Ottawa to see The New Kids On The Block. My parents never let me see them when I was little, so I made it my business to see them as an adult. When they were set to play in Ottawa, I coughed up a very large amount of money to go to the meet and greet before the show. And that is where this story begins.

The venue they were playing in was the Scotiabank Place, which is in a subberb waaaaaay outside of the city. I hopped on a bus for the 1 hour journey there. But to my dismay, the bus wouldn't take me too close to the venue, several kilometers away infact. So when I saw that I could cut through a feild to get there faster, I decided to do it. The feild didn't look too bad. Just a few thatches and stuff. Thought I'd run through as fast as I can, I'll make it for the meet and greet. So I'm charging through... Trying to make it on time... And then I slip on something and fall... in a ditch... full with water. I'm completely soaked from the chest down. The only silver lining is that despite falling into a freezing cold ditch, my hair remained dry. However, my cell phone (or mobile, whatever floats your boat), camera and Ipod were all trashed. So not too many pictures. The two pictures I do have of Ottawa I took with my cell and uploaded before the concert. Obama visted Ottawa last year and a local bakery created (or just renamed) the 'Obama Cookie'. And I received the picture of me with the New Kids On The Block.

I may take a trip somewhere, I don't know where and when yet.

AC

I have a bad habit of completely forgetting my blog. Especially when I'm home and living amongst the normals again. My favorite Belgian brought it to my attention that I should keep updating it. So here I am, talking about the monotonousness that is my life at home. Buts lets return to a little but before that.

So after Norway, which would have been a blast if Lonely Planet hadn't lied to me, it was London. Along with being one of my favorite cities, it is also the most expensive city. People say Moscow is the most expensive, but I disagree. Which is why is helpful to have a good friend to crash with when you're in town. While in London, I spent a great deal of time at the National Archives researching my family tree. I don't care how long it takes or how far I have to go, I will answer the age old question "Can I weasel out some inheritance cash from the Winston Churchill estate?" And the answer is.... I dunno yet. Same as last time I went there. But I did learn tones of stuff that I didn't know about my family before. For instance, my great grandfather was a newspaper delivery boy in 1901. I also went to his prior residences. The apartment building that he used to live in the early 1900's is still standing. I rung the doorbell to see if I could have a peek inside his old flat. No one was home. I later took my friend, Antonia, to see if his house from his early 20s is still standing. It is not. Just a big empty space where his house would have been.

After strolling through his old neighborhood, its pretty easy to see why he fled the country. I know it was a hundred years ago (how many people can use that phrase and actually mean it?), but it was pretty nasty. After that, I went out drinking with Antonia and her friends from work where I threw up from drinking for the first time since high school. I vaguely remember looking down at the ground at the beer garden and thinking 'Red? What did I have that was red? Oh, wait a minute, it must have been the 11 glasses of Rose that I had tonight.' Antonia and I also saw a play while in London. I don't remember what it was called, but I sort of liked it and Antonia really hated it. "Mind numbingly mind numbing" were her exact words.

Anyway, after living the London life for a week, it was off to Amsterdam again for my flight home. And you can't just pass through Amsterdam, you have to stop and smell the ganga-scented roses. So after I few days of sex shows, getting high on city property and wondering how I woke up in a tulip garden, it was time to put this journey to an end and go home. So I arrived at the Schipol Airport bright and early for my AM flight to NYC which would later bring me home. I arrive at the Airport and check in. I go to the bag drop off and I get stalled. For whatever reason, they can't let me drop off my bags. After sitting on my bags at the drop off desk for an hour, they tell me there has been a configuration change and the flight is cancelled. They send me to the next flight gate to NYC where I'm put on standby. No luck. My only chance of getting back to North America is to take the same flight for the next day. After shoving some cash (600 euros!) and hotel vouchers in my hands, I'm off the Crowne Plaza hotel where I'm to spend the night courtesy of KLM until I can get me a flight. And as you can imagine, the Crowne Plaza was pretty suite. And I say 'suite' because it was an actual 'suite', not just a single room. But I'm still pissed off at KLM for constantly making my life unnecessarily hard. After taking what I assume was my complementary bath robe, variety of mini hard liquors, and pocketing my 600 euros in compensation, I was off bright and early to Schipol in an attempt to arrive at my flight and actually get on it. And I did. The flight back to North America was pretty uneventful. No mid flight u-turns, babies, decompensating elders, or anything of that matter. KLM did step up their game with the entertainment on demand. But it will take alot more than all 3 seasons of 'House' to get me to fly with them again.

The travel agent that I bought my tickets from could not fly me out of Canada, so I chose to fly out of NYC. Which means returning to NYC. And like with Amsterdam, I decided to stop and smell the garbage and urine scented roses of NYC. You don't really realize how much changes until you leave home for several months and then return. This could not have been any more evident then when I arrived in NYC. I'm walking down Times Square, minding my own business and BAM! New Kids On The Block are staring at me from a ginormous billboard. As a child, I loved them. But my parents never let me see them in concert. So when I found out the they were performing at the Today Show the next day, I had to go. And after 'seeing' that performance, I knew I had to make it up to the 7 year old outcast that still resides deep inside of me to make the absolute best of their reunion. I am going to get as many dates as I can and I'm invoicing my mom for every one of them. So after nearly enduring a stroke from all of the New Kids madness and further maxing out of my credit card, I was ready to head home.

Back to life as I knew it in the T-Dot.

My first order of business was to get a job. It was a little slow a first. I hadn't worked full time since before travelling abroad. So about 3 years. But I eventually was offered a job as Office Manager for a TV company, which I took. Not too shabby. Most of what I do is tech support for the rest of the office. The people here are somewhat behind the times of technology. Not that I'm particularly ahead. But I try to keep them in the dark as much as I can in regards to that. Its not bad, but I definitely won't be spending a great deal of time there.

My second item on the agenda is to buckle down and buy a house, condo, or someplace to call home that is as far away from Scarborough, but still in Toronto, as I can get. I started looking seriously a few weeks ago. Its alot of weighing of the scales. I like this unit, but this building. I like this location, but these views. I don't know if I'll ever find one that suits my fancy. Other than that, not much else is new. I really miss being on the road. There is something about the fact that every day is a new experience that is so exciting to me. It doesn't seem to matter that I could possibly be risking life or limb. If you don't take risks, where is fun in anything?

Next stop... who knows.

AC

Why am I constantly at the mercy of the who's who of laziness and incompetancy?

You remember my KLM drama, correct?
Air Tanzania, anyone?
Well now the editors of Lonely Planet seem to have a vandetta against me.

Before leaving Canada, I purchased a copy of Lonely Planet (As I always do). This time it was thee 'Scandinavian Europe' edition. I only had Monday in Oslo before my scheduled flight to London. So I jam packed all the Norwegian sights I've been itching to see into that one day. I head to National Gallery, closed on mondays. Munch Museum, same. Nobel Prize centre, ditto. All museums in the city of Oslo are closed on Mondays, despite what the Lonely Planet has to say.

And as I said, I already had my flight to London booked. On the airports website, it said that trains to the airport leave 3 hours before all flights. Except when I arrived at the bus terminal, it turns out that they leave 3 1/2 hours before departure time. Making me miss my bus then my flight. All because people cannot get a few simple facts straight.

Like I said, why do I constantly have to suffer the consequences of the world's genetic misshaps?

-AC