It wasn't all plane sailing though. A couple of weeks ago I found out that my flight would be departing from the dreaded Terminal Five at Heathrow. Joy, I thought, my baggage will end up in Beijing. I set about calling my insurance company to arrange some extra baggage cover. Unfortunately, after getting the reply, in no uncertain terms, that Flexi Cover do not cover T5, I had to think of another solution. Fortunately my Mum happened across 'Trace Me' baggage tags, Which - surprisingly enough - trace your bags wherever they are in the world. With one of those purchased I still hoped my bags wouldn't be making a detour to the 2008 Olympics, but at least I had some form of security incase the unthinkable happened.
Yesterday morning was an early one. My folks drove me down to Heathrow, and I'd arranged to meet up with Helen - my flight buddy, and another person who had also decided to randomly move to a country in which she had no contacts or particular reason to go. After checking in together, and the inevitable tearful goodbyes from our respective mothers, we set off to Canada.
The flight was pretty uneventful. Having been used to cattle-class budgetary in the past, I was expecting to my treated to an array of food that resembled vomit, but infact the non-stop conveyer belt of nurishment that came our way was a joy. I watched the whole of Jumper (pretty entertaining film), and watched Larry David try to track down the mysterious masterbater in his house in Curb Your Enthusiasm. Nine-and-a-half hours later we landed in what was a very overcast, and quite chilly, Vancouver airport.
After going through immigration and getting my working visa validated without too much bother we went to baggage reclaim. That was where the problem started. My bags arrived straight away. Unfortunately for my flight buddy Helen, hers didn't. After a lot of to-ing and fro-ing, in which Helen remained remarkably calm - whilst I would probably have nutted someone and been thrown out of the country - we came to the conclusion that Helen's bags were still somewhere in England and would arrive tomorrow. Of course, a years supply of belongings isn't really what you want to lose, so BA gave her $60 of compensation. Great.
Next was a taxi ride to the University of British Columbia Halls of Residence, where we had both booked a weeks accommodation. The place is pretty nice, although the view out of my window isn't exactly what I was hoping for, but it'll do. We both went to grab some food - I had the worlds largest chicken Burritto, whilst Helen had a Tamale - which as far as I knew was a small town in Northern Ghana. After getting back to my room I tried to stay awake as long as possible, to avoid jetlag, but failed miserably, falling asleep at about 7pm Canadian time, and waking up at 1am with my book still in my hand. Arse.
Today has been interesting so far. Breakfast consisted of cereal eaten out yesterdays smoothie cup, and after meeting Helen we got the bus into Downtown/Central Vancouver.
Tomorrow is the Orientation meeting with the company who sorted my visa, so after that I'll be on my own. The adventure starts here.
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