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10 years.

I can't believe it has been 10 years.

On 30 June 1989, I departed for the first of what would become a string of interesting journeys into the unknown. This was my first trip out of North America, and my first trip as an Observer.

I can’t help but be somewhat reflective upon the arrival of this date. 10 years, no matter who you are, is a long period of time. A lot of things can happen in 10 years … certainly that is true for me.

Don’t worry — I’m not about to bombard you with a list of the things that have happened to me — that would be grounds for Amnesty International to boycott me for human rights violations.

10 years ago, I left Canada as a naive teenager, ready to take on the world without fear, not really knowing what the outside world was like. I learned a few things on that trip, but what surprised me most were the things I learned about myself. 10 years later, I’m still surprising myself, each and every day.

I suppose when I stop being surprised, I’ll stop living…

I’ve seen many changes in myself, even over the past five years. Most of my friends and family have seen these changes. If you don’t think I haven’t changed, just remember what I was like when:

a) I was in high school.
b) You first met me.

(For those of you who have met me within the past two years, you might not have really noticed much. So take my word for it. I’m certain those who have known me a while will back me up.)

The next obvious question is: What’s in store for the next 10 years? Who knows… it could be anything. Always in motion, is the future. It’s hard to see, tough to grasp, nearly impossible to predict. That’s what I find interesting about it — the inability to classify it properly. It scares some people, frustrates others. For me, it’s another challenge to overcome.

Today, the Observer is 10 years old, and is ready to enter his decade of development. With luck, the Observer will keep me young when I start getting old (particularly important, since my birthday comes up in a couple of weeks).

Tomorrow, Allison and I are off to scare the inhabitants of the Okanagan. You’ll hear about it on Monday.

A Dream…

“Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your captain speaking.” came a husky voice over the p.a. I shut off my walkman to listen to the message. “We have encountered some technical difficulties, which will be remedied shortly. However, I am turning on the seatbelt lights and ask that all passengers remain seated. Thank you for your co-operation.”

I didn’t like it, something wasn’t right. Being seated in the aisle had it’s advantages, like getting to the bathroom easily, but you couldn’t see out the window. I was seated in a group of people that I didn’t recognize at all, I was totally naked, yet did not feel in any way uncomfortable. Then I managed to get a glance out of the window.

The wing was bending severely, to the point where it broke open, spilling it’s cargo of fuel into the hot streams of exhaust from the engines, igniting. The entire wing blew apart, ripping part of the wall out, sucking out passengers left and right. No-one panicked, aside from myself. But my seatbelt wouldn’t undo. Fire swept into the cabin and began to engulf seats, carpets and passengers alike. It came closer and closer, I could feel the intense heat; I could hear voices, calling my name.

I sat upright in my bed, realizing that my mother was literally shouting at me. A dream, a rather nasty one at that. The clock beside my bed read 8:45 in the morning, and it looked nice outside. Deciding that I wasn’t about to get back to sleep, I proceeded to prepare myself for a very long day.

That was Easter Monday and April Fool’s day too, April 1st, 1991. My mind was already working on ways of making my day a living hell. After relieving myself of a large pressure that was exerting itself from my bladder, I snagged a bit of breakfast, which I knew I was going to need.

Then came the fun part. I had until that night to do the rest of my homework that was due during the week we would be in Florida. I sometimes felt that teachers should give us a break because we were on a school related trip, but I knew that the chances of them liking that excuse were limited to say the very least.

I had finished my book review the day before, it sat on top of my luggage (also done the day before) so I wouldn’t forget about it. My task was to complete part of my Scican project, and make sure it was handed in on Tuesday, by which time I would be in Florida. That’s where my sister came in.

I worked on it until about three o’clock, finishing three out of the four parts I had to complete. The only one I couldn’t do was a time line, the book I needed for reference was sitting in Therese Hollingsworth’s locker, I had neglected to get it before we left on Friday. I had thought that she might have it at home, but I was wrong, I found that out when I phoned her.

At about three, Chris phoned (I might have phoned him, I don’t remember who phoned who). We discussed the plans for that night, he asked if it was possible for an automobile to get around, as he needed cash for his car insurance. I eventually worked my way into getting invited up, I could drive him over to James Hieminga’s house for the pseudo-party to be held that night.

About a half hour later, I hopped in the family Caravan and booted on up to Chris’ abode up in Sherwood Heights. Chris was literally on the verge on taking a shower, having finished packing five days of clothes into a large duffel bag, which was not light. So while he removed the layer of filth from his body, I fooled around on his computer.

Amidst our activities, we were phoning Therese’s house to she if she had returned from shopping. Chris was borrowing cash from Therese so he could pay off his insurance, which was due while we were in Florida. Chris had recently lost his cash flow due to the recession.

About a quarter to five, Therese arrived home, I caught her as she literally walked in the door. We arranged the afternoon between Chris and Therese as best as we could, getting money and all. Then I phoned the bank to find out when they closed. Five. Chris and I took off for the car, and booted down to Therese’s, calling her from the car phone (don’t ask about the phone - it’s a long story!). When we arrived at her house, she was ready to roll. We arrived at the bank at 16:58 (4:58 in the afternoon to you non-military types). Unfortunately, the bank had closed.

We returned Therese to her home to pack her clothes (most of which were new, she didn’t like any of the clothes that she had) and get ready to leave. Chris got the permission to use Therese’s bank card, and we booted back to the bank, where Chris took out sixty dollars. He needed quite a bit more, but the machine would only let him take out sixty in one day. So I came into picture, and he snitched sixty bucks from me too!

We headed from there to Major Video, where we were to rent a movie or two for that night. After about twenty minutes (which is a relatively short time for us to pick a movie), we had settled for Eddie Murphy - The Best Of Saturday Night Live.

Then we drove back to Chris’. He had to have some dinner, his parents wouldn’t let him leave without it. We had to let James know that we were going to be a bit late. We still had to get some drinks and popcorn. At about 18:30, we headed out the door, Chris’ luggage in hand. Next stop was my home, to get my luggage and my sister (she had to drive the car back home). As we exited Chris’ subdivision, we had our first omen of a strange voyage, I nearly hit a Canadian Goose as it waddled across the street ahead of us. When we arrived at my home, I grabbed everything I could remember, and got all my homework assignments for my sister to hand in for me.

Ever have that nagging feeling when you think you’ve forgotten something rather important? Chris and I both had it, and we had good reason. Now, we didn’t notice all this until much later that night, but Chris had forgotten a bank card (to deposit his money), I had not only forgotten my headphones (a total disaster), but also my alarm clock, which we were going to need.

Anyway, my sister drove us out. Before we were barely out of our neighbourhood, the car phone rang. It was a mutual friend of my sister’s and mine, Alistair. He wanted to know what my sister was up to that night. He was told to phone back in about a half hour or so.

We ended up at Tim Hortons where Chris snagged some Timbits for us to munch on that night. We were now an hour late, we knew people were going to chew our heads off. We didn’t care at all though, we were going to be at James’ for a long time to come. We stopped at Barney’s Convenience for five minutes to get drinks, then we were off to James. No-one was pissed off at us, no-one else was there yet. So Chris and I got ticked off ’cause we were the first ones there! We removed the stuff from the van, and my sister disappeared into the cool night air.

So we began to have fun at James’. Tunes were the first priority. We listened to music for a while, inside a few games of table top pool (which is very hard to play compared to normal pool). Finally, at about eight or so, people began to show up. Stuart was the next to arrive on the scene. Not long after that, James brought out his watergun, which looked like a shotgun, and had a large range. Unfortunately, he did not bring it with him, it would probably have added a little excitement to our lives.

Then Linda appeared from out of the inky blackness. She seemed a little preoccupied with something (she may have been tired, I can’t remember if I asked or not), but she still laughed when Stuart nailed James in the crotch with the watergun. James was not terribly pleased about that little incident. Mind you, no guy would be terribly pleased, it looked like James had pissed in his pants.

Observer’s Log: Traveldate 40291.00

Day 1

And so begins the wait. Six hours from now, assuming nothing goes wrong (not that it already hasn’t, might I add - I’ve already forgotten my alarm clock and my earphones), we ought to be well on our way to the warm sun o’ Florida. More entries to follow over the next twenty-two and a half (or so) hours.

Soon Therese, Kathryn and Hil arrived, all that were left to come were J and Ali. But first, an errand had to be run. Chris had to get to the bank at about midnight (I suspected that was when the bank machine would turn to the next day, so Chris could remove more money from Therese’s account), so I asked if it were possible to drop by my home to pick up the things I had left behind in my haste (I had also forgotten the popcorn, but we probably wouldn’t have eaten it anyway).

At first James was reluctant to do such a trip, but gave in once he found out that Chris had to go home anyway to pick up his bank card. So the three of us piled into James’ station wagon and sped off into the night. The car already had all our luggage in there, and room in the back was extremely limited, almost none for me.

We soon arrived at Chris’ house, he had to knock to be let in. His mother was expecting him, according to Chris anyway. He picked up his card from his other wallet, and bade his mother goodbye for the second time. Then it was back out of Sherwood Heights to my house. This was slightly more interesting for myself.

After noticing that our new car had arrived (a small red Dodge Omni, basically for my sister and I to drive around), I checked the front door. Locked. I booted around the side of the house and hopped the fence. This must’ve looked rather odd to our neighbours, especially when James did the same to remind me to get a pair of sunglasses for Kathryn.

I groped around in the partial light for the back door key (carefully hidden in clear view of anyone who might stumble into the backyard), and got into the house. My heartbeat jumped a lot, I was expecting to get caught. Carefully, I worked my way through the kitchen, into the hallway to my room, avoid as many creaky points as possible.

Getting into my room, I closed the door before turning the lights on. I collected my misplaced articles, turned off the lights then quickly left the house, making sure I didn’t wake anyone up. Closing the rear door was a real problem. It has to be slammed to lock, and that would have waken up the entire neighbourhood. In view of this, I settled for nearly tearing the knob of for pulling so hard.

I returned to the car, and we charged downtown. Along the way, we noticed Ali’s father returning home. That meant that Ali and J were now at James’ house. We continued downtown anyway. We arrived at the first bank in a few minutes, and Chris withdrew the cash he needed. Then it was to the second bank where he deposited the $180 he had been collecting all day.

About a half hour after leaving, we returned to James’ house. Sure enough, Ali and J were there. But there was something important missing, that probably had caught everyone off guard. J had cut his hair. He had once had a lot of it too, more than most females. But now it was only shoulder length. Mind you, I think he looked better with it that short.

Finally, after all the anticipation and anxiety, two o’clock in the morning rolled around, and we prepared to move out. James awoke his mother so she could drive the car (full of our luggage) over to the school. We picked up our jackets and shoes, and headed out. James and Chris broke into a rap of Ice, Ice Baby, I tried to partake, but I can’t do human boomboxing as well as they.

When we arrived at OT, there weren’t many people there. Nor were there any buses. There was a cold wind blowing, and most of us were dressed in clothes that would be more suitable for warmer weather. In other words, we froze out asses off. Neil Murray, Jen Rumsey and Karl McNelly were already there, waiting in a minivan (having come from a pool hall and waited for about forty-five minutes or so).

The empty parking lot of OTHS began to fill with students and parents alike, not to mention a pair of police cars. It seemed that Mrs. Stothart or Mrs. Crewe (I don’t know who got there first) had set off the school’s alarm. Fortunately, they came out and talked to them before we were all arrested and booked (like it would have happened - I’m just paranoid of cops).

It wasn’t long before everyone who was heading to Florida had arrived. Now we had to wait for the buses and a truck to arrive. The truck was already loaded with all the instruments and equipment, our cargo luggage was supposed to be loaded in there as well. Soon, the cheesewagons appeared from up Reynolds Street and pulled into the driveway. All our large luggage had been grouped in one place, all that was left was for the truck to show.

It didn’t. After a while we found out that the truck was heading for the airport without us. So we ended up loading all the large stuff into the back of the bus (which took up a substantial amount of room - school buses aren’t that large y’know). That took about fifteen minutes. Then it was our turn to load in. Some of us had already taken seats, so it was just a matter of getting to them.

Roll call was done, just to make certain that we weren’t leaving anyone behind, then the bus cabin lights when out, and we began our trek to Florida. As the bus turned onto the highway, I began to play AC/DC on my walkman, namely You Shook Me All Night Long, which I thought was kind of fitting, considering the situation.

Roughly half an hour to forty-five minutes, we arrived at Terminal One at Pearson International Airport, Departure Level. At that point, we completely unloaded from both the buses, lugging luggage into the check-in area (not caring whose it was). The truck was already there (if I remember correctly) and it was also unloaded in a similar fashion. All forty-some-odd pieces were carefully dumped in the check-in area. By the time we were done, we had created a large mess of instruments, luggage and people.

Somewhere around 3:30 or 3:45, we began to check-in our luggage and received our boarding passes. At first, the general idea was to just check our luggage, and we would receive our passes later, in alphabetical order. Because of security restrictions, we received our passes at the check-in. We were then told that we could wander off, so long as we returned at 4:45, so we could proceed through security as a group.

James, Linda, Geoff (Barrett, not me), Stuart and Therese headed around the corner, with me in tow, to check out what was available. They found Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Four of them instantly jumped on it, Therese virtually in lead (she’s a TMNT addict). I decided to return to the area where the rest of out troupe was and crashed out there for a while. I didn’t sleep though, I was too hyper to doze off. This made Paul Taylor rather uneasy, he wanted to make sure I hadn’t eaten any sugar to that point. I replied that when I travel, sugar is one of the few things that doesn’t make my hyper (air travel does that by itself).

Five o’clock in the morning arrived, and our group was beckoned by the guards to proceed through security. This partially annoyed the chaperones, they held some of us back to load instruments to the baggage carts that would take them to the plane. Surprisingly enough, it didn’t take too long. By the time we were finished, only about half of OT had managed to get through the security check. Those of us who had been loading jumped into the back of the line and awaited out turn.

Once again, I managed to set off that infernal metal detector (no thanks to my belt buckle), but my carry-on luggage wasn’t even glanced at, aside from the X-Ray machine. From there, it was off to Gate K (virtually at the other end of the friggin’ terminal). Just about the entire waiting lounge was full, there were only two or three vacant seats. I took a place on the floor next to Chris (who had gone through earlier), and shifted my position when I found out how wet the floor was (it had to have been cleaned no more than a half hour before we arrived).

When 5:30 was reading on the clock, boarding began. It looked like a free-for-all, just about everyone on the flight got up, even though most of us wouldn’t be getting on for about another ten to twenty minutes. So we went over to the window and watched the baggage twits load the instruments onto the plane. Stothart cringed every time one of the small black boxes was tossed onto the conveyor belt. We were waiting for the double bass to be loaded. It stood about eight or nine feet tall, and was really bulky.

Just as the baggage cart that contained the double bass lined up for unloading, the line began to move. I was to damn excited to wait for it, so I just headed forward. Ahead, I could hear problems arising as matching ticket numbers came up, something that wasn’t supposed to happen. It didn’t matter really, even though those people were with us, they got on anyway.

I found that my seat was a row behind the door to the plane (incidentally, 757s have their doors part of the way down the fuselage, around row 12 or so), which looked interesting for getting off. I was seated a row ahead and across from Stuart and Therese, seated next to Andy Torr. Andy was on me in a second, barely getting time to sit down. I knew what the question was even before he asked it.

His girlfriend, April Norcross (whose mother was one of the chaperones, something that Andy commented was going to be “interesting”) was seated with Stuart and Therese. I knew that he was going to ask to switch spots, I agreed almost as soon as the question was asked. April and I swapped places, I hoped I would get the window seat (that’s where April was). But Therese shifted over the seat to the window, I ended up with the aisle, Stuart between us. I didn’t bother to argue, just so long as we got south.

At around six, the in-flight safety speech was delivered with non-existent enthusiasm by the flight crew. Much earlier (by about two months or so), several of the people in my little group had suggested that the entire OT group mimic the crew, following the patterns that some of us knew by heart. However, we did not, though I was tempted real bad.

The plane shifted suddenly, then began to roll backwards for what seemed an eternity. Another vibration shifted through the fuselage, and the engines picked up their whine, the plane rolled forward. The p.a. crackled, and the co-pilot began his yak about the flight. All the while, the plane rolled and bounced its way to first flight of the day.

Then the familiar roar that I knew so well erupted from our Rolls-Royce turbines, and we were thrust into our seats. Not to be boastful, but I’ve flown so much that I almost found this boring. I stress almost, I love flying so much I’m still excited by takeoffs. Next thing we knew, the bumps stopped and the plane leapt into the dull morning glow of Southern Ontario. She banked and aimed for Florida.

Less than ten minutes later, the attendants began their rounds with orange juice and headphones for the in-flight movie, Home Alone. I had seen the movie before, but it wasn’t one that I really wanted to see first thing in the morning. Besides, we had already seen Heathers and Eddie Murphy - The Best Of Saturday Night Live earlier that morning.

Observer’s Log: Supplemental

It is now just a little past 06:30, we are now being enthralled with the antics of Home Alone (oh joy), and awaiting for our diminutive breakfast. Presently seated in 13C, my immediate neighbours are Stuart and Therese, with Therese in the window seat. I can’t think of a better way to spend 2 hours and 9 minutes. This trip isn’t off to the start I had hoped for, oh so long ago. But at least I got my alarm clock and earphones (thanks to the efforts of James who was so nice as to drop by my home at almost 1 am).

Explanation needed! First of all, I was being sarcastic when I said: “I can’t think of a better way to spend 2 hours and 9 minutes”. This is because I was once deeply beguiled by Therese, but it was Stuart who swept her off her feet. This is a long story that I will not go into detail here. When I’m with one or the other, I was fine. When they were together, I got those nasty pains in my body that make me want to, well, cry. I can now look back on those times and laugh at myself, knowing what eventually happened.

That’s why I was so glad to have retrieved my earphones. I knew that keeping myself occupied with music for the next two or so hours would be no problem. Fortunately, ’twas no problem. And as for breakfast, it was actually filling enough to keep me going until we got to our hotel later that morning (which is for me, really good).

It was about around 8:20 when our plane arrived in Orlando. I had since prepared myself for the temperatures I was expecting. I had worn a t-shirt, with a thin sweatshirt over top to keep me warm in Canada, and a pair of track pants. The track pants were now rolled up to my knees. When we disembarked, I was glad I had worn them, it was nice and warm (not hot, just warm).

We trudged down the corridor, heading for baggage claim and immigration. Mr. Davidson almost instantly began to complain about something (his hearing wasn’t back to normal yet - there was something else, but I don’t recall if he mentioned what it was), and asked if anyone had a tissue. Mrs. Crewe was amazed at this, I was amazed that she was amazed (of course, I was used to this kind of reaction to flying as my mother had the same problem).

The baggage took sometime to come through, the instruments kept plugging up the baggage conveyor. The larger instruments (like the double bass) were brought around by hand. After about a half hour, all the luggage had been collected and loaded onto luggage carts. Then we hauled the lot across the room (Karl and I shared a cart to save room) to the opposite side where all the instruments and baggage (aside from out carry-ons) were loaded onto another conveyor belt. Then we went through another security check (X-Ray machine and all) and hopped on a monorail car which took us over to the main building of Orlando airport.

It was not the same airport I remembered from the last time I had been in Orlando. Of course, that may be due to the fact that the last time was about eleven years previous. Back then, you got off onto the tarmac, not into a three building, monorail connected terminal system with automated baggage control.

It didn’t take us long to find the second baggage claim at the main building. But it did take a long time for our stuff to come through, almost forty-five minutes for all of it to appear. By this time, most of us had been awake for about twenty-four hours or more. Time had almost no concept to the majority of the group.

After a while, Beber called for all residents of Bus One to move out to the sidewalk outside, as our bus was due to arrive soon (I use “resident” because we spent a lot of time on those buses). All the luggage and instruments were carted outside. The sidewalk platform was tiled, and utterly spotless.

“Holy shit!” exclaimed Chris, “This is so clean you could eat off it!”

There was another twenty minute or so wait there too, before our two buses arrived. Bus One came about ten minutes before Bus Two, which gave us some time to load all the stuff on it. That was when we first met Dick, our driver. Even though it wasn’t in his job description, he helped us load the bus. It took James, Chris, Sonny, Paul, Chris Stratten and I about fifteen minutes and a lot of careful planning to get all the stuff on.

The reason for the length of time was that the decision was made to put all the instruments and equipment on one bus, ours. Somehow, we not only managed to get all that on, but all the our luggage as well. By the time we were done, the bus sat about four inches lower, and you couldn’t stuff an orange into the lower compartments.

Then we headed out, to a parking space just away from the platform. We had to wait for Bus Two to come. While we waited, Dick told us, “Welcome to Orlando, my name is Dick and I’ll be your driver for the majority of your stay. I’ve lived here for eighteen years, and I’ll try to answer any questions you have about the area. And if I don’t know the answer, I’ll lie.”

Then James tried to pop the rear hatch to let some air into the bus. That’s when we were told about the air conditioning ports. I don’t call myself the Observer for nothing. Most of the bus didn’t hear Dick the first time ’round. I saw him show it to one of the upper rows, and followed suit.

Dick promptly went down the aisle, showing everyone else. When he got to me, I told him that I figured it out, and I was cooling off with the machine driven breeze. Dick tipped his hat back on his head and…

“Figured it out huh? Where’re ya from?” he asked, I thought for a moment I had pissed him off. But, having experience in annoying people, I had a hunch he was a bit like me. So I paused a moment before replying.

“Canada. Southern Ontario.”

“I thought so!” he said, with a straight face. Then he laughed and walked to his seat. It was then I knew for certain that we had a cool driver, and hoped that we had him the entire time.

Bus Two emerged from the Terminal about ten minutes after us, and we headed off to the hotel. Bus Two’s driver was a bit of a twit, or at least that was the impression that I got. He seemed to get lost a bit too often. Anyway, we hit the highway and headed off in what I thought was the direction of our hotel.

We passed about half a dozen Days Inns (the hotel chain we were to be staying at), and about twenty other hotels. We went through two or three toll booths (a lovely little detail that I had totally forgotten about, something I’m glad Canada has not adopted) and an hour of traffic before we turned off the highway. Dick did some fancy maneuvering (which is not easy with a four ton bus) and avoided more traffic.

Then we were on our way. Soon, we passed the Mercado Shopping Center, the location of one of our performances later on that week. Less than five minutes later, we realized that we had literally double-backed on ourselves, going through an underpass of the highway we had just come off of. Had we gotten off at that turn off, we would have saved about a good half hour or so. I assumed that Dick didn’t know exactly the best way to get us there, or he wanted to show us a couple things along the way.

We passed by Sea World almost immediately after that, not to mention more tourist stores than I could count in the five days we were there. After a long while, we arrived at a large intersection, where I was bombarded with a wicked feeling of deja vu. Had we kept going straight, we would have landed in Disney World. It was the same intersection I had gone through eleven years previous.

We turned to the left and continued along that road. Another left and a longer drive, and we arrived at our hotel. It took long enough, but we were glad to have arrived. But the wait wasn’t over yet. First we had to wait for our guide (who had met us at Toronto and was with us the entire time - never did find out what his name was) to get our rooms organized.

What we did end up with were common rooms to put our stuff until the rest of the rooms were ready. Dick then booted us around back, where the rooms were. We unloaded into the common rooms and proceeded to the lobby of the hotel to get our separate room keys. James found out that our room was one of the common ones, and we had to find out who had the key. J had gotten it off of someone (never did find out who) and moved in. We followed suit very quickly. If you’re wondering what had happened to the instruments, they were all left on the bus. We were going to a performance that night, and it was easier to leave them where they were.

The rooms were virtually all the same, aside from the positioning of the furniture and the door. In our room, the air conditioner sat to the immediate right of the door (and was usually on… high); a table just in front of the air conditioner; then James and Stuart’s bed; a night table and a gap between James and Stuart’s bed and Chris’ and my bed where J’s mattress sat; then Chris’ and my bed. Across from the beds on the other wall sat a two drawer bureau with a television and radio combination. At the back of the room was the mirror, sink, counter and clothes rack. Then, to the side of the room with the beds (to the right from the door) sat the bathroom, with shower / bathtub and toilet. Basic, but comfortable.

We changed quickly into a fresh change of clothes (even my rolled up track pants were too warm now) and we headed out. We were starving, we needed some kind of nourishment. The guys were ready fast enough, the women took slightly longer, which is understandable. Let’s face it, men are slobs! I should know, I’m one of them.

Then we were off to the mall diagonal to our hotel. We had already shifted into shopping mode, and we knew there were restaurants in there (I haven’t found a mall without a restaurant yet). Sure enough, we found food really quickly. I indulged in Chinese something, I only recognized the beef and green peppers, and the rice. Come to think of it, that was all I had anyway! But that’s beside the point…

After filling that empty void within me, we headed off one at a time to check out the rest of the mall. There was a music store there, but I opted not to buy anything for a while, I wanted to shop around first. There was also an interesting video arcade (where I found Chris deeply involved in Aliens, I joined in), an Eckerd’s Drugstore, a Walmart and a few other dinky little shops.

We eventually gave the mall up when Chris and I lost track of everyone. So we headed back to the room, hitting the 7-11 along the way. It was nice to have that place really close to us. There we snagged a twelve pack of Pepsi (or as Hil might put it, half of a two by four) and a pack of donuts. Yes, we were off to a nutritious start!

Passing by the pool, I found Linda in the fenced in area, catching some rays. I thought it would be nice to get a swim in. So, after returning to the room, I changed into my bathing suit, and along with James, headed to the pool. Both James and I wore Speedo style bathing suits, though I must say that James had to look better in his than myself, his body is more defined than mine.

We entered the pool zone and spread out for a moment. I went in for a quick dip, and I mean quick. That was the first time in almost two years that I had worn that bathing suit, and the water was cold. Men, every have a testicle caught in a pair a vice grips? Same feeling. I got totally wet, then got out. I got a little sun, not much, then headed back to the room.

While I was at the pool, I found out that Florida had already taken a victim. Therese’s skin is fair, almost pure white. She had sunburn in less than twenty minutes. I can assure you, though I never asked her, that it wasn’t the way she wanted this trip to get off to start.

Observer’s Log: Second Supplemental

A little over twelve hours ago, we were freezing our asses back up in Canada. Therese has already received acute sunburn. We have our room, we scouted out the local mall, raided the 7-11, went to the pool, swam a little, and silently gawked at the babes to in swimsuits (or sometimes the lack thereof).

At four o’clock that afternoon, the five of us (J, James, Stuart, Chris and myself) changed into our choir uniforms that we were to need for the performance that was to be held at a Seniors Resort somewhere in Orlando. By 16:15, we were at the buses, taking our seats. The instruments were still inside, so we didn’t have to waste our time loading it.

We spent the next three quarters of an hour turning corners, speeding down straight-aways and getting nailed by red lights before we finally arrived at our destination. It looked peaceful enough, the primary vehicles were golf carts. After hunting around, we finally found the common hall, and pulled in. Then we unloaded the bus.

Bus Two on the other hand, got lost. Their driver was forced into the wrong lane and made a bad turn. Bus Two showed up roughly ten minutes after us. Once they were off, we headed in to begin the single worst performance that any of us would ever do. Of course, you must remember that almost none of us had slept in over thirty hours by that time.

The concert began somewhere around 17:30, maybe 18:00. As I said, time really had no meaning to us. Concert Choir was the first one to perform, and we were the worst. Most of the basses were off key, almost everyone was off tempo, basically we sucked something fierce. We also managed to totally bugger up the ending to When The Saints Go Marching In. Then it was Jazz Choir’s turn.

Jazz Choir is made up mostly of the people in my group (Hil, Chris, James, Therese, Kathryn, J, Cindy Merson, Angie), and they are perfect. Never before, in all their performances, even their practices, had I heard something as small as a foul note. Even Jazz Choir was off that night. We were not in good shape.

Jazz Ensemble and Jazz Combo were next, and I lost attention. I was simply too tired to care anymore. But even though I was in La-la Land, I could hear the small discrepancies that let everyone know that we were not ready to perform. Wind Ensemble, who had performed so well they were invited to Vancouver for the Canadian Championships, played not up to snuff.

All I can say is that seniors have got to be the most polite people in the world, either that or most of them were stone deaf. They applauded after every number that the choirs and bands did, and even after all that terrible music, still gave us $98 for our troubles. Stothart desperately tried to refuse it, but she had to give in. In addition to politeness, seniors are stubborn as hell.

Afterwards, many of the audience thanked us for “a concert well done”. Following proper courtesy, we smiled as strongly as our bodies would allow and thanked them gratuitously. Then we moved all the instruments out to the buses. Let me rephrase that. A few people (including Dick and the other driver, Warren) moved the instruments out. I retreated to the bus to fall asleep, which I didn’t.

Soon, the buses were loaded with passengers and chaperones, and we returned to the hotel. Conversations echoed inside our bus, everyone knew that our performance had been well below acceptable. There is no worse critic of an artist than himself / herself. Stothart didn’t need to tell us that we had sounded horrible.

When we arrived at the hotel, the same people who loaded it, unloaded it into Mr. Roser’s room, where all the electrical stuff and the large instruments were to be kept. I think I helped with a couple things, but I was on the verge of passing out, so I don’t remember. Getting back to the room, we changed into our street clothes and prepared to head out for dinner for 20:00 (less than twenty minutes after we returned), all except me.

I was feeling like, to use a colourful metaphor, shit. I was not only exhausted, but emotionally drained. Too much of watching couples and wanting to be half of one. My mind loves pissing me off, and it does a good job of it too. Instead, I stayed behind. At first I thought I would go out on the walkway (all the room doors were outside, no inside hallways) and take in some night air. Only I was too tired to do so.

James, Stuart and Chris tried to drag me out of the room for some food, but I didn’t want to go. I think they know of my stubbornness, for they gave up trying to convince me. About fifteen minutes after they left, Linda phoned. That scared the hell out of me, the ringer was on full, and I was dozing off. She hadn’t gone to dinner either, she was too tired as well. Couldn’t blame her.

Observer’s Log: Third Supplemental

This evening’s performance sucked shitwings! It couldn’t have possibly gone any more wrong. Concert Choir was the worst, but even Jazz Choir made a couple of mistakes (major rarity). To top it all off, I can’t get you-know-who out of my mind.

Observer’s Log: Traveldate 890714.17

Day 15

We are presently at our cruising altitude of 31,000 ft heading for New York. A few minutes ago, we passed over Iceland. Earlier this morning, Kelly B., Pete and myself scouted out the market by the harbour. It felt so good to smell fresh fruit after two weeks of fish. I got to freak out a couple of people who were at breakfast today. They leave (probably left by now) for Moscow today. Both of them HATE fish.

During our tour today, we saw the neatest church. Built in the sixties, it is embedded in a rocky hill. Only the doors and dome are visible. We also went to a park dedicated to a famous Finnish composer, but I can’t spell let alone remember his name! We are approx. 4 hours. out of New York. Almost Home.

No-one in our room moved quickly that morning. My alarm went off, instantly waking everyone in the room. Although we were awake, we were slow to move. My brain was the first to kick in and as a result, was the first in the shower. That was a slow morning. After I got out, feeling a hell of a lot better than I went in, I changed into the clothes that were to last me for the next 24 hours and stuffed everything else into my suitcase.

Leaving our baggage in our room, we progressed downstairs for breakfast. What a surprise! Pancakes, cereal and milk, eggs, just about anything we hadn’t had in the past two weeks. But in all that wonderful food, the only thing I could eat was the same thing we had been eating for the past two weeks. Talk about pathetic irony.

As I ate with Jason, we were joined by a pair of girls who were heading to the Soviet Union that day. When she asked us what to expect, we let her in on most of the ugly details. God it was fun! My favorite part was when we told one of them that fish was served every night at dinner. She hated fish. After two weeks, so did I.

Following breakfast, we ended up with about two hours of free time to get in a shopping or whatever before we had to leave to catch our flight to New York. Pete, Kelly, Jason and I decided to see what we could find. We got about a block before we ran into Mr. and Mrs. Hosking who were returning after an early morning romp through Helsinki. That’s when we found out about the open market at the harbour.

Our mission: find the market. We didn’t realize how close we were to the harbour to begin with. It just took us a while to find it. After going down enough roads, we managed to run into Kim and Lisa P, who were shopping (of all things). That’s when we lost Jason to Kim.

So the remaining three of us continued in the quest for the bazaar. We ended up in the old town square, thinking that’s where the market was. It wasn’t. And we had no idea where to go. Kelly however, with her eagle eyes, spotted something through an alley. So we followed her lead down the narrowest sidewalk I had ever been on to end up across the street from the market.

Even from there, our lungs were filled with the smell of fresh fruit. It was heaven. After two weeks of smog and canned peas that had the consistency of monkey balls, the smell of fresh strawberries was unbelievable good, even though I can only eat them frozen in ice cream. The market itself isn’t permanent and probably changes its configuration from day to day. But I’ll guarantee that they do a lot of business no matter where they are. Fruit stands, vegetable stands and souvenir stands were all over the place. We had a ball. Pete and Kelly indulged themselves on a large basket of strawberries while I spent sometime looking around to see what I could find.

Lo and behold, I found a stand that sold t-shirts, my favorite kind of souvenir. I quickly found a shirt that said “Suomi Finland”. Suomi means Finland in Finnish. I had to get it. But I found another shirt that I wanted. It said “I survived CCCP”. I got ‘em both, and they weren’t cheap. I thought I was going to have a bit of trouble communicating with the person attending. But much to my surprise, she spoke perfect English, with no accent yet! Couldn’t resist a chat with her.

After my purchase, the three of us continued to look around. I was kind of amazed at all the fur hats, fur coats, fur anything and everything. Animal rights activists would have had a field day! But we were more interested in other things. We found another booth that sold t-shirts, attended by a guy who looked awful familiar. Then I placed him. Remember that episode of Gilligan’s Island where a Russian dresses up like a ghost and tries to scare the castaways off the island? He looked like the Russian. Uncanny resemblance. We talked with him too. Pete bought a t-shirt I rather liked. It had a Nazi swastika in one circle, a Sickle and hammer in another. Both had large slashes through them. Humourous, I must admit.

After that, we had no choice but to return to our hotel, so we could head for the airport. Upon our arrival, we temporarily split up (Kelly to her room, Pete and I to ours) to retrieve our luggage. But Shaun or Jason had the key, and neither of them had returned yet so we couldn’t get in. I had to get a spare from the front desk. We then hauled our luggage down and I dropped the key back off as both Jason and Shaun had returned. Our bags were loaded on the bus and we took our spots on the bus waiting for the others.

Finally, we were ready to roll, tour guide and all. Our flight didn’t leave until about two o’clock so we had some time to kill. We didn’t leave right away though, we had to wait for a couple of people to return their keys. There were a handful of people who tried to keep their room keys from every hotel we stayed at. The ones in the Soviet Union were fairly easy to keep, but this one wanted them all back, or we wouldn’t get our passports.

Finally, Greg returned his key and we were on our way. Helsinki is a nice place to visit and search by yourself, unlike Soviet cities. By bus tour, it’s not so nice. We came to the same square that Kelly, Pete and I had found earlier. We stopped for a quick photo session. Then we loaded back up to continue the trip. We passed by the market and through the downtown core of Helsinki. Along our route, our guide filled us in on some problems in Helsinki, namely the price of homes. If you want to move there, try and find a small apartment, that’s about as much as you’ll be able to afford, unless you’re rich.

We passed several embassies, America, Turkish, and the new British embassy, still under construction. That road soon brought us to the shoreline, where we found people cleaning their rugs in the sea water, which we were told was a kind of ritual. A short trip from there brought us to the Helsinki shipyards. We didn’t get off, we just went by it. But we miss anything, we got a good look at the biggest cruise liner I have ever seen. Undoubtedly they’ll get bigger in the coming years. At that point we reentered the city. We never really left, we just got away from most of the buildings. We were then briefed on a church.

“Another church?” I thought to myself in dismay. This was no ordinary church though, from the outside, it looked like a large pile of rocks. Of course, that’s what it was supposed to look like, or so we were told. We stopped at near the entrance, part of our tour was to take us inside. From the outside, looking through the doors, it still didn’t look like a church. It looked more like some fad sixties house than a religious structure. Inside, we were told to be quieter than church mice. That was hard in that place, there were no mice in there to model ourselves after.

Besides, the place was so awesome, we couldn’t help talking about it. The inside was circular, with one door. The main room was about fifty to sixty metres in diametre and about twenty metres high. The roof alone was interesting, made from eighteen miles of copper wire. Between the outer edge of the roof and the top of the wall was a ring of clear windows.

Across the room from the doors and a little to the left (I think) sat the organ, its pipes creeping up the wall. Immediately across from the door sat the traditional cross. Except for those two items, it sure didn’t look like church to me. That’s probably why I liked it so much.

The church is small, not much larger than the majority of the ones we visited in the Soviet Union. As a result, the structure quickly lost its intrigue, and most of us exited to find something a bit more interesting. What we found was a store across the road. A few of us picked up something to drink while the rest of us view the souvenirs. I already had two t-shirts, and didn’t need anything else.

Our tour progressed back to the waterfront, along the shore to a memorial park not far from the city’s centre. From the edge, you have no idea who it’s a memorial to, there are no signs. It’s when you find the sculptures in the middle that you know. To the man who created Finlandia, Sibelius.

To be honest with you, I had never heard of him before. If I had, I don’t remember it. The park was small, many trees, a small pond with a fountain in the centre, a sculpture made of long vertical tubes and a relief of Sibelius’ head. We didn’t stay there long, there really wasn’t much else to see. We hopped back on the bus and headed back into the city again, hoping that we’d find something a little interesting.

We soon arrived at the site of the 1952 Summer Olympics. We didn’t get off the bus though, we were getting a bit pressed for time. We took a few quick pictures as we zipped by. We did stop a bit after it, where our tour guide got off. Our next and final destination was the airport.

It didn’t take us long, we only got about three quarters of the way through American Pie (the extended version) before we arrived at the airport. At that point, the bus was emptied of its occupants and cargo beneath. We headed inside and walked rather briskly to the check-in counters for the long task of departure. It took about ten to twenty minutes to check everyone in. I was one of the last in line. By the time my turn came around, the only other person left was Jason.

“Would to two of you liked to be seated together?” was the clerks question.

Now I probably didn’t get across the strain that Jason and I shared during the last few days of the trip. But we both knew that relations were strained and we knew how long the flight was. We both knew the answer.

“After two weeks of living with each other, we’ll be at each other’s throats in under two hours.” we replied in unison.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’.” said the clerk.

“Smart man.” said Jason. So we ended up at opposite ends of the plane.

Following the usual routine, we ended up in the X-ray zone. As my largest bag had already been sent on to the plane from check-in, all I had was my camera bag and my carryon. The carryon bag went in but I tried to pass my camera bag around. All I got was …

“If the film speed is a thousand or over, we’ll look at it. Otherwise just pass it through please.” said one of the guards in a monotone voice. Boy these guys looked like they liked their jobs!

When I reached the other side, which for some odd reason looked a little familiar (gee, I wonder why), I happened to find everyone else. We were all grouped around the gate to our airplane (it was the first time since Toronto that we didn’t get on from the tarmac since Toronto). We had about 45 minutes before our plane boarded. This gave us some time to check out the stores again. I say again because we had checked them all out two weeks before. We did managed to pick up something to eat and drink. That was a good idea as we wouldn’t get anything to eat until later on during the flight.

While I was looking around, I managed to see a sign of departure flights. A flight was leaving as I watched … to Toronto. We could have made that flight easily if we hadn’t taken that tour in the morning. Instead, we had to go through JFK and La Guardia before we got home. A small side trip that would soon prove to be rather interesting.

At about a quarter to two, we boarded for our flight. I was four rows from the rear of our DC10. I had never been in a DC10 before and I’ll tell you one thing, I wish we were in a DC8. There was no leg room at all. It was a nine hour flight to top it off.

Four days after we got home, my dislike of DC10’s grew to a pure fear of them, when a DC10 almost identical to ours (aside from the airline) crashed in Sioux City, Iowa. That completely freaked me out. I know that it was a chance occurrence, but it still gave the willies.

Anyway, at about five minutes after two, we departed from the terminal and taxied to our position on the runway. It was one of the few times we left on time. In the Soviet Union, we really didn’t have a departure time, so we never knew if we were early or late. I had a window seat once again. My neighbour was a Finnish businessman heading for New York on, what else, business. We talked only a few times during the entire flight. I have to remember for the future to get an aisle seat on long flights. My earlier decision not to sit with Jason was proved to be of poor judgment.

About an hour and a half into the flight, our lunch (or dinner as that case might have been, I had no idea what time it was) was served. Being airplane food (which I like a lot), it did not last long in front of me. Unfortunately, the flight was full and that was all I got. Roughly an hour later, we got our in-flight film, Cousins. BORING! I couldn’t watch it at all. I mean come on! In June they had Rain Man and at that time, half way around the world, they had one of my favorite films, Who Framed Roger Rabbit? No wonder the flight went so slow.

Along our route, we passed over Quebec. I kept thinking “Hey, just give me a parachute. I’ve had enough of this flight!” But we kept on towards the U.S. of A. After an eternity on the air, we set down at John F. Kennedy International airport just outside of New York. Then the irony and the fun began. Irony? For starters, it was pissing rain. I was not having a good day. The last thing I wanted to see was rain. And to make it worse, we didn’t even come near the terminal to get off. We parked out on the tarmac again! So we waited for special lift buses to come and take us over to the terminal. Those of us in the back had to wait a hell of a long time to finally get out. So far, not so good.

When we got off in the terminal, we were directed down the hall. Dummy me, I should have known … Immigration and Customs. Our connecting flight was at La Guardia and for the life of me, I’ll never understand why they don’t just have a shuttle bus!

There were about a thousand people in that room. Most of them were from a country other than Canada. In case you’re wondering, Canadians get easy access to America, but not as easily as Americans. Jamie, being an American, just walked right through to a very short American entrance.

The line moved agonizingly slow. Mr. Phillips, Jeremy and Andrew were the first of our group to hit the line. The Three Musketeers, Konrad, Chris, Marcus and myself were not far behind. We knew that we had a while to wait. Almost an hour and a half later, we were about to get to the immigration booths. There was a guard at the front, guiding us to awaiting booths. That must be the worst place to work if you hate people.

Once we got through, we all headed over to the baggage retrieval area. Those of us who had accumulated then tried to get the bags of others in our group and group them all together. Slowly, one by one, more of our group came through. This was not good, they were coming in too slow. The clock was ticking fast. We had precious little time before our flight and we all wanted to make it. Because of this, Mr. Phillips took off to try and find our bus. But before leaving, he gave us strict instructions not to go through customs.

About fifteen minutes later, some of us began to go through. We couldn’t be bothered to wait any longer. However, a few of us didn’t quite get the idea that we had to pass by clerks. Those of us who did had to turn them back, otherwise they wouldn’t get out of that room. We didn’t stay long on the other side. Security then had us move outside. It was probably for the better, it was getting rather warm in there.

We found our spot outside at the corner of an overhang in the fresh air (fresh New York air? Another oxymoron). Fortunately for us there was a roof over our heads. As most of us were getting comfortable, we saw a distant flash followed five seconds later by a clap of thunder.

Remembering the Kiev Night train, I instinctively turned around and glanced at Toni. I was right. Her dismal mood (similar to everyone else’s) had suddenly brightened up and her frown was replaced with a huge smile.

“AWRIGHT!” she cheered at the sound of thunder. Her mood perked a few of us up too.

Then the rain hit. And it did not come lightly. A better analogy than rain might be Niagara Falls. This was maybe the first time everyone dug out their rain jackets so they wouldn’t get soaked. Even under the overhang we were getting wet.

A long wait later, KB finally showed with the bad news. Our bus had come for us, but because we didn’t show up (we were still in Immigration), it took off without us. KB had to phone Stockholm, Sweden (the HQ of EF) to get the name of our bus company. A second call went out to find our bus. He was assured one would arrive in time.

We picked all our stuff up and headed over to the area KB said the bus would come and pick us up. No problem right? Almost. We had less than half an hour to get to La Guardia, check-in and get to our plane. Everyone was ready when the bus did arrive. The bags were loaded at light speed and we were outta there in under five minutes. But we still had one very large problem … we were trying to get to one of the busiest airports on the Eastern coast, on a Friday, during rush hour. Time was not on our side.

We found out the name of our driver through the efforts of Lisa P. When she screamed it to the rest of the bus, all of us started cheering at him. A couple of us shouted …

“STEP ON IT GEORGE!!”

We popped Mr. Phillips’ tape back in and finished off the last quarter of American Pie. We listed to only two or three songs during the time we were going to La Guardia. Hotel California and the above are the ones I remember.

It was looking like a lost cause. Most of us doubted that we were going to make that flight. Konrad (my neighbour at the time) believed that we would make it. He tried to get everyone else going via The Wave, but didn’t get much response. Just as it was beginning to look utterly hopeless, someone spotted a low flying DC9. La Guardia! Everyone’s hopes suddenly lifted two fold. But we had only about ten minutes to catch that plane. George spotted a break in the traffic and floored it, getting us into the airport’s driveway.

We got in at the Eastern end (and saw the pilots on strike) and began to pass every major (and no so major) air carrier along the way. Knowing our luck, Air Canada was at the other end.

Four minutes. We unloaded the bus almost as fast as we had loaded it. Those of us who were on the ball then whipped inside to the check-in counter. KB, of course was already there. I put my bag up to be tagged, so did Konrad.

Then the two of us looked at KB and asked “What now?” He replied to go down the hall and make the flight. So Konrad, Mr. McClelland, Paul, John and I whipped around the corner and charged down the hall as fast as we could go. Ben Johnson had nothing on us.

Three minutes. I could have sworn I heard the William Tell Overture as we whipped through the crowd of people heading for their respective flights. Then all of the sudden, the crowd got very dense. We had forgotten about the metal detectors and X-ray machine. I had to grab Konrad by his suspenders before he shot right through them. This was not going well at all.

Two minutes. We were fidgeting in line, it was obvious even to us. We were so close, yet so far. When our turn came, I didn’t give a damn about my film, I just tossed it in there. I set off the metal detector with all my coins, but the guard let me go.

One minute. The five of us continued to travel down the hall like stampeding bulls. We almost charged right by our gate. But we managed to stop on a dime (and got nine cents change). We went to one desk and were sent to another. But we made it. Before we boarded though, we told the clerks there that there were forty other people yet to come.

Everyone else made it onto the plane, but were scattered. Most of us were in the rear of the plane, the rest were somewhere up front. Greg and KB ended up in first class (the scum!). Due to our tardiness arriving, the plane was delayed at the terminal about an hour. Our luggage was going to arrive in Toronto at the same time we did. I swore never to gripe about a delayed flight again.

When we did finally leave the terminal, we thought it would be a simple wait of three or four planes and we would be off. Yeah, right! This was New York’s La Guardia, on a Friday, during rush hour. English translation: we had to wait for thirty other planes to go first.

Okay, I had to gripe about that. Everyone in the plane did. Ten I could believe, but not three times that number. Now that’s just plane outrageous. Over two hours after we were to take off, we were getting ready to follow suit. From my position in the middle of three seats, looking out the left and side windows, I could see New York, over what I assumed to be the East River.

I wanted to see New York, I intend to visit there one day. That day will be December 31st, 1999. Hey, I wanna be around for the biggest bash the human race will ever see. And I won’t be going alone!

Suddenly, the engines roared. The G-forces crept up on us, pushing us back in our seats. Next thing we knew, we were in the wild blue yonder, only a metal casing between us, a few thousand feet and the ground. The flight was a short one, a little over an hour or so. There wasn’t much to see or do. A lot of us fell asleep, it was late in the evening back in Helsinki, the time we were still working on.

During the flight, I kept playing a tune over and over in my head. I didn’t have the tape (I had neglected to bring it) but after listening to it enough to wear it out, I had it memorized. It was one of Phil Collins’ classics, a rather fitting one for us all. Take me home.

The plane began to descend, soon we saw Hamilton harbour. We were close, very close. The plane continued to get lower. I dug for another tape in my bag. The wing extended and the landing gear dropped. It would not be long now. Timing landings was something I was always good at. The theme to Mission: Impossible finished just seconds before we touched down. When we did, everyone in the back let out a very loud cheer. We were home.

And for the first time since we left, we pulled into the terminal to get off. No more buses. We were in no rush to get off the plane. We were all half comatose. But before we could go completely brain dead, we had to get through customs. Two booths and about a hundred people. As we were at the back of the plane, we were also in the back of the line. The crew of the airline had no trouble, they whipped right through their own personal line. One of them commented about my hat. I was wearing the one I had traded for with Igor, it was coated with all my pins.

The guard at the crew’s booth opened it to the rest of us, and I jumped to be the first in line.

“Where are you coming from?” he asked me.

“Soviet Union.” I replied wearily.

“Welcome back.”

“Thanks, I needed that!”

One by one, we got through and headed down the escalator to the baggage claim area. Our luggage was just beginning to come through. KB had already got his and was working his way out. We had to check in with him before we left. A couple seconds later, my only piece of luggage appeared. I hefted it off the conveyor belt and without a second thought, headed outside.

I found KB talking to my dad (somehow, I wasn’t surprised at all). I then told KB I was cutting out before I fell flat on my face. I was utterly drained.

“So Tigger [that's what my dad calls me], how are ya?” asked my father.

“Dad,” I said in a very weary voice, “all I want is three things: my own bed, a long sleep, and a large pizza with double cheese and pepperoni!”

With that my mom, my dad and I vacated the premises for home. I only wish that I had stuck around to say goodbye to everyone. I knew that we were to get together again in September to finish the last of our classes, but I still felt like I had to say “catch ya later dudes!”

I can imagine (something I do rather well) what happened. I can guess that a fair number of people cried and undoubtedly, phone numbers were passed around. By that time, I was on the highway home. Upon my arrival, I grabbed something to eat (we hadn’t eaten a thing since the Helsinki flight, aside from a pack of peanuts at La Guardia), brushed my teeth, scribbled down a final journal entry and went to bed.

I should have fallen asleep. But I still couldn’t help but think about one thing. It had been nagging be ever since I had got up that morning. Was that night really the end? Or was it simply the beginning of something much larger? Only time will tell.

Observer’s Log: Supplemental

We barely made our connecting flight to Toronto. You should have seen us sprinting through La Guardia in order to make our flight. Because of us, the flight was delayed about an hour and we had to taxi behind about 30 other planes. Upon arrival in Toronto, we all cheered. We then went through customs, said our good-byes, and disappeared into the night.

Observer’s Log: Traveldate 890713.11

Day 14

We have just visited St. Issac’s Cathedral near the Neva. It is a very large cathedral, compared to others that we have seen. Established in the early to mid 1800’s, it is a younger cathedral but due to Nazi attack, it is one that has needed much restoration. The inside is very impressive. There is a ton of room and precious metals and stones line the walls and pillars. The outside still needs some work but it still looks fine. One of the most impressive things is that the entire building is set on hundreds of logs. Another is the pillars out front. They are about 100 ft. high and about 10 ft. wide and all one piece.

I didn’t give Pete or Shaun a wake up call that morning. I didn’t think they needed one. They didn’t, they were downstairs before me with their luggage. We checked out before breakfast, we would not be returning there for lunch. From there came breakfast at the restaurant ’round the corner. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who had been bugged. The only difference was that Lisa V’s, Lisa P’s and Greg’s bugs were all cockroaches.

I never saw any cockroaches in my room during my stay. I saw a couple of mosquitoes (both of which I squashed) and an ant or two. But no cockroaches. It was because of the cockroaches that we saw a major change in Lisa V. At the beginning of that trip, Lisa was akin to a nun (not quite, but damn close). Back then, she probably would have shied away from doing any harm. During our last night however, she nailed fifteen of the critters with her bare hands.

After our final breakfast, we returned to the hotel to remove our bags from the lobby. As the whole group was present again, we needed two buses. We got a new one again. Most of us in the Circle headed right for it. We thought that might as well live it up while we still could.

Even though we were leaving Leningrad that day, we still had some touring left to do. Our only historical site that day was St. Issac’s Cathedral, about a block or two from the Neva. As the bus was new, we knew we could rely on the tape deck. In went a cassette of the Doors. That was perhaps the first time I was formally introduced to that group. That trip in general was an introduction to groups I had never listened to before.

From the outside, the cathedral didn’t look too good. In fact, it looked as if it had just been razed by fire. The surface was black and scaffolding was erected all over the place. Little did I know that renovations were still in progress and were likely to be that way for a couple years to come.

As we were about to get off our guides informed us that at the cathedral, there was a charge to take pictures, another charge for flash pictures and an even higher charge for renting a camera. I only heard the renting prices and made the stupid mistake of leaving my camera in the bus. As we walked towards the entrance, we glanced back to see our bus driver dancing in his seat. We had left the Doors in the player.

There was a guard who made us all line up single file (she had surprisingly excellent English) and told us to watch our step as we went in. I quickly found out what she meant went I tripped on a step on the way in. Fortunately, I regained my balance quickly. Two seconds later, I found myself wanting to run back out to our bus and get my camera. Although this was the umpteenth church we had seen in the Soviet Union, this was the first to really catch my attention.

The interior volume was in my opinion, a little less than ten times that of any other church we had been in. Where the other churches may have used paint to make an impression, St. Issac’s used gold and semiprecious stones (some of which were found to be lethal to exposed skin, which was known only after several of the craftsmen mysteriously dropped dead).

As in all the other cathedrals, there was the iconostasis above the altar. But this one was much larger than any other we had seen before. The cathedral hadn’t had a service in it since World War Two. During that time, the building had been razed by fire, bombed and shot at. Through a determined effort, it was restored to it’s former glory. They had only finished the inside when we were there, the outside was still being worked on.

As the church was now a historical site, small stands with pictures and models depicting the original construction and the restoration. The models depicted the raising of the columns in front and the multitude of logs that the cathedral sat on. Since Leningrad was founded on swampland, the base for something as massive as a cathedral had to be very strong. Despite the fact that I neglected to bring my camera, I still remember St. Issac’s very well. This is because it left a very big impression on me, and probably the others too.

What really shook me was an impromptu concert by a choir group. All of the sudden, they broke out in song. I never did find out what they were singing, but with the acoustics in there, it sent chills down my spine.

I’ll try to explain the place, so you have an idea of what I’m talking about (this is because people usually don’t). The main chamber is over twenty metres high, with three smaller chambers lying to the northern, western and southern sides. Directly above the main chamber is a kind of cupola, which supplies most of the outdoor light.

At the eastern end is the iconostasis, altar and the priest’s chambers. The priest’s chamber is a small room just beyond the iconostasis. The only way in from the cathedral’s vestibule is through two large doors the reside in the middle, under a painting of Jesus.

Following a half hour or so of looking and talking (mostly to myself, my comments went unheard by others), I exited through the north side, gandered at the columns that supported part of the roof, and went back to my bus.

The bus driver was still hopping in his seat, but I didn’t take note of what was playing. Several others had bailed out of the cathedral before me. Couldn’t blame them either, after two weeks of religious institutions, I was kind of surprised no-one went nuts or something.

We bopped to the tunes over the P.A. system until our guides returned with the remainder of the group. Then we headed out for our final destination in the Soviet Union, aside from the airport.

It’s supposedly the largest BS shop in the Soviet Union, but the one is Moscow still seemed a big bigger. But I think no-one really cared, it was our last shot at a store before we left. It was time to stock up on a few things. The store had four or six divisions (it was a small even number), and we had two hours to take our time going through all of them.

I had a promise to live up to, so I spent the first few minutes tracking down the food section. I found Pepsi, loads of it. For now, I thought, I’ll check out the rest of the place. I ran into just about everyone as I hopped from room to room, carefully mauling over everything in sight. I did find something in one room that I really wanted … more pins.

A large sectioned tray had been laid out with about twenty to thirty different ones. It took me about ten minutes to sort through them all. When I was done, I had a two huge handfuls of them. When I went to buy them at the cash register, I just beat another American student by about two seconds or so. But I let her go first, she had a lot less to buy than I did. I rang up a total of ten dollars (Canadian) worth of pins. I was almost shocked at the amount, but then again, I did take a lot of them too.

Pepsi was the next thing on my list, I had to pay off the Suhs as I had promised (to this date, I haven’t gone back on one). I picked up three and was about to go for two more when I saw Helen (it might have been Mina, I had a hard time remembering who was who) and took two of hers.

I paid for the Pepsi (obviously) and returned the two bottles to the Suhs. Just as I was about to leave, I realized I needed a bottle opener. I quickly turned to the cashier and asked her about an opener. Actually, I just motioned it, I doubted she spoke English. She then handed me one from a small stack. I said “thank you” (in Russian) and left. It wasn’t until I got outside that I noticed the price stamped on the back and realized that I was supposed to pay for it. As no-one was coming after me, I guessed that either they didn’t care or I was wrong.

Returning to the bus, I dropped off my Pepsi and my pins, grabbed my camera and went over to the water’s edge. The BS shop was next to a rather large Intourist hotel (as I said earlier, the good Intourist hotels were the ones we didn’t stay in) and only a couple hundred metres from the Gulf of Finland.

There wasn’t a lot to take photos of, but I did get a good shot comparing on old Intourist bus to a new one. After that, I returned my camera to the bus and hauled myself over to the lobby of the hotel next to us. We were told to meet there for lunch. Most of the adults were already there, talking to a couple who were in the midst of their own travels. A small stand near them attracted most of the younger people. There we found several things that we wanted. The best part was that the ruble was the only accepted currency. This was a big benefit for us, we could get rid of as many rubles as there were things for us to buy. I bought as many pins as I could before I ran out of cash. Not long after, the rest of the group began to show up. At that point, I remembered what Greg had told a few of us earlier in the trip: “If you see anything with Aeroflot on it, let me know!” I found an Aeroflot pin.

However, I bought the last single pin. All the others were mixed with still more pins in special books. I wanted one of them, but I couldn’t afford it. Greg took a collection from a group of us and came up with just enough for a book, at which point everyone who chipped in snitched their pins. Greg got his Aeroflot pin.

Then we found out that we weren’t eating lunch at the hotel as we had thought. We had to go back to the bus. So we got up and headed back to the bus. Most of us didn’t even get past the door though, it was raining, hard. A couple of us were daring (or just stupid) enough to run back to the bus. I forgot what happens when jeans get wet. By the time I got back to the bus, I was pretty wet, not soaked, just severely dampened. Of course, knowing my luck, the bus then started up and went over to the hotel to pick the others up. After everyone had boarded the bus again, we headed down the ramp (the hotel’s main door was raised so a ramp was used to get at it) and headed towards the heart of Leningrad again. It was probably the first time that we didn’t care that it was raining. Hell, after all, we were leaving so what did it matter to us?

The semi-familiar sight of the airport soon came into view. Our time in Leningrad and the Soviet Union was drawing to a close. We pulled up to the International terminal and unloaded our baggage, which porters then took inside. But we didn’t follow, not yet. First we had a luncheon to attend to. This was one thing that no-one complained about, we were all hungry. We were led into an adjoining building, up a flight of stairs and down a hall into the restaurant.

Radar, Marina, Jason, Suzanna and myself made up a table, and food did not last long on it. We went through two or three bottles of Pepsi and one bottle of mineral water (which tasted like carbonated sea water again). After about half an hour, Suzanna stood up and let us know that we should begin to go back to the terminal. Very few of us even moved. Mr. Phillips, Andrew, KB, two to three others and myself comprised the first batch.

We entered the terminal and went over to the mass of luggage and tried to pick out which were ours. ‘Twas no easy task either. After finding them, the next part was to go over to the check-in counter and get our bags put away. We were flying Finnair on the way out, so not only we were assured of a safe flight, but the check-in clerks spoke English. It was getting better by the minute. One-by-one we hauled our bags up on the scale and weighed them in.

Now unlike in most other places, they did not take our luggage there. I was about to walk off when they told me to take it over to another area, where several people were already lined up. They were having their bags checked. But not physically, they ran them through large X-ray machines. The guards didn’t look into the bags unless they saw something suspicious. The guy ahead of me (who wasn’t in our group) had evidently done just that, his bags were being picked apart with a fine toothed comb.

At the sight of this, every horror story and film I had seen that had portrayed something to this manner suddenly whipped through my head. I broke into a cold sweat as the guy ahead was finally waved on. Following the actions of the guard, my carryon bag and my larger one went on the X-ray machine’s conveyor belt. But I handed my camera bag for him to check. Seconds later, I had my camera bag back, along with my other two that had gone through the X-ray machine. The guard had barely even glanced at them. I was beside myself. I could have smuggled a Lada out (not like I really would have wanted one).

But I didn’t get a chance to stand beside me for very long, I was quickly followed by (and started following) Mr. Phillips into passport control. But we didn’t get very far. The guards there told us to drop off our larger bags onto another conveyor belt that would eventually get them on the plane.

Then came, as I already said, passport control. All the guard did was remove the remaining half of my visa, stamp it and wave me on. In under five minutes, I had literally exited the Soviet Union. It took us twice that time just to get in. I was kind of disappointed that I had gone through so easily. I was virtually expecting them to search my things. Jason did as well, and as a result put all his dirty (and odorous) clothes at the very top. I felt sorry for the guard who would open his (I found out later that Jason had as little trouble as I did).

There was only one obstacle left, but I wasn’t worried about it. The metal detector is the least of my worries, I was through that in under ten seconds. Beyond that was the waiting lounge. Roughly 75 metres long and twenty metres wide, it wasn’t exactly the greatest place to wait for our flight.

At the far end of the rectangular lounge sat the last Russian store I would go in. A duty free shop. Those always come in handy. I finally got to give up my film budgeting when I found some rolls of 36 exposure 400 speed Fuji film, the stuff I had already been using.

Slowly but surely, the rest of the group began to filter in. I began to notice a startling similarity between our departure there and our departure from Toronto almost two weeks earlier. Our group was taking it’s time and there were a lot of other people taking up a lot of the space.

Then the worst happened, I was practically expecting it, our flight was delayed. The surprising part was that most of the people in our group were also expecting it. Even with all man’s technical achievements, they still can’t get a plane to take off on time. The strange part was that although we were delayed, no-one seemed uptight about it. Either we had gotten used to it, or didn’t care whether or not we were late getting into Helsinki.

During our extended stay in the airport terminal, many people from our group made a trip to the duty free shop. One could find almost anything in there, despite its small size. Helen and Mina Suh, Kara Lynn, Tammy, Jamie and a couple of others all bought Sony Walkmans. One thing I will say for the Soviet Union, they really don’t care about profit. Those walkmans cost over two hundred dollars in Canada at the time. They got them for about ninety. I almost bought one myself. Jason however, could not afford one. But with my help, bought a cheaper one (by some company I had never heard of). This single purchase brought silent cheers from some of us, namely those Jason had been borrowing walkmans from.

A small group consisting of Chris, Jeremy and Sasha (maybe another couple, but I didn’t see them) got their hands on guitars and the Russian version thereof and played to their hearts content.

I spent my time setting the clocks on the Sony Walkmans for the Suhs and Kara Lynn. I don’t know why, but for some odd reason, most of the females I know are completely illiterate about electronics.

Finally our plane was announced as boarding. At this news, almost every person in that lobby stood up and rushed to the door. It took a long time to finally get everyone out that door. We couldn’t all get out at one time, we had to wait for a bus to come, pick us up and haul us out to the plane.

A sole Finnair DC9 sat out on the runway. All around it sat almost every imaginable type of military aircraft. Several of us wanted to whip out our cameras but we knew that if we tried, and a guard caught us, we wouldn’t see Canada for some time.

Pretty well everyone in our group was seated in the rear of the plane (which made sense). I can’t remember who I was seated with, but it was a short flight anyway. I do know that I was on a window seat. Just as we were beginning to move out, Derek (a couple of seats back) began to quietly shout (how’s that for an oxymoron?) about something. A MiG fighter was taxiing out behind us. He quickly whipped out his camera and told everyone to make a simultaneous sneeze or cough to muffle the noise.

The flight was a good one, all the preflight instructions were in English, something which I noticed that we didn’t get when we flew on Aeroflot. Of course, then again, Aeroflot had reportedly never crashed. That never comforted anyone. Then we began our time travel. We landed in Helsinki five minutes before we even left Leningrad. Sounds confusing doesn’t it? For those of you who don’t really know geography very well, there’s a time line between Leningrad and Helsinki (Helsinki’s an hour behind Leningrad) and the flight was 55 minutes.

When we took to the air, I mumbled a final good bye in Russian (yeah I know it’s corny, but I’m telling the story!). On our way out, some of us on the right side of the plane noticed a Russian Bear (large Soviet bomber) “escorting” us out.

Less than an hour later, we were landing in Helsinki on the same runway we had landed on the first time. Following the same routine that we had followed for the past two weeks in regards to airplanes, we had to wait for another bus to come pick us up. We all crammed ourselves on the bus (not all at one time, that would have been impossible), we were whisked across the tarmac to the same entrance we had gone through almost two weeks previous. As we were disembarking, I couldn’t resist saying..

“Isn’t this where we came in?” Talk about d�ja vu.

This time however, we weren’t going back upstairs to the terminal. We continued along the ground to passport control and luggage pickup. There were two distinct lines: one marked in red, for people who had things to declare and another marked green, for those who either didn’t have anything or those who didn’t want to declare it!

Needless to say, we went through the green. I was kind of expecting a repeat of the treatment we got in Moscow. Was I surprised! All the guards (there were two or three in the booth) did was take a quick look at me, stamp my passport and bid welcome. No questions asked.

Then came the fun part, finding our luggage. Some people (Mr. Phillips for one) never seemed to take long doing that. For some reason mine always takes awhile just to get off the plane. But I soon joined the others outside in the lower lobby. During our wait for the others, some of us who had accumulated went over to a bank stand (an actual teller) and exchanged their dollars (rubles are worthless everywhere, including the Soviet Union) into Finnish marks.

When everyone had finally accumulated in our group, we headed outside to find our bus. For some reason, we all followed Radar. It felt a little weird as we normally followed our guides, KB or Mr. Phillips. But Radar seemed to know where he was going. My attention was temporarily lost though, as we walked through the parking lot. I nearly wept. I finally saw some real vehicles! Not shoeboxes on wheels but real cars like Beemers, Mercedes-Benzes, Saabs, Fords and the odd Jaguar!

Our bus was an even greater surprise! We didn’t get something like the Russian buses we had used (not like we weren’t used to them), but we got a Eurobus! This was the true definition of coach! We threw our bags in the bus (no more porters) and quickly got on, to try and get the best seats. Those of us who were really fast got to the back of the bus, the best place.

Greg, of course, was one of us along with Lisa V, Jason and myself. That was all I could see, I was on the window. Greg spotted the sunroof (sunroof?) just above him and stood on his seat to open it. He wanted to stay up there for the entire trip to the hotel.

We began to pull out towards downtown Helsinki, where we would find our hotel, sleep, shopping and if we were lucky, McDonald’s! We all wanted to know where that was and even before we got out of the airport parking lot, someone (maybe even all of us) shouted …

“WHERE’S THE MCDONALD’S?!?”

Unfortunately, Suzanna didn’t know right off. But she did promise to find out for us as soon as she could. Well, it was better than nothing. Most of us were starving for something we readily recognized.

On the beach at Sochi, a quick catching virus began amongst all of us. It was called the “WhatI’mGoing-toEatWhenIGetHome Fever”. It wasn’t dangerous, just annoying as several people kept repeating themselves. Jason must have planned his out even before we left Canada. He wanted to make a beeline for Tim Horton’s to get, and I quote, “a coffee, black, no sugar or cream and a Boston Creme donut”. That’s how often he said it. Kelly Hogan wanted to hit every chicken joint she could think of. Didn’t blame her either, after two weeks of fish I could have gone for some poultry myself.

As we entered the highway, one of Mr. Phillips’ cassettes from his vast collection ended up in the tape deck. On it were tunes from the sixties and seventies. One of them practically became our tour theme … American Pie. Why? Beats me, I didn’t even like the song until then.

Then suddenly, someone spotted something through the dense evergreens. A sign. A red sign. A red sign with a golden arch. Almost the entire bus jumped up and ran over to the left side to get a better view. It was only a McDonald’s highway sign, written in Finnish. Everyone sat down, kind of dejected that it was not a restaurant. Greg however didn’t. He grabbed Lisa V’s camera (still looped around her neck) and ran over to the window to take pictures of it.

When we finally got into Helsinki, everyone went on a McDonald’s alert. Everyone (except the adults I should add) was trying to spot the arches and remember where they were. At first I was doing it too, but then I remembered a little known fact about Raunchy Ron’s: the only place you will see those huge arches is in North America. In Europe, those are considered too much of an eyesore. Even in downtown Quebec City, there are no arches despite the McDonald’s. All there that you see is a small dark green sign with bronze arches on them. And they’re hard to spot.

After going down enough back streets, we finally arrived at our hotel, the name of which escapes me. Here we piled off and dragged out all our luggage. Then came the fun part, trying to get a room. We were told that it was four to a room. Pete, Shaun and myself spontaneously joined up. But they wouldn’t let us take a room without a fourth. Jason was still without a room, so I grabbed him. We really didn’t have much of a choice so there was only a quick argument on it. I won.

We got our room, on the eighth floor of the eight floor hotel and headed for the first elevator. There were only three of them, two of them could only hold two people and the third was a service elevator, which could hold four. The elevators themselves were really awesome, they had no doors. It was a box, with the front and back open. You could see the walls move by as you went up.

We were the only ones on that floor. Other than us, every room was empty. We found our room, and the double doors that they had (probably for security or something). We raced in and grabbed our beds. Shaun and I grabbed singles against the walls, Pete and Jason had the two beds that had been placed sidebyside.

Before we did anything else we trashed the room. All the heavy covers were on the floor in a second, the lamp by Shaun’s bed was tipped over (gently), books scattered, etc. When we were finished, it looked like World War Three. We felt like we were at home. Despite my luck with the bed, I lost out on dibs for showers, I was last. But this gave me time to watch, of all things, The Flintstones on TV. The English was still there (English is a major language there) but there were Finnish subtitles underneath.

As I was last for the shower, I made a quick decision to avoid dinner. When we found the map to guide us to McD’s (supplied by Suzanna), I knew what I was going to eat, and it wasn’t to be found at our hotel. Besides, by the time I got out, dinner was virtually over.

A small group of us (Pete, Kelly B, Sonya, Shaun, Jamie and yours truly) took it to find the illusive home of the Big Mac. So we made a drunken beeline for it. I say drunken because we really didn’t figure it out right away. We quickly found ourselves kind of lost. We knew where we were, but we had no idea where McD’s was. Fortunately, we ran into a couple of Finnish girls who kind of gave us directions. But at least we knew we were going in the right direction.

When we reached the next corner, we ran into Anita and group. She began to tell us that it had closed. She managed to convince Jamie, but not me. First off, if the McDonald’s around the world function the same way that they did North America, they wouldn’t close until about midnight. Second, my nose can sniff out a Filet O’ Fish a mile away.

So those of us who remained (all but Jamie) proceeded down a street perpendicular to the one we had come down. Sure enough, the green and bronze sign popped out from the wall. We had found our target. Just as we were about to enter, I got a sudden fear when I realized that the menu would probably be in Finnish. Luckily, my fears were for not, the signs (with a few exceptions) were in English.

Then we all gave in to one huge Big Mac Attack! I ordered the most in the group (I was the only one not to have dinner at the hotel). My dinner consisted of a Big Mac, large fries, cheeseburger, milkshake and a sundae. It was expensive though, the total was the equivalent of fifteen dollars Canadian. But I didn’t care, it was food that I recognized and liked.

As we sat, three of us got further nourishment with our eyes. Finland has some of the most beautiful women I had ever seen (aside from the girls on our trip of course there’s a suck up if I ever heard one). Pete, Shaun and I all went gaga. Shaun began chanting “dead puppies”. At first I had totally forgotten about that until Sonya asked what he was doing. Everyone else already knew, so we filled her in. From her expression on her face, I didn’t know if she was shocked or amused.

About ten minutes after we had begun to eat Kim, Lisa P and Jason showed up. They ate considerably lighter than me. Jason had no cash left, so Kim paid for him. Nice of her wasn’t it? Hint, hint, nudge, nudge, say no more!

Following our light to heavy dinner, our group headed out to explore the Helsinki night life, leaving Kim, Lisa P and Jason behind, they didn’t want to come. We found a designated crossover and headed to a large complex across the street. It was a huge commercial complex with stores, a Pizza Hut (if I had known about that, I would have skipped McD’s), and several bars. This interested Pete. In order to get near them, we had to get through a group of skate punks. Even Europe isn’t safe from the disease. And these idiots were a hundred times worse than those back in Canada. Their idea of art was the shoddiest job of graffiti I had ever seen in my life.

We went up a set of stairs to the third or fourth level, where the bars were. Almost immediately, one of them caught Pete’s attention and we headed right for it. But before we had gone four steps, Pete stopped.

“Uh oh, forget it, that dude’s too big!”

Let me put it this way, the bouncer, the “dude” Pete was referring to, could have creamed Arnold Schwarzenegger with both arms tied behind his back. Now that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but then again, it has been a year since it happened! We avoided that one. At the next one, we not only found Chris, Konrad and Mike but we lost Pete and Kelly, who disappeared into its depths for about five minutes. I really didn’t feel like going in, I felt kind of sick. That’s the only problem with fast food, it sinks to the bottom of my stomach and solidifies.

So when Pete came back out to drag everyone else in, I told them to have a good time and headed back for the hotel. The side of the complex we were on emptied out onto the street we had come up from the hotel. But that didn’t stop me from almost getting lost.

I still can’t get over it. I got lost twice in two weeks. I never get lost. The last time I got lost was when I was five and couldn’t find my way out of a maze at Ontario Place. Even though I was several years older, the last thing I wanted to do was get lost in another city that I didn’t know, that little thought gave me the creeps.

I never really got lost, I just got scared for a moment that I was. I quickly figured out what way to go. Soon, I found myself in my room, preparing for bed. I knew I couldn’t go to sleep however, I was the only one with a key and the doors were self locking. For about an hour, all I did was look out the window, write my journal entry (which is forthcoming) and watched some Australian movie. I had no idea what was going on, I came in at about the middle of it and got lost in the plot.

Despite the fact that I was supposed to wait up for the others, I began to fall asleep. But just as I was about to drop off, a loud knocking came at the door. Opening it, I found myself face to face with Pete, Kelly, Kim, Jason, Sonya and Shaun. This was when I found out how expensive the drinks were. That’s why they came back, Pete was short on cash. So after five minutes, they left for the bar again, this time taking the key with them.

Less than five minutes later, there was another knock at the door. Just as I was about to open the inner door, there were a bunch of them. I opened the inner door and was about to reach for the outer door’s handle but found myself looking at the others again.

“Very funny.” I mumbled.

They gave up on the bar. The drinks were too much and lights out wasn’t far off anyway. So in order to keep us interested until we fell asleep, we all grabbed positions in the room and talked. Shaun and I took our beds, Sonya took one of the two chairs, Pete and Kelly sat on Pete’s bed leaving Kim and Jason to unwind on Jason’s bed. Hint, hint, nudge, nudge, say no more! While we were talking, the subject somehow changed to Dead Baby jokes. Actually, it’s fairly simple. Normal jokes come around first, and then someone in the group has to come up with the infamous “Dead something” joke. In our case, it was Shaun.

“Why do you put a baby in a blender feet first?” asked Shaun. We all knew the answer, but did not bother to say anything.

“To see the expression on its face!!” continued Shaun, who then went “AHHHHH!” at the top of his lungs while simultaneously wrenching his face into an outrageous configuration that caused the rest of us to laugh ourselves silly.

Now I know that sounds sick, the thought of it is kind of disgusting, but the way Shaun tells it is enough to make your sides split.

Within fifteen minutes, Kelly was sound asleep. Not terribly surprising, we were all tired. But the rest of us didn’t stop talking. We yapped for quite a long time to, until a knock at the door came at about eleven.

“Who is it?” asked Jason.

“Lights out!” came a muffled voice through the door. It sounded like KB. Everyone except Kelly sprang into action.

“SHIT!” I whispered loudly.

“HIDE!” whispered someone to the girls (they weren’t supposed to be in our room in the first place — another rule that we continued to ruthlessly break).

“Turn the lights off!” whispered someone else. Jason and I made our way to the doors, opening them carefully. We lucked out that time, it wasn’t KB. IT was Mr. Hanson and Mr. Howard. I heard a few sighs of relief, one of which was mine, I think. I’m pretty sure that they knew that girls were in there, but I highly doubt that they cared. They knew that we were responsible (yeah, right!) and wouldn’t try anything. The only reason it was them was they knew that we were the only ones up there. They said good night and left.

The lights remained out after that. Everyone, except poor Sonya (who was still in the chair) had reclined to a horizontal position. Kelly was still sound asleep and the rest of us were following fast. But being the pain in the ass that I was at the time, I couldn’t resist a picture. Focusing in the dark was hard, but I knew basically where I had to shoot. A couple of them heard the whine on my flash, but I denied hearing anything. Hee hee.

FLASH! Everyone, except Kelly, started shouting at me. They were blinded, so was I for that matter, there was a mirror on the other wall that reflected some of the light. But that didn’t stop Shaun from trying to attack me with the lamp next to his bed. He didn’t get far (thank God), the cord was too short.

Soon after, Kim decided to head for her own room so she could get in before everyone else fell asleep. Ten minutes later, Sonya dragged Kelly out of the room too, leaving just the four of us again. Pete, Jason and I however, could not sleep. We just kept talking. I mentioned that no-one was to clean up the room until I got a picture of it. One of my other two conscious roommates suggested getting one in the dark. Why not?

I set the flash and self timer and the rest of us (except Shaun, who had told us to “f–k off!”) promptly crashed out in some unusual positions. Pete lumped himself in a chair, Jason draped the curtains over his head and I plopped on the bed, allowing myself to fall between the cracks.

Observer’s Log: Supplemental

FINALLY!! Some REAL food! After arriving in Helsinki, Pete, Shaun, Jason and myself ran to our rooms and had a shower. While one took a shower, the rest of us watched The Flintstones in English (Finnish subtitles). Then we all went to McDonald’s were I ate too much (again!). Now I don’t mind Russian food, actually, I like most of it, but after a while, I could kill for a hamburger. Tomorrow is going to be a long day so I have returned to our room for some sleep while the rest party hardy.

Observer’s Log: Traveldate 890712.10

Day 13

WHERE THE HELL IS THE PEPSI?!? This question was asked many times last night and today. Everyone is thirsty and the BS shop doesn’t have any Pepsi. All they have is booze and tonic water. Soon I will be too desperate to care. At this moment, we are headed for Petrodvorets.

I forgot Jason wasn’t with me that night. It scared the hell of me for a second, but then I got my bearings again. I fumbled around for the alarm (which was driving me crazy with its incessant beeping) and turned it off. I was about to lay back and to some mental discussion as to what the hell I was doing in a Communist country (good timing there eh?) when I remembered that Pete and Shaun had asked me to wake them up, as they didn’t have an alarm between us.

Pete and Shaun were in a room together. Think my prophecy of Derek and Pete taking a dislike for each other came true? At first I though so, but I was later informed that passports got mixed up and Derek ended up with Greg by accident. Although that was the beginning of a trend.

I knocked on the door five times with my hand, and twice with my head (I usually do this with my sister). A couple seconds later, a weary Shaun was staring at me, probably wondering what I was doing.

“Good morning, this is your seven o’clock alarm call!” I said cheerily. Shaun looked at me, then looked at Pete, then looked back at me.

“Thanks.” he said, closing the door. I was expecting something a bit wittier than that, but after all, he had just got up.

I was about to take a shower when I remembered the water. Our guides said it was safe so long as we keep our mouths closed and our eyes shut. No good for me. The next shower I would see was in Helsinki.

I took a look out the window, hoping to see a decent day. Boy, was I fooled. It was Moscow all over again. The only good thing to come out of the weather that day was the fact that it didn’t rain. At about eight, we all grouped down in the lobby for breakfast. We expected to have a restaurant in the hotel, but were surprised to find that there wasn’t one. Our breakfast was awaiting us at a small restaurant just at the other end of our rather lengthy driveway.

As usual, they had set off an area just for us, just as the other hotels had done (it made it easier to find a place to sit down and eat!). The cheese and salami were waiting. Then came the eggs (eggs and cheese combined) that was as usual, revolting. As a bit of a bonus, there were raisin buns. But few people ate them, mainly because of the way Lisa P described them..

“These aren’t raisin buns, they’re cockroach buns!” she shouted. Just what we needed to hear first thing in the morning.

After breakfast, we went directly to our buses. We had been warned of this and had brought down the stuff we were going to need. Unfortunately, we didn’t have the same buses that we had the day before, the blue and white Italian special wasn’t there. Our trip that morning took us to Petrodvorets, more commonly known as the site of the Summer Palace. It’s not far from Leningrad, but it still takes a while to get there.

When Peter the Great founded St. Petersburg (the first name of Leningrad) back in the early 1700’s, he wanted a palace he could go to so that he could get away from the city, yet still be able to over look things. He had his palace erected in Petrodvorets. It’s the smallest of all the palaces but it’s also one of the nicest in my opinion. There isn’t a lot of junk kicking around. Very simple, that’s the way I like ‘em.

When we arrived, the guide on our bus (who was much shorter than me, pretty nonetheless) instructed us to follow her and make sure that we didn’t loose her. This was good advice considering the large parking lot was filled with fifty or more tour buses. Not only that, but the entire complex as a whole was gigantic, and packed with people.

A few minutes later, we were staring down the middle of the entire maze, looking right onto the Gulf of Finland. From where we were, I could see fountains, hundreds of them, all over the place. The palace grounds were studded with so many fountains that one would think that the ground would mud instead of soil.

The strange part about the fountains is that not one of them has a pump. All the fountains are powered by the pull of gravity (how’s that for a contradiction?). The entire area is on a slope (although you really can’t see it) and the falling motion is enough to propel the water to heights as great as fifty feet.

We then went down the staircase to the lower gardens, where all the fountains are. Our guide tried to explain something, but I didn’t hear her, I was too busy trying to keep us with all the people. It was then I saw why she wanted us to be careful. wall-to-wall tourists. We progressed down the walkway that ran on one side of the canal which also ran down the middle of the complex. When we got to the first bridge, our entire group flocked on for pictures. From the bridge, you can take a picture of the main palace from over the canal. The pictures that one takes from that position are almost identical to hundreds upon thousands of others, the bridge floor was worn where all the tourists had taken pictures.

Then we disappeared into the forest. Scattered amongst the clearings are small buildings, more fountains, and the odd palace. It didn’t take us long to find Peter the Great’s old pad. The Romanovs had an unusual sense of humour. Of all the 144 fountains in the courtyard, there were three that were actually booby traps. The amazing part were all the boobies who couldn’t stay away from them!

The first that we saw was one on the corner of Pete’s palace. It looks nothing more than a patch of small stones that were just scattered there. But along the edges are two rows of nozzles. Step on the wrong stones and you get soaked. There is a permanent wall of people around it laughing at other people dumb enough to get onto the patch.

Not far up from that one was the most impressive fountain I saw. Even up close (as close as you can get without getting wet) the Oak Tree Fountain looks like a real oak tree, though it’s made entirely of metal. To make such a tree today would probably put you into the millions of dollars (not to mention stiff upkeep rates).

In the same area as the Oak Tree Fountain was another of the booby trapped fountains. This was a larger version of the one we saw back at Pete’s palace, but it had the same effect. Step in the wrong place, and your socks get soggy (not to mention the rest of you). Just across the way was the last of the booby traps. But this one looked nothing like the previous two. This had a small circular deck with a post in the centre. On this post rested the roof, giving it the appearance of a merry-go-round minus the horses. I have no idea how this one worked (like I had an idea how the others worked!). If someone stands in the wrong place or too many people got on one side, there was a sudden rush of water from the edge of the roof. A wall of water all around the edge of the roof. If you tried to get out, you got wet. A couple from our group got on, and soon regretted that they had done so.

Our tour of the lower gardens continued. We saw a fountain which looked more like an oversized chess board tipped on its side, but I didn’t ask our guide about it. I decided not to bother. We also saw dueling turtles. Not Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, but two fountains that spat water (I think at each other, but I’m not sure, it wasn’t working at the time).

I wanted to take a picture, but a quick examination of my film stock showed me that I had only a roll and a half of film left. Until I got some more, I had to be careful what I took pictures of. Unfortunately, not many Soviet stores stock Fuji film (the only film I liked using at the time).

Soon, we were back at our bus, heading back for lunch. It took us some time to finally get everyone on, but soon we were on our way. Having two buses was a blast, I could easily bother Lisa V. She hated having her picture taken so all I had to do was point my camera at her when our bus pulled up next to theirs. After a while of just faking it, I did actually take one, but she ducked before the shutter opened.

Our bus made a quick side trip on the way back, to get a good look at a cathedral that was fairly close to the Summer Palace. It was in the traditional Russian Orthodox style, and not in any of the tour books. So everyone on our bus rushed off, took a picture, and then rushed back on.

Lunch was nothing out of the ordinary, aside from what we had to drink. We usually had two choices, one of which was often Pepsi. There was none here. Instead we had mineral water (that was the other usual) and what someone told me was Cabbage Beer. The mineral water in most places we had been was fairly good, but this stuff tasted like carbonated salt water. Despite my dislike of alcohol, I went for the beer. I had reached that point where I was too thirsty to care.

Following our lunch, it was back to touring. Another afternoon, another palace. But this time we didn’t have to leave Leningrad to find it. Although today it goes by the name of Hermitage, it used to be known as the Winter Palace. It’s one of the largest art