Getting the hell out of dodge x2

It was still dark when we got up and left for the airport, once again made much easier by the awesome Sarah who drove us there. Check in was easy but finding a bank machine to get some breakfast proved impossible. So we spent our last few Canadian dollars on Tim Hortons coffee and bagels. I’d like to think it was a final homage to the home country before we took off and not desperation.

Thanks to the wonders of Air Canada’s upgraded entertainment system there was no fighting over the remotes as Adrian watched Max Payne and I watched Defiance. And 5 hours, 2 breakfast sandwiches, and 4 coffees later, we felt the plane begin to make its descent.

Looking out the window I could see the dusty mountains that surround the city, before the plane went low, really, low over the city. Since I couldn’t see the airport, I did panic just a little bit and with the addition of some turbulence, the woman behind me made use of 2 vomit bags. Didn't help calm my nerves. You see, in Toronto, the airport is way out in the middle of almost nowhere, surrounded by acres of fields, highway and other buffer. But here the airport was looked like it was in the middle of a bustling neighbourhood. And being so low and bumpy made us – okay, just me – sweat a tiny bit. Or maybe it was the lack of sleep.

But that was nothing compared to the next leg of our our journey. After finding a Scotiabank machine in the terminal (yay, no service charges), we decided to skip a $20 taxi ride in favour of a 20¢ subway ride. Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Little did we know that there are no escalators in the metro stations but there are a lot of stairs, even more when you take the wrong train and have to double back. Not a welcome site with 40 lb packs on your back. Oh well, it was all part of the adventure. And it did save us a whack of cash.

We arrived at Hotel Virreyes and had to wait 20 minutes while they finished cleaning our room. The hotel is a relic from the 40s and 50s but the bathrooms are immaculate and the bed is comfy so we’re happy.

Once unpacked, we headed out to explore the Centro Historico area our hotel is located in. We saw a dog walker struggling with at least 6 big dogs and cats walking outside windows 6 floors up but that was less stressful than navigating the sidewalks (uneven and dangerous) and street crossings (chaotic and deadly). But within 10 minutes we arrived at the Zocalo, the big square that’s synonymous with Mexico City. And it’s as big as it looks in photos. And the flag flying in the middle is even bigger. It was memorizing to watch it flapping in the wind.

We snapped out of it and headed into the Catedral Metropolitan to sit down for a moment and read our map (there’s no place to sit in the Zocalo). According to wiki, it’s the largest cathedral in the American continent. Designed by Claudio de Arcinieaga, construction started in 1573 and lasted for more than 300 years (sounds like they needed a producer and a better workback). Just as we were about to take a quick look around, an old man approached me.

He asked in Spanish if we wanted a tour.
I replied with a smile, "No gracias"
And then he got snarky and in English asked.
“Did you say no because you didn’t understand or because you don’t want one?”
“I understood. But we’re coming back tomorrow.” I still said with a smile.
That angered him further.
“Tomorrow!?! Sure you are. Why don’t you just say no if you don’t want it? Tomorrow! Maybe I won’t be here tomorrow maybe you won’t be here tomorrow!!!”

Wow, I think someone needs to make a confession because that was definitely wrath we experienced. And thanks to him, we decided not to go back to the church again. So for the second time that day, we got the hell out of dodge.

But when we stepped outside, we were surrounded by truckloads of soldiers. For a moment I wondered if we were about to witness a riot but when the soldiers pulled out musical instruments instead of guns (although I saw some of those too) I figured we were safe.

We’d stumbled upon the daily flag ceremony. So we stuck around to watch the marching band and the 12 soldiers required to gather up the flag and take it in for the night.

We walked back to the hotel now starving and exhausted thanks to the early morning and time difference, stopping for tortas (buns, filled with delicious yummy meat, cilantro, tomatoes and onions) at a street vendor. With full tummies we collapsed in bed this time escaping sore feet, and exhaustion.

*******

p.s. let me know if the rss feed is working for you - it's not working for me and I don't know how to fix it.

Repeat after me: Bah nedity, Diple bah nedity.

Two weeks of unemployment and I’m burnt out. (Yes, I can hear your tiny violins playing from here.) Thanks to a week of non-stop goodbye dinners, lunches, drinks and brunches, we’re exhausted. Good thing we have the next year to recover.

But first a special shout out. Thank you Sarah, for not only putting a roof over our head for the last week but offering to get up a 5am to drive us to the airport. Someone buy this girl a drink for us. She is awesome.

Yes, it’s true we moved even further east for the last week. We had no choice; Sarah insisted and when Sarah insists you can’t say no. On the day we check out of our hotel, we were woken by the sound of jackhammers, so we were thankful that she insisted. In the words of Adrian, “we love you Sarah!”

So east we went but east we didn’t stay there all the time – after all as I said before, it’s hard to break a lifetime of living on the west side. Well, that and we still had lots of shopping and general housekeeping to do west of Yonge Street. We went to Bank A, Bank B, storage locker, Bank C, back to Bank A, MEC, storage locker, computer store, and finally, back to our storage locker one last time to drop off our winter coats.

And in between all the errands we managed to squeeze in a couple, actually five more going away events Now, before I continue, a warning. You may want to undo the top button before reading the rest of us this.

First was dinner and drinks with Loryl. And more attempts to convince her to join us somewhere before Russia (Phase 2). If you’re anywhere near her give her a little nudge for us.

There was Victoria and Jamie’s for mac ‘n’ cheese and board games. Thanks for dinner and letting us each win a game. And your gift will be much appreciated on many a airplane/bus/train/camel/boat/donkey ride.

Then Sonali and David’s for curry and drinks on the town for the boys and drinks in the house for the girls. Thanks to Sonali for the full tummy and leftovers. Thanks to Justine and Jack for the gift. And thanks to the lads for returning Adrian in one piece.

Oh and of course my family wanted an opportunity to stuff us as well – multiple times – and even more opportunities to express their apprehension over our trip. Please stop worrying; if you need to pay ransom, bail or hospital bills, Andrea has access to our banking. I’M JUST KIDDING, MOM. Honest, we’ll be fine and if we’re not we won’t tell you.

And finally there was a stop to see Liz and Graeme and little Leon. Not only did we get fed yet again but we received a very inspiration speech courtesy of Leon. His memorable words were: “gat bough irries... Da bah nedity… Diple bah nedity”. And let me tell you, wiser words have never been spoken. For those of you not fluent in the language of 2 year olds , Leon was quoting his current hero, Balu, of the Jungle Book who said “Forget about your worries. The bear necessities, the simple bear necessities.” And we’ve now adopted it as our mantra.

Especially as we began packing our bags. Soon they were as stuffed as we were after all those dinners and we weren’t even half done. Leon’s words were coming back to haunt us and not because it was the only thing he said to us all evening. So we slowly removed things from our pack, stripping everything down to just the bear, I mean, bare necessities. Finally, at 9pm the night before we left, the zippers on our bags closed. With that out of the way, we are finally able to forget about our worries and it’s all thanks to the diple bah nedity.

Tonight we're going to party like it's 1999

Yeah, they say two thousand zero zero party over
Oops out of time
So tonight I'm gonna party like it's 1999. Yeah

Remember New Year's Eve 1999? Prince summed it up pretty good. Everyone raised a glass because who knew if the Millenium Bug was going to bring a party to and end at strike at the stroke of midnight. Well, that happy melancholy sums up our going-away shindig perfectly.

Over 50 of our closest friends turned up at the Cadillac Lounge to raise a glass (erm many glasses) to our departure. But just as many wondered when we'll be back and if we'll make it (just kidding, Mom). 

Seeing so many people there from so many places was truly overwhelming. Who knew so many people would miss us? And who knew there were so many people for us to miss? 

Liz and Adrian, this is your life. And here's to the rest of your life. 

To see the rest of the pictures, check out this link. 

Moving on up to the east side to a deluxe apartment in the sky

That's right folks for the first time in our lives, we are moving east of Yonge Street. For you non-locals, let me explain. Ask any Torontonian; this is a big deal. If you grow up on one side of Yonge Street chances are, baring any extenuating circumstances, you stay on that side of Yonge Street. No idea why but it's the truth. But after 35 years, west of Yonge I'm making the move east. Sure it's only for 17 days but it's still a pretty big deal.

In order to get here, we had to purge our apartment of 1024 cds, 843 books, 165 dvds, 42 playstation games, and all our furniture. We did it. But through a combination of craigslist, donations to goodwill and the furniturebank.org we did it. And all our remaining worldy possessions now reside in a 5x10 storage unit. We made almost $3000 from our sales. And there were a few tears shed as we packed up.

But that means that tomorrow when we check into our temporary far east deluxe apartment in the sky, we'll truly be starting over with just the packs on our back.

So where are we now?

location: Toronto
departure: March 17, 2009
savings: $49,540
return fund: £7,455

Thanks for the ride.

Today is my last day at work. I've been at TAXI for just under four years and in advertising that's like 20 regular job years. I wanted to send out a goodbye email and as a writer was consumed about how to make that message count and still be entertaining.

So here's what I sent out today.


Before taking off on my big trip, one book suggested making a will. Cheery. Well here’s one regarding everything in my office so there’s no fighting over my stuff once I’m gone, you vultures.

THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF LMB


I, LMB, a departing employee of TAXI being of sound mind and body hereby make this Will and revoke all prior Wills and Codicils.


BENEFICIARIES: I give my office property to the following persons, in no particular order:

To Rose, the speakers on my desk. Actually, they’re yours and I “borrowed” them three years ago. Hope you don’t mind.

To Natalie, the neon pink WHAM gloves. You’ll always be Pepsi to my Shirley.

To Cheryl M, my totes awes multiple Tom Feiler mugs that I won and you didn’t. :p

To Daniella, my Shrek figure. It’s no Sponge Bob bag but I’m sure you’ll love it.

To HR, all incriminating photos from various company parties, located on my hard drive.

To Kasey, a post it note with “o” written on it, so you never forget to put the “o” in account again.

To Lindsay, my collection of pens, most of them are from the reception desk anyways.

To Janis, the bottles of Advil and Tylenol in my desk. I have a feeling you’ll need them

To all you studio peeps, to be shared equally, the xyron, rulers, and knives I’m accumulated over the years – they’re right next to the label maker in my bottom drawer. Just kidding. Take the small hand mirror, because no one made me look as good as you did.

To Steve, my Untitled postcard from the British Design Museum. I know you’re the only other person who’ll find it amusing.

To Marta, the collection of salt packets in the top left drawer. Use them to de-ice the sidewalks. Pretty please. Oh and I guess you should share them with Matt, Steve and Janis.

To Bhavik and Jess, to be divided equally, any matches, lighters or cigarettes.

To Lily, my mardi gras beads and button that says “drunk” cuz a tipsy Lily always makes me laugh.

To [redacted], [redacted] and [redacted], my unused souvenir Spy in July rolling papers so you’ll never go without again.

To the account group, to be shared equally, my chair, because it didn’t give me a fraction of the support you all did.

To Peter, the poster of Mao giving a high five, cuz I know you love high fives.

To Val, my British invasion christmas party box. How did the two people not on the social committee end up doing that job?

To Gary W., the little slip of paper that says “Nyeo” instead of either “yes” or “no”.

To Ali, my collection of swipe dogtags/discounts, it’s my payment for all the boring trip talk you had to hear. Plus, I know one day they’ll be selling your photo books there.

To IT, my delete key. It’s in my jar of pens where I put it two years ago after it fell off.

To Mark Scott, the bandana from the creative offsite paintball game (circa 2005), because it’s too hard to believe you weren’t there.

To Bovey, my scissors so you can cut any beard as soon as it starts growing.

To the creative department to be divided equally, my complete annotated collection of neighbourhood dinner menus. If you’re going to work late, you’ll need some variety in your diet.

To Betty, my Party Like a Rock Star TAXI christmas party survival kit, cuz I’ve seen you on the dance floor and you are a rock star.

To Christine, mi dispensador de la cita por todas las veces cuando tomé tu grapadora. Gracias.

To Aggie, Eugene, Meghan, JC, and the rest of the fabulous producers, my TAXI hooch left over from the summer party. It’s one of the many drinks I owe you guys.

To Lance, the picture of the Sphincter Eye, cuz you actually know what it means.

To Sam, the bottle of hairspray and mousse left over from the Do They Know it’s Christmas video/music shoot three years ago.

To Caleb, four tampons and a palm tree.

To Troy, the Duran Duran poster I stole from Jeff. Keep the faith.

To finance, a collection of cab receipts and other misc. undated bills that I never got around to expensing.

To the 100s of you that I have missed, I’ve unfortunately run out of stuff. Instead please accept my thanks and lots of hugs for making these last four years so absolutely awesome.


If any beneficiary under this Will does not survive me by 30 days, then I shall be deemed to have survived such person.


PERSONAL REPRESENTATIVE OR EXECUTOR: I appoint Vera as Executor of my Will, and if s/he is unable or unwilling to serve, then I name Chris Ashton as alternate Executor. My Executor and alternate shall have all powers granted by applicable laws of my province to carry out all provisions of this Will, may use provisions and procedures for the simplified handling of estates, may hold in trust the share of any minor beneficiary until s/he reaches age 18, and shall not be required to post a bond.

I, LMB, hereby sign this Will at Toronto, Ontario on this 27 day of February, 2009

****

Remember you are all stars. And I look forward to watching you shine wherever I am in the world.
I will miss you all – yes, even you. So you had better keep in touch.

And I meant every word of it.

To sell or not to sell that is the question?

With apologies to Shakespeare, the writer, not our cat.

To sell or not to sell, that is the question;
Whether 'tis better in the end to keep
The books and cds of our collection,
Or to take cash for our years of accumulation,
And by selling, end them. To read, to watch ;
No more; and by a sell to say we end
The possession and the thousand little joys
That collecting is heir to — 'tis a consumption
Devoutly to be wish'd. To read, to watch;
To listen, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub,
For in the end of owning what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off on our trip,
Must give us pause.



This should also give you a warning about the tone of this post. Yes, it's time to get all nostalgic and sentimental. Since Christmas Eve, when Adrian and I brought home 14 rubbermaid bins, I've started the slow labourious process of packing. So far I've filled 8 bins of books, Adrian has filled 2 bins of comics and we've barely scratch the surface. That's besides the 7 bankers boxes of books and comics we've marked to sell.

I'm starting to wonder whether selling might be better. Those are hard words for this pack rat to type. By thinking of getting rid of the majority, I'm kinda questioning myself and that's not easy.

I've tried to be objective . The cost of storing versus the value of the objects. The cost of shipping versus the price for selling. Shipping estimates range from 3000-8000 dollars. Storing stuff costs about $100 per month. But those are inconclusive. Because there's another value that I place on what I own.

My name is Liz and I am a pack rat. Like most addictions there's a strong genetic factor (nature. nurture - take your pick). My parents suffer the same affliction. I don't know where they got it from or why they do it. I admit that I take pleasure in owning, organizing and accumulating. There's nothing like categorizing by subject matter, alphabetizing by author or artist, or dare I say chronological order. Yes - these things make me very happy. Maybe now you'll understand that to even contemplate getting rid of stuff, is contemplating a whole new way of thinking.

Yet, coming to the realization that I may be getting rid of a lot of it, is very appealing. To be free of all this stuff. To start afresh. It's all really freeing.

As I stare at the wall of cds, dvds, playstation games and bins of reading material that line our bowling alley/hallways, I wish I had some info to help with the decision. For example, where can I sell all this stuff that will give me the best money? And how much can I expect per piece? If you have any answers or suggestions, please leave them in a comment.

Or if you're looking for some new reading, listening or watching material or household stuff make me an offer. I'm sure eventually I won't be able to refuse.

Oh and finally. So where are we now?

location: Toronto

departure: March 17, 2009

travel fund: $49,200

return fund: £1810

Our savings goal has been essentially reached. So you'll notice a new addition to the tally. The return fund is just as important as our travel money. Because as much as we are loathe to admit it. We will have to come back to civilization one day 

2009 - the year anything is possible

Yesterday was my first day back at work in the new year. The first thing I did? Tell my boss I was leaving and where I was going. 

So how did I feel? A little something like this...

Thanks to Adam for introducing me to this clip. 

Happy 2009 everyone. I know we're looking forward to this year. I hope you are too.