Greetings from Atrak train 68 from Montreal Gare Central to New York Penn.

You join me at 70-something miles per hour, with snow as far as the eye can see, just South of US immigration. Despite the fact that standby tickets were only $100 (Canadian) on Air Canada, I decided to take one more long-haul rail journey before flying West to San Francisco. Not only are the Homeland Security folks much – well – folksier on the train, but there’s no queue and they’re not quite so strict about you continuing to play Zuma while they check your visa.

The journey is a little over ten hours which gives plenty of time to catch up on work and also to grab some sleep on top of the two hours I got last night. Another problem with staying with students is that no one ever goes to bed. 5:30am, with a train at 9am and I’m still thumbs-deep in a Goldeneye tournament on the N64.

The last time I played Goldeneye was when I was at university – seven years ago. Have they really not produced an equally good multi-player game since? No. They haven’t. Eat my throwing knife, byatch.

Another blast from the past came courtesy of Mark’s friend, Austin. Austin, you see, is a fledgling magician, with a particular interest in doing cool things with cards and coins. Due to a strange mixture of circumstances, between the ages of, I guess 14 and 21, I used to work weekends and holidays doing close up magic in restaurants and at corporate events. I was pretty decent – even if I do say so myself – and I even won some trophies with engravings of cards on them. It also paid amazingly well, for a teenager.

I’m more than a little rusty (the result of only ever doing stuff now when I’m drunk) but when Austin heard I was going to be in town, he insisted that Mark hook us up for a few hours of doing cool stuff with cards and coins. And it so it was that for the first time in nearly a decade, I found myself sitting cross-legged on a floor, drinking beer and talking about people like Michael Ammar and Paul Harris and Ricky Jay and Juan Tamaritz. It was pretty strange to rediscover all of that knowledge locked away in my head, doing nothing. And it made me really happy how quickly it all came flooding back – a bit like riding a bike, and then making it disappear, I suppose.

My entire time in Montreal was a blast – not only was it great to see Mark and his delightful girlfriend, Tiffany, again – but I also got to see the city through the eyes of locals. Lots of music and carousing, a decent amount of sight-seeing and an indecent lack of sleep, all packed into fewer than five days. Plus all of the student fun including a trip to Café Campus – a bizarre downscale French nightclub that looked like it had fallen out of the pages of Tricolor.

Splendide.

The most amazing thing, though, is how my little brother has managed to study in Montreal – living with his Montrealaise girlfriend – for almost a year without picking up a single word of French. Literally not a single word.

Tonight sees another night at The Pod – rapidly becoming my home from home – before the start of my adventures in San Francisco. Not only is San Francisco the home of my favourite American tour guide, which guarantees I’ll be pointed towards the coolest of stuff, but there are a whole load of people in town who I’ve promised to look up, so there should be plenty of company. I can’t wait.

I also have to decide properly what I’m doing post-USA which boils down to either sorting myself out somewhere to live; or deciding I don’t want to.

Meh. I’ll figure it out. First it’s time to use up the last of my Candian money on some Amtrak
coffee. Wish me luck.

…

Update: I made it to the Pod and found I’d been upgraded. Woo. Also, Rob has sent me the trailer for Lucy McLeod’s documentary about Rong…

Awesome.