Living On The Edge-walk

Hello Dear Readers!

I like to think of myself as pretty brave. I enjoy my solo travel, I’m always looking for the craziest thing to do wherever I go, and I’ve eaten more dubious food than I can count.

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I have no idea what I’m in for!

So when Harrison mentioned the CN Tower Edgewalk, I immediately volunteered. For those of you unfamiliar with this Toronto-nian landmark, it looks like this:

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The Edgewalk part is up there at the veeeery top. It’s the world’s highest free walk, which means there’s no guard rail and you’re simply strapped to a thick rope as you circle around the tower, trying not to shit your pants.

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I wish I was dead!

Here’s the video. I’m the one looking like I want to die. If you scroll to about five minutes in, you can hear me cursing profusely as I attempt to walk backwards off the edge of the tower. No, I’m not kidding.

I mean, when it was finished I felt all victorious and all, but you could literally not pay me to do that again.

 

-Carissa “Bravepants” Rawson

Toronto the Good

Hello Dear Readers!

As many of you have likely noticed, Harrison tends to be in a lot of my blog posts. That would be because we are dating.

So, to that end, I went to meet his family this past September. Harrison happens to be Canadian, which is how I found myself for the very first time in the city of Toronto. I could talk crap about it, but I know he (and his family!) will read it, so I’ll refrain. Besides, I loved the city anyway. It’s large and metropolitan and really quite nice.

I will tell you that Harrison and I had been putting off meeting his family for over a year, as we both have serious commitment issues and he tends to be an overthinker. Nobody tell him I told you all that.

So the day finally came when I was to be introduced to his family, and it went a little like this: I flew in from one of my best friend’s wedding, where I was a bridesmaid:

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Hi Chrissy!

And Harrison picked me up at the airport. He and I both poorly played it cool as we rolled my suitcase to the car and got in. It was a half hour ride to his parent’s home, and we made awkward, stilted conversation as we drove.

The atmosphere in the car was morbid- as if we were making our last, trudging steps to the gallows. He white-knuckled the steering wheel as I clutched his hand ferociously, my mind whirling with fear. “What if they don’t like me? What if they think I’m…weird?

I mean, to be fair, I am weird. But they don’t need to know that!

Luckily, all my (and his) fears were for naught, as his family turned out to be amazing. I was greeted with hugs at the door, prompt bottles of wine, and excellent food. How much better could it be?

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Not pictured: all the amazing food we ate.

I also met all of his friends in a situtation that I-swear-was-not-like-a-gauntlet-of-introductions.

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In short, I had an amazing, happy time. Nothing to fear. Nothing at all.

Except for the Edgewalk, that is.

Yeah, that’s next.

-Carissa and Brit “Snackety Snack”

Poutine on the Ritz

Hello Dear Readers!
Remember when I said I ended my night in Montreal reasonably sure I wouldn’t be hungover?

Yeah.

I guess my plan to drink lots of water and not enjoy too many adult beverages backfired on me because I woke up absolutely miserable.

But time pauses for no man. So I heaved myself out of bed, showered, ate, and dragged myself into the back of a cab in order to go to the Biodome.


And guys, this place is awesome. It’s the old Olympic Park, which the Montreal-ans have converted into a number of different spaces. The Biodome itself is this huge indoor stadium, divided into four separate sections. They’ve recreated different ecosystems in each section and filled them with plants and animals from the ecosystems.


Pictures don’t really show how cool this is, but it’s really neat to walk from the tropics to a cool fall day in a matter of moments.



I also got myself a ticket to the insectarium (ew) and the botanical gardens (awesome). The gardens are huge, and I spent a wonderful amount of time wandering through them.

Then, since it was getting late, I headed out to La Banquise, courtesy of this recommendation here, and indulged myself in a huge pile of greasy poutine.

Mmmm

 

It was just what the doctor ordered for my hangover and I enjoyed practicing my 2 words of French on the wait staff, who politely indulged in my ridiculousness.

In total, I spent almost exactly 24 hours in Montreal. I met some cool people, found a secret speakeasy, gorged myself on poutine, and wandered around some really beautiful places. In short, I had a wonderful time.

I’ll be back.

-Carissa “Schwarzenegger” Rawson

Feeling French in Montreal

Hello Dear Readers!
I was in Vermont just recently (for school) and found myself with a spare day, so decided to make the quick drive up to Montreal. I’ve been to Canada a few times, but only on the west coast, and I was really looking forward to seeing if French Canada was worth all that jazz. Spoiler alert: it totally is.

Anyway, it’s two and a half hours from Northfield, Vermont, up to Montreal, so I hopped in my rental car and sped up the highway to check out French Canada. I anticipated no problems at the border, since it’s, ya know, just Canada, but the border patrol agent was having none of me.

He asked me a thousand questions, looked extremely skeptical when I said I was just staying for a day, and questioned me specifically on what I was going to do in Montreal.

“Well,” I told him, “I hear the poutine is good.”

He busted out laughing and then sent me to extra security. Clearly, poutine is not the winning answer.

After they scanned my passport, examined every stamp in the book, and interrogated me (politely. It is Canada, after all) about my plans, they finally let me through.

And then I was in! It was only about another hour to Montreal, where I stayed the night at the Intercontinental. (I used my Ambassador status to get awesome perks).

Since I was just there for the night, I wanted to make sure I didn’t waste my time. I know I’ve told you guys about the Spotted By Locals app before, but it’s essentially a curated list of things to do and see in specific cities, made by the people who actually live in them.
Which is how I found myself in a secret speakeasy hidden down a set of stairs, sipping on a handcrafted cocktail and generally feeling very posh.

I hung out at the bar there for about two hours, just enjoying my drinks and the general atmosphere, before striking up a conversation with the two people next to me.

This side of Canada is weird, in that it’s…very French. But at the same time, they’re very similar to us. They’ve got all the same stores, roads, and buildings, but everything is written in French and everyone is perfectly bilingual. They slip from English to French and back almost unconsciously, which is really cool but also really difficult for me to understand as a non-French speaker.

But it’s fun! These two were very much French Canadian, and I spent a good portion of time staring back and forth between them as I attempted to deduce what they were saying via body language.

Eventually, they told me they were headed out to a different bar, and invited me to come along.

Now, as a single female I’ve got to be careful about where I go. So I did the natural thing and asked,

“You aren’t gonna murder me in a back alley, are you?”

To which they responded, that no, of course they weren’t, so clearly that was good enough for me.

(I know I’m being flippant about this guys, but I am actually extremely careful and would never head out somewhere without telling someone/if I felt the least bit unsafe/ etc etc. Don’t worry.)

We left the speakeasy and walked a few minutes down the road, to this very fancy, very busy night club.

Now, I know you’ve all seen photos of what I wear. I was in green pants and my walking shoes, coupled with a blouse, which was the nicest thing I had with me. As a traveler, I just don’t have room for fancy pants clothes.

Me.

In contrast, the guy I was with was in a full suit and the girl had on a cocktail dress. I was in no way fit for entry and thus hid behind the both of them as we walked into the club.

I then spent the whole night thinking “Don’t look at my feet, don’t look at my fe- oh god he’s seen the tennis shoes.”

I don’t know that I’ve ever been to a real night club before, but this place was really cool. It was packed, shoulder to shoulder, and between the giant bottles of Grey Goose and sparklers, people shouted at each other and sipped glasses of wine. And this was on a Thursday.

We were there until at 2am, at which point the guy in our group had had a little bit too much to drink, so his friend (they were just friends hanging out) decided it was time to go. We Uber’ed back to my hotel and I let them in the lounge, where we hung out and drank coffee until the wee hours of the morning.

Finally, a little more sobered up, they took off in a cab and I trudged up to my room, reasonably sure I wasn’t going to be hungover.

Ha.

-Carissa “Fancy Pants” Rawson