"A million monkeys banging on a million typewriters for a million years will eventually reproduce the entire works of Shakespeare."

I left Halifax last weekend to pay a visit to Krista and Kurt in St. John's. I had such an amazing time over there. Some of the highlights include authentic Newfoundland fish & chips, off-roading in Kurt's dad's ATV (nearly throwing him off the back while speeding over potholes), a yummy lobster dinner, a hike around Signal Hill, and of course, getting screeched in.

For those of you not familiar with the ritual, it happens at a bar (of course). You take a shot of Screech (which is probably better-suited to stipping paint of walls than for drinking), kiss a cod or a puffin, and then shout for all to hear: "Indeed I is me old cock and long may your big jib draw." It sounds much better, albeit much harder to understand, coming from a Newfie bartender.

After the ceremony and being acosted by some drunk guy at the urinal, we headed to another, more lively bar. Met some nurses from Regina. Not long afterwards Kurt & friend had to bail and got a ride home from Krista. I stayed with the nurses... but my only way home involved a combination of not losing Kurt's house key and remembering his address (for which Krista yelled at him for not writing down for me). No small feat given the state I was in.

I did eventually make it back safe and sound, though I learned that night that cabbies in St. John's don't take Visa. The Newfoundland gods must have been smiling on me that night though, because in addition to remembering the address (while not having my phone with me), I had just enough cash left in my pockeet to cover the fare, plus a 20 cent tip. How's that for a close shave?

That weekend was just what I needed... Krista and Kurt were awesome hosts. I'm definitely looking forward to seeing them again next year in Bonavista!

By recommendation of my friend May who lives here in Halifax I decided to do the trek up to Cape Split. She had other plans for the weekend, so I was on my own. No problem, right? I rented a car and after a two hour drive I reached the trail entrance. Hour and a half of hiking, two hours tops, according to her.

This isn't a hugely popular tourist destination (yet), so the trails aren't as clearly marked as they could be. Actually, May told me that there was only one trail and it was impossible to get lost. Boy did I prove her wrong. At the very start I took a wrong turn and for hours followed what I thought was the main trail.

What I was really walking on was one of the many "bush" trails that accompany the main trail. Forks in the road, fallen trees, steep ravines and creeks were all in my way. (Thankfully I'm in okay shape.) Here's what was going through my head:

After half an hour: What a nice day to be out and about.
After one hour: Geez, May is one hardcore hiker.
After an hour and a half: There were lots of cars parked at the entrance... where is everybody?
After two hours: Wait a minute... the old lady at tourist info said she did the hike. There's no way someone her age came this way.
After two and a half hours: All I have on me is a quarter bottle of water and a stick to ward off bears. Is that enough to survive the night?

Shortly after that last thought I ran into a dead end and turned around to find a previous fork so I could try the other, er... tine. It was then that I ran into the first people I had seen since I started out. They were in the same predicament as I was. Worse, because they were planning to camp at the cape and carrying all their gear. On the other hand, they had enough with them to spend the night in the forest if necessary.

I left them and continued backtracking, and by dumb luck found the main trail... packed dirt and wide enough to ride a bike through, with OTHER HIKERS walking about. Finally!

Reaching my destination was definitely worth the journey. The view was magnificent and I got some great pictures. I wanted to go from the top of the bluff to the shore below, however I was told that the difference between high and low tide was about 30 feet... and with tide coming in I'd be trapped there if I went down at that hour. That, and I needed to budget enough daylight to get back home.

After an hour and fifteen minutes of hiking I arrived back at the car, hungry and exhausted but glad to be out of the woods, so to speak. I think my next investment is going to be a GPS. If I'm going to lose myself in a forest at least I want a gadget to play with before the vultures get to me.

My sleeping pattern is so messed up right now, as it always is when I go on these trips. This morning I didn't get back to my hotel from work until 6 o'clock. Woke up this afternoon around lunchtime wanting breakfast; the complimentary one downstairs has long since finished so I have to go out and get some groceries. The hotel does have a free service where they do your shopping for you but I'm here during the day and the store is right down the street.

Must be frustrating for the maid service to do their housekeeping as I'm usually in my room when they make their rounds. Most of the time I tell them not to bother... I'm quite capable of picking up after myself (they'll run the dishwasher if I leave even one fork in the sink). I think I can go at least a few days without my sheets being changed. No need to become too decadent.

All of this makes me think about how spoiled we are over here. No matter how good we have it, there is always something to complain about. I enjoyed the simple life in Ayachucho. I had no fancy car, no big television, no golf clubs and no cell phone... and I didn't miss them one bit.

I don't think I could ever get used to this life of being waited on hand-and-foot. That is, away from home. Don't mention any of this to my mom because if she makes me start cooking I'm screwed!

Although Halifax is a beautiful city, there seem to be a disproportionate number of people here begging for money. I'm not sure why that is, whether it's a product of the local economy or maybe all of the tourists out at this time of year.

I'm always torn about giving money to people in the street. On the one hand a dollar or two means nothing more to me than a coffee or donut, where potentially it could mean the next meal for someone else. On the other, everyone I've spoken to with any authority on the subject advises to not give them anything as it increases their dependence on handouts. Better to give to a charity instead (which I do as well).

What usually happens is I arbitrarily handing out coins or denying them my change, depending on my mood, what I happen to have in my pocket, who I'm with, if I'm preoccupied with something, or even what they look like. Either way I end up feeling guilty afterwards... either for handing out money and decreasing their motivation for getting off the street, or by walking past and letting them suffer while I myself live in relative comfort.

The other frustrating thing is that it's almost impossible to distinguish between those who are begging for money because they are lazy and those who are in the street because life has given them little else to work with.

In a perfect world, everyone would have decent jobs, a place to live and food on their plate. I guess all I can do is wait for that day.

So this hotel I'm staying at has one really cool feature... free breakfast. And not just continental, but hot stuff too. This works out well for me as we get a fixed rate per day for meal allowance, so it's up to us how much we want to spend.

Included in this breakfast is a do-it-yourself wafflemaker. Having never used one of these things before, I was careful to follow the instructions posted beside it. It was only after I poured my batter that I noticed the little sign below: PLEASE USE COOKING SPRAY. Oops.

I ended up needing help from the hotel staff to scrape out the now-mangled waffle from the iron and onto my plate. They were really nice and offered to make me a new one, but I felt bad wasting it. Instead I covered it in whipped cream and walked over to my table with my pile-o-waffle.

So I'm here in Halifax for work. I've done a lot of travelling this year across Canada but I've got to say that this is the best setup so far. There are two centres I'm responsible to audit. The first is right (literally) across the street from my hotel, and better still, next door to the pub. The second is about a four minute walk and is attached to a mall.

At the same time I'm here I'm trying to sell my house in Hamilton. I've spent the last few weeks cleaning up, and the open house was yesterday. I have no idea how it went, but no offers yet... I'm still a home owner. It actually goes up on MLS today, so we'll see. Also apparently the bank has me by the balls for getting out of a "closed" mortgage, but depending on things go with the buyer I may be able to work around it.

So I haven't been here that long out east, but there seems to be a different atmosphere as compared to the GTA. I can't explain it but I feel happier out here. Same thing I felt when I was on St. John's. Maybe salt water is a natural prozac? Oh well, I've got three weeks till I'm back in the GTA... until then I'll be in the pub trying to figure it out.