What have I been doing the past few weeks? Well, after visiting a friend in Montreal and exploring beautiful Quebec City (I had no idea that kind of beautiful architecture existed in Canada!!!), I met up with my aunt and her two daughters to share a ride east. At this time, I was planning to just take the near-free ride. I would end up spending an entire week with them in Nova Scotia and PEI, before meeting a friend in Tracadie, New Brunswick.
It all started with Quebec (I’ll skip over Montreal, and go straight to Quebec City):
This picnic made me late getting back to my hostel for my bag. This wouldn’t have normally been a problem, except that, earlier that day, I had exploited the fairly horrible security in order to leave my bag after being “kicked out” of the hostel. You’re probably wondering why I was “kicked out” (and left my bag anyway)? To make a long, boring story short, this man runs a craptastic hostel and tried to charge me to leave my bag (a fee I’ve never seen before). When I explained that I already didn’t get my money’s worth (for example, breakfast was not provided as promised), and made a suggestion or two for how he could improve his business (and Hostelworld rating), he told me he didn’t like my attitude and instructed me to leave. I felt like a rebellious school-girl getting in trouble from an uptight teacher, and I had a hard time keeping myself from smiling (or breaking out in full-on laughter). Quite frankly, I didn’t like his attitude. I’m usually pretty easy-going with hostels and whatever problems they might encounter – so long as the people are friendly enough. This man was not.
I did not like the idea of walking around hilly Old Quebec with my backpack so I figured I’d just use the codes to get back into the hostel and hide my bag under a bed, since this man (and his staff) isn’t around from 11 to 3. My leave-my-bag-for-free-without-the-man-knowing plan backfired when I chose to enjoy a leisurely lunch at the Battlefield park. I arrived back at about 3:05, at which point I stealthily crept up the stairs, promptly grabbed my bag from under a bed, and rushed out the door, like a true theif-in-the-night (only in broad daylight, stealing my own bag). Just when I thought I was in the clear, I stopped to check the map on my phone, and who should walk up behind me, an angry look on his face? Mr. Angry-hostel-man. He told me he saw me on the cameras (ha! Your hostel doesn’t have cameras, jerk!), threatened to call the cops, followed me as I walked away, and only seconds later, loudly said into his phone “yeah, she has a grey backpack, she’s running down the street”. Apparently my blonde hair and horrible breaking-and-entering skills implied that I know nothing about how a call to the police might go. No, sir, I do not think “calling the cops” is a two-second thing, where they’d be on their feet immediately, racing through the streets for the backpacker who left her bag in the hostel. I applaud your non-creative effort, though, Mr. Angry-hostel-man. You kept me smiling.
And so, I walked away, with all my belongings safe on my back. Within the hour, I was cozy in a car with my aunt and cousins, eating crackers and cheese, ready for the next leg of this great Canadian adventure.
Next, I learn that Family Matters, even if we don’t have a common hatred of an annoying neighbor.