Part 8: I'm A Bit Grey On This One

It was now finally time to put all this posh, prancy airlining behind me. Westjet (a great Canadian low fares airline where they love to crack jokes during the emergency safety talk at the start of the flight) had been a good friend of mine up until this point, as I flew from Toronto to Winnipeg and unexpectedly on to Regina too. However I promised myself that I would "suck it up" and take the Greyhound bus from Regina to Calgary. For the Canadians who just read that sentence: I can hear you laughing. To the Brits and Irish back home: This bus journey is 11 hours long and known as being the unparalleled champion of boring drives. The landscape from Regina to Calgary is entirely made up of flat, brown-yellow prairie fields. Without exaggeration the flat land is never interrupted but for the occasional burning bush or the even rarer human being. Needless to say such a journey does not attract the most hygienic type of person. The bus left Regina at 8am and travelled through Swift Current (don't eat at the bus station), Medicine Hat (it really is called that) and arrived in Calgary at 6pm. I had big plans to get a lot of reading and trip planning done, not to mention some journal-writing but alas my plans descended into an 11 hour staring contest with the mystical flat lands of middle Canada to the soundtrack of The Band, Canada's greatest rock music group.

The Calgarian sun had set a few hours before I finally arrived so I didn't really understand why people call it a "gateway to the Rockies" until the next day. I washed the stench of bus from my skin and ascended to the top of the Calgary Tower, 525 feet above downtown Stampede City. From here I got my first glimpse of the Rocky Mountains and they literally took my breath away. All throughout my trip there have been certain moments where I find myself stepping back and hovering above whatever situation I am in at that very moment and thinking: "My Oh My: I am a long way from home" and seeing the Rockies for the first time was yet another one of those out-of-body moments that I have come to treasure.

The next few days were populated by some Albertan culture. I visited the Glenbow museum where there is a brilliantly thorough exhibit about the entire history of First Nations Canadians, from Creation to residential schools and everything in between. I sampled some of the Stampede style nightlife and even got the chance to "meet" a few of Calgary's finest police officers - don't ask me how but I have learnt to never cross a road in Calgary without adult supervision. Then, on somewhat of a schoolgirl-like whim I decided to jump on a bus to Banff and take a two day tour through the Rockies, up to Jasper and back to Banff again. No big deal, right? Wrong! This mini-break from the buses and bustle was incredible. I got a ticket on a backpackers bus tour (check it out at www.moosenetwork.com) that drove north from Banff along the Icefields Parkway. This is one of the 5 most beautiful drives in the world, and in winter one of the most treacherous too. Accompanied by 8 young women and a tour guide with Scottish roots I got a real Rockies experience: Elk in their dozens, glaciers that are receding all too quickly, crows the size of labradors, freezing cold outdoor toilets, snow hikes, glacial moraines, silly lumberjack hats, and beers in the jacuzzi. It truly was a trip to remember, and I am forever thankful to Mark's Work Wear-House (a rugged yet stupefyingly cheap clothes shop frequented by truckers) for the thermal pantaloons.

I returned my eyes to their sockets and my body to Calgary, although I definitely left a part of myself in the beautiful Rockies. After all, it was time to get to work with Habitat for Humanity Calgary. I spent my first day with HFH Calgary doing what I do best - volunteering in one of their 3 Restores. There was no messing around and after some quick introductions I was put to work merchandising sinks, pricing paint and generally lifting lots of heavy things from one area to another... and it was great! The team at that Restore are good fun and full of stories. I spent some time shooting the Chinook-inspired tepid breeze with Paul, Dustin, Matt, Joanne and Andrew and I can't thank them enough, especially Joanne, for exemplifying the Habitat spirit and making me feel at home.

Unsurprisingly I could not resist the call of the wild and so I soon found myself back on a build site. But this was no ordinary build site (apologies to any linguists reading this for starting a sentence with 'but'). HFH Calgary are currently building two homes in an up-and-coming sub-division of Calgary, or as we call it in the UK & Eire: a commuter town of nigh-on identical gaffs. what makes this strange is that usually HFH homes in Canada are built on the outskirts of a town or city, and more often than not they are in less developed areas that you would not consider to be on-the-up. After all, HFH is dependant on governmental donations for the land to upon which to build affordable housing, and beggars can't be choosers. However, the build in Calgary was on land provided by a developer, not the government. Accordingly, the Habitat homes being built on the land have to adhere with the high architectural standards of all the rest of the new homes in the development. Think somewhere between "Desperate Housewives" and "The Fresh Prince of Bel Air". I got the chance to work on the fascia of the houses with Eldon and some up-standing gent volunteers. This involved working in a cherry-picker with a nail gun and a power saw. Very alpha-male indeed. The next day my Tarzan facade was broken down by Jane, or, more accurately, Lindsey the on-site construction assistant a.k.a. fore(wo)man. Lindsey and I hit it off and shamefully spent more time telling each other our life stories than progressing on the house. When I meet someone who is enamoured by Judaic and has a background in musical theatre and a penchant for building affordable homes then it would be rude not to get wrapped up in conversation. Lindsey, in her infinite wisdom, pointed out that I was in Calgary for the Grey Cup Final and ought to try and go to it.

* For anyone reading in the UK & Eire: The Grey Cup Final is the annual Canadian Football League final where the two best CFL teams battle it out for the title. Think of it as the Canadian Superbowl and every year the location of the final is moved around the country. For me to be in the host city on the actual weekend of the match is pretty coincidental, especially considering I had no idea there was such a thing as Canadian Football!

Forever the optimist, Lindsey stamped her foot and decided that I would go to the ball... I mean, football, despite the fact that all 40,000 tickets were sold out, and at this point (three days before kick off) the cheapest ticket was going for a scalper-friendly $1000, or about 1000% above face value. The chances of getting a ticket at all let alone for face value were somewhere between "slim" and "not a hope". But Lindsey would not be beaten. She wrote a posting on classifieds website Craigslist.ca claiming I was essentially the Jewish, Irish, Male reincarnation of Mother Theresa and that I would collect the ticket, support either team and party with whoever was kind enough, not mention give them a big shout out in this blog, if I could just get a ticket for face value. We posted the ad with my cell phone number, reminded each other that we are both naive fools and returned to work.

Abooooot an hour and a half later as we were wrapping up on lunch (busy day, I know!) my trousers begin to vibrate. Realising that my vibrating trousers were in the wash and deducing that this feeling could only be my cell phone I answered it, and the sweetest voice in all of Canada responded. My prayers to the sporting gods were answered by Zeus himself, or as he prefers to be known, Tony Ratz. Tony's team had failed to make it into the final and he could not bring himself to watch any other team contest this fixture. So Tony put his tickets up for sale on Craigslist. He got huge cash offers for the tickets. In fact, so ridiculous were these offers that Tony decided he would go to the match himself anyway. But in a moment in time where fate, cupid, Michael Jackson and the planets all aligned Tony took one last look on Craigslist to see if anything had changed and he saw my ad. He was moved to tears. But not weak, sissy tears. Man-tears that could crush a small child. He lifted his phone with ease (he has enormous biceps and never goes to the gym) and had one of his 33 concubines dial my number. In a voice that would make Barry White rise from the dead just to do a duet Tony offered me his ticket at face-value. He even drove for forty minutes (in a chariot, obviously) to drop off the ticket and seat cushion so that my feeble tushi (Tony has buns of steel and is reported to have taught Greg Smithey - click that link - everything he knows, and so does not need a weak butt cushion) was fully supported. So in case you ever wondered who the greatest Canadian of all time was, it's Tony "Bitchin'" Ratz (middle name created and added for emphasis; all defamation claims should be directed to the nearest waste disposal unit).

I was on a high for the rest of the day... no... week! Lindsey and her fiancee invited hostel hound Joe and I to the pre-game concert in the Saddledome, where I most definitely fell asleep during the headline act Great Big Sea. There is no good excuse for such behaviour and I will never live it down. Any chance I ever had of one day being granted the key to the city of Calgary evaporated as my head bopped in R.E.M. sleep while 25,000 people bopped to the music. I can hear the lads back in London as they read this: "Shameful showing from JD". But I was saving up all my energy for the match itself the next day. It was a hotly contested affair between Saskatchewan (who wear green and I was therefore supporting) and Montreal (who speak French and I was therefore ne's pas en soutenir). The result of the game is not worth mentioning, but let this be known: I will be sending an abacus and a calculator to the Saskatchewan Roughriders dressing room!

In any case sorrows were drowned in a downtown Irish bar with a man with a trumpet and an ape. Only in Calgary!

Oh my gosh! Only Two Cities left! Make sure you don't miss a single pun or hyperbolic comment - add me on Facey B (that's what they call Facebook in Australia, really) quoting HFH Canada.

As always, I'll leave it to a wiser man...

"Acadian driftwood,

Gypsy tail wind,

They call my home the land of snow,

Canadian cold front movin' in,

What a way to ride,

Oh, what a way to go"

Written by Robbie Robertson

Performed by The Band

Part 7: The City That Rhymes With 'Fun'

So Winnipeg, Manitoba promised harsh, unforgiving frigidity but failed to deliver. Surely the next stop on my great Canadian adventure would challenge my untested and suspiciously mocha (considering I am born and bred Irish) skin. That next stop was a town with a name that never gets old. In fact, no matter how many times I tell family and friends from home that I was in this town they always giggle. It could only be Regina, Saskatchewan.

Now for those of you back home in the UK and Ireland here is a quick crash course in all things Saskatchewan. "The Scootch" (no-one calls it that, but I'm thinking it might catch on) is a perfectly rectangular province in the middle of Canada spanning an area about the size of France. Only 1 million people live in the entire province, with every 1 in 5 Saskatchewanians (a real word) living in the capital Regina. Oh, and pretty much the entire province is flat prairies of wheat-land. So, an area the size of France that is so flat you can watch a dog run away for 3 days - sounds like fun, no?

When planning my trip across Canada during February and March this year there were many highlights that jumped off the Canadian map - the natural beauty of Niagara Falls, the "Je ne sais quoi" of Montreal, the snow of the Rockies. These are all the obvious pull factors that attracted me to spending four months in this great country. However, I must admit that Saskatchewan also held a certain mysticism. It was so unknown, unexplored and secluded. For someone like me who has always lived in big, burly, bustling cities where you can hardly see the clouds for all the skyscrapers this land that is so flat it hardly has any horizon seemed fascinating.

I flew from Winnipeg to Regina during the daytime on a plane best described as a vomit-comet. This tin with wings had a mere thirteen rows (an ominous number of rows one might say) but she held together and provided a breathtaking view of the landscape, or lack there of. We flew over Lake Winnipeg and as the plane was so small it flew quite low to the ground thus providing an unobstructed view of never ending fields of wheat. Without exaggeration I could follow with my eye a two lane road for probably 30 miles before losing sight of the rogue back line. On arrival in Regina I made my way to my sombre lodgings for the week and set about exploring. It was brought to my attention that there was an ice-hockey game being played that night between Regina and their local rivals Moose Jaw. These two teams play in the league below the premier NHL, but unlike football at home, players in the junior league are constantly competing to push their way into their local NHL teams. Coaches from these NHL teams frequent the junior games so the level of energy is unparalleled and emotions can be said to spill over into violence approximately every 4 minutes. The game did not disappoint - it was a thriller. Regina were 2-0 up and lost 4-3, setting a dangerous trend which would only be confirmed in Calgary, but more of that later...

Having wiped off my tears and donned my thermal leggings (I am not even in the slightest bit ashamed to admit to owning, wearing, sleeping and generally adoring this piece of haute couture) I was ready to get to work with Habitat for Humanity Regina. In retrospect HFH Regina will go down as one of my favorite affiliates for many reasons. I got to balance my time between building and Restore-ing, met some great volunteers and Restore customers and got the chance to learn some great new skills. Much of my enjoyment at HFH Regina can be attributed to "The Two Gary's" (fingers crossed this will catch on and result in a home-improvement TV show). Restore manager Gary was kind enough to pick me up each morning in an ever-changing array of vehicles and distribute my services to building Gary at the build site.

Building Gary gave me great instruction in the art of dry-walling. Drywall is used globally for the finish construction of interior walls and ceilings. Boards of drywall are cut to size using a large T-square, then fixed to the wall structure with drywall screws. Small features such as holes for outlets and light switches are then cut using a keyhole saw. This is a job that requires strength (the boards are as big as 4ft x 12ft and heavy), agility (especially when maneuvering large pieces through a small house and onto the ceiling) and concentration (it is very easy to cut a piece too small and get angles wrong). However, when you get in a drywall groove it is a lot of fun and the work is instantly gratifying as you can see the fruits of your labor in the walls you build as soon as they are screwed in. After a slow start and a lot of "measure twice, cut thrice" I finally got the hang of it and learned to love the work. A lot of this is because of the light-hearted atmosphere on site with Gary and the volunteers - thanks a million for letting me help out.

As I said, I split my time between the two Gary's and so spent the rest of my days in the soon-to-be-relocated Regina Restore. The team there are the nicest people you could ever meet. Heartfelt thanks must go to Gary, Teresa, Dennis, Jen, Mika, Laura, Dan and all the lovely people who put up with my constant tomfoolery and photos. And thank you all for signing nice messages on a t-shirt - that baby is getting framed! I spent my time in the Restore going back to what I did best in Niagara Falls - interacting with customers and helping out with any odd jobs. This ranged from moving washing machines into customer's trucks, wheeling a cart of purchases about 8 blocks down the street to someone's car, chopping scrap wood up to make merchantable bundles of fire wood and giving resident pianist Dan song requests to play on the store piano! We had a lot of laughs together and I know that the new Restore on Broder St. will thrive because of the great people who work at the current Restore. Happy Holidays and blessings to all of you.

I got the chance to take a bus trip to the Hot Springs Resort in Moose Jaw which was only an hour from Regina. This is a spa and swimming pool which provides healing mineral waters at a naturally warm temperature. The pool is indoor/outdoor so that whilst your body is a enveloped in the toasty 40 F water your noggin feels the wisp of minus 10 Celsius as steam rushes around you. I also indulged in a massage to sooth my aching drywalling-induced bones, although I think the whole experience bordered on physiotherapy rather then anything in the slightest bit sensual. My evenings were spent partaking in some of The Scootch's finest ales with new friends and I even got the chance to enjoy a North American tradition - The Game. This involves a big screen with Canadian Football on a loop, copious amounts of chips (aka crisps) and dips, pizza and absolutely no anti-Saskatchewan Roughriders fans. Constant cheering, giggling, and tongue in cheek comments about the player's unnecessarily tight and poorly color coordinated shorts figured regularly too.

In closing I think it can be said that the people of Regina are of a rural attitude and outlook on life, despite their urban surroundings and this makes them some of the kindest, down-to-earth people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. The church and the Roughriders Football team are a huge part of life in Regina and this makes for a tolerant yet passionate atmosphere. And not an ounce of the magic that Saskatchewan held for me before I arrived was lost by the time I left.

I bet you thought the Regina entry was going to be a short one, eh?! Well, if you still can't get enough then add me on the Book of Faces for a veritable all-you-can-eat cyber-buffet of Jason! Just quote Habitat for Humanity Canada and let the 'poking' begin!

As always, I'll leave it to a wiser person...

"People here want to prove that they belong... Saskatchewan's greatest export has not been wheat, but people. People here want to show they are as good - and can achieve as much - as anyone in any part of the country or the world".

John Chaput

Part 6: Cold City, Warm Heart

By the time I left Montreal I was approximately 5 weeks into my Canadian adventure and I had met more people in those 5 weeks then probably in an entire year. Yet every single person I met on my travels had the same thing to say to me when I told them I was going to Winnipeg, Manitoba in November. As seasoned readers of this blog may remember from the Ottawa entry, my mother is reading so I will have to keep it clean but more often than not I was told something along the lines of:

"Whilst I think what you are doing is great, you are a complete idiot* for going to Winnipeg in winter. If you survive - congratulations. But you won't".

*often the word 'idiot' was replaced by 'dooshbag' and other non-Mum friendly expletives

Those of you who know me personally will not be surprised by my zeal to attack this mysterious tundra known to locals as "Winter-peg". Tell me I can't do something and 9 times out of 10 I am going to try and do it (my allergies to licorice and coconut account for the one time in ten I won't try something when challenged). My goal on the trip has always been to work for Habitat for Humanity in every major province I step into come rain, shine or temperatures so frigid that I would be forced to wear man-stockings under my jeans.

For those of you reading from the UK and Ireland Winnipeg is the capital of Manitoba, a province at the center of Canada, totally landlocked except for the Hudson Bay in the north, although it is so cold up there that no-one really knows for sure if there is a Bay up there, or just a big skating rink. It is very common for the mercury to hit -40 Celsius for about a month of the winter. Yes. You read that correctly my rosy cheeked Irish friends. Minus 40 Celsius. That is so cold that if you took a glass of water outside and threw its contents into the air the liquid will freeze in mid air before your very eyes. Apparently in the summer the heat is intense (think 100 Fahrenheit) and the mosquito's are as big as sparrows. In lighter news Winnipeg is also the "Slurpee Capital of The World". Ironic that in the coldest part of a ruddy cold country 4.8million brain freezes are caused by a blue, syrupy drink, not by the weather!

As you can imagine this lad - who grew up spending summer in the toasty confines of Ontario and has been spotted in Hawaii in winter - is not too fond of the cold. But I was not about to be pushed around by mother nature. Mother Druker, maybe, but not mother nature. I stepped off the plane in Winnipeg, grabbed my bag and jumped on a city bus to the youth hostel. Whilst on the city bus the following thought occurred to me: Is there a Habitat for Humanity in Fiji that I could have spent the winter in?!

In all seriousness I think I got very lucky in Winnipeg and in many ways. All of Canada has experienced a freakishly mild November. Whilst I was in Winnipeg the temperature barely dropped below 5 Celsius which is unheard of. I was building outdoors in a t-shirt - that says it all really. In fact, as I write this on December 2nd, I know that Toronto had a snow-free November for the first time in 160 years. Whether or not this crazy weather is a fluke or a result of man's abuse of our planet is a debate for another day, although we may be running out of tomorrows at this rate.

I was also lucky in Winnipeg because I got the chance to work on a brilliant Habitat for Humanity site. On the corner of Nairn and Chester is a development of eleven townhouses, ranging from single story 2 beds to 4 bed houses. I was the only unpaid volunteer on the site and I was surrounded by tradespeople, many of whom were First Nations Canadians. I was teamed up with Merv, a 23 year old father of six aboriginal Canadian with a work ethic that even Obama would call excessive. Merv and I shared a lot of laughs and really bonded despite our numerous differences (I am white, he is native, I am childless, Merv has the loins of Jacob). We were given a really nasty job to do together too. When Habitat builds a home they ensure that it is fully insulated. Once all the pink fiber glass insulation is lined in every wall of the home the interior walls are covered with 'poly' which is like a plastic sheathing (kind of like cling-film/plastic wrap). This poly is sealed to the wall frames using a black glue similar to tar. This tar is sticky and destructive. It attaches to everything and never comes off clothes and barely comes off skin. Merv and I had the enviable task of removing an entire house full of poly (as it was not put up to good standards) and in a sense inviting the tar to ruin our lives.

Just when I thought things could only get better, they did! Walter, my site supervisor and general legend pulled me aside to attend a home dedication on the site. The life line of a Habitat home can be split into several stages: Application, family selection, groundbreaking, build, and home dedication are, I believe, the main steps. I experienced a ground breaking in Niagara Falls (see Part 1) but in Winnipeg I got the chance to attend a home dedication. This is the magical moment when the keys to the house are handed over to the family, and a home is born. The house and its inhabitants were blessed by the family's pastor, gifts exchanged, photos snapped and then the emotions spilled over when the keys were handed to the mother and father. It was a truly beautiful and moment which I will never forget. It is only when you see the enveloping joy in the eyes of a family being helped into their own home that you can understand just how important Habitat for Humanity is. This ceremony gave me the boost I needed to go forward and advocate for the elimination of poverty housing in Canada and throughout the world.

I was also in Winnipeg for Remembrance Day (November 11th). I attended the Veterans Association commemoration ceremony in a huge convention center where easily 5000 people stood in silence to remember the many fallen men and women who have given their lives. I even made it to "Portage & Main", apparently the coldest and windiest intersection in all of Canada. I found it to be rather toasty on Nov. 11!

Special thanks go to Linda P, Ken, Walter, Vern and of course Merv for all the fun and laughs you generously shared with me. I hope you all have a beautiful, warm winter.

Where am I going next? Let's just say it is the town that rhymes with 'fun'! As always, hit me on Facebook for Jason-mania. Just quote Habitat for Humanity Canada and I'll add you right back quick-sharp.

I am going to leave the last word to man who recently passed and left behind a legacy that will live on and thrive forever into the future until our work is done:

“It's not your blue blood, your pedigree or your college degree. It's what you do with your life that counts.”

Millard Fuller, founder and former president of Habitat for Humanity International

Part 5: Just For Laughs

Having had my first taste of French Canada it was time to dive in at the deep end of all things Quebecois.

Dear readers, ladies and gentlemen: This is the Montreal post. It has been long anticipated by those who I met in the the Francophone metropolis and I hope that after reading it that those of you back home will have a pretty good idea why I am enjoying my trip so much. I do not want to build this up too much but it should be stated at the outset that Montreal is, frankly, blooming amazing.

I arrived by bus on October 29th and was met an incredible feeling. If you have ever stepped off a long flight to a hot country and a powerful waft of scorching air floats over your unaccustomed body then you can compare that feeling to arriving in Montreal. Without exaggeration the second I stepped from the bus I was punched in the belly by a fist full of French. Many people are bilingual in Montreal (and Quebec as a whole) but the default setting is undoubtedly French. As for me, I had not spoken a word of French since I finished my finals in high school. Needless to say that while I enjoyed the music, cinema and food of the country the language was not my strongest attribute and my final grade (which I will not divulge) reflected this. Despite my utter ineptitude at the language I spent the next two weeks in Montreal trying like the dickens to engage in conversation en francais and I did have some luck. As it turns out my ability to converse in an almost entirely unknown language is augmented tenfold when I am under the influence of one or two (who's counting?!) beverages. I constantly told my high school teacher this, but she never believed me. Arriving in Montreal just before Halloween turned out to be a very wise move indeed. I was invited (thanks to Cassie F, to whom I owe several drinks) to a few parties to celebrate the most unholy of holidays and I am proud to say that my costumes did not disappoint. I dressed one nuit as a stereotypical Canadian and the other night as a "Doosh-Bag". Words alone genuinely cannot do justice to the amount of fun I had with Cassie and her amies but the pictures tell the whole story, including the 40 minutes we spent trapped in an elevator only to be rescued by the Montreal Fire Department. Add me on Facebook for all the photos. They are great and so was my first few days in Canada's second biggest city.

I had a couple of days to kill in Montreal before getting back on the Habitat wagon so I trekked up Mont Royal (thats where they got the name from, n'es pas?) to get a magnifique view of the city, followed by a stroll and bite to mange in Old Montreal, which looks like a petit French town plucked straight from the mere-land.

The time had come to go to travaille in the second province of my cross-country Habit-rek and it seems something had gotten lost in translation. I showed up for my first day at the Montreal Restore with the knowledge that I had some press to attend to during the day. However I did not know that Habitat Montreal had organised for me and another Habitat volunteer to speak to a television show for young adults about activism, Habitat and the work we do. And all of this in French! I struggled through with "Je m'appelle Jason" and thankfully the whole experience was not entirely cringe-worthy, although the show does not air until the Spring, by which time I will surely be creatively edited out. I had a great day at the new Restore and even tried my first poutine, which is a traditional quebecois dish of fries, gravy and cheese. Back home we call that 3am drunk food, but over here it is a delicacy. I would not have survived my time at the Restore without the help of Karin, Ron, Ian and all the team there - merci beaucoup mes amies.

Next on the agenda was a Habitat build just up the rue from the Restore. This was a build like no other. Situated on a compact, urban street and sandwiched between two other three story houses with very little access and hardly room for a Porta-loo was the guts of a wonderful home. I spent my time on the top floor and just like in Toronto I was again found wanting whilst roofing. I got the chance to put up numerous roof tresses, did a lot of lugging 2 by 4's, and overall had a great laugh with everyone on site. The fact that my French is fairly despicable did not seem to bother anyone and even though at times I felt like I was back at the Romania build where I didn't understand a thing there was always someone on hand to explain my mistakes to me in English. The curse word "tabernac" was barely even whispered in my direction, although on more than one occasion I had it coming.

Not willing to be outdone or out-partied by any other Habitat affiliate the team of staff and volunteers banded together to organise a fantastic night out in Montreal's Latin Quarter. We sang, danced and savoured some traditional liquids, all while I attempted to converse in broken French with all of my new found friends. I also got the chance to feel some real Canadian winter - the temperature hit about minus 15 Celsius that night, and I can honestly admit that it scared the life out of me, even with a rather sizable "beer-jacket" on.

I must thank Julia, Ernesto (aka Pepe aka Obama), Christine, Mark, Tracy, Steve, Gina Baun Metallic, Vanessa, Tassie, Catherine, Alex, Allan P, and Slick Rick for making Montreal so much fun for me. Extra special thanks to Julia just for being an amazing person with such a kind and giving heart and to Ernesto who despite not speaking a word of English is still a top contender to be best man at my wedding, if he has not been deported back to Cuba by then!

The blog is about to get colder yet even steamier as I tell the tales of my times in Winnipeg, Manitoba! Miss it. Miss out. Miss me? Add me on Facebook to enjoy more Jason than you can shake a stick at. Just mention Habitat for Humanity Canada and set aside a few hours to look through almost 1000 photos of my trip.

Part 4: Lessons from Terry...

Some Pub quiz trivia for you... What have Australia, Brazil and Canada got in common? Well, it is definitely not the weather! No, all three of these massive countries have surprising capital cities. Canberra and Brasilia are the two you might have known but not many people from outside Canada (and even a few from inside Canada!) know that Ottawa is the capital, not Toronto.

After almost 2 weeks of unparalleled fun in Toronto it was time to drag myself away from a city with which I fell in love in favour of Canada's capital city: Ottawa. Ottawa is on the border of Ontario and Quebec so I knew I was going to have my first encounter with that mysterious and unknown creature: The French Canadian. I grabbed a five hour train from Toronto to Ottawa. This was my first experience of a train in Canada and I must admit it is pretty different to what I am used to at home in London. The gent sitting in front of me was approached at the beginning of the journey by the train driver and asked if he would volunteer to learn how to use the emergency safety equipment should the worst happen because the train was so old it takes 3 men to open the train door. Needless to say I kept an eye on our volunteer superman to ensure he didn't over-do it on the gin & tonic. I arrived (safely) in Ottawa and proceeded into town to find the hostel where I was booked in.

It is at this point in this entry that I must put a note to my Mum to say that if she doesn't want to have a total conniption then she should look away now and rejoin the blog at the asterisk*.

Right, now that Mum is gone I can divulge the gory details about my abode in Ottawa. The only youth (read: cheap) hostel in Ottawa is an excellently located, clean, tidy, friendly, well-lit... prison. Yes. You did read that correctly. The hostel is located in an old prison. However, the prison is not that old. It only ceased to be a den of thieves and murderers in 1967. In keeping with the theme of the past occupiers, the hostel provides not rooms, but cells. Actual cells. I was treated to a one bed cell on the 7th floor. The room consisted of a cot, a chair, a mirror and a floor to ceiling iron-bar prison cell door. All I can say is that the novelty of sleeping in a room that does not have a proper, sealed door wore off quite quickly. So in between fits of sleeping and fighting off the ghosts of bunk-mates past I got the chance to have a wander around Ottawa.

*Welcome Back Mum*

I visited the Parliament, Supreme Court, War Memorial and a statue of Terry Fox. Terry Fox is a modern Canadian hero. He ran across Canada with one prosthetic leg in support of cancer research, taking not the fastest route but the most populated one in order to spread awareness. He did not complete the run due to health problems and he died aged 22. Terry Fox inspired Canadians and people all over the world to take to the streets each September and run against cancer. I strongly urge you to type Terry's name into Google and read his Wikipedia entry and visit this foundation set up in his memory.

My time in Ottawa was short and I did not get a chance to do any habitat-ing but in my defence I think Habitat Ontario probably had all the Jason they could handle! I did however eat, drink and laugh well in Ottawa. Whilst it is not a capital city in the same vein as London or New York the people of Ottawa are outgoing and good-natured. Some are so outgoing that they will approach you in the middle of the street and kindly ask you for a quarter!

I'm going to leave the final word to a man who gave his all and made the ultimate sacrifice for something he believed in:

"I was lucky to do what I did. How many people ever get a chance to do something that they really believe in?"
Terry Fox

Coming soon... Montreal. Can't wait for the next post? Add me on Facebook quoting Habitat for Humanity Canada and you can keep abreast of where I am in this fine country.

Part 3: Toronto - Bad at Hockey, Good at Fun

After some great times with family and friends and my initiation into the Habitat Canada family in Niagara Falls it was time to fly solo to Toronto. Although not the capital of Canada, TO has the feel of a big European capital city. It is a sprawling, multi-cultural, urban melting pot with lots of different districts each with its own unique vibe. I had the pleasure of staying with 2 families with whom my own family is close so I got the chance to see Toronto from the insider's perspective. This meant indulging in a few risky activities such as paint balling, roller-coasters and a bungee-jump. Needless to say Toronto started off with a bang! At the request of an old friend I found myself about 2 hours from TO in a town called Kitchener, formerly known as New Berlin, for one of the world's biggest Oktoberfest celebrations outside of Germany. This was an experience that did not disappoint... enough said! I even got to see my first ice-hockey game. Ice-hockey is Canada's national game and, frankly, it is brutal. On reflection, if they removed the puck from the game, the whole contest would be over in about 15 minutes - there is that much fighting!

I thought that all the fun and games that Toronto had to offer was going to take a back seat when my Habitat build came around. I was wrong. I was told to report to a 20 house build in West TO, but when I arrived the site was frozen (literally and logistically) and so I was relocated to the Giltspur Road Build. This is a development of two semi-detached houses, both of which are being built to energy efficient standards and both are wheelchair accessible. Clearly the partner families who will soon get the keys to these homes have had a difficult run at life. I am personally familiar with the challenges that arise in the home when a wheelchair is in use so I was really keen to get started.

The site supervisor Matt can only be described as a legendary gentleman. He put me straight to work with the other volunteers who were a mix of individuals and corporate day out volunteers from Bank of Montreal. Neither houses had a roof when I arrived so my goal was pretty obvious - Get Your Roof On! This required us to secure dry-wall to the separating wall between the two houses for fire-prevention. Laying 16 huge roof trusses 9ft above our heads was the next trick, followed by hoisting and nailing down plywood on to the roof of the house. This final task was particularly interesting as plywood is rather slippery when wet, not to mention that I was standing a good 14ft above the planet attached to a rather questionable harness! Bungee-jumping was a piece of cake in comparison. It was great to get back to building a house, an activity that had eluded me since the end of the Romania build back in August. The physicality of the work is so far out of my comfort zone, and the wave of exhaustion I felt at the end of a hard day was the manifestation of the good deed done. I shared my time on site with some great people, including: JD, JB, Noreen, Rennie, Jennie, Shauna, Sarah and of course Matt, who treated me like a brother, took me to a Toronto Soccer match and is a keen Tottenham Hotspur fan (I guess 2 out of 3 ain't bad!).

As you may have noticed, I am about a month behind in posting tales from the Land of Maple Syrup. I can assure you that this is due entirely to laziness and has nothing at all to do with the fact that this country is so gorgeous I can't bear to look at a computer screen. I hope to get up to date in the coming days. As always please direct any complaints to me via Facebook, just mention Habitat for Humanity and we can be cyber friends, and you can see all my photos from the trip. There are quite a few!

Part 2: Start As You Wish To Go On

It has been 5 years since I visited my mother’s birthplace: St. Catharines, ON. “St. Kitts” is a town of about 120,000 people in the Niagara region of Ontario. Formerly dominated by a General Motors plant, the town has rolled with the punches and now a thriving wine industry has kept the Niagara region ticking over. But despite the relative comfort that most Niagara inhabitants enjoy, there is still a need for decent, affordable housing for those who have fallen on hard times.It seemed like an easy decision to start my trip at my second home. As a child I spent months at a time in my Grandmother’s pool and enjoyed sharing my birthday (July 1st) with my Mum’s “home and native land”. But this trip is so utterly different from holidays of the past. This is a trip where I am dedicated to a goal far greater than a killer tan and a new wardrobe from Roots.After spending the first few days in St. Kitts catching up with friends and family it was time to set the wheels in motion and get to work. Lisa Aceti of HFH Niagara put me straight to work in the HFH Restore on Cushman Road. A restore can be described as a charitable Home Depot. You can donate any piece of your home to the Restore – everything from toilets to tiles, kitchens to kitsch radios – and it will be cleaned up, priced and sold to any member of the public. We’ll even pop round to your house to pick up your donation if needed. The Restore provides enough revenue to pay all the administrative costs of an entire Habitat affiliate, so if you decide to donate money to Habitat that money goes directly towards building a home, not on post-its or rent or any others expenses that arise in the pursuit of wiping out poverty housing.My duties in the Restore varied minute by minute: arranging tiles, fixing drawers, destroying scrap tables, putting toilets together, loading someone’s Hummer with a fridge. There were moments in the Restore when the store was quiet and all the guys would just hang out in the workshop repairing items and shooting the breeze. These moments of camaraderie were great and truly displayed to me one of the hidden benefits of getting involved with Habitat. Of course it is great to roll up your sleeves and build a home for someone in need, but I have discovered that by giving your time in the pursuit to house others I found a home myself. Habitat brings together good people whose intentions are bettered only by their spirit and willingness to give. Lisa, Craig, Alistair, Terry, Rob, Mary, Corey, John, Murray, and Eliot are just a few examples of such people. Thank you all.I must mention that October 5th was World Habitat Day. This is a UN sanctioned day dedicated to raising awareness of the worldwide plight we are faced with when it comes to the number of people living in poverty housing or on the streets. HFH Niagara planned a fantastic day to celebrate all of the affiliate’s hard work of the past year. In the morning we had a ground breaking ceremony on a build for a family in Niagara who came to Canada only a few years ago from Africa and really deserved a hand up. The afternoon was spent working in the Restore, selling items to customers and wishing everyone a Happy Habitat Day, which raised a few eyebrows. The day was topped off by a trip to see Niagara Falls illuminated in the Habitat colours, blue and green. It was a phenomenal sight. Our planet is so beautiful; no person should be deprived of a home from which to enjoy it. As always, follow my story right here or on Facebook. Just add me and mention HFH Canada and you can keep up to date on all my shenanigans.

Part 1: Preface - Jason Druker’s Voluntouring Journal

I began my Habitat for Humanity journey across Canada almost 1 month ago, and the time has flown by. It is probably best to preface my journal with a little bit of background about who I am and what I am doing in Canada. I was born in Dublin, Ireland in 1987 and lived there all through high school. I went to university in Birmingham, UK for 3 years and double majored in law and business. I then moved to London, UK to go to law school and finished my studies in June this year. Come March 2010 I will return to London to train (similar to articling in Canada) with Addleshaw Goddard LLP, a large corporate law firm. If you are following the story so far, it may have occurred to you that between the end of law school in June and the start of my job next March I have some time to kill. My mother is Canadian but despite many summers spent in her home town of St. Catharines, ON I have never been outside of Ontario, let alone felt minus temperatures of the Canadian winter.So, throwing caution to the chilly wind, I decided to up sticks and come to Canada for 4 months, from October to February, travelling the country and living life to the fullest. But before embarking on my journey I had the opportunity to take part in something very special closer to home. As part of Addleshaw Goddard’s commitment to corporate social responsibility I and forty of my colleagues spent a week in Romania in August building a house for a family in need. The weather was scorching, the terrain unforgiving, and the laughter never-ending. I was infected with a nasty dose of “Habititus”.I decided that I could add a whole new dimension to my trip by committing to build or work for Habitat for Humanity in every province of Canada that I step into. My route across the country is somewhat skewed – Ontario, Quebec, Manitoba, Saskatchewan, Alberta, and British Columbia – and I will be partaking in cultural and leisure activities all along the way. Someone much smarter than I coined the phrase “voluntouring” to describe my trip, and I think it works quite well. I am by no means in Canada to save the world, but if I can hammer a few nails and spread the message of Habitat for Humanity through my actions and advocacy then all of this will be worthwhile. And if I should happen across a pub or two along the way, so be it! So watch this space. I will do my best to keep updating this page with my travels, adventures, shout-outs, and plea’s for warm clothes. And if you really want the whole JD experience, add me on Facebook quoting Habitat for Humanity Canada and you can keep an eye on my handiwork