Notes from a greyhound station in the Adirondacks

So that’s it, I’m done, c’est finit, no more Plattsburgh, probably forever. This afternoon I took my last exam here, I packed up the last of my things and now I’m sat in a coach station fused onto the side of a hotel, waiting for my midnight bus to take me away from upstate New York and back down to Massachusetts. Hard to believe that it’s been a solid ten months since I left England to come here now, hard to comprehend just how many days I’ve spent in this town, the people I’ve met, the ways we passed the time. Hard to do anything right now in this balmy heat; even nature itself is pleased to see me leave, the sun blaring all day and blanketing the region in humidity tonight. All of my clothes are packed away and I’m sat here, grossly overdressed in a long-sleeve T shirt and jeans, wool jacket and wool flat cap, wishing it would rain again. Rain like it has done almost every day these final two weeks when I’ve yearned for sunshine, but no matter what the weather is it seems I’m destined to be drenched.

It was hard to leave tonight. Much harder than I expected it to be; much of my time here has been spent with indifference to the people and the place, but of course when you go to leave somewhere people make their feelings apparent. Hugs, handshakes, kind words and melancholy smiles were shared as I looked at my room, now completely lacking any kind of personality I’d once tried to grant upon it. It’s a strange feeling, seeing a place you’ve spent months of your life living in suddenly be wiped clean, as if you were never there in the first place, and then to think of how many people have done that before I have, how many backs have lain upon the bed, how many shirts hung within the curtained wardrobes, you feel insignificant; the brick walls of the dormitory have stood for fifty years before I arrived and will stand for many years to come, they were here before I was born and may last longer than me, too. Now though I sit here in the coach station, a chapter of my life shut.

With it being the last time I’ll probably ever be in Plattsburgh I’d considered doing something to my roommate. Nothing major, but a prank of some sort: a note about how I feel about him or hide/take something of his. Of all of the factors here my roommate has been the most negative throughout; he’s rude, antisocial, has no manners, and is constantly chewing on something. If it weren’t for him I feel as though I would’ve been a good deal more social, I know for a fact that a lot of the friends I’d made weren’t comfortable coming to visit me in my dorm because of him. I wanted some kind of payback, everybody in the building was very uncomfortable with him around which made it feel much more deserved, vindicated almost, but I didn’t do it. These last few nights I’ve had untold trouble sleeping, and as I lay there mulling over whatever came into my mind it dawned on me that I hated what I’d become. I used to pride myself on the fact that I hated no one, yet here I was so twisted with animosity that I was ready to steal from this person just because I didn’t like them. He’s already messed up enough, I decided, I’ll just leave him be. When I said goodbye tonight he just looked at me, but I still felt the better man inside, I’d done the right thing.

Like so many times over the last three years, I find myself sat in a Greyhound station once again. The one in Plattsburgh is little more than a 10’ x 10’ waiting room in a hotel. I get here early, always do. Greyhound buses deliberately overbook and make no qualms about it, so if you get here late and it’s a busy day there’s a good chance you’re not getting on the bus and won’t be refunded for it, so I like to be prepared. I don’t have the money to be buying new tickets on the day. There’s no sound other than the whirr of the refrigerated vending machines and as I sit here I find myself with the urge to take out my guitar and play, but I’m no Robert Johnson and these aren’t my crossroads, and chances are the staff working the night shift are already pissed off about being here enough, they don’t need me adding musical frustration to their evenings. Instead I took out my laptop and started hammering out whatever thoughts came into my mind, as you can see here. It helps pass the time and the patter of the keys keeps me sane. Not like there’s anybody here to talk to, after all.

Having made the trip up to Plattsburgh by coach a few times I know very well just how beautiful the Adirondacks are, but I’m much more content to be travelling at night, when it’s too dark to see and I can sleep, than at day. I’m a nervy passenger at the best of times and travelling on mountain roads does not do much for my manner. When I travelled down to Boston in March the mountains were still very much covered in snow with occasional snow showers as we passed through them, and to be able to see your coach swaying and shifting as we’d travel along mountain roads with drops to the sides really shot my nerves badly. I’m a dependable person in a crisis, but I don’t like being in a situation like that where, though nothing happened, you can think of nothing else. The only experience I’ve had that’s comparable is when I flight I was on hit turbulence so rough that the plane just dropped for a few seconds. Going from being on a bumpy plane ride to the blood rushing from your legs as if you’d jumped off a ledge leaves you paralysed with fear because there’s nothing you can do, you just have to sit there and hope for the best.

Though obviously it’s not evident on here because I never got around to writing here, much of my time up in Plattsburgh has felt negative, and with the benefit of hindsight I’m starting to think that’s a little unfair. I’ve had trouble since I got here, with everything from money to visas, which will always put a downer on things, but there’s plenty of good that can be taken from these ten months, too. I’ve broadened my horizons, learnt about subjects I never would’ve had the opportunity to study back home, met lots and lots of new people, become more mature. Most importantly though is I’ve proven to myself I can do this. I can go out into a foreign country completely on my own and live for a long period of time, and not just fall apart. It may not be the same as holding down a job and paying the rent but it’s a stepping stone to that, I can tell I’ve become so much more mature simply by being here, so much more responsible, productive, just simply more adult. No matter how many negatives there have been, how many shit nights or days spent on my own, I’ve gained enough that all the negatives are cancelled out instantly. I might be a few years behind my peers, but I’m finally starting to feel as though I’m growing up.

12/05/2011

I’m sat in my room here in Plattsburgh. Today I had my final two classes here; I have finals next week but I’ll never be going to a classroom at Plattsburgh to learn ever again, and everything is suddenly starting to feel so very final. I’m starting to see more and more people walking around with suitcases, the international student office have been in touch with me to fill out some transcript requests, and the student union-ran events are very thin in number now. It’s something that can be seen in the very decoration of my part of my room, the walls now bare and the desk cleared in place of colour and clutter. My rucksack is standing up next to the closet, still hollow apart from the foundation of a few shirts better suited to winter tightly packed together at the very bottom. It’s waiting for me to stuff it to the brim, pack my life away and make my exit. Maybe I’ll take a picture of the room the day I leave, completely devoid, I don’t know yet.

Though I’m very, very ready to leave Plattsburgh now, these last two weeks have left me full of melancholy. This is a chapter of my life now, one that is all but complete, and though I complain about being here a lot it’s had its positives, too. There are the simple things that you can do anywhere, like getting into the routine of going to the meal hall every morning after my 9am class to eat a bagel and drink coffee whilst I read a few chapters of whatever book I was working on at the time (currently les miserables), the hours I’d spend in the audio labs doing extra work on projects just because I loved doing that kind of work, or even just walking around and seeing people you know. There’s plenty of things to complain about, but then again there are always plenty of things to complain about, it’s in our nature to find things we don’t like and complain about them, as a species we’re terrible at being content with things.

One thing that’s really gotten to me over the last two weeks is the fact that it’s only just now that I’m making connections with people. Not in the business sense, just the friendship sense. The whole of this semester I’ve been too much of a loner and a recluse, partly because I just wanted to get the whole thing over and done with already, partly because my roommate is such a freak that he’s drained the life out of me. Last semester I stopped talking to a lot of the people I was friends with because of events that happened on my birthday - we were meant to go to a bunch of house parties and they ditched me before I’d even left my room, and though they said they’d just forgotten I still took it hard, especially because they never apologised; I didn’t both with them much after then and it was the first time I’d really started to think that I was done with this place. Fast forward to now, with not even seven full days left here, and I’ve finally started making new friends through being involved with a club and just being more outgoing in my hall. These are people I like, and would want to hang out with, which is a sad irony because there’s a very strong chance that I’m not going to see most of them ever again. I spend the majority of my time here playing the outsider and then once I get acceptance within a social clique I have to leave soon after. It’s my kind of luck, been that way as long as I can remember, and I can make excuses about it as long as I like but really it’s down to me, I’ve improved a lot over the last 4 years but at the end of the day I’m still awkward, I’m still shy, I’m still antisocial. There’s still a long way to go, but at least I’m going.

Plattsburgh has given me things though. It’s given me a sense of drive that I was missing in the past. I’ve developed a ‘do it now’ attitude when I get things like projects or papers to write, rather than leaving them until the last minute. I’ve started taking my readings and studying much more seriously, and the results are apparent. Just today I got an essay back with the note ‘nothing here to criticise’. I don’t necessarily like the class or the professor, but it’s a sign that the methods I’m now practicing are working. I can tell my writing’s improved; I’m planning more, I’m editing more, and I’m composing better, and it’s all paying off when combined. I daren’t even look at the work on my blog from early 2009, before I went to university, but I’ve always been like that, I hate everything I create after a while. Just like doing a ‘365 project’ really helped my compositional and creative skills with a camera, university essays (and looking into the methodology of writing such things) have unquestionably helped my penmanship.

This has been more of a rant than anything else. I felt the urge to write, so I sat down and started typing, so it’s probably not much of a read, but there you go. Also this is very close to my target post length. I decided that I want this blog to be around 1000 words per post; not too short, not too long. Sorry for wasting your time if you read all of this.

Did you pack this bag yourself

I'm the kind of person who likes to plan things well in advance. I like to know where I'm going, what time I'm going there, how much going there will cost, and where I have to go to get there. Yes, I probably am a bit of an anal bastard, but I hate the idea of not having the basics sorted before I do something; there'll always be random events and room for spontanaeity, but you don't want to be spontaneous when it comes to packing your bags or deciding where you're headed to.
A couple of days ago I read a backpacking article about travelling light, and it made the point that you're likely to travel lighter each time you head away. You never hear of someone packing heavier, but time and again you'll hear people say they're going to pack lighter this time around, and this year I'm no exception. It serves a double purpose - it makes wearing a rucksack a lot more comfortable, and it also means there's more room to bring things back with me! So with this in mind, I thought I'd do a 'what's in my bag' for my blog, here goes...

Click to expand. Sorry if the numbers are a little hard to read...

1. A bundle of about 7 T-shirts. 2 of them are long-sleeved
2. Union Jack. Something to put up on the walls
3. Towel. Can't leave without a towel
4. Rugby shirt. Home team
5. Laundry bag. Just a simple big cloth bag with a drawstring on top. This in particular is absolutely essential for a long-term trip
6. Scarf and leather gloves. It's August now but I'll be there over winter, so I want my favourite scarf and gloves
7. Amenities! A jar of English mustard and a jar of Bovril, the kinds of things you can't get outside the UK
8. Washbag, with soap, shampoo, toothpaste, toothbrush, and deoderant. I could take more but you can always pick stuff up on arrival
9. Fleece. Yup. Just a fleece, nothing more to say about that
10. Shemagh - a kind of arabian headscarf. They're incredibly versatile, and this one is a kind of a travel companion to me, I've taken it on every trip I've done

This isn't everything, though. I was just seeing how much the general weight of the bag would be (11kg, which is really light). I'd add to this a smart shirt and trousers, a spare pair of jeans, smart shoes, and flip flops to use as shower shoes - they're essentials but wouldn't weigh enough to make any serious difference in weight.
So that's my pack for my trip. It's pretty light, but I want to hit the ground running and just buy what I need as I go, rather than over-pack and lug the extra weight around the airport and hotel. It might seem a little trivial, but what can I say, I like to be prepared.

Ten Thousand Miles

This is an arrangement of a ballad by one of my very favourite musicians, English folk guitarist and singer Nic Jones. Nic is still with us (he's getting on a bit now) but sadly had to give up performing in the early 80's after being badly injured in a car crash. In Nic's own words: 'driving home from a booking near Manchester, I had an argument with a lorry full of bricks and I was hurt. The result: Bricks 1- Humans 0'
This kind of song/performance isn't trendy in any circles now really, though the folk revival of the 70's definitely left it's mark on popular music. I think it's a really beautiful song about leaving, and definitely worth three and a half minutes of your time.




If you're a guitarist, or indeed a musician of any discipline, you can do a lot worse than check out some of Nic's works, the man was a truly gifted arranger and composer. There are plenty of songs on youtube in you rummage around, and Nic also maintains a myspace page along with a personal website.

Step into my office

Ok, so in my last post I talked about my time working as a camp counsellor in Maine, or the work aspects of camp to be specific, and there is a lot of working at a camp. Campers need supervision; they're teenagers so it's not the close guidance younger children need, it's more a case of just keeping an eye on things, making sure nothing negative's going on. Though it's not always 'direct' work, you need to be on your toes pretty much all day, so your time off is very important.

The staff at camp were split equally into two shifts, with each shift taking alternative nights off, so everyone is 'on' in the daytime, then come dinner time one shift is 'off' until the next morning. Simple really. Naturally people want to wind down on their time off, and being out in the woods you can't just go to a bar, so there are a few places at the camp that are staff only. There's a staff cabin on-camp that has a TV, games consoles, internet access and a separate room with beds, but being in and around the other cabins, there's a strict no-alcohol policy in effect. All of the alcohol policy's at camp are very strict, with no exceptions, but I'll come back to that later. Along with the staff cabin, there is also a campsite-like zone just outside of the camp that's used for socialising. It's owned by the camp, and has a campfire and a yurt set up there; being away from the campers and cabins you can drink, smoke, and not worry about things like swearing or discussing personal things with staff.

Drinking's not the be-all and end-all, of course. I was 20 in my first year at camp, so I couldn't drink legally, and there was no chance that I'd try and flaunt that rule. At first it was a stretch. Being from the UK (and looking quite a lot older than I am) I was used to drinking as a solid part of socialising, and to take it away means you have to adapt. It opened my eyes to how much of a crutch alcohol can be - there are plenty of people I've considered friends who I've never spent time around without a pint in hand.
With children on site, every summer camp is ultra-strict when it comes to alcohol. If, for example, it was found out that you had been drinking on your night off, and you're underage, when you wake up the next morning you'll be escorted straight to the director's office, told that you're fired, and (once the campers had left the cabin to go for breakfast) you'll be escorted back to your cabin to pack your things, then put on a car and taken to Portland Airport. No screwing around, no goodbyes to your co-workers or the campers, no sign you were ever there. You vanish from camp, and the staff are told in a meeting, away from the kids. The same applies to taking alcohol onto the camp and smoking on camp - you'll be taken away from camp as soon as there is an oppurtunity to do so without causing a scene.

Being out in the woods does stop you from going to bars. But it can't really stop you from doing the essentials. You need your amenities; toothpaste, soap, shampoo; there's the need to do laundry every other week or so; and there's just having some basics like a 10 pack of cola in your cabin or getting a magazine. Though we're not near a town of any real size, there is a village about 5 or 6 miles away from the camp. There's a laundrette and a mini-mart there which covers all the basics, though not much more. Chances are you'll get to know those two stores really well over the course of the summer; the staff even expect international staff from the camp over the summer months. If you want a takeaway there are a few pizza places and a Chinese a few more miles away if you want something different for dinner than what's available at camp that night.
If you need more than the basics though then a trip to a supermarket's probably due. The nearest wal-mart is (as the crow flies) at least 20 miles away. It's a 40 minute drive each way, and considering your time off is pretty limited, planning who gets to go can turn into a pretty big deal. The wal-mart is situated right next to an outlet mall and cinema, so sometimes it's better to go on your day off rather than in the evenings.

On your full days off, you naturally want to do something engaging, and get away from the camp for a couple of hours too. Days out to the beach, to Portland in Maine, and into New Hampshire are the most popular choices usually, though there's the chance to do whatever you like really. Having our own staff minivans with the fuel costs covered, there's a pretty big are you can cover to go and visit, though it needs to be a group agreement - the minivan holds 12 people, so you need 12 people willing to go and do the same thing of course.
The camp also hire a bus and arrange a staff day to Boston, usually in the middle of the summer. It's a 3 and a half hour drive to get from where we are in Maine to Boston, but it's completely worthwhile to leave the woods and be in a major city for the day. I might be a little biased because Boston is arguably my favourite city (it's between Boston and Toronto anyway) but it's a distraction that's well worth the time.

So that's camp life. There's probably a lot that I've left out; it's a huge experience, but I'd like to think I've covered most of the major points of the experiences I've had. I'm not working at camp this summer, if I were then I probably wouldn't be able to write this, I'd be working round about now, and there is a lot of work involved. It's hard work, but it's appreciable work, it's work that's fulfilling and enjoyable, and finger's crossed I'll be going back in 2011

Hullo There

This is my new blog, and I'm about to explain why I've made a new blog to you.

For the past 15 months or so, I've kept a blog called Bluepig, where I've carried a little blue pig on my travels with me, taking photos of it in various locations. And that's going to carry on; I like doing the project when I'm away from home and I want to see just how far it can go. However, it's a picture blog more than anything else really, that's what it's there for and that's what I like about it.

For the next 10 months or so I'm going to be studying abroad. I'm taking part in my University's exchange student program, and will be spending the second year of my degree in upstate NY. The blog's URL 'chemic abroad' is a reference to my hometown and me leaving it - if you know me you'll get it. Rather than dilute the concepts behind the bluepig blog, I've just gone ahead and made a second blog for me to share my experiences on, the Bløg!
I don't honestly know an awful lot about the place I'm going to. Much like when I worked at a summer camp for the first time in 2008, I'm deliberately not researching the place or the surrounding area too much. The experience is going to be wholly new, for better or for worse. Probably the latter based off past experiences, but isn't the whole point of doing such a thing as spending an entire year abroad studying to experience new things? There's no enjoyment of naive exploration if you can second-guess your way around a place, no spontaneous and magnetic connections with the people you meet on arrival if you've already made friends beforehand, no joy of the unexpected if you're simply going through the motions.

This post wasn't planned, and it's taken a swift detour into rant territory, so I'm stopping here. New blog. Enjoy.

Oh, and it's called Bløg because I like the way it sounds (think bleurg). Nothing clever.