Robinson and I have safely arrived in Toronto. Robinson wanted to take the ship, but I told him he had such an appalling track record where sea voyages were concerned that I would never EVER go on board on a ship with him. Never mind that he knows all kinds of nifty things, like to survive on a desert island for years on end.
I mean, really, would YOU like to spend several years on a desert island, with no internet access, no Twitter, no Facebook, no Blogger, and worst of all: no amazon deliveries!
Getting through immigration at Toronto airport was surprisingly easy, and in no time at all I was in possession of a work permit. Cool!
After collecting my very large and very heavy suitcase, I took a cab into town – it felt a bit like going to an RWA conference hotel. 🙂 Alas, there were no other romance writers in sight when I arrived at the hotel – too bad! Yet despite the lack of romance writers, the hotel is lovely, my room is gorgeous and very spacious (with a small kitchen, a dining area and a sitting area), and the staff is super-friendly.
Spent ages unpacking my suitcases. Realised I had forgotten all my skirts. Duh. So, skirt-shopping is the order of the day today!
After having found a place to store all my belongings, I went food shopping and nearly dropped dead when I saw the prices for food. $ 2.49 for a litre of milk!?!?!? What’s up with that?!?!?! (I consoled myself that perhaps I had ended up in a very expensive grocery store…)
Bought something that looked and felt like a very large German Broetchen, was called “European bread” and was absolutely tasteless. Ah well. The blueberries more than made up for the roll desaster!
With the food shopping done, I went out again and walked towards Queen Street. Spotted a Chapters. The sight of all the lovely, lovely books lured me inside and I ended up spending an indecent amount of money on books and magazines. But how could I resist a book called “Jane Austen’s Sewing Box”? Or “Jane Austen: An Illustrated Treasury”? Or “Old Houses of Toronto”?
Lugging several kilos of books, I walked back to the hotel, ate my tasteless roll, checked out the TV channels (hu?), before my body decided that it had had enough and now wanted sleep.
Off to bed – until the sounds of the fire alarm woke me up around 2 a.m. Via the loudspeakers we were informed that the alarm had gone off on the seventh floor and that we would be informed shortly about what was going on. I debated whether I should leave my room or not, but being on the 22nd floor and thus probably the last person who would be saved in the case of a roaring fire, I decided that I should better. Leave my room, that is. So I did and had the chance to admire big Canadian fire trucks. And fire fighters wearing their full gear.
The hotel did NOT burn down, though.