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Published: August 7th 2007
Gift
Pom Pom with his pompomsThis morning I pulled myself from my bed with a great scowl - not because I was tired, but because I knew tour time was winding down to its final few
hours, and that was depressing. I quickly got dressed and went downstairs for a final French breakfast. Juice and a croissant…how exotic. I heard about the cabaret from Laura, Erin and Anita, and it sounded like they had a great time. I’m not sorry I missed it though. I quickly went back to my room to get my suitcase so I could jump on the coach and get a front seat. Seeing as I was one of very few going all the way back to London, I figured I could claim one for myself. I stashed my backpack then went to wait with my suitcase until Damian put it in the coach. After he took it, it was time to say goodbye to two of my new favorite people, Matt and Jeff. I was quite sad to leave them, and quite jealous that they were heading to Greece and then back to Amsterdam before heading home. As the rest of us piled onto the coach, I felt myself slipping into
Sad
Goodbyes at the airport a funk, but hearing Motley Crue blaring over through the speakers as we waved goodbye raised my spirits a bit.
Off to the Charles de Gaulle airport. We got there very quickly as there was a strange lack of traffic. I hugged Rachel and thanked her for being a good roommate and waved goodbye to so many of the friends I’d made in the past few weeks. All but about 17 of us or so got off, and seeing so many people leave, knowing that we’d never be assembled in the same group again was kind of sad. Something I’m used to, but sad nonetheless. I sprawled out in my front seat, which I now had all to myself. The drive was pretty chilled out. As Pom Pom and Damian were chatting about their upcoming tours, Engelberg came up and a certain driver, in a slightly raised tone, brought up “Allison’s special friend”…of course my ears perked up and I retorted with a “Hey now, I take no responsibility for my actions at P-parties”. They had a good chuckle at my expense. Good times.
About halfway to Calais we stopped at Vimy Ridge. We stopped at the monument
Vimy Monument
War memorial in the fog just long enough for me to dash up the walkway and snap a few pictures through the heavy fog, and run back to the coach. It was very moving to see (The land on which it stands is a Canadian National Park, given to Canada by France as thanks for Canada’s efforts on behalf of France during the First World War). Next stop? The trenches. We had a half hour stop there, and it was very cool to be there, knowing the history. The Visitor Information building made me feel like I was home, with the familiar Gov’t of Canada signage and atmosphere. Felt a little patriotic.
Back on the coach for the final drive to Calais, Pom Pom seemed to be in a very silly mood, playing clips of Britney Spears doing radio spots, and inserting commentary when appropriate. “Hi, I’m Britney Spears and you’re listening to” “Pom Pom and Damian FM”. It was cute. I spent a good chunk of time writing in my journal, and I felt kind of bad, because I had my book propped up on the railing in front of me and I felt like I was breathing down Damian’s neck, but my
back was kind of sore and sitting that way stretched it out. At one point though, I was quietly singing along to a song, not really paying attention to the fact that anyone might be listening. I was in my own little world, but I snapped out of it when he turned to Pom Pom and said “What’s that moaning?” then shot me an evil grin. I gave him the double finger and laughed, thinking he (and the rest of the coach) was lucky I wasn’t belting. They laughed at me and I went back to my writing.
We eventually arrived in Calais and had to go back through passport control, so we went in, lined up, clutching our landing cards and passports and before I knew it I was being directed to an unintimidating looking young female. She asked a few questions before she got to the dreaded “Do you have a job waiting back in Canada for you?” Me being me, did not lie. I sheepishly said “No, but I’m an actor, so…uh…” and gave her my best please be sympathetic and understanding look. She coldly shot back, “Well how did you pay for this trip then?”
Half assed pose
Dan pretending to be a soldier in the trenches I was trying not to get flustered, so I spit out, “Umm, money from other acting jobs”, except ended the phrase with rising intonation so it sounded more like a question than a statement. My whole body was tensing up as I was praying that I hadn’t just gotten myself stuck there for more questioning, and after a few heavily weighted seconds that seemed much longer, she said “Okay” and waved me through. Whew! Mini-crisis averted. Damn, working in the arts is inconvenient sometimes. In any case, we all made it through without hassle. As the coach drove onto the Pride of Calais, I couldn’t help thinking about the enormous number of experiences I’d had since I’d last been on this ferry. The ferry traffic director guy made Damian squeeze the coach between two others and the fit was slightly ridiculous. I don’t know HOW he did it, but he did manage to squeeze in, narrowly avoiding taking off the mirrors of the other coaches. We gave him a round of applause, then made a mad dash for the food court. A long wait and a bit of barricading against the Spaniards later, Dan, Andrew and I got food and
To London
Our REALLY empty coach sat down at a table to eat and start reliving some memories. When I’d finished my fish and chips, we all went our separate ways. I wandered around the main deck and into some shops, then went to the upper deck to get some air and watch the quickly approaching White Cliffs of Dover - I got nostalgic as I remembered being told, 16 days ago, to take a good look a them because we wouldn’t be seeing them again until the end of the tour. Before I knew it, the hour and a half ride was almost finished, so I went back down to the gate to wait to go down to the coach. Damian was the only person there that I recognized, so we got to chatting, just about arriving home to unemployment and how scary that can be. Pom Pom bounced into the conversation and before I knew it, we were heading downstairs to get back on the coach…for the LAST TIME.
The last bit of the drive was quite sad. Val, Chad and I chatted with the dynamic duo sitting in front of us, but I couldn’t help but be distracted by the numbers on the signs for Central London getting smaller and smaller. My heart was sinking. I would miss hearing “aaaaalrighty guys” every morning, eating crappy “breadfasts” and hearing Sex Machine. I would miss it all. Even though I was completely worn out, I wasn’t ready for it to be over. We pulled into the Royal National all too soon, and a Contiki rep jumped on the bus. She ran through a schpeal about accommodations and London tours - must be a terrible speech to have to give as everyone’s so anxious to get off the coach. The second she was done I jumped off the coach and ran around to the other side to grab my luggage from Damian for the last time. I cocked my head to one side, pouted a little and held out my arms to give him a hug, and with a smile and a nod of the head, I took my bag and went over to Pom Pom. I hugged him and then with a final wave to my tour mates, I felt it end.
A few years ago, if I’d been in the same situation I would have been bawling my eyes out. Lately though, I’ve become a little more desensitized to goodbyes. In the theatre, getting very very close to the people you work with for an intense, short amount of time and then saying goodbye is kind of part of the deal, and this felt very similar. I didn’t cry, but I was a little sad, and overwhelmed as the realization of what I’d just been through rushed over me. I’d go on to spend another week in London. I may or may not write about that. In short, saw the sights, saw some theatre and it was a good buffer between the tour and going home, but of course, couldn’t live up to the tour I’d just been on. The tour was wonderful, and so, with a great big THANK YOU to all of the people who helped make it what it was, this is me, signing off.
“Have you had your European Encounter yet?”
Why yes. Yes I have.
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anita
non-member comment
LOVED the journal. it was as if i was reliving the trip all over again...and you captured little bits and pieces i had forgotten about. thanks for putting this up!