229 days, 5496 hours, the equivalent of nearly 11,000 episodes of friends. That’s how long it has been since this photo was taken, when I waved goodbye to my rather tearful mum and dad at Gatwick airport security, and went through the gates to start my year abroad in Canada. In a few days, my family will touch down at Vancouver airport and I’ll pack up my room and all the things I’ve collected over the past eight months, eventually flying back to the UK, unsure of when exactly, if ever, I’ll return to a part of the world that I’ve truly fallen in love with.

I wish I was as tech-savvy as fellow exchangees who have created amazing video compilations from GoPro cameras that sum up perfectly what the year in Vancouver has been like. But sadly I’m not, so I’m going to wrap up my year abroad in this blog post.

As I sit in the library, attempting to build up the motivation to study for exams which I’m well aware count for very little, I can’t help but be extremely jealous of my friends at UBC that have finished for the year, and are currently busy drinking under the sunshine at Wreck Beach. But more than anything thing, I’m jealous of all the second year students around the globe that are preparing to start their own year abroad. Because If I could put this year on replay for the next five years, I would.

If I did replay the year, it’d look a little like this:

It’s been a year where academic responsibility has taken a backseat (thanks again Edinburgh, for ensuring we only have to pass our courses while on Exchange), while exploring a completely new place has taken priority. When I look back on this experience, I won’t remember the night before cramming sessions for midterm examinations in awful study rooms situated within the laundry area (there’s something uneasy about working next to washing machines), but it’ll be the sunsets, the snow covered mountains, the kayaking trips around beautiful bays, and the hikes (OK, there was only one ACTUAL hike, but it was great).

Although the scenery of this beautiful area of the world will stick with me for life, I wouldn’t have been able to explore it in the same way if it wasn’t for the group of friends I’ve found. If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t have had the constant motivation to try out new things while I was out here, I wouldn’t have anyone to crash into me on beginner ski slopes with, nobody to take trips to the US with, nobody to moan about the severe lack of drunk food available past midnight in Canada, and nobody to skip class with and spend the day on the campus beach, with just some speakers and the sand “beer hole” for company.

In spite of all the amazing trips and drunken evenings, Universities are definitely right when they explain the “ups and downs” of exchange before you depart. Losing a family member while being so far from home has got to be one of the most difficult things I’ve had to deal with. In spite of the initial shock and upset, the fact that I wasn’t surrounded by family who were grieving meant I was still caught up in the usual whirlwind of exchange activities, leaving me in a constant state of disbelief that anything had actually happened. It wasn’t until I received funeral services and picture slideshows via email that the reality sunk in that I’d lost my Grandad, and suddenly all I wanted was to be on my sofa with my mum, a cuppa, and some crappy TV to forget about everything for an hour. In spite of a wobbly week, the amazing support system I have around me (thanks for the cups of tea, trips to the pub, and harry potter audiobook evenings- you know who you are), meant I came out of the other side, with a strong belief that there is no way my Grandad would have wanted me to mope around during my final months in Canada.

With this belief in mind, I ensured I took advantage of the last of my time in this part of the world. I took a trip to Portland, where I felt like I’d stepped back into 1960s “Mad Men” style America, watched the sunset at the beach after class, cheered on the Canucks at my second NHL ice hockey game, night skied down Grouse Mountain with sunset views of Vancouver city and the Pacific Ocean, found gluten free poutine (best night of my life – not even joking), and enjoyed my last few ski season days on the slopes at Whistler.

Although those experiences were unreal, there’s undoubtedly a few things about Canadian culture that I won’t miss (sorry Mr Trudeau). Firstly, the extreme friendliness. I know that sounds crazy, but there’s some days when waiters won’t leave your table because they’re too busy cracking jokes and you’re in a rush, that you wish you were in a UK pub again where the restaurant staff just take their tip, leave, and get on with the day. Secondly, the all round “keen” nature of Canadian students, only here is there a queue for the treadmills at the student gym at 7am, and people begin stressing about exams that start in three weeks. I will happily return to Edinburgh student life where the majority of students on campus stumble into 9am lectures still fairly intoxicated, in sweatpants with their “Hive” stamp showing proudly on their wrist. Talking of intoxication, the last thing I won’t miss – the drinking culture (or lack thereof). I quite frankly cannot wait to be able to buy a cheeky bottle of wine at Tescos instead of having to pay group visits to the “Liquor Store”, and not needing to pre drink at 6pm due to the early queues for clubs here will be greatly welcomed when I’m back at the UK. Saying that, I will miss chuckling to myself as I walk past the Frat house on the rare sunny day we get here, as they crowd topless around a canadian flag and blast out music out while carrying out their bench press reps in front of passers by.

When you’re considering going on exchange, you get a lot of professors and family members (general adults) telling you how good it’ll look to employers to have experienced a year abroad. Regardless of how much this is true, I think the most important thing about exchange is not how you look to graduate firms, but how your own outlook on life changes. I realise that line is pure cheese, and I do apologise, but it’s the absolute truth. This year has taught me that I can adapt to new situations, regardless of how terrifying they appear at first, and that bad feelings, regardless of the situation, are always temporary – and if you just get up and go, things will get better. My time at UBC has taught me that despite still loving my degree course, there’s so much more to life, and especially your early 20s, than academia.

So, in summary, I’d like to an extend a huge thank you to you Canada. I’ve found a real home here for a very small period of my life – I’ve met amazing people, and seen some beautiful things – but more than anything, you’ve motivated me to get out there and travel – because there’s so much more to life than studying.

It has been one of those days. The February blues days where you wake up sniffling and feeling sorry for yourself, take an ibuprofen and crawl back under the duvet, convincing yourself that midterm revision can wait a few more hours – you need this. You need to watch another two episodes of Mad Men and spoon your hot water bottle. You need to eat two more spoonfuls of Ben and Jerries and ignore the bag of oranges that are still sat at the back of your fridge.

Except you don’t. What you need to do is splash your face with some cold water, open your windows, put on that song you always dance to your underwear in, and tell yourself it’s really not that bad.

As an exchange student, there’s a certain social media pressure to follow the crowd and post long, poetic blogs about your recent surfing trip, hike to a beautiful lake that even the best Instagram filter cannot justify, or even just another day not worrying about classes because hey, you only need 50% to pass. I’ve followed this trend with the best of them. My news feeds are clogged up with chair lift selfies at Whistler and walks on scenic beaches that are practically my back garden this year.

And that’s fine. Because 99.9% of the time, being an exchange student is exactly that. Laughing and adventures and trips and enjoying new places with minimal academic worry – much to the anger of fellow third year friends in Edinburgh who are furiously tapping at keyboards to hand in essays on time that actually count towards their degree classifications.

But I think it’s also important, that amongst the drunken snapchat stories and optimistic blog posts, we’re honest with each other about the 0.01% of days where everything isn’t snowboards and sunshine. It’s important that we accept that there will be the odd day or two where we skype home and realise that we haven’t seen our parents in six months, and actually quite miss their seemingly endless stream of questions about which internship schemes we are applying for, and where exactly that student loan is going (I promise, it’s not tequila shots..). I’m sure that most exchange students have had one of these days, where deadlines loom and you’ve been sat reading for so many hours that you’re craving a night out or just the social interaction of the server at the local coffee house.

For me that was today. Nothing awful occurred, no big disaster. Yet it was one of those days where I couldn’t help but feel I’d been sat at my desk in sweatpants for far too long, and facebook messages from friends back were home started to make me wish I could teleport to Edinburgh, just for one night back in the Hive.

As I sat at my desk feeling sorry for myself, l looked out of the window and realised that something very unusual was occurring in Vancouver. It wasn’t raining, not one bit. In fact, the pinkness of the clear sky made it look appealing to step outside. So, with sunset occurring in the next half hour, I did something very out of character indeed. I laced up my trainers, flung my hair into a bun, set my earphones to my feel good Friday playlist (who cares that it’s Sunday?) and went for a run.

Granted, although with Kanye’s Golddigger blasting I felt like the next Usain Bolt powering down Main Mall, the accidental reverse camera incident on the iphone later on, and people’s stares at my out of breath pants, proved that I probably more closely resembled a red in the face Bridget Jones. Regardless, I made it to UBC’s rose garden for sunset, a place where a view of ocean meets mountains never fails to make me feel very content.

With the view of the still water and the blood pounding in my ears, the endorphins actually kicked in (maybe I should do this more often?!) and everything I’d been feeling before began to slip away. Any feelings of missing home or midterm stress had vanished as a very out of breath me reached my front door, and proceeded to collapse onto my sofa.

It’s important to acknowledge that everyone has one of these days where for just a second it feels like the world may be caving in on you. But it’s also important to acknowledge that those feelings are extremely temporary, and the memories of your trips and laughs on exchange are permanent. So get out of those sweatpants, turn off Netflix and lace up your trainers – because it turns out the rumours are true – exercise is good for the mind.

<<< Sunset view from the Rose Garden.

2016 has finally come around and my social media news feeds continue to be clogged up with updates about first spinning classes, new passions for yoga, and how to make a kale smoothie to finally get the bikini body you’ve been helplessly searching for since 2008 (let’s be honest, despite Kate Moss’s view, some things will always taste better than skinny feels). But, in spite of all these painful new years’ resolutions, as I enter semester two of UBC, I’m quite confident that the next four months will be exactly the same as the last, and I couldn’t be happier about that.

The last time I wrote on this blog was November, and the past two months have been a whirlwind of learning to ski, cramming for final exams, and spending my first Christmas away from home (in New York City, of all places).

Exam results have come around, and proved that Inbetweeners-esque, energy-fuelled, night before revision, where you power through an entire textbook and approximately two tubs of cookie dough, can in fact pay off. But before I realised I had miraculously passed all my courses, I jumped on plane to New York, ready to experience my first American Christmas.

Although the absence of waitressing at Christmas parties at work, and going on the annual family trip to pick a Christmas tree made the festive season all feel a little peculiar, that all changed when I was reunited with an old friend at Newark airport. Checked into our hotel, we spent Christmas Eve Eve (yes, that’s an actual thing in my mind) watching the lights show at Saks Fifth Avenue, visiting Rockefelller Centre’s Christmas tree, eating at the Hard Rock Café and finally, curling up in an Irish pub just off Times Square, making our way through a bottle of wine whilst “Fairy-tale of New York” played out in the background.

Christmas Eve was spent mad dashing around New York city sights in the heat. Yes, you did read that right. New York was about 23 degrees on Christmas Eve, and something felt a little strange about watching the ice rink at Bryant Park melt away, as people walked past in shorts and t-shirts. Not exactly the snowy East Coast Christmas Eve that I’d pictured. But, as we walked through Central Park, and stopped at the Met steps and pretended to be eating lunch on Gossip girl, I couldn’t complain.

(pictured below is a man at work on Christmas Eve, supposed to be entertaining the kids, but clearly he hadn’t been warned of the temperature, and wasn’t all too happy about his work uniform).

After pushing through the mosh pit of people crammed in Grand Central station on Christmas Eve afternoon, all waiting to get out of the city to family homes, we made it onto a train to New Jersey, tired and ready to crash at my friend’s family home. If I hadn’t felt festive enough before, then arriving at my friend’s home in Hillsborough definitely solved that problem. Walking into a Home-alone style beautiful house with a huge decorated tree and Christmas songs playing throughout the house, it finally felt like Christmas Eve.

After a few days of amazing food and even better wine (and lots of it!), alongside a day exploring Princeton’s beautiful campus and many hours spent enjoying episodes of Peep Show on the sofa, it was sadly time for me to return to Canada.  My return was made so much better by an old friend from home greeting me at the airport.

My poor knowledge of Vancouver geography in general and my inability to work the Google Maps apps proved to be a slight issue, but I managed to be a half-decent tour guide– and after a cycle around Stanley Park seawall, it felt good to be back in this city again.

A trip to Whistler saw my (very much amateur) ski skills tested, as my athlete friend who hadn’t skied in a decade whizzed past me on the beginner slope and suggested skiing all the way down the mountain. This proved a challenge for me, who’d spent the past two weekends in Whistler in ski school, with three year olds racing past me as I focused solely on holding down the tequila I’d consumed the night before. However, only a few falls later, I made it to the bottom of the mountain, feeling just a little bit proud of myself as we prepared to head back to the city for New Years Eve.

For once, I was able to spend New Years with friends and not serving extremely drunk customers and polishing plates. I definitely made the most of this, with a night that began with a house party of fellow exchangers, and ended in a 4.30am limousine ride back from a club downtown.

With 2016 here, it was time to start classes at UBC again and things began to feel oh so familiar. Namely: the painful calculation of textbook costs at the terrifying over-priced bookstore, the froyo breaks in between lectures, and the recurring “ah well, we only need 50 to pass the year” attitude every time anybody suggests a night out. As I try to budget my student loan around a weekend trip to Portland and more days exploring the slopes of Whistler, alongside a fair few Wine Wednesdays at Mahony’s, and numerous trips to the Bimini, I’ve got a feeling this semester may not be so bad. And an even stronger feeling that Wakefield won’t seem so appealing come summer time when I have to get a return flight home.

(back at UBC and exploring the beaches on campus)

1. You feel the need to try out all the nights at the student union that Canadians don’t’ even know exist – even if that results in you rapping Hotline Bling to a very empty room at Monday Night Karaoke at The Pit.

2. You’re still very still extremely confused by Canadian currency to the point where your purse is weighed down with hundreds of near-identical silver coins, and cashiers often have to physically count the amount due out of your hand, with a disapproving look on their face.

3. There’s no such thing as “savings” anymore. Wave goodbye to it all.

4. You’re still adapting to being asked for 2 pieces of ID constantly – even if you only wanted an innocent post-lecture plate of nachos at Mahony’s.

5. You’re constantly pretending you understand the Canadian politics references in your lectures, while trying to subtly continue reading The Guardian on your computer. Because, if we’re being honest- Boris Johnson rugby tackling a small boy is far more amusing than this election malarkey.

6. You’re contacting your parents less and less regularly as your schedule fills up. Most importantly you’re learning Skype etiquette. Speaking to your parents for the first time in weeks while sat in pjs, forcing a takeaway pizza into your hungover mouth, is apparently not acceptable.

7. You’re experiencing the stress of trying to apply for summer internships while explaining you have a “special circumstance” and no, you cannot attend the “mandatory” group task day – London is a tad too far for a day trip. And no, phone interviews at 2am my time are not okay.

8. Sending embarrassing drunk messages are no longer acceptable because the receiver is innocently eating their breakfast, 100% sober, and will 100% judge you.

9. You feel a constant need to do something tourist-esque with your time. Got in at 3am and need a Netflix session? Forget that, you’re hiking up a mountain side. And if you don’t then FOMO will come over your entire being. So get them walking boots on.

10. You’ve mastered the “I only got here 3 months ago and don’t understand how the printer system works in Canada” excuse to blurt out to your prof when the essay you completed 5 minutes before the deadline is placed 8096^th in the Irving print line queue.

11. You get angry at the till every weekly grocery shop, moaning to your friends that you “Save On” nothing at “Save on Foods”, yet their suggestion of getting a bus for an extra 15 minutes to No Frills is completely out of the equation.

12. It continues to anger you that pre-drinks are scheduled at practically mid-afternoon times in order to catch the bus downtown, and spend some time in the clubs that continue to close at the pathetic hour of 1am.

13. There are many a Wednesday nights when you spend longer in macdonalds drunkenly forcing “poutine” into your mouth than you actually do dancing in Bimini’s.

14. You cannot wait for Ski Season to begin at Whistler, despite the fact the last time you were on the slopes you were 10 years old and perfecting your snow plough.

15. While your bank account sighs heavily as you purchase your student ski season pass, you ignore the fact that numerous final papers are due days after the weekend you’ve just booked a lodge in Whistler for. Essay or hot tub with mountain view? Not even a question worth asking.

16. After all, You Only Canada Once.

Last time I wrote on here I was probably in the best place ever since arriving on Canadian soil, taking a drunken dip in a fountain and embracing campus life. That’s not to say this blog post is coming from a bad place inside, but stress levels are definitely higher. That’s not because I still hate the fact tax is added at the till, or the Vancouver rain has set in hard and fast (although those two things regularly make me want to fork my eyeballs out).

No, it’s because North America invented “mid terms”. They can’t just accept that you want to get drunk for the whole semester and cram for one exam at the end can they? So, as I sit surrounded by my freshly washed laundry, my newly vacuumed room, and my half drunk water bottle after trying and failing to do a Miley Cyrus leg workout on youtube, I have reached peak levels of procrastination. As I almost forced myself to open the reading on USA public policy, I had a light bulb moment. “Hey Lucy, you haven’t written a blog in a while”. So here goes, after all – I only need to pass this year anyway…

A lot has happened since my evening of playing beer pong and trying to fit into the campus tree hammocks at 2am. I had to emotionally and physically support my friend that next morning, when our “brunch and study day” turned into her attempting to vomit numerous times in between trying to get through her eggs benedict, while saying through gritted teeth to me “I blame you for this”. Sorry, I just really need a tequila buddy sometimes. Okay, a lot of the time. Coincidentally, that whole morning made me feel very much at home after Edinburgh memories of my flat forcing ourselves to brunch, looking like we’d been collectively dragged through a hedge backwards.

Study day cancelled due to one solider down, I introduced myself to the Mindy Project, another beautiful gem that can only be found on Canadian Netflix. Then evening hit and I realised I did indeed have class tomorrow, so settled down on my sofa and did something I’ve never done before – I read a whole book in one sitting. Granted, it was with the help of a jug of Yorkshire tea and half a tub of Nutella, but it happened. It also helped that the book was on transgender identities, and not the economic cost benefit analysis of policies. This book made me very glad that I’d taken my outside course of “Introduction to Critical Studies in Sexuality” – a course that my friends here swear I’m telling lies about when I get home from class. Only in this class do we watch porn, and listen to our professor lecture us on the 50 shades of grey “sets” you can purchase in Walmart. As you could guess, it never gets boring. The only downside is that I definitely don’t fit into the type of student in that class, and try to hide the conformist jack wills logo on my coat as I shuffle into the back corner seat, and observe the rows of people who look effortlessly fashionable in a bohemian chic style, and are most probably drinking fair-trade tea in that flask.

Skip to the middle of the week and prep had began for that beautiful milestone that is my 21st. An excuse for a big night out, and when I say big, I mean huge. Because if someone had taken a GoPro that evening and observed the behaviour of my circle of friends as we entered the club, David Attenborough style, we would have most probably resembled an invasion of hyper epileptics who really loved to slut drop. One of my only crystal clear memories is getting extremely angry at the DJ who responded to my song request of “No Church in the Wild” with: “I’ve never heard of that one”.  A DJ that doesn’t know a song which involves all 3 of Jay-Z, Kanye, and Frank Ocean. Sometimes I really miss you Leeds.

All in all, that evening definitely taught us that it is never acceptable for the WHOLE GROUP to get “birthday girl” level drunk. Endless amounts of vomming, crying and drama shall only follow.

Once I finally recovered from this Geordie Shore-esque evening I was able to do what I do best, and drag my birthday celebrations out for a further three days. Which turned out rather nice – after a home cooked meal by my Italian flatmate who I could swear is the next Nigella Lawson, a home cooked gluten free brunch by my favourite British girls, and a Harbour-side evening of cocktails and dining – see, we can be classy sometimes. Emphasis on the sometimes.

My money continues to be thrown away in bulk on a weekly routine of over-priced groceries and my current sushi addiction. But cash flows and mid term exams aside, I’m not complaining. This evening I get to go to a home cooked Thanksgiving meal (it’s in October in Canada- no idea why) that involves Turkey and Pumpkin pie and get nicely tipsy while collectively laughing with my friends about how screwed we are for midterms. Which is 100% fine, because we’re on exchange – we’re far more concerned with planning weekend travel trips than actually opening a book. And that’s exactly how it should be.

4 weeks. One month. I guess that’s all it took. If you’d have told me on move in day that by the beginning of October I could call UBC home, I would’ve thought you were having a laugh. I still would’ve expected to be complaining about all the positivity and the fact that everyone appears to be asleep by 9pm and out for a jog at 6am.

Turns out Vancouver-ites are not crazy robot people programmed only to eat kale and do sun salutations on a beach. They’re just people, like me and you. And granted, I may not be spending every other night stumbling out of a club at 5am, with my shoes stuck to the dance floor, still singing along to “Summer of 69” and sprinting to the nearest takeaway. But that doesn’t mean I’m not enjoying every day I spend on this beautiful campus. In fact, there’s a slight chance I may be turning into a Vancouver-ite myself. I actually found myself saying to a friend this week:

“I’m in a rush, I’ve got to do a wholefoods shop and then I’ve got a yoga class”.

What happened to me? Don’t fear though Edinburgh friends, it’s not all change. I still drink far too many tequila shorts on a night out and last night thought it would be a good idea to go for a “paddle” in a fountain outside an apartment building. Perhaps not the smartest move.

Bad drunk stories aside, UBC is unreal. I’ve never experienced a University life before where hoards of students pile onto buses on Saturday mornings in gym gear to either go for a bike ride across Stanley Park Seawall, trek up a mountain to take in the sea views or have a kayak along Jericho Beach. Every second I spend reading a Political article for class in my room, I get an immediate fear of missing out on some adventure that will definitely be happening somewhere nearby. Which perhaps explains the lack of writing in my notebooks, and the masses of panorama shots of landscapes that are currently blocking up my Iphone’s memory.

I may not be 100% Canadian for a while – after another visit to a Thunderbirds football match I’m still puzzled as to why there’s around 300 people on a team. And I may never be as at ease on the wee stenched number 4 bus back from Granville Street as the locals appear to be. But none of that matters. Because I get to spend my weekends watching 12 orca whales roam around in the wild, playing beer pong at the pub on campus, and participating in the peculiar “Day of the Longboat” in which buses of UBC students are dumped on a beach and thrown into a “Longboat” in teams, in an attempt to paddle as hard as you can around a choppy sea course while trying not to capsize.

<<<<<< Casual Killer Whale

I think I’ve realised the key to exchange is acknowledging that comparing your experiences abroad to University life at home will never end well. You have to acknowledge that you’re on this year for a reason. To explore a new and amazing place, to meet people from across the globe, but most importantly, to embrace it. And as I look at my calendar at the planned trip to Whistler for a hike, a “Thanksgiving” home cooked meal with the British girls, and a Sunshine Coast camping trip – I know I’m doing just that.

“Emotional rollercoaster”. People use the term to be melodramatic about a film they’ve just watched and it’s the kind of words Taylor Swift would use when whining about the end of a sour relationship. But, at a huge risk of sounding incredibly cheesy, that’s probably the only words I can use to describe the past two weeks I’ve spent in Canada since arriving on campus at UBC. Which is difficult for me to admit as I usually have tough skin, I never get homesick (sorry mum), and tend to just get on with things on a high whenever I’m away at University.

Which isn’t to say I haven’t experienced some amazing things in the past fortnight, because I definitely have. I’ve tried to contain my exchange student excitement while walking past the sea and mountains on the way to a lecture, I’ve watched the sun set over Vancouver skyline in a kayak with seals bobbing up around me, I’ve experienced the excitement of a Homecoming football match and I’ve been lucky enough to meet some amazing people.

But I think that when you’re on the plane en route to a new country for a whole year that it’s difficult to realise it may not be 100% the best time of your life as soon as you arrive. I had mental images of stepping onto the runway to a hoard of fellow exchange students, rushing to dump their bags in dorm rooms and head out to a frat party to play beer pong and embrace the Canadian campus culture. Instead, I was faced with a three hour long wait at immigration to receive my study permit, when all I could think about was how much I needed a shower and how I hadn’t slept in two days. That’s not to say the border wait was all bad, one of the security guys looked like an Abercrombie model, but that’s besides the point.

After just about managing to drag all my suitcases up to the front desk of my student residence, I was given the keys to my new flat, vaguely told the direction I should walk in and given a half-broken luggage trolley to drag behind me. So far, not so good. It wasn’t quite the “Move In Day” I’d imagined from the smiling pictures of volunteers carrying your bags in the online pictures. After unlocking my bedroom door to find a strangely laid out, angular room with drip white bare walls everywhere and practically nothing in it, it hit me. I don’t know what exactly hit me, but something inside me was immediately like “What have I done?”. It probably didn’t help that after enquiring about a social that night, I was told “we have a BBQ in three days time”. That’s pretty difficult to take when you’re used to making friends on the first day through the medium of Ring of Fire, far too many tequila shots and extreme hangover bonding the next morning as you attempt to rush around the moshpit that is Fresher’s Fair.

Long story short, the first night resulted in visiting a fellow British friend who didn’t get University residence, and I will be forever grateful to her. Because I’m 100% sure if I hadn’t arrived at hers, pre drank, and drunkenly stumbled to a “toga frat party”, (in reply to my first blog, yes frats do indeed exist – I’ve witnessed it in the flesh, and trust me it’s weird), then I would most probably have sat on my empty bed and contemplated why the hell I’d thought it was a good idea to move across the Atlantic. After waking up with a hangover from hell and trekking across IKEA with my flatmates for what must have been at least 5 hours the next day- I was focusing far too much on not vomiting to even worry about home or this new environment. Topped off with a home cooked meal from my Italian flatmate that night who just happens to be an amazing cook, I was finally feeling settled in.

So, instead of giving a detailed “dear diary” account of the past two weeks here at UBC, which would most possibly make you decide to take a buzzfeed quiz on “which Disney princess are you?”, or switch on Netflix and carry on watching Gossip Girl, I’m going to break down some experiences here in “19 Things I’ve Learnt Since I Landed in Canada”. Here goes..

• It is not a cultural myth that everyone here is friendly. I can’t remember the last time I bought my lunch without someone asking me how my day was going. Even the bus drivers here are nice, who knew that was possible.
• Canadian netflix is so much better than the UK’s – all 10 seasons of Friends (clearly     I’ve been getting on with lecture readings)
• People take exercise far more seriously than drinking in Vancouver. In Edinburgh I was lucky to make it to the gym once a month. I’ve already signed up to a weekly yoga class here and planned 7am gym trips (whether I make it, to be fair, is another question entirely).
• Homecoming is a big deal. Paint your face, wear a thunderbirds T-Shirt, and pretend you have a vague idea of what’s going on when the football players continue to have a break after what seems like two minutes of exercise – it’s not quite rugby.
• For future reference- don’t turn up in your Thunderbirds gear to the Student Union for a night out the evening of the match if you didn’t even look at the scoreboard – the guys who ask you if we won will not be impressed.”

• Maybe it is possible to be too positive about some things. Only in the past two weeks have I seen ketchup described as an “awesome condiment” at a hot dog stand.

• People work here. I know, I’m at University, this shouldn’t be a shock. But I mean work as in actually do lecture readings on a daily basis. Not Edinburgh-work, where we bash out 2000 words the night before a deadline during an energy drink fuelled 24 hour library session.

• It’s far too difficult to buy alcohol here. (Once again being a booze fuelled Brit). Want some vodka for pre-drinks? How about some wine for that risotto you’re cooking? You get it at the supermarket then? No. You have to go to a liquor store, which happens to close at 9pm on a Saturday night. Mind blown.
• It’s okay not to feel 100% positive about being on exchange every second of every day, especially when you’re watching the two minute snapchat story of Edinburgh nights out at the Big Cheese or your friend gets tagged in a photo at Hive. FOMO on new levels.
• Always carry an umbrella with you around campus, there’s a reason this city is nicknamed “Raincouver”.
• Canadians appear to have a special dish called “Poutine” that is served in Maccy D’s – it’s basically just chips, cheese and gravy – we’ve been doing that up North probably much longer.
• The student gym is a tiny room with a layout that often results in you running on a treadmill, facing a boy with his “Rush Week” frat top on. Not always ideal.
• The sushi here is amazing. And it’s everywhere.
• Don’t try and buy froyo on campus at lunch rush hour unless you wish to be standing in a queue until it’s dark outside.
• Beef Jerkey is disgusting. Never try it. Unless you want to be chewing for about thirty minutes on a stick that tastes like dog food and makes you look like a farmer with a strand of wheat hanging from your teeth.
• Quite suspiciously, the milk here doesn’t go out of date for ages, who knows what they’re adding to that stuff.
• The views from Walter Gage 13th floor are out of this world. From now on I will be having regular tea breaks at my friends to look out over the sea and Vancouver skyline.
• If you search really hard, you will find Yorkshire Tea bags in the supermarket, and it will be one of the best moments of your life. (Sad thing is, I’m not even exaggerating)
• UBC is beautiful, Google wasn’t lying, and I definitely made the right call in applying here.

Right, best get ready for bed, got to get up at 7am for a gym session.

I wish I was lying.

#Vancouverlife

It’s finally here. The moment that always seemed so far away, ever since I received that email from Edinburgh University telling me that I’d been accepted onto International Exchange.

I’m sat on my bed, staring (quite proudly) at the one, extremely large suitcase that I’ve managed (somehow) to pack most of my life into for the year. So a big HAHA to all my friends who claimed I wouldn’t even fit my hairstyling products into one suitcase. Although they had a point, as packing was no easy feat. Almost every time my mum went to close the suitcase up I’d shout something along the lines of:

“I can maybe just fit this third tartan scarf in if we try really hard”.

She was not best amused.

Tomorrow morning, I set off to London with my parents, one of whom will no doubt already be sobbing at the thought of me not returning for Christmas (hint: it’s not my father, a blunt Yorkshire man whose usual advice is “it’ll be reyt”). After an overnight hotel stay tomorrow, I will no doubt have to be dragged from my bed at the horrendously early hour of 4am on Saturday morning to check in for my flight to Vancouver, Canada.

“So, how do you feel about it all?”.

This is the question I’ve been repeatedly asked by friends and family, each of them with a grin on their faces, expecting a deep and meaningful answer. If I’m being completely honest, I don’t really feel that much. And that’s not because I’m not excited or nervous, but because none of this seems real. After spending the majority of my summer holiday watching box sets on Netflix and convincing myself that at some point in the next three months I shall go for a jog, it just doesn’t seem feasible that I am moving to Canada. Canada! The land of maple syrup, ice hockey games and moose (not that I enjoy cultural stereotypes).

I’m sure halfway through my 10-hour flight across the Atlantic, once I’ve exhausted all the half decent on-board film choices and made the most of the free chocolate, it’ll hit me out of nowhere. That this is not a joke, I’m actually moving to Vancouver. That I will soon be arriving at an alien campus and thrown head first into the first day of University all over again. As much as I love meeting new people, this will definitely be a challenge after settling into a comfort blanket of close friends at Edinburgh, and enjoying that we could have much more exciting conversations than the “So, what do you study?” chat that flies around during first week.

Yet at the same time I’m more than willing to put up with numerous awkward handshakes, IKEA trips, and misread map routes to first lectures, if it means I get to spend the academic year at UBC. And if you’re wondering why, then you clearly have yet to visit Google Images and search “UBC”. I knew I wanted to apply to study there the first time I saw the picture that greets you after that internet search. My first reaction was “that cannot be it”, as I stared at a green University Campus literally sticking out at an angle into the Pacific Ocean, with a backdrop of snow capped mountains that wouldn’t look out of place on a Hollywood film set. And UBC is definitely not just a pretty face, it’s regularly ranked in the top 40 Universities across the globe (plus I heard the “frat” parties aren’t too bad either).

Which brings me to one of my many queries about campus life at UBC, do frats and sororities really exist? To any equally bewildered British friends reading this, it seems that yes, they do. And not only do they exist, but it appears they have their own “Village”, which I found out after Google Maps revealed to me that my accommodation is a short walk from a small line of “Frat Houses” named things like “Alpha Delta Phi”, that wouldn’t look out of place on an American Pie film.

So as I begin to learn that “Frat boys” do in fact drink out of red beer pong cups in their own houses, it looks as though there’s a few culture shocks coming my way. One of which will no doubt be the famous friendly character of Canadian citizens, something which I will struggle with after getting rather used to a nation of grumbling Brits who would much rather moan at you about the weather than wish you a fabulous day.

So, as I mentally prepare myself to embark on this slightly terrifying adventure, it seems that the best advice to follow is that which everybody keeps telling me, which is to make the most of this year. After all, not many are lucky enough to spend their third year studying abroad at a beautiful campus on the other side of the world. So it’s time to dive straight in, attempt (and probably fail epically) to ski, meet people from across the world, get used to the coastal rain, and try not to get eaten by a bear. As I remember that the specific grades I achieve at UBC do not count towards my degree classification at Edinburgh, the words of a friend at my Bon Voyage party are ringing in my ears:

“Lucy, if I don’t see a picture of you, upside down on a beer keg at a frat party, I’ll be severely disappointed”.

Canada, I hope you’re ready.