I'm no longer in Canada.

Therefore, it seems slightly ridiculous to continue writing in a blog called "hannahjanegoestocanada". And so, this is goodbye. I'm not hanging up my blogging shoes, but it seems that this particular blog must come to an end. I like that this blog will simply exist as a stand-alone journal of year-abroad-ness. As for the rest of my thoughts, I think it's time to utilise the tumblr account that I created a while ago, which has so far only been used for the purposes of stalking other tumblr users. I know, I know, being on tumblr makes me such a hipster. What of it?
So, yeah, it's been fun. I'd like to say a particular thanks to my Russian fanbase, who have continued to stick by me, for some unknown reason.
It's a sad farewell; I know. But, in time, the wounds will heal, and we'll move on with our lives.
Goodbye, Canada. Goodbye, year abroad. Goodbye, blog. Hello, 3 months in Newport. Oh joy.

Back to reality. Again.

So, I know that I still haven't said much about my travels. I suck; I know. For those of you who have me on facebook, you can see my pictures there. I tried to post links to the albums (which are public, so anyone can see them) on this blog, but it kinda failed. I dunno.
But anyways, that's all old news now, because I went home. I know, I was already home, but I went to my other home: Exeter. My goodness, it was good to be back. It was Arts Week, so naturally I was handed a violin and told to play in concerts. I saw my wonderful, wonderful friends. I was welcomed back in a variety of amazing and hilarious ways. For the first time, I got to see campus as not a building site, and it is glorious. I went to all of the places that I've missed dearly. I got drunk. A lot. I had the most spectacularly wonderful 10 days, and I could not have asked for more.
And now, I'm back in Newport, where I have to think about jobs and money and driving and moving house, and I really cannot wait for this summer to be over, so I can get my Welsh/Irish/Canadian/Devonian arse back to one of the many places that I call home, and live there, in a house, with my own room and my own bed and a chance to be part of Exeter life again, rather than a fleeting visitor. Oh, and I'll be finishing my degree, but never mind that.
Exeter, it was simply divine to see you again. I'll be back soon; I promise; and this time, I'll be back for good. <3

HOME.

Yes, lovely readers, I am back in the wonderful land of Bassaleg, and the sun is shining.
After two wonderful (and slightly stressful) days back in Ottawa spent with three amazing Canadians (<3), I hopped on a plane with way too much hand luggage and a seriously overweight suitcase. Apparently looking dishevelled, tired, and on the verge of crying makes airport staff pity you and not make you pay for things.
On the plane they gave us dinner at, like, midnight, which displeased me, but never mind. I watched Lady and the Tramp, so all was well. I then got off the plane, and onto a bus. I then got off the bus, and found out that my train was cancelled (Boooo) but got on the next train. I then arrived in sunny Newport and, as you would expect, went stright home. Oh, no, wait, I actually went to a cello recital. My sister's to be precise. We only just made it. And then we went for dinner. Given that I'd probably had about 8 hours of sleep over the last 3 nights combined, I was amazed that I could actually function as a human being. But Rachel's recital was amazing, and she is the most bootiful cellist in the world, as far as I'm concerned.
But yes, I finally made it home, and collapsed in a heap. And had 15 hours of sleep. Life is good.
I promise to update you soon on my travels and show you pictures and such, but for now I have about 3 weeks of tv to catch up on, so blogging will have to wait.

Boston.

Howdy.

I'm in Boston. It's pretty.

I went to New York. It was big and I'm not sure my brain could quite comprehend it so I seemed to just spend a lot of time wandering around aimlessly/reading on the subway/sleeping. But it was nice. I saw Rent. Twice. It blew my mind. AND I went to the Life Cafe. Not the one in alphabet city, as that has closed down :( But one in Brooklyn that's owned by the same people. It made me happy. I also spent a lot of time getting irrationally annoyed at tourists. Figure that one out.

So yeah, last night I got on a bus and came to Boston. The bus broke down. Ordinarily, this would be a pain in the arse, but we got to stay on the bus while we waited for another one, so it just meant that I managed to get something that vaguely resembled sleep, rather than arriving in Boston at 4am with nothing to do.

So, yeah, I'm alive and stuff. And, just in case you needed reminding, I will be back in Britain in a mere five days. I expect national celebrations and lavish gifts. Or, y'know, some sleep and a few hugs'll do. 

California.

'Sup.
I'm in California.
After a 5-hour bus, a dodgy trip on the subway to Queens at midnight on a Saturday night, a 5-hour wait at an airport, and two flights, I made it to San Francisco.
And now, I know that I should probably do something productive, but I'm tired and my brain hurts.
Also, I'm spectacularly sunburnt. Sunburn has this habit of creeping up on me, so I don't notice that I'm getting sunburnt until about 3 days after I go out in the sun. And the really sad thing is that, unlike most people, this will not eventually become a lovely tan. No. I just go from tomato-red back to too-white-even-for-Hitler, without any apparent transition phase. Clearly I'm at a point in my blog where I think Hitler jokes are appropriate. We can only go uphill from here. Actually, on the subject of Hitler jokes (stay with me), I went to the American History Museum yesterday, and actually saw some teenagers making the "Heil" gesture in front of a picture of Hitler, while their friend took a picture. No, really. They actually were. I almost told them off, but then I remembered that 19-year-olds with crazy humidity-hair and sunburn don't really have that much authority or credibility in the eyes of 15-year-olds.
I suppose I probably should go and do something. At the very least, I should eat. The hostel I'm staying at is close to lots of expensive shops, which will only end badly, but is also a mere three blocks away from The Cheesecake Factory, which basically means that I will be eating cheesecake three times a day for the next 4 days.
But yes, I'm alive, I'm in San Francisco, and my skin is currently resembling the japanese flag. Splendid.

USA.

Guess what. I'm in America. Like, actually in America, not just an airport. It's pretty exciting.
I knew that I was in America as soon as we reached our first post-border bus stop, Buffalo, because a guy got on the bus and, among other hilariously enthusiastic things, said the words "Can I get an AMEN?" and someone actually gave him one. It was a special moment in my life.
I got spectacularly lost in DC when I arrived, and I mean spectacularly. I was supposed to head northwest and I ended up going southeast. Fail. And it was ridiculously humid and I was wearing a hoody. Extra fail.
Since finding the hostel, however, I have engaged in such typical American pastimes as drinking Starbucks and buying Ben & Jerry's. Since I am in a country where Ben & Jerry's is cheaper and comes in far more varieties than in Britain or Canada (although, "Oh Cone-ada" will forever live in my heart), I feel obliged to try at least one new flavour per city. DC's flavour is Cake Batter. This can only end well.
Not much more to say. I had a lovely few days in Kingston with Joanna and her family/friends/dog, although I did have to resist yelling "STELLAAAAAAAAH" in a drunken, lustful, Streetcar-esque manner everytime I called the dog.
I'd also like to take a moment to express my love for the Divertimento orchestra and its members. The final concerts were wonderful and I shall miss them dearly.
Tomorrow I'm going museum-hopping, because free museums are good museums. Will probs go and see my homeboy Barrack at some point. Please casually ignore the fact that I just used the word "homeboy".
The only other news is that I missed seeing the Queen in Exeter today, but, y'know, I'll get over it. I'll buy myself an "I <3 Obama" tshirt and pretend to be a royalty-hating American.

Adventures.

Hello lovelies.
Today, I come to you from the apartment of my friend Michael, in whose debt I shall forever be because he has saved me from the streets of Ottawa. Ok, perhaps that's slightly melodramatic, but I'm still very very grateful to him and Genevieve for taking me in.
Yesterday, I bid my little room in Prescott House a fond farewell, but not before cleaning and throwing out all of the crap that my roommates left (thanks, guys). At one point I felt like Cinderella, scrubbing the kitchen floors on my hands and knees. And if you've ever seen our kitchen floor, you'll know that it wasn't a pretty task.
This weekend sees my final concerts with the wonderful Divertimento orchestra *sob*. We're playing the Schumann cello concerto and Rachmaninov's 1st symphony. The cello concerto isn't particularly inspiring - the greatest thing in its favour is that it's a cello concerto - but it's pleasant enough. The Rachmaninov is wonderful but devilishly hard, so I will most likely enter panic mode for most of it. It's also, apparently, going to be the Ottawa premiere of the symphony. So there you go.
After that, I head off on my adventures, about which I am very excited, even if my mother seems to be convinced that I'll get abducted or something.
I know that I've been very whiny lately about how much I don't want to leave, and it's true that I'm reluctant to leave this wonderful city and country and see the end of this adventure, but the thing about adventures is that if you spend too long on the same adventure, it stops being an adventure and just becomes life. I used the word "adventure" far too many times in that sentence.
So I'm looking forward to the next few weeks, because they're going to involve a whole host of new adventures, and then I get to go home and embark on the exciting adventures of finding a job and attempting to get a degree. Ok, so those adventures don't sound too exciting, but maybe if I convince myself that they are, then I won't lose all faith in my very existence. Speaking of getting a degree, I'm currently looking at two shiny A-s and two even shinier As (and since they were in my two full-year courses, it's comparitively like 4 As, or at least that's what I'm telling myself) so I'm feeling pretty content at the moment. My joy will undoubtedly be crushed when my Film Music grade appears, but, y'know, we can ignore that for a while.
So yeah, that's my life at the moment. All requests for tacky souvenirs should be put in now, although my backpack is currently VERY full, so I've no idea where it'll all go. Where there's a will, there's a way. Clearly I need to meet more people called Will.
Apparently there's some big hockey game tonight. We saw a sign outside a church yesterday that said: "THRU FAITH COMES VICTORY. GO SENS GO." Aside from the spelling error, I like the notion that God picks favourite sports teams. I also like the idea that if the Sens lose, it's the fault of the fans for not being faithful enough. I imagine young hockey fans being disappointed at the Sens losing, only to have their god-fearing parents tell them, "Well you know why they lost, don't you? It's because you touch yourself at night." My mind works in mysterious ways.
Anyways, I'm rambling. How out of character for me...
And, in standard fashion, here are some lolz to make up for my dull blogging: