Passerby

San Juan, Nicaragua, February 2002. Much like it has been the standard over the lapse of this Central American trip, I have once again ran out of money. Am down to my last 30$ (even after working for 2 months in Guatemala as a chef), I still have to cover the bus journey down to San Jose (Costa Rica), pay the airport tax and then cover the public transportation once in Montreal…. But no sweat, as I have an elite plan in place : to phone my ex gf and beg for 100$. I mean, what could go wrong, right

After pleading my case to my ex - eeehhhhhhh -, I get the expected (negative) results and am left with a sentiment of dread creeping into my soul… Forcing myself back to reality, I turn towards the lady at the post office and inquire - in my very basic street Spanish, nonetheless - on the cost of the call? She instills me with the last fatal blow : the call adds up to 10$, essentially cutting my life roll by 33%. I fracking lose it on the lady, mustering whatever espanol words I can, because, you know, life is permanently on the verge of collapsing and hellish are the f**king existential tides lately : my ex, this heavy depression of mine and a feeling of abandonment in a foreign country, penniless nonetheless. FML


The whole purpose of my Chiclayo weekend, was to step away from the virtual grind, celebrate the end of my (way above expectations) quarterly, enjoy some beach time and engage more thoroughly into the last stretch (3 weeks) of my winter journey. And darn, this weekend was an absolute blast



The bus journey from Cajamarca to Chiclayo would of been amazing, if it wasn't for the blacked out window





We meet many people along the way who leave a significant mark upon our psych ; nevertheless we move on, always one step beyond another, forcing ourselves to not dwell in the past... Yet at times, we turn back - even if so slightly as to indulge in a rapid glance - wondering what has happened to our lost friends…. How has their lives shaped themselves after ours has rebranched into a totally different direction… Such pondering remains (for the most part) unanswered, obviously, yet it does leave one contemplating about parallel lives in alternate countries, sorta speak…. Such as my Arabic-Palestinian friend in Nazareth, for example, a highly successful pharmacist who’s inhibited anger-depression has slowly crept to the surface over the past few years…. One most believe that having to come to terms with an alcoholic father combined with living in a country where originating from a Muslim/Arabic background does not net you any favours, will take its psychological toll…

#ForeverMadAtIslamphobia




Chiclayo did not have much to offer and the closest beach, Pimentel, was nothing to write home about, but it did act as an escape from the city.





Or, more recently, the simple petite Latina woman in Chiclayo... girly-girlish and feminine as can be... sexy as hell... studying to become a physical therapist... I thank her immensely for the wonderful weekend spent together. But, as the GTO-numbers- fellow that I am, I wonder how her life will shape out…. What vectors lie ahead, story arc she will embrace or end result it will all equate to…

Am presently in Cusco where I will be spending the final stretch of my Peruvian trip. I will do a couple tours, go check out Machu Picchu, do an ayahuasca journey, if the conditions are right, and maybe go check out Iquitos in the north... Stay tuned.

Peace

Of Hope and Other Stuff

Tijuana, Mexico, April 2001. Leave it to Manu Chao to sell me on the prospects of Tijuana with his fiery lyrics :

"Welcome to Tijuana, tequila, sex and marijuana.”.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VuktJ8mppE0

While the promise of drugs, booze and sex might of been true, we are far from a Jack Kerouac script... In fact, everything is for sale in Tijuana. Even one’s soul Hookers are lining up the streets at 10am... hoards of cars are packed at the border... A few suspicious fellows offer me 800$ to drive a bus through customs ... Crooked cops bluntly ask me if I am holding drugs, hoping to get a bribe in the process ... And meanwhile, all I can think of is why the hell did we have to be stuck in this shythole for a week


36h is the amount of time I spent in Cusco to recover from the flight, login a few hours in the virtual world, get a massage, finish my taxes (hard to keep the taxman happy, isn’t it ) and watch the Toronto Raptors get decapitated (again) by the Lebron’s Cavaliers only to see the Raps bounce back the very next night and pounce on the always overrated/overblown Boston Celtics




Plaza das Armas, Cusco




Cusco as seen from above


36h and that was it ; morning came bright and sunny - ehhhh, but a bit too early -, and after stuffing a delightful breakfast into me tummy, I hopped into a taxi and vanished below sight into the Sacred Valley.





Urubamba has a population of roughly 40k souls and acts as the (sorta) urban hub. I will be spending some time in town tomorrow, but in the meantime, I decided to indulge in a comfortable and remote setting, nestled in a quieter area in the valley.








The plan is to spend 2 days here, 2 days in Ollantaytambo (…), 2 days in Machu Picchu, 2 days back in Pisaq and then…. I don’t know, perhaps hop on a plane and do an ayahuasca journey up north in the jungle in Iquitos…. But, who know's, as it will all be determined next week, yo


Run good all

Drifters

Lanquin, Guatemala, January 2003. 4h is the truck ride separating us from an internet connection and an atm, AKA modern commodities that are nowhere to be found in the remote town of Lanquin

Spoiler:

wifi, banks and hoards of tourists have alas invaded a while back

. Thankfully though, my 2 German lady friends (with whom a great complicity has developed over the past 2 months of working together ) accompany me on the day trip, as they are moving on southbound to Honduras in their journey. When I hop off the pickup truck and start to engage in the “goodbye” procedures, they hand me over a farewell letter with a 100$ tucked in. My heart melts. They have long known of my dire financial situation and selflessly decided to contribute to my cause (despite not holding much in terms of monies themselves). This would be one of many times where people would magically help me along the way. Much luv to all

As mentioned in the previous post, I decided to treat myself to 2 days in a luxurious Spa Resort, peacefully nestled by a river in the mountainous Sacred Valley. I expected to encounter your standard package constituting of a sauna, a massage services, a high end restaurant etc. ; what I did not envision though, was meeting an American hippie fellow that had been staying in the hotel for just over 3 months. I mean, talk of being out of place Of course, there are a handful of reasons why our new friend ended up overpaying for this hotel, and none of them were alas positive



The Spa was located 10 minutes out of town, down in the valley by this river and overshadowed by the this beast of a mountain


It was on an intuitive-spiritual-hunch that he set out for new horizons towards Machu Picchu with 1700$ to his name. This might not sound like a comfortable financial cushion when you find yourself in your 40s, but when you have been living off the USA streets as a 7 year adderall addict (prescribed by his doc to treat ADHD, I suppose…), it might feel like God sent...





He showed up in utter withdrawal (his body overtaken by the shakes) in the Sacred Valley, essentially falling prey to the will of the taxi driver. He had nowhere to go. No plans. No reservations. 35% was the cost of showing up strung out at the hotel (80 USD$/night), as everyone had to get theirs and our friend was left with the least comfortable room and a severe case of anxiety in the process He would ultimately manage to negotiate down that long term fee to a 60$ nightly, but still a high daily nut when factoring in the restaurant fees and taxi rides.





Our friend was open right off the bat open about his journey through depression and anxiety, which also lead me to share my existential struggles with the latter…. When he finished his story, his eyes teared up, unable to contain this mounting suffering of his After all, the doctor had given him little more than days/weeks to live (we won’t get into his physical issues) and if it wasn’t for a family inheritance that magically coincided with a dire need for monies, he would be in a Peruvian street left alone to his ill fate. Instead he has been staying in an upper scale hotel ; overpaying, certainly, but still having his needs carefully attended to (in all frankness, the hotel has been good to him, albeit scummy...).





The next day we hopped into a cab, made our way to Pisaq (a hippieish town located an hour away and one of the most vibrant places I have seen in this bottom world) and visited a few hotels/B&Bs over there (he struggles immensely with the little stuff, like eating, meeting people etc. let alone finding a hotel in Spanish!!!). He reserved a place and will move there next week.

For the past few years, I finally find myself in a very good place in my life (forever thanking vipassana meditation for my salvation ) ; yet, in times like these, I find it necessary to turn back, to contemplate on the struggling self that I use to be, along with the numerous lost souls that I have met along the way, and send a ton of love…. Luv to places like India, Dawson City, South-East Asia (albeit more alcoholics/sexpats there…) and other transit touristic towns where lost souls end up… Many of which whose narratives have ultimately faded away… At least I have captured our protaganist’s story in these here lines, although I do think he will be ok…. Unless he isn’t, obviously.

Peace

The Heavens are the Limit

Spoiler:

And Beyond...

It was with little expectations that I made my way to Machu Picchu, crawling along at a slow pace... After all, not only was I physically impeded by a clinging tummy ache, but ruins are no longer much of a novelty for yours truly, I loathe at the thought of crowds, am not a fan of anything set or organized and was not impressed by the price tag (300$) ; all of which were weighing upon my restless mind while I was dragging my body up the mountain…. Until I reached the top, that is, from which a breach opened itself upon otherworldly beauty for all to caress.





Even if there was several of us up there overviewing the lost ruins and the breathtaking valley, you still managed to forget…. Forget about the surrounding conversations…. Forget about the fact that certain peeps are skyping away on the 4g signal…. Forget about the constant distresses of modern times, our little personal problems always nagging at us, all of which pale tremendously in comparison to the obstacles that the Incas must of encountered building a splendid kingdom so high in altitude, far away from the conveniences of running water or abundance of food…. Aren't we soooo spoiled in comparison…. Sooo smallll idem...





Of course, all of the latter mattered little when I found myself sprinting down the mountain, victim to a threatening case of diarrhea about to come spurting out





I ended up taking the last seat on the bus, luckily tucked away in the back beside a beautiful Belarusan lady whose eyes were as dreamy as the skies, as BIG as the world and the ensuing dinner at the bottom of the mountain, as charming as can be (as will be our next one in Lima, if not New York or Munich…).





I am now in Pisaq where I will spend the next week unless I cannot find an ayahuasca ceremony, that is, as the latter remains the priority going forward. But am going to talk to a lady tonight about the prospect. Pisaq is definitely where I want to engage the spirit world, as there is a fracking astral portal in these parts, and - I kid you not -, but the spirits and demons of yesteryear/ancient times most likely engaged in an interplanetary doomsday scenario as the energy is as wild-ferocious-primitive-rampant as can be


Peace

Lady (G)Aya

Pisaq, Peru, April 2018. When I first set foot over here in the Sacred Valley (located 2h away from Machu Picchu) on a day trip from Cusco, I knew this was the place…. The place where I would open a breach into the spirit world… Call it vibrations... Or energy... Or something mystical floating in the air, but I instantly felt at home in Pisaq.

I approach the day with excitement and apprehension... Thrilled to engage this upcoming ayahuasca journey, yet anxious in the face of the imminent demons to overcome…. If the past 2 decades of intensive meditation has shown me anything, it is that we have so much shyt inside of us to deal with…





There are 7 of us at the point of rendez-vous ; 2 that are embarking on their first journey (an overly anxious Argentinan fellow and yours truly, who remains relatively calm), 4-initiated-yet-still-beginners (a young Canadian hippie fellow, a confidently outspoken American lad, a shaky New Zealander and a visibly distressed German lady in her 30s) and our Master of ceremony in question, a tall Peruvian punky-hippyish tattooed fellow. We engage in conversation, get acquainted, drink some tea before slowly walking the 20 minutes separating us from the wall tent located in the fridges of the forest just outside of town.

I feel at ease around the fire, sitting cross-legged on my mattress, carefully listening to the Chaman dictate the instructions... I am at peace with the trip to come, even if I know it will cost me tremendously in terms of focus and pure stamina.





Before drinking the potent mix, we each take turns verbally expressing our intentions. When it comes my turn to speak up, I layout what I think to be a vague projection of my desired experience, not realizing that my words were precisely defining the outlines of the journey to come :

"I want to experience the good and the bad... And a deep level of compassion.”.

The taste of the drink is not the most pleasant (almost a mix of black liquorice combined with some cheap brandy flavour...), yet I do not let it bother me ; I pound the liquid down, slowly go back to my mattress, sit down, cross my legs in a comfortable meditation position and calmly shut my eyes…. I quietly observe my breathing and scan my body (as vipassana meditation has so acutely taught me) while awaiting for the journey to commence…

At first, the effect is not much different than any psychedelics I have experienced with : my senses are fiercely awakened, sensitive to all the outside stimulus whether it be through hearing, tactile sensations or cognitive contemplations…. And then it really kicks in : I am overblown, HIGH like a mother****ing kite ... albeit still meditating, still observing, still emotionally dwelling within acceptable boundaries…. Until all hell lets loose, that is : I am suddenly inflicted with a pain MASSIVE like 13 worlds, explosive like 1001 Hiroshimas It is toooooo fracking MUCH Tooo f**king unbearable and overwhelming... I am about to lose consciousness when I start screaming in my head : “MAKE IT STOP!!! I CANT HANDLE THIS, NOT WHILE BEING THIS HIGH!!!”.





Within a few moments, the pain is released : I feel liberated. Soooooo relieved A big weight has been lifted from my body, from my mind. Despite having my body covered in sweat from the experience.

Having faced this exact demon in previous meditation retreats, I know that not more than a minute has gone by. And yet, here I am, soaked in perspiration like a wet cloth I gather back my spirits, resume sitting in a meditation position and try to locate my puke bucket…. Only to realize that I have, unbeknownst to me while immersed in my recent disarray/almost blackout moment, kicked it 6 feet away I go grab it, sit back into a semi-lotus position and pursue my journey.

The voyage is smooth, delightful... Vibrations of pure compassion are streaming through my body, pouring out of my head... All is blissful... Even the constant mutters of my German neighbor are of little distraction as all is full of love...





On my left, my German lady friend is taken for a loop : she is crawled up in a ball, sporadically spewing out unintelligible blunts (both of pain and relief). It all started a few hours back when the Master of Ceremony asked her "do you want to go deep?", to which she happily obliged. Not long after, she would puke all over the blankets, her consciousness completely immersed into the journey... Which is what was meant to be...

But as far as I am concerned, I continue my journey inward, deeper into meditation, into the heart of the unknown...

She is beautiful, soft, so vivid... Lady Gaia. My whole essence is vibrating with love and while I feel embraced by her accepting presence, a few tears come rolling down my cheeks... "I am sorry. I am soooo sorry.", I cry inwards, asking Mother Nature to be pardoned. We have done her so much harm... I have inflicted her body with myriads of lacerations, of deep scars... and in this moment, it feels incredibly blissful to ask for her forgiveness.

I fall asleep long after everyone else, not wanting to end what has been one of the most fabulous journeys in my life... But alas, I decide to give in to fatigue and thus put an end to the experience.

When morning comes a few hours later, I feel completely depleted. It is not easy to crawl back to the surface after going so deep ; I feel like an open scar. And yet, I still engage the morning sunrise with a smile on my face, feeling much more connected with life/all living beings and knowing fully well that I will pay Lady Ayahuasca another visit very, verrryyy soon…





Peace

Awesome ayahuasca story. Enjoyed the read. I will probably try it some day. Cheers

Falling Out of Civilization

When you find yourself riding real f**king high, surfing that wave at its peak like no tomorrow, you forget about the unassuming wind pushing you from behind… Forget about the tides levelling the arc of your flight…. Or the gravity holding you uptight, the atmosphere caressing you from above, and the surrounding elements keeping an eye on you : at best, you contemplate the heavens, forever reaching sky high while never thinking of the potential crash…. But when it all does come inevitably tumbling down, the splashing water is as unpleasant of an awakening as an ice cold fracking shower

I was in a cloud this winter, seemingly beyond the reach of material concerns ; first it was the crypto explosion, an amazing trip in Europe, a deep Final 2 table run @ the Unibet Open in Romania crowned by an amazing 4 weeks meditation retreat in Israel ; then it was adding another 40k+ with the online grind in Peru, improving on my Spanish skills, meeting some wonderful people and topping it off by an utterly sublime ayahuasca journey... So when I found myself 5 off the 10k bubble at The Party Millions in Montreal, I was at the peak of my height... Top of the world baby, sky high, thinking that nothing could touch me right, so when I embraced variance by taking a marginal (but right) spot and 3bet shoved my A9s instead of folding my way into a guaranteed 5 figure score, I never thought it would all come tumbling down in a matter of seconds ... Like an eternal promise echoing empty words, all fail in silence… My live MTT aspirations,… My mood... My illusions... Only to be met by an ensuing -3.3k downswing in 2h online the next day and the Toronto Raptors coughing game 1, before losing total composure in game 2. Long live that final nail in the coffin

I am a pro. I have been tested on numerous occasions. I had to pick myself up in the morning on several occasions, dust off the vestiges of the combat, brush off the pain, lick the scars, stand tall and proceed to fight another day. Long behind are the days of finding myself left with only a couple of thousand to my name in Cambodia, deeply into debts and awaiting the inception of the next upswing... Long gone are the days of not believing in humankind, having my veins filled with depression, anxiety and anger in this bloody and circulating toxic mix... But still, time to rise again, isn't it...

Here are my set goals for the next 2 months as dictated in my PG & C, which will take place in this little gem of a chalet.

https://forumserver.twoplustwo.com/s...&postcount=404




The chalet is located 10 minutes out of Ste-Agathe, a good 30kms south of Mont Tremblant.










There are a few neighbors close by, but it remains quite quiet




It is a private lake and motors are forbidden


thx bro I will polish it up, extend it by a page or 2 (I skipped some parts for length purposes) and publish it on medium and link it here

I contacted a few of my friends out west that do numerous ayahuasca journeys to put my hand on a dose or 2 to do on my own while meditating, but alas, to no avail But worry not folks, as I will check out Bolivia in the next few years and resume a few more ceremonies


Run good all

Pi

I decided to take today off. And in doing so, cost myself 1k in equity I am 3rd in a monthly rakerace (with 2nd place looming just some mere cms behind me with 4 days to go to the month ) and 5th in another weekly one (6-9th are fracking on my heels ), yet, I am waving the white flag... For today.

We get caught up in the sheer numbers at times... Equity. Value. Expectations. Equations. Setting monetary goals. Associating intrinsic $$$ value to time. Seeing randomness in all of the gods creations. Hallucinating numbers in fracking trees You see, if poker was originally meant as a safe little haven in the fringes of our modern rat race - a space where our rebellious nature was appeased and personal freedom exemplified - it lures you in within its tantalizing grasp...





The potential permutations are mesmerizing. As is the exponential computation power... and before we realize it, we are digitally entangled in this endless network known as the interwebz...





Anyhow, the past few days are a net (pun intended ) reminder that immersing oneself too much within the poker realm, is depressing af Poker has been overall amazing for yours truly when seen from a more detached and objective prism ; but at times, when experienced directly, in a 1st player POV, you let yourself get caught in the unresolvable paradox of quest for freedom vs immersing ourself in our monetary end goals...

I had set my initial virtual goal in La Belle Province at 25k in 2 months ; I have already crossed this line with still 5 weeks to go Anyhow, June will see me visit Rouan Noranda and Val D'Or, AKA some northern parts of Quebec. Pics and update to come.

Run good all

great blog!
enjoyed reading it all

La Belle Province

Only mere weeks left in Quebec, as, unbeknownst to yours truly, time has blown by like it has a nasty custom of doing - a fleeting breeze, albeit a slightly uncomfortable shivering one... Anyhow, to stay in line with the constant analytical fellow that I am, let us look back, contemplate, and see where to go from here

Poker has been absolutely amazing - Party Millions notwithstanding - as I managed to book (an insane amount of) substantial capital, some good volume while maintaining a very solid game in the process When I embarked on this 2-4 card game career 8 years back, there is no way in hell I could imagine scooping in this much monies, even in my brightest dreams Except it has come at the detriment of some happiness EV, at least in the month of May

The whole purpose of my extended stay in La Belle Province was to spend time with my folks/family (mission accomplished), accumulate some money (crushed there) and to renew a passion for the (French) corner of the country I originally stemmed from... Failed there thus far, as I spent more time staring at 7-8 virtual tables on a screen then going for walks in nature, hitting the road to explore parts unknown (to me) of Quebec or try to meet people here (AKA women ). Nothing that my final weeks here cannot rectify though

The plan is to spend the next 2 weeks combining the grind with some exploring. This week will be Tremblant (went yesterday after 5h of grinding yo , see pics below), Mont Laurier (am presently there in a hotel) and Maniwaki tomorrow The round trip is about maximum 600kms total spread in 3 days, so it gives a ton of leeway for grinding and casually exploring each town

Next weeks targets are a bit further up the map and include places like Parc de la Verandrye, Val D'or (400kms), Amos, Rouyn-Noranda (6000kms). This 1400kms arc will also be accomplished in 3 days. Come to think of it, I wish I had had planned a few of these trips back in May and thus establishing early on an equilibrium in between inner balance and exploring new regions in the outside world




Mont Tremblant has a ton of restaurants, bars and shops nestled at the bottom of its cliff




It reminds me a lot of Lake Louise, a small town that owes a big part of its existence to its ski hill (and Lake)







Also made it to Mont Tremblant casino which has a single poker table ; of course, this is about as much action as I expected on a Monday evening in the summer


Thx for following bro It must take quite some time to read from the beginning nowadays...


Run good all

Desperate Isolation

Sainte-Agathe, Quebec, December 1995. The first snowstorm of the winter is smacking us in the face with all its windy and glacial might ; it wouldn't matter as much if I wasn’t hungover af (ehhhh hard liquor and an unfathomable quantity of weed ) and driving north on highway 15 in a desperate attempt to conquer back my ex gf… And perhaps if I didn’t miss the exit and find myself looping around for an extra 30 minutes, I wouldn't want to repeatedly smash open my brain against a brick wall... Or if I did not arrive at the sight of her and her new guy lying in bed and the traces of the morning's lustful condom abandoned nonchalantly on the floor, I might of forgiven this Godforsaken day... But no, the Creator up there had sadistic plans of placing a heart in the chest of us mere mortals, just to instil us with the freedom of ripping out this tormenting muscle and tear it in a 1001 pieces... Or leave us powerless witnessing the view of our slitting us open from inside-out and abandoning us like an empty soul ; why oh why does it hurt so much... why did I have to f**king fall in love again


After 2h of grinding, an insanely high caffeine level and an endless desire for adventure, I hop in the van, hit the road, pound my foot on the pedal direction north speeding away like an excited fracking teenager At first I limit myself to 130kms/h (40 over the limit), given that I am passing every vehicle in sight while not one wants to return the favour, but when I reach Parc de la Verandry and the traffic becomes more sparse combined with this inebriating quest for freedom that takes hold of me, I say "f**k it", and fly sky high up the highway like a shameless speedster yo





Nevertheless, after 4h of driving or so, fatigue starts to creep in ; I turn my attention towards finding a hotel and perhaps putting in 2h of grinding while the games are still running... Except, alas, not only is first motel full, so is the 2nd one, the 3rd, the 4th... WTF!?! I reach Val d'Or, pop open the laptop, search Tripadvisor and get the oh-so-great news that no hotel is vacant in a 150kms radius (the closest one being across the Ontarian border). Whatttt!?! on a freaking Tuesday

Because the parking lot at the Walmart in Val d'Or is not the most inspiring at this midnight hour - I did not come all this way for a fracking stooooopid Walmart -, I hit the highway direction Rouyn I fail on the hotel front, but do find an overnight parking lot by a lake after asking around





First thing in the morning, I get up and book a Bed & Breakfast in Val d'Or online , but not before grabbing some food and visiting Rouyn a little.





Alright folks, this will be a 2 part series with the next post coming in the next few days yall


Run good all

City of Gold

Dawson CIty, April 28, 2001. After being a month on the road fighting our way through 7000kms of hitchhiking, bus rides, dirt roads, a couple of borders, multiple towns/several cities, patches of thunderous rain and the ensuing emotional mood swings, we arrive in Dawson City AKA the northern frontier promised land... We... Are... Here... I sigh, breath out some fresh air and smile : it feels f**king amazing to be home for the first time


Not sure if there is some sort of common ground attracting me to gold towns, but as soon as I get out of the van and set foot in Val d'Or, I fall in luv with the place My system slows down, I breath in the fresh air, look around and paradoxically feel at home amongst these strangers








Of course, pictures will always fall short when trying to express strong personal emotions such as "a sense of belonging", especially when the latter is so unique to each individual (even if it remains a universal sentiment), but sometimes, our journey comes to a halt... Sometimes, our fight engages a tranquil lull... Sometimes behind the smile of that cute waitress are hidden a thousand lustful desires, enough to make you fall in love with the place, the moment







"I am an antichrist. And I am an anarchist. Don't know what I want, but I know how to get it, I wanna destroy"


Am hopping on the plane towards Vancouver this Tuesday. Looking back, if Europe was perhaps a 9.2/10, Peru a 7.6, my stay in Quebec was more in the 6.2 greyish region Perhaps I should of stepped outside more, breath in the fresh air, go for walks in the woods, explore new restaurants, cafes, go to the tamtams or enjoy Montreal's numerous festivals, but alas, I decided to dedicate a good chunk of time to the grind. Granted, I made a rational decision to focus more on poker in 2018 (upcoming 2019 online changes are not looking very positive ), but, you know, the volume dedicated to the game is often inversely correlated to our happiness factor... Poker has provided a lot over the years, but in the end, it is about balance, right... Poker 4 life, not life 4 poker.

Anyhow, really excited to embark on this next part of the journey, even if I have been to the Gulf islands multiple times


Run good all

Blast from the Past

A random school day of December 1993, Terrebonne, Quebec. The bells of the last morning course barely started ringing that already I am flying out of the classroom like the rebel student that I am... All I can think of, is how good it will feel to puff on that cigarette... The problem is, smoking is prohibited in this f**king stupid establishment. I hence sneak outside, tuck myself beyond the small hill and freely light up... ahhhh, it feels soooo fracking good... Over the hill, I stare at my school with a twinkle of anger in my eyes and lyrics of Rage Against the Machine rushing through my head : I exhale some smoke and daydream about how liberating it would feel to tear down the walls of the institution :

"F**k you I won't do what you tell me" (Killing in the Name Of, Rage Against the Machine)


Funny how 24 years will change one's perspectives on a specific area : if "Le Vieux Terrebonne" use to feel like a fracking prison back then, it now holds a peaceful and serene vibe within its realm











Of course, they did spend a ton of money restoring old buildings/adding some gardens and even a restaurant on l'isle des Moulins (which clearly increases the beauty equity in the scenery ). Nonetheless, let's not kid ourselves : outside of a few streets in the "old city", the rest of Terrebonne is a hideous sudburb packed with the same franchises, restaurants, malls etc. found in any God damn sudburb on the continent yet for the duration of a few streets, we are magically taken back to La Nouvelle France

It was a weird yet wholesome feeling to walk through Parc des Moulins and have reminiscences of doing mushrooms, smoking up or spending time with my ex teenage gf making out... Sprinkled in between these memories, were bits and pieces of my teenage anger popping to the surface and with it, that nasty flavour of not knowing what our place in the world was (ehhh, becoming a poker pro, a nomadic monk ) and that forever omniscient aftertaste that something is wrong, so God damn wrong








Just landed in Vancouver where I will be spending the next 3 days before hopping on the island ; this thread should be fairly active in the upcoming month


Peace

Double-Dual Vision

Vancouver, July 15, 1998. Yesterday I got (stupidly) drunk then crashed in my sleeping bag by the riverside... only to wake up to the empty sight of both my bags gone and with them, all of my belongings... I got up, shrugged away the headache like a cold shower, then went to grab a free pair of pants and a shirt from the church before proceeding to hit the road, thumbs up, hitchhiking towards Vancouver with a chick that I have just met. I feel at peace... Serene... Liberated... With only 60$ in my pocket and all mental chains snapped off, I sense an immense amount of joy being unleashed

When we get in Van, we split up, head our own ways, her to a hostel while I wander around, seeking either a park or a bridge to sleep underneath... As I sneak into the skytrain station without paying, I feel an authoritive hand grab my shoulder, turn around eye-to-eye with the security guard FML. Thankfully though, my spontaneous escape-plan-B of using my French Canadian space cadet accent works like a charm :

- "ehhhhh, I do not know, I am lost, I do not speak Anglish very well sir.". My accent is dead-on, my pronunciation as Quebecois cringe-worthy as can be , to the extent that after a brief look at my dreads and stinky wear, he points towards the ticket machine and lets me be Phew, dodged a bullet baby


If my old hippie self from 20 years ago did not exactly fit in the downtown preppie Vancouver scene , the nowadays (somewhat) classier version of me that always has a tidy shirt on, blends in more naturally Unfortunately, I do not think I will be spending enough time in Van to meet up with a pretty lady, but it sure is entertaining to walk down Granville street on the Friday evening and to, hummmmmm, stare around lusciously tongue-hanging




Granville Street


After playing PLO a couple of evenings at Parq's casino and spotting a ton of familiar faces from 10 years back (still playing the same low stakes games), an introspective light has shun upon me, splitting my view of my recent poker success into 2 distinct spectrums...




Parq Casino


On the bright side of things : it feels really good to have moved up/on in stakes... To not have that feeling of being stuck grinding the low stakes games anymore, like a convict tied to his chair… to be emotionally and financially detached of the daily mid-4 figure swings and not treat them like life and death... to aspire to bigger things, to roam around and indulge freely in writing and meditating in the process… And yes, I must admit, with this success comes an egostical desire to brag a little to friends and family as sometimes the collar on my shirt (figuratively) comes up, and with it a desire for recognition Nonetheless, another part of me does not fully embrace the success

The darker side of the equation : Except at times, I remain sheepish, overwhelmed with this sentiment of guilt linked to this extreme life run good I mean not only is human nature not wired to accept swift (fianancial) changes, but elsewhere, images of poverty pop back in my mind…. The daily struggles of Third World countries, while I sit here, scoop in 5 digits weekly like it’s none of my business…

Was speaking with a good hippie buddy back in Montreal that I had not seen in 11 years ; when I revealed to him that there is a good chance that I will cross the quarter-mil threshold in profits for 2018 (160k is the floor) and then admitted “almost feeling bad about it”, he finished my contemplation by stating :

- "Don't feel bad man. Think about it : it is common for a post-graduated in the Western world to pull in 2-3 million in his lifetime... You are at your financially peak now, compensating for previous smaller fiscal years and saving up for the future.".

True dat dog, thx for pointing it out One of my issues has been this incapacity of sitting back and enjoying happiness for what it is…. A fleeting sensation.







Now I understand that downtown Van in Summertime is expensive as hell and it is the WE and all, but 200$/night for this shoe box is LOL. Not to mention spotty internet (-400$) and shared bathrooms


Run good all

"Now I understand that downtown Van in Summertime is expensive as hell and it is the WE and all, but 200$/night for this shoe box is LOL. Not to mention spotty internet (-400$) and shared bathrooms"

$200/night & you don't even get a private bath?!?!

That's effing crazy.

Great blog. I enjoy reading your words and seeing all the pictures you take. Thank you.

Mushroom Hills

Lake Louise, Alberta, November of 1999. The mushrooms have kicked in... God have they ever At our feet, lies the frozen Lake Louise, a shining frozen stretch of white glimmer underneath the magnificent full moon... Above us, rise the majestic Rocky Mountains, the same peaks that have brought us here grinding minimum salary jobs for the benefit of hitting freely the slopes on our leisure time... Around us, Mother Nature's sublime creation grounding itself deep down in the soil, stemming up in the form of trees before climbing up the hills in its greenish vines... And still, while completely immersed in this splendid beauty that is this fracking splendid life, I cannot find an inner equilibrium... Maybe it is the fact that we, as a species, are destroying it all... Perhaps it is because that on tvs all over the globe, news of modern day imperialism is leaving no stones unturned... Or that social justice does not go beyond the mind of a selected few dreamers... Or just that I am HIGH LIKE A F**kING KITE, UNABLE TO SETTLE DOWN AND FIND MY PLACE IN THE WORLD RIGHT F**KING NOW!!!


When I first got off the Greyhound bus in Whistler Village, I expected your standard Rocky Mountain ski mountain, AKA a small village living exclusively on the touristic merits of the Ski Hill... But I did not expect this many tourists marching in town though





Whistler has a charming with a ton of bars, restaurants, cafes and even a cinema to keep one entertained if not skiing/hiking Given that I found myself in the midst of a couple of heated rakeraces this week, I prolonged my stay for 6 days total, thus not potentially cutting into my grinding hours with bus transportation and changing hotels and all. I will then spend a night in Vancouver to purchase BTCs and to grind a few hours the PLO game (enjoying it much more than I initially did the first couple of nights ) and then take a helicopter to Victoria on Tuesday where I will spend 3 days From there, the plan will be rent a car and head to Tofino (by the coast), Walbran (a ghost town in the rainforest where I will probably buy some weed and camp outside...), Salt Spring Island (might stay there a week to grind it out/enjoy the beach ), Cortes Island and then I am not sure if I will jump on a ferry as planned and head up to Haida Gwaii/Prince-Rupert-WHite Horse, or back to Vancouver to hop on a plane to Whitehorse... While the latter might appear boring, it is much cheaper, less time consuming and (mainly) hassle free (as I would still need to rent a car and then drive up to Whitehorse from Rupert). Anyhow, we will see…








Will potentially cut short my Dawson stint after all, as I might be meeting up with my Belarusan friend in Montreal and perhaps look into playing some WSOPC events (there is a 2k highroller and 5k superhighroller (both 1 reentry allowed each) and the 1.1k ME has 4 flights of 1 reentry each (8 potential BIs)).


Yeah man, Vancouver's lodging is insane since the advent of the Olympics I had to give that place a nasty review and 1 star rating, (an incident happened with housekeeping that was just toooooo much ) and that pic actually makes the place look much better than it was. As a reference, a bed in a hostel (bunk-beds shared with 7 other peeps) is fracking 80$ in downtown Van

I was much more fortunate in Whistler, where at 150$, you get a very cozy hotel room with a kitchen, mivrowave, fridge, fire place, bath tub, 2 couches, with access to a gym, pool and hot tub in the hotel





Safe travels Cucamonga, wherever you are off to next

Thx bro, I appreciate the compliment and nice User Name btw


Run good all

Dreamy Fragments

Victoria, October 2001. The shoes have come off. The dreads are flying loose, as I light up a doobie and smoke the night away…. Floating around are the electric reggae rifts of the Bob Marley cover band while we groove, about 60 of us, all long haired hippies... Part of this movement revolves around this idealistic (AKA impossible) REVOLUTION that we are gunning for through our nomadic-itinerant lifestyles…. And lest not forget the hedonistic aspect, right, of blazing ganja and living in the moment like no tomorrow while making out with pretty hippie chicks…. And then there is that longing to belong, of trying to fit in, to be cool, to be this idealistic version of ourselves even if part of it dwells in denial of our own weaknesses combined with that arrogance of feeling above normal peeps…. Insecurities, I tell you, the insecurities of forever being 20 like the immortals that we are…. But none of this matters right now : for a moment, a slight instant - as infinitesimal as it might of been -, we are fracking gods beyond mind and matter.


As I am roaming the streets of downtown Victoria and spot familiar names from the past - Yates, Douglas, Government… -, I still can’t recall ever being here…. Sure vague dreamy memories of basking/juggling/playing drums in the streets come back…. Of camping (drunk and high) on the ground of a church…. Of brief flashbacks of a month spent here, yet this previous life somehow doesn’t belong to me…. It is attached to a different storyline, to a different narrative, one that his branched off lifetimes ago…. In the end, we are not even the sum of our memories : we are barely in the instant, barely a bump on the existential road of life, not even adding up to anything concrete…. Just a passage in time, I tell you, a fracking forgettable passage in time.











When I first quit drinking almost 5 years ago, one of the first emotional obstacles that I faced was this fear of appearing to different to my previous drinking buddies : I still wanted to be the same likeable chap. I did not want to be that guy that suddenly sobers up and stops being cool ; little did I know that change is of upmost importance. Constantly evolving. Not staying in the same place, especially if the latter happens to be the same God damn bar every night surrounded by those same obnoxious drunken faces. Now I realize it is all about embracing change. Letting ourselves be erased, our past engulfed into emptiness. Moving forward. Or just fracking moving.








Peace

Long Beach Dreaming

Tofino, August 1998. We just arrived into town late yesterday evening, me and this chick that I met on the ferry/talked into travelling together. We managed to hitch a ride to Tofino but not, alas, before the darkness had invaded. Not knowing our whereabouts, we simply head unto beach in front of one of the fancy hotels, find a big boulder and crash beyond it, tucked away from suspicous eyes. At 4am I wake up to the sight of the beaming flashlight of a security guard ; he literally almost stumbles upon us, flashes left and right, circles us, but apparently we dodge a bullet as he reports back to his walkietalkie and disappears into the night.

48h left before the start of next’s week grind where I will be gunning for 1st in a weekly rakerace (3k) and 2nd in the monthly one (2.5k). 48h to take fully advantage of the vehicle I rented, head towards Tofino, check out Cathedral Drive along the way, camp on a beach beside the warmth of a fire and try to reconnect with that kindred hippie itinerant soul that I once was, 20 years ago, when I fist set foot here on this Paradise known as Vancouver Island.




Cathedral Drive




Tofino


Well, that “camping on the beach plan” failed to the waters when the outside world decided to be shivering af, thus forcing me to sleep within the comfort of my car.




Ucluelet, 40kms from Tofino




Tofino


I just booked a flight for Montreal late August to go play the WSOPC, so I will have 4 different events to run good. It's now or never. I am taking multiple shots this year

Off to Salt Spring tomorrow.


Run good all

Instant Snapshot

Salt Spring, August 1999. We are sitting by the beach, my gf and I, 2 days away from splitting ways after a 2 year relationship…. She will be returning to Montreal where her normal life, work, friends and family await, while I will be staying out west in Lake Louise to flip burgers, do (and sell) mushrooms while saving some monies for my Australian trip.

As I am staring deep down in the water lost in a non-sensical inner flow of consciousness, she starts singing, her sweet unassuming voice blending in with the breeze and the softness of the day…. Tears start rolling down my eyes. Like forgotten echoes in the wind, she will be gone by tomorrow…. In the end, nothing stays and like the softness of her chant drifting away, all that will remain of our relationship, are unclear recollections and vanishing emotions…

This. Is. It. Moment. By. Moment. This moment. And this one.





50 or so people are gathered at the beach by the ferry, taking fully advantage of the splendid mid-summer day. Kids are splashing around, laughing away like the youngsters they are. At the horizon, the sun is hanging up there. A comforting guide. Reassuring. A kind reminder that everything is ok.





I forgot how amazing Salt Spring is. In fact, I don’t even remember where my gf and I slept 20 years ago…. Outside, no doubt, and we probably just crashed by a beach, woke after hitching a ride and got up the next day and went wherever the wind blew, really…. Where as this time around, I will take fully advantage of my vehicle, go hike a couple summits (already got some recommendations from a friend that use to live here), explore the different lakes, beaches, restaurants and cafes. A big chunk of my week will be spent grinding, but I will reserve 3h in the afternoon and 2h in the evening for exploring, thus bringing balance to my hefty workload and living, you know.





I am not sure how my permanent living situation will be moving forward, but if I could do 6 months Canada-6 months Europe, Salt Spring-Spain would be my choices as of right now.





Peace

A Nomad’s Trance

I like to play this game of mine whenever I visit a place that I find alluring where I imagine myself settled into living in the said location... Such was the case when I was in Pisaq, Peru (while a magical little town, boredom would of creeped in pretty fast, me thinks...), Mitzpe Ramon, Israel (again, ennui), Split, Croatia (feasible as more access to diversity, women and a cultural life) and now Salt Spring, B.C.





You see, this game dwells within the obvious dreamy realm of the grass is greener next door, right, much like sedentary folks like to imagine how it would be liberating to suddenly hit the road with no attachments ... but then they snap out of their reverie (or are forced to), come back to themselves and go on with their structured existence ; after all, if you are not nomadic at heart, this imaginary trip has more of a pleasant and unthreatening component to its appeal, precisely because of its ephemeral nature : it has a designated beginning and ending, making that fleeting middling time all that more alluring and carefree





Such was the case yesterday when I was strolling on the sea dock in Salt Spring and was absorbed by the live tunes floating around, inebriated by the laughter of the couples gathered to munch on exquisite seafood... I guess the charm of the spell lies in our attempt to forever seize the moment by embracing it with a semblance of permanence... Or maybe underlined beneath this contemplation, lies a rooted desire to go beyond the simple illusion and actually settle down sometime soon... Who knows, but the grass is always greener, right, until you come back to yourself and acknowledge that "that was a fine moment, but then you ultimately let the trance drift away and go on with your itinerant ways ".





Salt Spring offers both sides of the equation : on the right, lies various selections of cafes, restaurants and entertainment to choose from. Given that the island is a short ferry ride from all of Vancouver, Victoria or Nanaimo, it figures to be a hot destination (which is unfortunately reflected in the price of the land).





On the left side of the equation, there is a multitude of lakes (7), hiking trails, weekend market, music festivals and open land to dwell upon. If the other gulf islands are mainly a roots hippie affair, I was surprised by the dichotomy of social classes in this part of the world (yet everyone is pretty New Ageish).





They are building a vipassana meditation centre 30 minutes from here on Vancouver island, so Plan B has always been to perhaps settle here eventually come the right time…. It could happen.





Peace

North of NoWhere

Heading back to Dawson tomorrow, so will probably not be updating this blog for a while (there is already enough Yukon material ITT already, me thinks ). I will be going to play the WSOPC in Montreal at the end of August (before coming back to Dawson to close the season), so if I happen to make a deep run, I will most likely write a few part live MTT series over here (plan on playing 4 events), but if not, I will be back posting when we hit the road in September for the Okanagan Valley (Vernon) and the Kootenays (Nelson). And of course, in western Europe come November











Anyhow, you can always follow my journey in PG & C (if you don't already) where I usually update daily





Run good all

GL at the wsopc in Montreal!
Really enjoy the flashback style travels and pics, v gd thread ☺

Heading back to Dawson? 😀We will be waiting at Gertie's 😎 7pm Sunday

Looking Forward for some nice matches

Greetings from the Swiss couple

Thx bro Hopefully I can add a deep run post from WSOPC MTL itt

Did we meet/hangout 2 years ago (at the women's wrestling), or is that not you guys?

I will be focussing on online this weekend, but I will go rail the women's tournament this Sunday/perhaps play cash for an hour or 2... (starts at 2pm, registration at 12:30, you should check it out, 50$ rebuys ) ; see you then