It’s obvious that water falls from clouds as rain drops, but the creators of Smartwater seem to think otherwise. As they cleverly point out on the bottle, “clouds contain nature’s source of water,” so they used this “forgotten” resource to inspire their product. In order to create their pure taste, they capture and distill water vapour, resulting in “hydration you can feel”. Is it really worth all the hype? As a Smartwater virgin, my first sip of this high-profile water, well, tasted like extremely refined water. While “pure” and airy tasting, it wasn’t anything out of this world, I could not feel the hydration, and most importantly, it certainly did not make me feel like Jennifer Aniston.

Perhaps I would have better luck with the forever popular and celebrity-trusted Fiji water. While Smartwater may be fresh-from-the-clouds, Fiji water is filtered through volcanic rocks. As their website advertises, this water is found away from pollution, acid rain and industrial waste. That is, if you don’t count the effects of whatever is set up in Fiji to extract the water, which fills up the millions of plastic bottles, which are flown across the world and then transported all across North America. That said, it was the cheapest tropical vacation I’ve ever taken— $1.39 to be transported to an island paradise much like the one depicted on the bottle. Although I didn’t really taste the centuries old volcanic minerals, I must admit that this water was soft and smooth, as promised.

To put it simply, both Smartwater and Fiji water are just water. They’re not too different from what comes out of your tap, except that they have enhanced minerals and architecturally unique bottle shapes. Do I suddenly feel healthier and more hydrated? Yes, because I drank two bottles of water. But perhaps what I need instead are more nutrients. You guessed it: Vitamin water. On the menu is the 10 calories per bottle ‘Recoup’ Vitamin water. It is peach-mandarin flavoured, enriched with Vitamins B3, B5, B6 and B12. I have no clue what these vitamins do, but I know I need them. As I open the cap, I’m hit with a vivacious citrus and peachy smell. As I drink it, it tastes great. For about two seconds. The after taste isn’t nearly as pleasing, and that’s when I realized that it’s essentially just mildly flavoured water with a bit too much sweetener. Despite not living up to their witty labels (it has yet to be determined if this tasty force of hydration can help me cope with whatever life throws my way), there are a variety of flavours and vitamins to choose from, so you are likely to keep coming back.

After having tried these three waters I sat back and waited. Would I feel more energized? Would I be able to take on the world or increase my IQ? Sadly, the only thing I gained was a very full bladder, and I lost $5.37 (plus tax) in my wallet. I think I’ll save my toonies and get my liquid hydration from the water fountain around the corner.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my travels, it’s that liquor is really expensive in the Great White North. Shopping for cocktail ingredients  fancier than orange soda and vodka will set you back at least fifty bucks.  And, by the time you’ve thrown up half of those appletinis you were going to make, you’ll never want to see that bottle of vermouth ever again. So, I present five ways to use a twenty dollar bottle of Amarula. This liqueur is made from the southern African marula fruit (not from the elephants on the label), which makes it much more flavourful than Bailey’s.  You can drink it straight, with hot chocolate, or with some liqueurs you may have lying around from that night you never made it to Tokyo.

Straight

Pour Amarula into a chilled glass. The alcohol content is fairly low, so fill-er-up!

Springbok

Pour one part crème de menthe into a shot glass. Slowly pour one part Amarula over the back of a spoon into the glass.

Mudslide

Pour one part Kahlua into a shot glass. Slowly pour one part Amarula over the back of a spoon into the glass.

 Coffee and hot chocolate

Pour a dash of Amarula into a cup of hot chocolate or decaf coffee for a sweet after dinner drink.  

Remember that roommate rules questionnaire your floor fellow handed out at the beginning of first year? We don’t. We’ve come up with our own replacement, because having roommate squabbles during exams is worse than actually taking exams.

If you just discovered that your roommate uses a live rooster as an alarm clock, enjoys practicing Tai Chi in the shower, or shuns the modern concept of a toilet in favour of a chamber pot, it may be too late to find another one. But you may be able to compromise on some other issues before the year gets underway. Here are some things which you and your roommates should discuss:

Chores: Sorting out household responsibilities should be one of the first things on your roommate discussion list. Make sure you decide who will take out the garbage, the recycling, who will cook dinners, and who will clean common spaces, which includes doing the dishes. While you don’t need to set up a hard schedule for this, you may be disappointed when your roommate fails to make chicken fingers six months from now,

Groceries: If you don’t want to end up with vegan, low-fat, calcium enriched body wash, you might want to set up some sort of grocery schedule with your roommates. It is also important to set up a payment scheme for the groceries, so you don’t end up buying cases of Dom Perignon only on the weeks you are paying.

Bills: Breaking down the bill payment costs between roommates is almost as important as choosing a house 12-pack. Important services include: electricity, internet, phone, and TV. You also need to ensure you have an overdraft plan. What happens when your roommate comes home at four in the morning, drunk, and downloads every episode of Star Trek in ultra high-definition?

Friends: Your apartment is your own personal space, but you are sharing it with others. You should set up rules with your roommates about having company over. Do you let them know? How far in advance? What if your friends are having a sleep-over and you’re going to stay up late telling scary stories?

Sex: We’re not at a Mormon school, and your roommates might shag. If you’re really unlucky, you might have to deal with apartment-cest. Convention dictates that a tie on the door, ask no more. If you’re planning a love escapade lit by hundreds of candles and set to the tune of Dido, you might want to let your roommate—and the fire department—know in advance. Be sure to set up rules for repeat visitors.

Vacation: The school year comes with several breaks. You should decide in advance what you’re going to do with the apartment, and who’s going to take care of your pet fish, Gob. Subletting and rent-splitting during time away are issues to think about.

No matter how much you prepare, you will hit bumps. Whether you have the roommate who never cleans the pots, or the roommate who smokes too much pot, there will always be things that annoy you about each other, but how you choose to deal with it is the true test.

As I trudged by a workshop on Mill Street in the pouring rain, a kind-eyed, pony-tailed glassblower stared at me.  He wore an expression of shock and sympathy, holed up in his abode of warm kilns and red-hot vases.  I had little time to stop and commiserate, so I pushed through the growing puddles. I was almost at my destination, the once-thriving riverside Goose Village.

I had already passed under Autoroute Bonaventure­—the traffic artery of Montreal’s Centre Ville—skirted a crumbling but functional distillery, and left the old Ogilvie’s Flour Mill behind me.  Up ahead I saw a behemoth Costco at a crossroads filled with traffic departing and entering the city from Pont Victoria.  Passing a wind-battered Chinese depanneur, I reached Bridge Street quickly, once the heart of a vibrant neighborhood of Italian, Irish, Polish, and Ukrainian immigrants.

Goose Village got its name from the waterfowl that once occupied the banks of the St. Lawrence at this spot.  First Irish immigrants, then Italians, built the little village into a community by the end of the 19th century, and into the 1960s the area pulsed with Catholic fervor and neighborly vivacity.  At the height of its growth, Goose Village took up the space due west of the Old Port and south of Rue Notre Dame, running all the way to the St. Lawrence River. However, in the 1960s things changed—or rather, they were forced to change—and quickly.

In the years before Expo 67, Mayor Jean Drapeau led a campaign to purge Montreal of what might be perceived as blights by outside visitors.  Goose Village suffered mightily.  Residents were informed that the area was to be bulldozed; since its poor (yet energetic) streets were among the first to be seen by cars entering downtown from both major bridges, the “blight” had to go.

Now, over fifty years later, the kind-eyed glassblower was not simply astonished at my slog through the tempest, but rather that I was going to Goose Village at all.  But I wished to see what was left.  Were there any resilient mom-and-pop corner stores or toddlers plodding the streets, jumping in muddy puddles?

The journey started off promisingly enough.  Exiting Griffintown (just northeast of Goose Village), there remained costume shops for nightlife masqueraders, and satisfied young professionals alighted the decks of bistros, umbrellas in hand. A residential atmosphere was recognizable.

The feeling hardly lasted.  Heading down Duke Street, a graffitied shack clung to the side of a vacant brick tenement building.  Crossing the Lachine Canal onto Mill Street, the civilized city seemed to recede behind the clouds and the gray industrialism of the waterfront. Although wind and rain kept denizens off the street that day, I had the eerie feeling that a balmy, sunny afternoon would have brought out no more than one or two.  

I stood at the Costco crossroads, momentarily disheartened.  Traffic whizzed shoppers away from the megastore.  A cop perched his car on a median, slowing traffic.  But there was one last saving grace whose timelessness I had to sequester, and from what I had heard, it was just down the street.

Down Bridge Street I trudged, crossing overgrown train tracks, and there it was: the massive, rugged, jagged Black Rock.  The rock is a memorial, erected in 1859 to honour thousands of Irish immigrants who had died there of typhus in small shacks ten years prior.  For years it has stood as the pride of the Irish community, and for Goose Village, those who survived went on to build a flourishing, homey neighborhood.  Now, the rock is solitary yet comforting, with an empty green hill and tumbledown shacks in the background.

If you go to old Goose Village, there are glimmers amongst the grayness.  The Espace Verre glassblowers run three exhibitions each year.  Take the Lachine Canal bike paths from the Old Port to Atwater Market (on a sunnier day), or if you find yourself milling about Griffintown, simply satisfy your curiosity and go see the relic of Goose Village next door.