Tuesday, March 29, 2005
My Big Fat Catholic Easter
Had a little trouble posting my blog today, as (a) we've just moved to a different part of our apartment block to escape the drilling (it worked - yay! - but it means no internet connection till Thursday), and (b) I'm in the internet cafe and some grenouille has switched my computer's language to French. Why does the entire country have to be bilingual for the sake of 20% of the population? That, of course, is one of Canada's Big Questions.
One of the things Canada has got sorted, though, is its festivals. The Canadians know how to party. England has all the festivals Canada has, it's just that no-one in England bothers celebrating them. Valentine's Day is depressing unless...actually it's just depressing (here it's more of a celebration of friendship, so they even make cards in school and give each other chocolate - hey, any excuse). Apparently there's some sort of Queen's Birthday in England, but we're so ashamed of being English we don't even know when it is (in Canada it's a national holiday). And I don't ever remember going home for Easter - in fact, I only celebrated it because I'm a Christian and it means something to me. But here? Everyone celebrates it.
It started on Good Friday, when all the Catholics had a procession through the streets of Toronto, carrying lifesize crucifixes and wearing black. Some were even crying. Now there's passion! It really gave some meaning to Easter Sunday. I mean, what's the point of Easter Sunday if you haven't marked Good Friday? ("Hey, Jesus is risen!" "Really? I didn't know he'd died.") We had a big meal at my grandma's house, with fish instead of meat - not sure why - and gossiped about everyone in the family (considering 'the family' stretches to hundreds of people, it's a pretty meaty subject). Someone we know - not in our family - was whacked recently (yes, I mean in the Goodfellas sense), so that was pretty interesting.
By the time Easter Sunday arrived, every Canadian I spoke to was filled with a sense of anticipation. When I woke up it felt like Christmas morning! Church was completely packed (I had to stand for most of the service) and there was a real excitement in the air. At lunchtime the entire family (well, aunts, uncles, grandparents & co) came for lunch, and everywhere there were smells of goat and pig and whatever the heck else we were eating. There was a lot. Plus everyone brought dessert so there was enough to feed a sub-continent. The best dessert was Easter bread, an Italian specialty made with half a tub of lard, tonnes of icing sugar and some other stuff. You would have thought the entire family was hypo-glycaemic from the way we were stuffing ourselves. For the entire day, we didn't go half an hour without eating something (and if we did, the more traditional Italians broke into a cold sweat).
I was on a sugar and family-induced high the entire weekend. My buzz wasn't even ruined by the fact that our car couldn't make it up Joe's parents driveway because of the ice, sliding back down into a ditch and having to be winched out the next day (by the way, this is why North America has so many four-wheel drives - in winter, you can be completely stuck without one. I guess people who live in Texas have less of an excuse, but it's still less ridiculous than owning one in Chelsea just because you live 5 minutes away from school and your kid can't use its legs).
So this morning was distinctly anti-climactical. Joe and I could barely drag ourselves out of bed (doesn't help that 'bed' is a mattress on the floor, so we don't even have the aid of gravity). But this is the great thing about Canada. No sooner is one festival over, than another is just around the corner. I'm pretty sure it's someone's birthday in a couple of weeks, and even if it isn't, we'll be in England next week! Yay! Rain, lack of space, and overpriced crap! I can't wait! But it's the people who make it : )
Before I sign off, I was thinking that I haven't added anything to the Hilarious Signs Series recently. So here's one: an ad from a church inviting us to 'Celebrate Our Lord's Crucification.' What, of language? Honestly, some of the grammar here is atrocious (although it's no better in England). Just this weekend my uncle was telling me about a car he had boughten. And that's when they bother using the perfect tense ('have', for those of you who doodled through English class). Most of the time it's "Aw, I shoulda took the left lane" or "Did you see my keys?" I'm honestly thinking of giving free English lessons to Canadians. It could be my service to humanity.
One of the things Canada has got sorted, though, is its festivals. The Canadians know how to party. England has all the festivals Canada has, it's just that no-one in England bothers celebrating them. Valentine's Day is depressing unless...actually it's just depressing (here it's more of a celebration of friendship, so they even make cards in school and give each other chocolate - hey, any excuse). Apparently there's some sort of Queen's Birthday in England, but we're so ashamed of being English we don't even know when it is (in Canada it's a national holiday). And I don't ever remember going home for Easter - in fact, I only celebrated it because I'm a Christian and it means something to me. But here? Everyone celebrates it.
It started on Good Friday, when all the Catholics had a procession through the streets of Toronto, carrying lifesize crucifixes and wearing black. Some were even crying. Now there's passion! It really gave some meaning to Easter Sunday. I mean, what's the point of Easter Sunday if you haven't marked Good Friday? ("Hey, Jesus is risen!" "Really? I didn't know he'd died.") We had a big meal at my grandma's house, with fish instead of meat - not sure why - and gossiped about everyone in the family (considering 'the family' stretches to hundreds of people, it's a pretty meaty subject). Someone we know - not in our family - was whacked recently (yes, I mean in the Goodfellas sense), so that was pretty interesting.
By the time Easter Sunday arrived, every Canadian I spoke to was filled with a sense of anticipation. When I woke up it felt like Christmas morning! Church was completely packed (I had to stand for most of the service) and there was a real excitement in the air. At lunchtime the entire family (well, aunts, uncles, grandparents & co) came for lunch, and everywhere there were smells of goat and pig and whatever the heck else we were eating. There was a lot. Plus everyone brought dessert so there was enough to feed a sub-continent. The best dessert was Easter bread, an Italian specialty made with half a tub of lard, tonnes of icing sugar and some other stuff. You would have thought the entire family was hypo-glycaemic from the way we were stuffing ourselves. For the entire day, we didn't go half an hour without eating something (and if we did, the more traditional Italians broke into a cold sweat).
I was on a sugar and family-induced high the entire weekend. My buzz wasn't even ruined by the fact that our car couldn't make it up Joe's parents driveway because of the ice, sliding back down into a ditch and having to be winched out the next day (by the way, this is why North America has so many four-wheel drives - in winter, you can be completely stuck without one. I guess people who live in Texas have less of an excuse, but it's still less ridiculous than owning one in Chelsea just because you live 5 minutes away from school and your kid can't use its legs).
So this morning was distinctly anti-climactical. Joe and I could barely drag ourselves out of bed (doesn't help that 'bed' is a mattress on the floor, so we don't even have the aid of gravity). But this is the great thing about Canada. No sooner is one festival over, than another is just around the corner. I'm pretty sure it's someone's birthday in a couple of weeks, and even if it isn't, we'll be in England next week! Yay! Rain, lack of space, and overpriced crap! I can't wait! But it's the people who make it : )
Before I sign off, I was thinking that I haven't added anything to the Hilarious Signs Series recently. So here's one: an ad from a church inviting us to 'Celebrate Our Lord's Crucification.' What, of language? Honestly, some of the grammar here is atrocious (although it's no better in England). Just this weekend my uncle was telling me about a car he had boughten. And that's when they bother using the perfect tense ('have', for those of you who doodled through English class). Most of the time it's "Aw, I shoulda took the left lane" or "Did you see my keys?" I'm honestly thinking of giving free English lessons to Canadians. It could be my service to humanity.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
I'm with the Beaver
I know I said I'd only be doing a weekly blog from now on, but life in Canada has really started to look up in the last 24 hours so I thought I'd give you a quick update.
Last night we set off for our Bible study group (our church has one weekly, basically a bunch of friends get together and discuss something in the Bible - in our case, friends we hadn't met yet) in the middle of a snowstorm. We arrived to find it was cancelled because the weather was so bad. But the nice woman whose house it was invited us in any way, so we got to know her and her husband and watched a movie on their widescreen TV with vats of popcorn. So we've made our first friends in Hamilton!!!! Losers no longer! Yessss!
I've also found work experience with a local paper! It's called Niagara This Week, and I'll be doing freelance stuff for them. Their paper is twice-weekly and absolutely massive (140 pages total per week), so ‘word count’ doesn't really come into their vocabulary. My idea of heaven. They also get to do cool stuff like tune into ambulance and fire radio frequencies and find out what accidents have happened (which I think is actually illegal in Britain).
Not only this, but it also has a great name - people have actually heard of Niagara because of the Falls. The other newspapers have hilarious names like the Milton Canadian Champion (don't worry about those dastardly Americans, kids! The Canadian Champion is here! Dadadaaa!) and the Oakville Beaver. Must be pretty hard to get taken seriously: “Excuse me sir, would you object to a quick interview? I'm with the Beaver.”
Better than being with the Daily Mail I suppose…
Last night we set off for our Bible study group (our church has one weekly, basically a bunch of friends get together and discuss something in the Bible - in our case, friends we hadn't met yet) in the middle of a snowstorm. We arrived to find it was cancelled because the weather was so bad. But the nice woman whose house it was invited us in any way, so we got to know her and her husband and watched a movie on their widescreen TV with vats of popcorn. So we've made our first friends in Hamilton!!!! Losers no longer! Yessss!
I've also found work experience with a local paper! It's called Niagara This Week, and I'll be doing freelance stuff for them. Their paper is twice-weekly and absolutely massive (140 pages total per week), so ‘word count’ doesn't really come into their vocabulary. My idea of heaven. They also get to do cool stuff like tune into ambulance and fire radio frequencies and find out what accidents have happened (which I think is actually illegal in Britain).
Not only this, but it also has a great name - people have actually heard of Niagara because of the Falls. The other newspapers have hilarious names like the Milton Canadian Champion (don't worry about those dastardly Americans, kids! The Canadian Champion is here! Dadadaaa!) and the Oakville Beaver. Must be pretty hard to get taken seriously: “Excuse me sir, would you object to a quick interview? I'm with the Beaver.”
Better than being with the Daily Mail I suppose…
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Us a year ago. Sensibly, we hired a chauffeur to drive us around (see previous entry).
Highway to Hell
Here's a bit of advice for a happy marriage: never, ever, let your spouse give you driving lessons. I made my first Canadian journey last Saturday and it wasn't pretty. Apart from forgetting that I had actually driven before ("Now you thank the driver behind you"), Joe got scared every time I made a mistake, which made him yell, which made me make more scary mistakes. We'd just nearly been wiped out by an articulated lorry when my aunt Marilyn called (good timing). Joe picked up the phone.
"Hi Aunt Mar", he said sweetly. "Yes, things are fine. We're just having a bit of a driving less-"
"HE'S BEING AN ARSEHOLE, AUNTIE MAR!" I screamed hysterically, trying not to veer onto the hard shoulder.
My aunt just laughed and carried on chatting with Joe. I would have stopped the car if I'd known where it was safe to pull over, but I didn't because Canada has all sorts of weird road rules (example: you can turn right on red lights).
Anyway, we eventually got there, after several wrong turnings and encounters with death. Next time I'm driving on my own (at least then I can only kill myself).
We were on our way to see some good friends near London (London, Ontario - the source of much confusion due to Canada's complete failure to think up original place names). They've been through the same driving nightmares as us and are still happily married after about 35 years, so that was reassuring.
They moved to Canada about 30 years ago to make their fortune, and succeeded. Their house in Dorchester (I rest my case about the place names) is absolutely massive and is a cross between a Chateau and the Kremlin. In their basement they have a private cinema and a pub (!), and their back garden is 70 odd acres of land with woods and a racing track. The land itself only cost about 135,000 pounds!!!
So sitting in their living room sipping tea was a great way to spend a Sunday afternoon. It was snowing and the back garden was full of fir trees and the odd deer, so it was like tea in Lapland : ) And this was on Canada’s first day of spring…
It also happened to be our anniversary (you could tell from the way this entry started, couldn't you?). One year of marriage! Even with the occasional argument, I'd recommend it to anyone. Heck, what's life with no one to argue with? Better out than in, that's what I always say.
So we celebrated on Saturday by going to Niagara Falls, scene of eternal romance and that great part in Superman II where the kid nearly falls to his death. At night it's absolutely beautiful – red lights turn the water pink, and frozen towers of rock rise from the mist. We were standing near the top of the Falls, and with the Niagara Gorge yawning before us, it was like staring into the centre of the earth (sometimes the lights are green, and then the Gorge resembles the surface of Pluto).
After that, we had dinner at a restaurant on Lake Ontario. Towards the end of the meal, I overheard an English accent drifting from the bar (well, pseudo-English - Welsh or Brummie or something :) It's true what they say about the accent - he was surrounded by at least five waitresses who were hanging on to his every word. Except he was completely full of it, saying how Oxford Street has the best shopping in the world and stuff like that (er, have you ever been there?). I so badly wanted to go and blow his cover. But of course I had better things to do.
All in all, it was a pretty fun weekend. Unfortunately on Monday I was woken up at 7 a.m. by the garbage men emptying the disposal, which was humming at 100 decibels directly below us. I wouldn't have minded, but I knew that in one hour the drilling was going to start. And sure enough…
Last night, we actually got to bed at a decent time. Unfortunately the fire alarm woke us at 3 a.m. I felt like committing hara-kiri. It went on for about 45 minutes before they worked out that somebody had just burnt their toast. At 3am????
So at the moment I'm a stranger to a good night's sleep. This leaves my thoughts whirring around my head and coming up with all sorts of strange things. Like my idea for a super-musical. Super-groups consist of members from lots of top bands, so a super-musical would consist of a plot and songs from all the top musicals. Something like this…
A cat who’s a prostitute in Saigon meets and marries an Argentine dictator who was born with hideous birth defects and has to spend the rest of his life in a mask. The cat becomes First Lady of Argentina, but unfortunately her husband is jailed for stealing a loaf of bread. Things look up, however, when God begins to give him dreams in prison that bring him to the attention of Pharaoh, who makes him his second-in-command. But the final tragedy occurs when the cat-prostitute and the Argentine dictator discover they belong to opposite sides in a New York gang war and can never be together. They commit suicide. The end.
I think I need to get more sleep.
"Hi Aunt Mar", he said sweetly. "Yes, things are fine. We're just having a bit of a driving less-"
"HE'S BEING AN ARSEHOLE, AUNTIE MAR!" I screamed hysterically, trying not to veer onto the hard shoulder.
My aunt just laughed and carried on chatting with Joe. I would have stopped the car if I'd known where it was safe to pull over, but I didn't because Canada has all sorts of weird road rules (example: you can turn right on red lights).
Anyway, we eventually got there, after several wrong turnings and encounters with death. Next time I'm driving on my own (at least then I can only kill myself).
We were on our way to see some good friends near London (London, Ontario - the source of much confusion due to Canada's complete failure to think up original place names). They've been through the same driving nightmares as us and are still happily married after about 35 years, so that was reassuring.
They moved to Canada about 30 years ago to make their fortune, and succeeded. Their house in Dorchester (I rest my case about the place names) is absolutely massive and is a cross between a Chateau and the Kremlin. In their basement they have a private cinema and a pub (!), and their back garden is 70 odd acres of land with woods and a racing track. The land itself only cost about 135,000 pounds!!!
So sitting in their living room sipping tea was a great way to spend a Sunday afternoon. It was snowing and the back garden was full of fir trees and the odd deer, so it was like tea in Lapland : ) And this was on Canada’s first day of spring…
It also happened to be our anniversary (you could tell from the way this entry started, couldn't you?). One year of marriage! Even with the occasional argument, I'd recommend it to anyone. Heck, what's life with no one to argue with? Better out than in, that's what I always say.
So we celebrated on Saturday by going to Niagara Falls, scene of eternal romance and that great part in Superman II where the kid nearly falls to his death. At night it's absolutely beautiful – red lights turn the water pink, and frozen towers of rock rise from the mist. We were standing near the top of the Falls, and with the Niagara Gorge yawning before us, it was like staring into the centre of the earth (sometimes the lights are green, and then the Gorge resembles the surface of Pluto).
After that, we had dinner at a restaurant on Lake Ontario. Towards the end of the meal, I overheard an English accent drifting from the bar (well, pseudo-English - Welsh or Brummie or something :) It's true what they say about the accent - he was surrounded by at least five waitresses who were hanging on to his every word. Except he was completely full of it, saying how Oxford Street has the best shopping in the world and stuff like that (er, have you ever been there?). I so badly wanted to go and blow his cover. But of course I had better things to do.
All in all, it was a pretty fun weekend. Unfortunately on Monday I was woken up at 7 a.m. by the garbage men emptying the disposal, which was humming at 100 decibels directly below us. I wouldn't have minded, but I knew that in one hour the drilling was going to start. And sure enough…
Last night, we actually got to bed at a decent time. Unfortunately the fire alarm woke us at 3 a.m. I felt like committing hara-kiri. It went on for about 45 minutes before they worked out that somebody had just burnt their toast. At 3am????
So at the moment I'm a stranger to a good night's sleep. This leaves my thoughts whirring around my head and coming up with all sorts of strange things. Like my idea for a super-musical. Super-groups consist of members from lots of top bands, so a super-musical would consist of a plot and songs from all the top musicals. Something like this…
A cat who’s a prostitute in Saigon meets and marries an Argentine dictator who was born with hideous birth defects and has to spend the rest of his life in a mask. The cat becomes First Lady of Argentina, but unfortunately her husband is jailed for stealing a loaf of bread. Things look up, however, when God begins to give him dreams in prison that bring him to the attention of Pharaoh, who makes him his second-in-command. But the final tragedy occurs when the cat-prostitute and the Argentine dictator discover they belong to opposite sides in a New York gang war and can never be together. They commit suicide. The end.
I think I need to get more sleep.
Friday, March 18, 2005
Canadian National Sports
Most Canadian sports involve ice, the outdoors, or both. I have noticed that for a country so in love with sport though, it's the kids who actually do it the most. The adults seem to spend more time watching it on TV (but maybe that's just because it's winter - although if all your sports involve ice...anyway). Here is a guide to that weird and wonderful world...
Ice Hockey
The obvious one, and my personal favourite having played it myself. There's really nothing like slamming someone into the boards (ie the edge of the rink) at 30 miles an hour, purely to get hold of a burger-sized piece of plastic. The rules of professional hockey are as follows: beat the crap out of each other for three 15-minute intervals until the ice turns red. The winning team is the one that's still conscious. Excellent.
Lacrosse
Before I played this as a teenager, I had pictures of genteel boarding-school girls prancing down the pitch with their nets held high, suffering nothing nastier than a sprained ankle. Now I know different. Lacrosse is standing in the rain in your netball skirt, trying to protect your shins from Tamsyn Parris or some other psycho. Professional lacrosse is so bad they have to wear 20 pounds of Kevlar body armour. And they still beat the crap out of each other.
Curling
This is the bowls of winter sports, and about as interesting. It involves a guy pushing a 10-kilo weight (which bears a bizarre resemblance to the Starship Enterprise) along some ice so it reaches a certain spot. Then other players use their starships to push the first starship out of the way. The really funny part is the people who run in front of the starship trying to smooth the ice so it goes further - it looks like they're sweeping up or something. Weird.
Snowboarding
This is to skiing what surfing is to yachting. As a skiier, I confess I'm a bit snobby about it. Sorry, but there are far too many snowboarders who use the words 'dude' and 'rush' for it to be a serious sport. And they seem to spend most of the time trying to pump as much as they can out of their adrenal glands, like adrenalin is a valuable commodity or something. When James Bond starts snowboarding away from the enemy, then I'll begin to believe there's a bit of style to it.
Lumberjacking
Yes, this is actually a sport - I saw it on TV earlier today ('The Lumberjack Challenge'!). It's hilarious to watch - events include the Axe Throw, the Modified Chainsaw, whittling something into a totem pole in the shortest time possible, and sawing trees with that two-man saw that's the source of constant humour in Bugs Bunny cartoons. The participants all wear vests and look like Desperate Dan. Highly recommended viewing.
There are a million other sports that I could write about, but I figured these were the most representative of Canada. Coming up next - ooh, I might do Canadian Tourist Attractions seeing as we might be going to Niagara Falls tomorrow. You'll just have to wait and see...
Ice Hockey
The obvious one, and my personal favourite having played it myself. There's really nothing like slamming someone into the boards (ie the edge of the rink) at 30 miles an hour, purely to get hold of a burger-sized piece of plastic. The rules of professional hockey are as follows: beat the crap out of each other for three 15-minute intervals until the ice turns red. The winning team is the one that's still conscious. Excellent.
Lacrosse
Before I played this as a teenager, I had pictures of genteel boarding-school girls prancing down the pitch with their nets held high, suffering nothing nastier than a sprained ankle. Now I know different. Lacrosse is standing in the rain in your netball skirt, trying to protect your shins from Tamsyn Parris or some other psycho. Professional lacrosse is so bad they have to wear 20 pounds of Kevlar body armour. And they still beat the crap out of each other.
Curling
This is the bowls of winter sports, and about as interesting. It involves a guy pushing a 10-kilo weight (which bears a bizarre resemblance to the Starship Enterprise) along some ice so it reaches a certain spot. Then other players use their starships to push the first starship out of the way. The really funny part is the people who run in front of the starship trying to smooth the ice so it goes further - it looks like they're sweeping up or something. Weird.
Snowboarding
This is to skiing what surfing is to yachting. As a skiier, I confess I'm a bit snobby about it. Sorry, but there are far too many snowboarders who use the words 'dude' and 'rush' for it to be a serious sport. And they seem to spend most of the time trying to pump as much as they can out of their adrenal glands, like adrenalin is a valuable commodity or something. When James Bond starts snowboarding away from the enemy, then I'll begin to believe there's a bit of style to it.
Lumberjacking
Yes, this is actually a sport - I saw it on TV earlier today ('The Lumberjack Challenge'!). It's hilarious to watch - events include the Axe Throw, the Modified Chainsaw, whittling something into a totem pole in the shortest time possible, and sawing trees with that two-man saw that's the source of constant humour in Bugs Bunny cartoons. The participants all wear vests and look like Desperate Dan. Highly recommended viewing.
There are a million other sports that I could write about, but I figured these were the most representative of Canada. Coming up next - ooh, I might do Canadian Tourist Attractions seeing as we might be going to Niagara Falls tomorrow. You'll just have to wait and see...
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Adventures in Babysitting
Well, if I had to apologise last time for the lack of blog, then this time I have to prostrate myself and lick the ground to show my unworthiness. Where does the time go?? I guess I'm finally getting a life (yes!) so there's no time for anything but a weekly blog. So let's fix a date - every Tuesday I'll definitely write a new entry. That way you won't have to keep checking (that's if anyone does!).
I've also been feeling uninspired to write because of the incessant noise that rattles our walls from 8-5 every day. Apparently they're doing something in the basement - I presume it's oil prospecting or something from the noise it makes. It's so loud - get this - that I can't hear Joe speak if he's more than 2 metres away. Now I know what victims of trepanning went through. Trepanning is the ancient medieval practice of drilling a hole in someone's head to relieve a headache. Except this drilling is having the opposite effect.
At least we manage to get away at weekends. Last weekend was spent hanging out with Joe's family again (they're a fun bunch - although I know most English people, myself included, wouldn't dream of spending time with their extended family as much as the Italians do). This included looking after my baby nephew on Saturday night, which was quite novel because I've never even held a baby for more than three seconds. I had to change his nappy (my first time - reminiscent of that scene from '3 Men and a Baby' because I had no idea how the velcro straps worked), give him a bottle, sing him to sleep, everything. Meanwhile Joe was reading stories to our little nieces in the next room. Ahhh.
We had a chance to see the family again on Tuesday evening, because Joe's sister was performing in a show in Toronto (she's a professional dancer - how cool is that?). It was an Iranian show, and the dancing bits were interspersed with mind-numbingly tedious moments of 'comedy' which were completely in Farsi. It reminded me of my days in Turkey, where TV shows involve an old ugly Turkish guy arsing around and gurning at the camera. This was pretty much the same thing.
Anyway, nothing else hugely eventful to report, except that we're trying to move apartments to escape the drilling. The apartment we're moving to is unfurnished, and we have no furniture, so that should be fun (!!!). Ah, it's all a big adventure.
A final note on Canadian TV, which I've had a bit of an overdose of (it's nice to enjoy the apartment after the drilling's stopped and it doesn't feel like we're living in downtown Baghdad). If you don't have cable (which we don't) there are basically two choices: pointless public discussion shows ('coming up next on CBC - why does your toast always land face down?') or Law & Order/CSI. CSI is pretty funny in its McGyver-like stretching of reality: 'Sir, I've analysed the victim's eyelashes. One of them doesn't belong to him, so I analysed it and cross-referenced it with the Miami Eyelash Database. I think we've found our killer.' As if!
Well, that's it for now. It's our year anniversary on Sunday (yay!) so I'll actually have something to write about on Tuesday. Until then, I might write some more general stuff on Canadian culture to keep the keenies amused. And talking of keenies - come on you guys, where's all your comments? : )
I've also been feeling uninspired to write because of the incessant noise that rattles our walls from 8-5 every day. Apparently they're doing something in the basement - I presume it's oil prospecting or something from the noise it makes. It's so loud - get this - that I can't hear Joe speak if he's more than 2 metres away. Now I know what victims of trepanning went through. Trepanning is the ancient medieval practice of drilling a hole in someone's head to relieve a headache. Except this drilling is having the opposite effect.
At least we manage to get away at weekends. Last weekend was spent hanging out with Joe's family again (they're a fun bunch - although I know most English people, myself included, wouldn't dream of spending time with their extended family as much as the Italians do). This included looking after my baby nephew on Saturday night, which was quite novel because I've never even held a baby for more than three seconds. I had to change his nappy (my first time - reminiscent of that scene from '3 Men and a Baby' because I had no idea how the velcro straps worked), give him a bottle, sing him to sleep, everything. Meanwhile Joe was reading stories to our little nieces in the next room. Ahhh.
We had a chance to see the family again on Tuesday evening, because Joe's sister was performing in a show in Toronto (she's a professional dancer - how cool is that?). It was an Iranian show, and the dancing bits were interspersed with mind-numbingly tedious moments of 'comedy' which were completely in Farsi. It reminded me of my days in Turkey, where TV shows involve an old ugly Turkish guy arsing around and gurning at the camera. This was pretty much the same thing.
Anyway, nothing else hugely eventful to report, except that we're trying to move apartments to escape the drilling. The apartment we're moving to is unfurnished, and we have no furniture, so that should be fun (!!!). Ah, it's all a big adventure.
A final note on Canadian TV, which I've had a bit of an overdose of (it's nice to enjoy the apartment after the drilling's stopped and it doesn't feel like we're living in downtown Baghdad). If you don't have cable (which we don't) there are basically two choices: pointless public discussion shows ('coming up next on CBC - why does your toast always land face down?') or Law & Order/CSI. CSI is pretty funny in its McGyver-like stretching of reality: 'Sir, I've analysed the victim's eyelashes. One of them doesn't belong to him, so I analysed it and cross-referenced it with the Miami Eyelash Database. I think we've found our killer.' As if!
Well, that's it for now. It's our year anniversary on Sunday (yay!) so I'll actually have something to write about on Tuesday. Until then, I might write some more general stuff on Canadian culture to keep the keenies amused. And talking of keenies - come on you guys, where's all your comments? : )
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Canadian national symbols
Seeing as this blog is supposed to be about emigrating to Canada in general, and not just my life here, I thought it would be good to hear a bit about Canadian culture.
Canada, in its constant drive to identify itself and show the world it isn't America, has many national symbols. Here are just a few of them:
The maple leaf
I think this is great. Other countries have bears, eagles or dragons, presumably representing strength or majesty. Canada has a maple leaf. Not sure what it's supposed to represent, but to me it means Canada is rich in natural beauty, has lots of maple syrup, and is completely harmless (or a peacekeeper, whichever way you want to look at it). It's also a pretty humble symbol, which represents Canadians pretty accurately.
The beaver
Okay, stop giggling. I mean of course the furry (I said stop giggling!) rodent that builds dams with logs. Also pretty harmless, although in Canada's early years it was the centre of an entire industry and wars were fought over it.
The moose
Also harmless (do you see where I'm going with this?), although if you slam your car into its spindly legs, its massive body will come hurtling through your windscreen. In that sense, moose cause several deaths a year. Anyway, it's pretty impressive looking so I can see why it would be a national symbol. I remember being on holiday in America when I was a kid and seeing a cartoon with a talking moose in it. It was called 'Rocky and Bullwinkle', and also featured a squirrel in flying gear. It was so weird it was probably Canadian.
The mountie
The most famous of these, of course, being that guy off 'Due South' who looked pretty good in the uniform. These guys are not harmless. They're kind of like the Canadian special forces and highly respected. So much so that when four of them were shot dead in a drugs bust last week, the entire nation went into shock. It's still making headlines now.
Maple syrup
Don't know about you, but I could drink this stuff neat. Not the synthetic stuff you get on Pancake Day though. Don't even get me started on that. I wanted to go and see them farm it (it comes from trees, it's basically very nice sap), but apparently it doesn't gush out like oil. It drips slowly, more like rubber. Watching that doesn't sound so cool.
Bryan Adams
Yeah, okay, we're getting desperate. Bryan Adams songs are basically a bad cliche repeated over and over and strung together with words like 'Yeah' and 'Baby', to a banal soft rock guitar riff. He used to be really good, back when... oh. Maybe it was it my age. Anyway, Summer of 69 was pretty good. It just can't justify his entire career.
Celine Dion
And on and on and on. Dr Kevorkian's music of choice. She also appeared in South Park, but this does not make her cool. She's French Canadian, so most other Canadians are completely indifferent to her.
Avril Lavigne
Why do they have to trundle this kid out every time they want to make Canada look funky? I mean, I think Canada is funky, but I don't think excessive black eyeliner and stud bracelets from Claire's Accessories is going to show that to the world.
Poutine
A horrendous French bastardisation of perfectly good fries. It basically involves drenching them in gravy and then passing it off as cuisine Quebecois. Ew. I mean, I know northern Englanders do this as well, but to me that's a perfectly good reason not to do something (sorry northerners).
Anyway we're getting into food now which isn't strictly a national symbol, so I'll take a break from the culture until another time. Canadian sports sounds good, keep a look out for that one.
Canada, in its constant drive to identify itself and show the world it isn't America, has many national symbols. Here are just a few of them:
The maple leaf
I think this is great. Other countries have bears, eagles or dragons, presumably representing strength or majesty. Canada has a maple leaf. Not sure what it's supposed to represent, but to me it means Canada is rich in natural beauty, has lots of maple syrup, and is completely harmless (or a peacekeeper, whichever way you want to look at it). It's also a pretty humble symbol, which represents Canadians pretty accurately.
The beaver
Okay, stop giggling. I mean of course the furry (I said stop giggling!) rodent that builds dams with logs. Also pretty harmless, although in Canada's early years it was the centre of an entire industry and wars were fought over it.
The moose
Also harmless (do you see where I'm going with this?), although if you slam your car into its spindly legs, its massive body will come hurtling through your windscreen. In that sense, moose cause several deaths a year. Anyway, it's pretty impressive looking so I can see why it would be a national symbol. I remember being on holiday in America when I was a kid and seeing a cartoon with a talking moose in it. It was called 'Rocky and Bullwinkle', and also featured a squirrel in flying gear. It was so weird it was probably Canadian.
The mountie
The most famous of these, of course, being that guy off 'Due South' who looked pretty good in the uniform. These guys are not harmless. They're kind of like the Canadian special forces and highly respected. So much so that when four of them were shot dead in a drugs bust last week, the entire nation went into shock. It's still making headlines now.
Maple syrup
Don't know about you, but I could drink this stuff neat. Not the synthetic stuff you get on Pancake Day though. Don't even get me started on that. I wanted to go and see them farm it (it comes from trees, it's basically very nice sap), but apparently it doesn't gush out like oil. It drips slowly, more like rubber. Watching that doesn't sound so cool.
Bryan Adams
Yeah, okay, we're getting desperate. Bryan Adams songs are basically a bad cliche repeated over and over and strung together with words like 'Yeah' and 'Baby', to a banal soft rock guitar riff. He used to be really good, back when... oh. Maybe it was it my age. Anyway, Summer of 69 was pretty good. It just can't justify his entire career.
Celine Dion
And on and on and on. Dr Kevorkian's music of choice. She also appeared in South Park, but this does not make her cool. She's French Canadian, so most other Canadians are completely indifferent to her.
Avril Lavigne
Why do they have to trundle this kid out every time they want to make Canada look funky? I mean, I think Canada is funky, but I don't think excessive black eyeliner and stud bracelets from Claire's Accessories is going to show that to the world.
Poutine
A horrendous French bastardisation of perfectly good fries. It basically involves drenching them in gravy and then passing it off as cuisine Quebecois. Ew. I mean, I know northern Englanders do this as well, but to me that's a perfectly good reason not to do something (sorry northerners).
Anyway we're getting into food now which isn't strictly a national symbol, so I'll take a break from the culture until another time. Canadian sports sounds good, keep a look out for that one.
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Sorry it's been so long!
Has it really been a week since my last post? Sorry - but in my defence I am only posting stuff when there's something to say. So really I'm doing everyone a favour : )
It's been a pretty constructive week really. I've sent off my CVs to various newspapers in the hope that one of them might let me make their coffee (or at least run to Tim Horton's and get it) and maybe write some articles too. We've also looked for a car and a house, and on Sunday we went to a Canadian church for the first time.
There are probably churches in Canada that resemble the more notorious ones in America, ie coiffeured preacher screaming from the pulpit, no drinking, skirts a certain length, Bush is the fourth in the Trinity (yes I know trinity is three, but if you think Bush is anything to do with the Trinity then you probably can't count either). But the church we went to isn't one of them.
It was actually really cool. First of all, it was in a cinema, and I love the cinema. They even sold refreshments before the service from where you normally get popcorn (although they didn't have actual popcorn - downer). They had stuff up on the screens, and the guy speaking was actually entertaining. And he looked like Bill Bailey (stand-up comic), a big point in his favour.
So church was very promising. They also have mid-week groups where you can actually make friends - currently I have 2 Canadian friends, 3 if you count their kid, so more would be very welcome. Watch this space!
We also looked around for potential houses. I love Canadian houses. Not only are they huge, they're also about a fifth of the price of English houses. Get this: a 3-bedroom bungalow, fully fitted basement (so it's really 2 floors), massive garden, right near Lake Ontario, hardwood floors, all the mod cons, beautiful tree-lined street in the poshest area outside central Toronto (and a v short commuting distance). You could get that for about 120,000 pounds. Yes, really!!!!!!!!
Cars are not so exciting, just cos I'm not into them. We might be getting something called an Aurora, which is a lovely minty green colour and also has really comfy seats and lots of buttons inside (sorry, I'm such a girl... it also has great suspension and the transmission's brand new. How's that?). But to be honest I could drive anything as long as it has heating and aircon (call me a sissy after you've done a summer here, ok?)
And lastly, we checked out Hamilton's theatre scene last night. I'd heard it was pretty good, and it was amazing. We saw 'Death of a Salesman' (maybe not the most suitable play considering Joe's new profession, but hey), and I haven't seen acting that good for years, not even in films. Joe is almost never moved when we go and see a film (I'll be in tears and he'll lean over and say 'Don't worry Suz, these people are getting a lot of money to pretend they're dying'), but he actually managed to suspend disbelief last night. That's how good it was!!!
Well, that's about it for now. I also wanted to thank everyone who posted comments, it's great to know someone actually reads this! It also staves off the odd bout of homesickness. Keep 'em coming! : )
It's been a pretty constructive week really. I've sent off my CVs to various newspapers in the hope that one of them might let me make their coffee (or at least run to Tim Horton's and get it) and maybe write some articles too. We've also looked for a car and a house, and on Sunday we went to a Canadian church for the first time.
There are probably churches in Canada that resemble the more notorious ones in America, ie coiffeured preacher screaming from the pulpit, no drinking, skirts a certain length, Bush is the fourth in the Trinity (yes I know trinity is three, but if you think Bush is anything to do with the Trinity then you probably can't count either). But the church we went to isn't one of them.
It was actually really cool. First of all, it was in a cinema, and I love the cinema. They even sold refreshments before the service from where you normally get popcorn (although they didn't have actual popcorn - downer). They had stuff up on the screens, and the guy speaking was actually entertaining. And he looked like Bill Bailey (stand-up comic), a big point in his favour.
So church was very promising. They also have mid-week groups where you can actually make friends - currently I have 2 Canadian friends, 3 if you count their kid, so more would be very welcome. Watch this space!
We also looked around for potential houses. I love Canadian houses. Not only are they huge, they're also about a fifth of the price of English houses. Get this: a 3-bedroom bungalow, fully fitted basement (so it's really 2 floors), massive garden, right near Lake Ontario, hardwood floors, all the mod cons, beautiful tree-lined street in the poshest area outside central Toronto (and a v short commuting distance). You could get that for about 120,000 pounds. Yes, really!!!!!!!!
Cars are not so exciting, just cos I'm not into them. We might be getting something called an Aurora, which is a lovely minty green colour and also has really comfy seats and lots of buttons inside (sorry, I'm such a girl... it also has great suspension and the transmission's brand new. How's that?). But to be honest I could drive anything as long as it has heating and aircon (call me a sissy after you've done a summer here, ok?)
And lastly, we checked out Hamilton's theatre scene last night. I'd heard it was pretty good, and it was amazing. We saw 'Death of a Salesman' (maybe not the most suitable play considering Joe's new profession, but hey), and I haven't seen acting that good for years, not even in films. Joe is almost never moved when we go and see a film (I'll be in tears and he'll lean over and say 'Don't worry Suz, these people are getting a lot of money to pretend they're dying'), but he actually managed to suspend disbelief last night. That's how good it was!!!
Well, that's about it for now. I also wanted to thank everyone who posted comments, it's great to know someone actually reads this! It also staves off the odd bout of homesickness. Keep 'em coming! : )
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
Going Native
First of all, sorry for the lack of blog in the past few days - there hasn't been a whole lot to report, and I've been laid out with some annoying cold thing that saps all my energy so haven't been able to drag myself to the internet cafe (I bet fringe guy missed me - see previous entry).
We spent the weekend with Joe's family again, where my uncle Joe (I hope this doesn't confuse anyone) provided most of the entertainment. I'll have to stick his comments in a book one day - "Uncle Joe's little book of wisdom" or something. We were talking about whether we were left or right brained (ie logical or creative), when Uncle Joe chipped in.
"Me, I got no left brain."
Puzzled pause. My aunt, as usual, tried to make sense of what he said.
"You have a left brain, Joe."
"Nah, it was damaged in an accident one time. I'm glad I've got my right brain, it's the right brain for me. If it wasn't for my right brain I'd be a sunflower."
For a while not even my aunt could interpret. Then, eventually:
"You mean a vegetable?"
For the whole of Sunday lunch I was in stitches. Especially when (my husband) Joe was explaining about his job as a sales rep for used car warranties. Once we'd cleared it up with uncle Joe that these weren't warranties for soap (????) he got confused over the company name, Lubrico. He thought this meant Joe was selling lubricants or something.
By then I'd completely lost it. Fortunately, uncle Joe doesn't mind people laughing at him : )
In my de-energised state I've also been reading a lot about Canadian history. Before everyone goes "What history? The country's barely been around 200 years", there's more to this continent than just the English arriving. There's the French too. And before either of them, there's the First Nations (PC term for Indians).
It certainly adds a lot to the drab environment of Hamilton to imagine that it was overrun with Huron and Iroquois Indians just a few hundred years ago. What were people thinking, trying to wipe them out? "Gee, I'm fed up with beautiful intricate art and mesmerising tribal rituals. Let's bulldoze the place so we can stick up a Tim Horton's." I don't know.
By the way, before people start thinking "Stupid North Americans and their cultural insensitivity," the Canadians are descended from the English. And the French.
Well, whatever - the good thing is that there are still Indians around, and when summer comes I think I'll go and see a reserve. Who says Canada has no history? People who used to ritualistically torture and cannibalise their victims are more interesting than Shakespeare any day.
And speaking of Canada, I'm slightly closer to becoming a native myself! The nice people at Citizenship and Immigration Canada have decided (incredibly quickly) to accept my husband as my sponsor. This basically means he has to provide for me for a certain amount of time so I don't go on the dole or anything. So as long as they decide I'm genuinely married to him, I'm in! (I woke up next to him this morning and we had an argument before he left for work - seems genuine to me...)
I'll leave you with this interesting fact: Canada comes from the Iroquois Kanata, which means "our village". The Iroquois also invented the national sport of lacrosse, a game of inexplicable violence played with nets on the end of sticks.
We spent the weekend with Joe's family again, where my uncle Joe (I hope this doesn't confuse anyone) provided most of the entertainment. I'll have to stick his comments in a book one day - "Uncle Joe's little book of wisdom" or something. We were talking about whether we were left or right brained (ie logical or creative), when Uncle Joe chipped in.
"Me, I got no left brain."
Puzzled pause. My aunt, as usual, tried to make sense of what he said.
"You have a left brain, Joe."
"Nah, it was damaged in an accident one time. I'm glad I've got my right brain, it's the right brain for me. If it wasn't for my right brain I'd be a sunflower."
For a while not even my aunt could interpret. Then, eventually:
"You mean a vegetable?"
For the whole of Sunday lunch I was in stitches. Especially when (my husband) Joe was explaining about his job as a sales rep for used car warranties. Once we'd cleared it up with uncle Joe that these weren't warranties for soap (????) he got confused over the company name, Lubrico. He thought this meant Joe was selling lubricants or something.
By then I'd completely lost it. Fortunately, uncle Joe doesn't mind people laughing at him : )
In my de-energised state I've also been reading a lot about Canadian history. Before everyone goes "What history? The country's barely been around 200 years", there's more to this continent than just the English arriving. There's the French too. And before either of them, there's the First Nations (PC term for Indians).
It certainly adds a lot to the drab environment of Hamilton to imagine that it was overrun with Huron and Iroquois Indians just a few hundred years ago. What were people thinking, trying to wipe them out? "Gee, I'm fed up with beautiful intricate art and mesmerising tribal rituals. Let's bulldoze the place so we can stick up a Tim Horton's." I don't know.
By the way, before people start thinking "Stupid North Americans and their cultural insensitivity," the Canadians are descended from the English. And the French.
Well, whatever - the good thing is that there are still Indians around, and when summer comes I think I'll go and see a reserve. Who says Canada has no history? People who used to ritualistically torture and cannibalise their victims are more interesting than Shakespeare any day.
And speaking of Canada, I'm slightly closer to becoming a native myself! The nice people at Citizenship and Immigration Canada have decided (incredibly quickly) to accept my husband as my sponsor. This basically means he has to provide for me for a certain amount of time so I don't go on the dole or anything. So as long as they decide I'm genuinely married to him, I'm in! (I woke up next to him this morning and we had an argument before he left for work - seems genuine to me...)
I'll leave you with this interesting fact: Canada comes from the Iroquois Kanata, which means "our village". The Iroquois also invented the national sport of lacrosse, a game of inexplicable violence played with nets on the end of sticks.
Uncle Joe's on the right (taking in rays like a good sunflower : ). My father-in-law's in the middle and my granddad's on the left)
