Thursday, June 30, 2005
On the road again
Well, I'm back in England (again). And having a completely excellent time (again!). How come places are so much more fun when you're just visiting them? I guess because you don't have time to get bored and you don't have any responsibility. Now if I could just find a job that involves flitting from one country to another...but then there is something to be said for home, and I guess I have to grow up at some stage (boo).
But for now England is great. I don't mean the country itself - I arrived to find that 1,000 of its commuters had been locked in overheated trains for most of the previous evening - but my friends and family. At some hideously early hour on Sunday I flew to see my Dad in France. It was a complete surprise for him and he spent the rest of my visit there in shock, but we still had a great time.
[Right: Ten minutes before I took this photo, Dad thought I was in Canada. Hence the look on his face]
My Dad and stepmum run a B & B (check it out: http://www.dufreche.com/), as well as a vineyard and small menagerie (they've got dogs, cats, horses, chickens, and they're thinking of getting geese and ducks). Their property is huge and includes a large lake. It's in the middle of absolutely nowhere, but only a car's drive away from fresh supplies of wine and cheese.
The result? French heaven. We had a birthday lunch for Dad on Sunday with our French neighbours (and some English ones) in the sun in the back garden. When we got so hot we couldn't take it any more, we all headed to the lake to cool off (below). Except the French neighbours who went to milk their cows.
The next day they showed us how it was done. They've got 24 cows and, with the help of a machine that milks 8 of them at a time, they can get the whole job done in about half an hour. So we stood there and watched these cows' udders in absolute fascination, asking about the Common Agricultural Policy in pidgin French and trying not to breathe through our noses. It was brilliant fun in a totally weird way.
[Left: me and my stepmum in her & Dad's field. Yes, they live in a Constable painting]
We also did all the stuff we usually do at Dad's - ate large amounts of gorgeous food, sunbathed, and did karaoke. And I got to ride my Dad's tractor (below)! I could have stayed there forever.
But instead I allowed myself to be herded back to 'London' Stansted by Ryanair (whoever thinks East Anglia is anywhere near London needs a serious geography lesson). And yesterday I sampled the delights of Redhill (pronounced 'Red-eww' by the hoodie-wearing locals) with my friend Ele who I hadn't seen in ages. We had a great time scouring the charity shops, although we managed to resist the lure of Argos and Primark (I can only handle so much pink velour and 9-carat gold earrings).
[L-R: Nick, Ele and Stu at E&S's house in Redhill. I spent many happy evenings there when I was studying "meeja" at the local college]
I recently read a book called 'Crap Towns', listing the 100 worst towns in England. Redhill wasn't in there, which surprised me. But we did manage to walk through there without being bumped into, mugged or verbally abused, which makes it the Emerald City in comparison with a lot of English towns. Like Basingstoke, which you really shouldn't visit without an emergency supply of Prozac.
It's funny - a lot of Canadians think England is a mixture of Pride and Prejudice, Notting Hill and Austin Powers-style 1960s London. They think it's beautiful and charming and the quality of life is incredible. They get such a shock when I tell them our apartment in Ladbroke Grove cost $700,000 and still had human crap in the stairwell. If Hugh Grant ran a failing travel bookshop in real life, that's where he'd be living, not some quaint little houselet in Portobello Road.
Well, anyway. For now England is great - I can whizz around, see all my friends, eat too much food, hardly sleep, and generally have the time of my life. And then I get to go back to Canada. What more could I ask?
But for now England is great. I don't mean the country itself - I arrived to find that 1,000 of its commuters had been locked in overheated trains for most of the previous evening - but my friends and family. At some hideously early hour on Sunday I flew to see my Dad in France. It was a complete surprise for him and he spent the rest of my visit there in shock, but we still had a great time.[Right: Ten minutes before I took this photo, Dad thought I was in Canada. Hence the look on his face]
My Dad and stepmum run a B & B (check it out: http://www.dufreche.com/), as well as a vineyard and small menagerie (they've got dogs, cats, horses, chickens, and they're thinking of getting geese and ducks). Their property is huge and includes a large lake. It's in the middle of absolutely nowhere, but only a car's drive away from fresh supplies of wine and cheese.
The result? French heaven. We had a birthday lunch for Dad on Sunday with our French neighbours (and some English ones) in the sun in the back garden. When we got so hot we couldn't take it any more, we all headed to the lake to cool off (below). Except the French neighbours who went to milk their cows.
The next day they showed us how it was done. They've got 24 cows and, with the help of a machine that milks 8 of them at a time, they can get the whole job done in about half an hour. So we stood there and watched these cows' udders in absolute fascination, asking about the Common Agricultural Policy in pidgin French and trying not to breathe through our noses. It was brilliant fun in a totally weird way.
[Left: me and my stepmum in her & Dad's field. Yes, they live in a Constable painting]We also did all the stuff we usually do at Dad's - ate large amounts of gorgeous food, sunbathed, and did karaoke. And I got to ride my Dad's tractor (below)! I could have stayed there forever.
But instead I allowed myself to be herded back to 'London' Stansted by Ryanair (whoever thinks East Anglia is anywhere near London needs a serious geography lesson). And yesterday I sampled the delights of Redhill (pronounced 'Red-eww' by the hoodie-wearing locals) with my friend Ele who I hadn't seen in ages. We had a great time scouring the charity shops, although we managed to resist the lure of Argos and Primark (I can only handle so much pink velour and 9-carat gold earrings).
[L-R: Nick, Ele and Stu at E&S's house in Redhill. I spent many happy evenings there when I was studying "meeja" at the local college]I recently read a book called 'Crap Towns', listing the 100 worst towns in England. Redhill wasn't in there, which surprised me. But we did manage to walk through there without being bumped into, mugged or verbally abused, which makes it the Emerald City in comparison with a lot of English towns. Like Basingstoke, which you really shouldn't visit without an emergency supply of Prozac.
It's funny - a lot of Canadians think England is a mixture of Pride and Prejudice, Notting Hill and Austin Powers-style 1960s London. They think it's beautiful and charming and the quality of life is incredible. They get such a shock when I tell them our apartment in Ladbroke Grove cost $700,000 and still had human crap in the stairwell. If Hugh Grant ran a failing travel bookshop in real life, that's where he'd be living, not some quaint little houselet in Portobello Road.
Well, anyway. For now England is great - I can whizz around, see all my friends, eat too much food, hardly sleep, and generally have the time of my life. And then I get to go back to Canada. What more could I ask?
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Ice cream till I'm blue in the face
Er...yes, I appear to have completely skipped last week's blog. Sorry to disappoint you avid blog-checkers out there! Actually I've been consumed in a tidal wave of admin this past week, so it wouldn't have been hugely exciting anyway (Day 2: spent the day logging receipts for our tax return. Woohoo!). So what else has been going on?
I did go to a press conference with some Latin American bishops the other weekend, which was pretty cool (my first press conference!). It was for an article I was writing for the Spectator about social injustice in El Salvador. It would have been even cooler if they'd actually printed the article!!! I've yet to find out what happened, but it was pretty annoying considering this is the only way I'm making any money at the moment.
People keep asking me if I'm working yet (or when I meet new people, it's that perennial question "So what do you do?"). My clever answer is 'Yes - but not for money' (apart from the Spec stuff). Because the truth is, I feel like I've been working pretty hard these last couple of weeks. If you want to break it down into job titles, I'm:
A freelance journalist
An editor
My husband's secretary
A data inputter
A cleaner
A cook
An actress
A communications officer
An immigration officer
Just to explain the last three: I'm now a communications person at my church, which mostly involves sending out lots of emails; I've been sorting things out like my social insurance and NHS (well, the Canadian equivalent - Medicare) numbers, all part of settling in as an immigrant; and I've had 3 auditions in the last 2 weeks, hence the actress part.
By the way, I got a part in Guys and Dolls! Yay!!! It's like, third female chorus from the left or something, but it is my first play in Canada and it'll be a good way to meet people anyway. Plus I auditioned for the church drama team, but I won't know the result for a couple of weeks.
So life is pretty busy at the moment. But that didn't stop us from exploring a bit of Canada last weekend. We went to a place overlooking Lake Ontario, surrounding by deep blue lakes and lush woodland. Joe and I, along with all Joe's high school friends, their wives and multiple children, stayed in tiny cottages along the edge of a beautiful private lake.
Because all our cottages were next to each other, and we spent the evenings gathered around the campfire roasting marshmallows and playing the guitar, it kind of reminded me of guide camp (except we sang U2 instead of 'campfire's burning'). Plus we spent more time playing with the kids than talking to the adults. It was great!
When we weren’t eating blue ice cream in scoops the size of a baby’s head, I was chasing the kids around pretending to be a chimp, or Joe was climbing a tree because the kids dared him, or we were getting tipsy on free samples at the local winery (ok, so that was an adult thing).
Sunday was the best part. We went for a walk with Joe’s high school friend and his wife, and their two little boys aged 4 and 6. I love kids at that age (they remind me of Calvin from ‘Calvin & Hobbes’ – it’s a cartoon. If you haven’t read it, your life is missing something). We spent the whole afternoon chasing dragonflies, avoiding poison ivy (like stinging nettles but way worse), finding turtles and looking at snakes. Yes, really! Canadian wildlife is so cool. The turtles weren’t just terrapins – they were about a foot long! And the snakes weren’t just grass snakes – they were two or three feet long! Massive!!
Anyway, I’d been fishing with Nicholas (the 4 year old) earlier in the day, and he kept catching seaweed. Every time I took it off the hook for him, he’d say ‘Eat it!’ (he was the same kid who dared Joe to climb the tree). For some reason, eating seaweed to win the eternal admiration of a 4 year old is strangely tempting.
As it turned out, I won all my kudos later in the afternoon when we were snake-watching. I love the feel of snakes, so after being assured they weren’t poisonous, I picked one up. And it bit me!! How cool is that?!?! Not only did it bite me, I hung on to it long enough to get a photo. I still have the bite mark on my hand, but it’s healing annoyingly fast. Plus it looks like I’ve just stapled myself.
After all the excitement with the snake, we had to start heading home. I stuck my head into the car to say goodbye to the kids, and just as I was leaving, the six year old said:
“Bye, Suzie. That was pretty cool with the snake.”
And my day was made. Who needs seaweed?
I did go to a press conference with some Latin American bishops the other weekend, which was pretty cool (my first press conference!). It was for an article I was writing for the Spectator about social injustice in El Salvador. It would have been even cooler if they'd actually printed the article!!! I've yet to find out what happened, but it was pretty annoying considering this is the only way I'm making any money at the moment.
People keep asking me if I'm working yet (or when I meet new people, it's that perennial question "So what do you do?"). My clever answer is 'Yes - but not for money' (apart from the Spec stuff). Because the truth is, I feel like I've been working pretty hard these last couple of weeks. If you want to break it down into job titles, I'm:
A freelance journalist
An editor
My husband's secretary
A data inputter
A cleaner
A cook
An actress
A communications officer
An immigration officer
Just to explain the last three: I'm now a communications person at my church, which mostly involves sending out lots of emails; I've been sorting things out like my social insurance and NHS (well, the Canadian equivalent - Medicare) numbers, all part of settling in as an immigrant; and I've had 3 auditions in the last 2 weeks, hence the actress part.
By the way, I got a part in Guys and Dolls! Yay!!! It's like, third female chorus from the left or something, but it is my first play in Canada and it'll be a good way to meet people anyway. Plus I auditioned for the church drama team, but I won't know the result for a couple of weeks.
So life is pretty busy at the moment. But that didn't stop us from exploring a bit of Canada last weekend. We went to a place overlooking Lake Ontario, surrounding by deep blue lakes and lush woodland. Joe and I, along with all Joe's high school friends, their wives and multiple children, stayed in tiny cottages along the edge of a beautiful private lake.
Because all our cottages were next to each other, and we spent the evenings gathered around the campfire roasting marshmallows and playing the guitar, it kind of reminded me of guide camp (except we sang U2 instead of 'campfire's burning'). Plus we spent more time playing with the kids than talking to the adults. It was great!
When we weren’t eating blue ice cream in scoops the size of a baby’s head, I was chasing the kids around pretending to be a chimp, or Joe was climbing a tree because the kids dared him, or we were getting tipsy on free samples at the local winery (ok, so that was an adult thing).
Sunday was the best part. We went for a walk with Joe’s high school friend and his wife, and their two little boys aged 4 and 6. I love kids at that age (they remind me of Calvin from ‘Calvin & Hobbes’ – it’s a cartoon. If you haven’t read it, your life is missing something). We spent the whole afternoon chasing dragonflies, avoiding poison ivy (like stinging nettles but way worse), finding turtles and looking at snakes. Yes, really! Canadian wildlife is so cool. The turtles weren’t just terrapins – they were about a foot long! And the snakes weren’t just grass snakes – they were two or three feet long! Massive!!
Anyway, I’d been fishing with Nicholas (the 4 year old) earlier in the day, and he kept catching seaweed. Every time I took it off the hook for him, he’d say ‘Eat it!’ (he was the same kid who dared Joe to climb the tree). For some reason, eating seaweed to win the eternal admiration of a 4 year old is strangely tempting.
As it turned out, I won all my kudos later in the afternoon when we were snake-watching. I love the feel of snakes, so after being assured they weren’t poisonous, I picked one up. And it bit me!! How cool is that?!?! Not only did it bite me, I hung on to it long enough to get a photo. I still have the bite mark on my hand, but it’s healing annoyingly fast. Plus it looks like I’ve just stapled myself.
After all the excitement with the snake, we had to start heading home. I stuck my head into the car to say goodbye to the kids, and just as I was leaving, the six year old said:
“Bye, Suzie. That was pretty cool with the snake.”
And my day was made. Who needs seaweed?
If you look really closely, you can see miniature puncture wounds on my right hand...
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Eh to zed
By the way, you might have noticed I used the Canadian 'eh?' in my previous entry. I apologise profusely. I'm trying to resist the temptation to use 'like' every other word and other awful North Americanisms, but it's pretty hard sometimes. So feel free to sharpen your torture instruments for the next time you see me if I use any of the following:
Eh?
Like
Totally
Awesome
Whatever
Kinda
Y'know
Words such as 'rocked' are acceptable if used ironically, as is 'cool' because it's, like, my signature word (oh crap! I can hear those racks being dragged out of the closet - I mean wardrobe). However you may report me to the UN for crimes against humanity if you hear me utter sentences such as:
Hot enough for ya?
How about them Leafs, eh? (unlikely as all the ice hockey teams are on strike)
That was like, totally awesome!
Y'know what, I'm kinda bummed about that - but whatever.
Maple syrup rocks! (Even though it does)
Despite all these efforts though, I can feel the cloak of Canadianisation falling upon me like a giant maple leaf (I wish that sounded more sinister). Just kill me quickly if I start to lose my accent.
Eh?
Like
Totally
Awesome
Whatever
Kinda
Y'know
Words such as 'rocked' are acceptable if used ironically, as is 'cool' because it's, like, my signature word (oh crap! I can hear those racks being dragged out of the closet - I mean wardrobe). However you may report me to the UN for crimes against humanity if you hear me utter sentences such as:
Hot enough for ya?
How about them Leafs, eh? (unlikely as all the ice hockey teams are on strike)
That was like, totally awesome!
Y'know what, I'm kinda bummed about that - but whatever.
Maple syrup rocks! (Even though it does)
Despite all these efforts though, I can feel the cloak of Canadianisation falling upon me like a giant maple leaf (I wish that sounded more sinister). Just kill me quickly if I start to lose my accent.
Mad men and the midday sun
Ah, that’s better. It’s amazing how good I feel after belting out a few songs. The auditions went pretty well - although some of these drama companies don’t half take themselves seriously. At the one on Sunday, the audition form asked if I was a member of Equity (the actors’ union)! The next question should have been ‘If so, why are you trying out for an amateur production?’ I guess some professional actors are pretty desperate. Kind of like professional journalists who write for free. Moving on then…
Spring here lasted about five minutes and summer has arrived with a vengeance. It’s BOILING!!! And the temperature’s going to be 26 degrees or hotter for at least the next seven days. It’s not just the heat, either. It’s also the humidity, which clings to you like a cheap shower curtain and makes things like wearing makeup unbearable. You know when you’ve just eaten a really greasy hamburger and you can feel the fat around your mouth? Pretty gross, eh? That’s the same as wearing lipstick in a Canadian summer.
Needless to say I’m wearing fewer clothes at the moment, which in itself is unremarkable until you consider the number of weird guys that hang around downtown Hamilton. There are a lot. Some of them have problems with mental illness or learning disabilities or addictions (there are lots of halfway houses around here), and others are letches with no excuse. I get a ‘hello’, or ‘how are you’, or ‘you look nice’ about three or four times a day. I even caught a blind guy checking me out yesterday! I was so confused by this I looked directly at him and yes, he was definitely checking me out. He must have had a white cane because he was partially sighted or something.
It’s only when they try to start up a full-length conversation that I feel kind of awkward. But most of the time it’s all pretty friendly. Like when I was going for a walk between the singing and dance auditions yesterday, and some guy pulled up next to me on his bike and asked me out!! I guess people are just less inhibited here. Plus I’m a babe : )
But seriously. People are more friendly here. And because people are more friendly, I find myself being more friendly back. If somebody bumped into me in London, on the rare occasion they said sorry, I would just mumble “s’okay” in response. If somebody bumps into me here, they politely say “I’m sorry” (no mumbling) and I say back “That’s no problem” or something equally warm and forgiving. People here assume you’re a fantastic person worthy of respect unless they find out you’re a mugger or a thief. In London it’s the other way around.
People will also happily help you out if you need it, whereas in London a stranger wouldn’t pee on you if your heart was on fire (one Londoner I know told me about a woman she saw on the bus, who was crying her heart out and everyone was ignoring her. It turned out she’d just been raped). Today I was loading my groceries into the back of the car, and some guy offered to take back my trolley for me. I assumed he was doing it to make some sort of living (you get your 25 cents deposit back when you return the trolley), so I let him. Then he gave me the 25 cents!!!
An apology to Londoners, by the way. I have seen examples of Londoners being warm-hearted, generous people who help out strangers. It’s just that those examples are in the minority. I’ve been just as guilty of putting my own comfort ahead of helping other people, but I think being around Canadians is making me less reserved.
Anyway, as any person who’s ever been around English people will tell you, an English friend is a friend for life. And I do miss my English friends. Although I’m meeting people here, and I know that one day I’ll have as many laughs and stupid antics with them as I’ve had with my old friends, it sometimes seems a long way off. So to everyone I know in England (and to my dad & step mum in France)…I miss you. Have a hug from me : )
Spring here lasted about five minutes and summer has arrived with a vengeance. It’s BOILING!!! And the temperature’s going to be 26 degrees or hotter for at least the next seven days. It’s not just the heat, either. It’s also the humidity, which clings to you like a cheap shower curtain and makes things like wearing makeup unbearable. You know when you’ve just eaten a really greasy hamburger and you can feel the fat around your mouth? Pretty gross, eh? That’s the same as wearing lipstick in a Canadian summer.
Needless to say I’m wearing fewer clothes at the moment, which in itself is unremarkable until you consider the number of weird guys that hang around downtown Hamilton. There are a lot. Some of them have problems with mental illness or learning disabilities or addictions (there are lots of halfway houses around here), and others are letches with no excuse. I get a ‘hello’, or ‘how are you’, or ‘you look nice’ about three or four times a day. I even caught a blind guy checking me out yesterday! I was so confused by this I looked directly at him and yes, he was definitely checking me out. He must have had a white cane because he was partially sighted or something.
It’s only when they try to start up a full-length conversation that I feel kind of awkward. But most of the time it’s all pretty friendly. Like when I was going for a walk between the singing and dance auditions yesterday, and some guy pulled up next to me on his bike and asked me out!! I guess people are just less inhibited here. Plus I’m a babe : )
But seriously. People are more friendly here. And because people are more friendly, I find myself being more friendly back. If somebody bumped into me in London, on the rare occasion they said sorry, I would just mumble “s’okay” in response. If somebody bumps into me here, they politely say “I’m sorry” (no mumbling) and I say back “That’s no problem” or something equally warm and forgiving. People here assume you’re a fantastic person worthy of respect unless they find out you’re a mugger or a thief. In London it’s the other way around.
People will also happily help you out if you need it, whereas in London a stranger wouldn’t pee on you if your heart was on fire (one Londoner I know told me about a woman she saw on the bus, who was crying her heart out and everyone was ignoring her. It turned out she’d just been raped). Today I was loading my groceries into the back of the car, and some guy offered to take back my trolley for me. I assumed he was doing it to make some sort of living (you get your 25 cents deposit back when you return the trolley), so I let him. Then he gave me the 25 cents!!!
An apology to Londoners, by the way. I have seen examples of Londoners being warm-hearted, generous people who help out strangers. It’s just that those examples are in the minority. I’ve been just as guilty of putting my own comfort ahead of helping other people, but I think being around Canadians is making me less reserved.
Anyway, as any person who’s ever been around English people will tell you, an English friend is a friend for life. And I do miss my English friends. Although I’m meeting people here, and I know that one day I’ll have as many laughs and stupid antics with them as I’ve had with my old friends, it sometimes seems a long way off. So to everyone I know in England (and to my dad & step mum in France)…I miss you. Have a hug from me : )
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Name change
By the way, you might have noticed that I've changed the name of my blog. The address is still the same though!! I just wanted to jazz up the name a bit, because 'Can do Canada' was such an unbelievably anaemic title. Till next week then (and wish me luck in the auditions!).
Feels like Ladbroke Grove
More pieces added to the jigsaw of my life in Canada this week. I've decided to audition for a musical, I've got a bit more work with the Hamilton Spectator, and I've volunteered for the drama group at church. Plus I might be doing some English teaching, seeing as the classes take place next door so it would almost be lazy not to, but that's only voluntary so the jury's out on that one.
It’s weird - it sounds like there’s loads of stuff going on, and there will be soon, but for now it’s still really quiet. Even when I’ve got work on, I’m doing it from home, so for much of the day I’m stuck in our very small flat. Which is in a tower block, on a noisy street full of screaming kids, with litter and dog poo on the street outside. And I swear I saw pee in the stairwell just now. Ah, it feels like I’m back in Ladbroke Grove. The only difference being that living in Ladbroke Grove costs about $1500 (Canadian) more a month : )
Anyway, it’s only temporary so I can’t complain. Plus I discovered this week that our neighbours are Turkish, and (although it lags far far behind English) Turkish is my second language! Not many people can say that so the neighbours love me. I’ve already been invited over for Turkish coffee (mmm...coffee you can stand your spoon in…)
Plus we’ve seen some great houses we could potentially move into. One is right on the edge of the escarpment that overlooks Hamilton, and the view is incredible! It’s got 3 bedrooms, a dining room, living room, kitchen, 2 bathrooms, and a basement, and it’s overpriced (yes really) at 125,000 pounds. We reckon we can knock ‘em down to 115. I love this country!
The weather is also getting incredibly lovely here. It’s about 25 degrees C every day and sunny. I’m getting a tan just walking around (me! A tan!). So despite the slight lack of things to do (and that won’t last for long) life is good. Especially as I get to belt out a tune or two at the auditions next week : ) Watch out Canada, there’s a diva on the loose!
It’s weird - it sounds like there’s loads of stuff going on, and there will be soon, but for now it’s still really quiet. Even when I’ve got work on, I’m doing it from home, so for much of the day I’m stuck in our very small flat. Which is in a tower block, on a noisy street full of screaming kids, with litter and dog poo on the street outside. And I swear I saw pee in the stairwell just now. Ah, it feels like I’m back in Ladbroke Grove. The only difference being that living in Ladbroke Grove costs about $1500 (Canadian) more a month : )
Anyway, it’s only temporary so I can’t complain. Plus I discovered this week that our neighbours are Turkish, and (although it lags far far behind English) Turkish is my second language! Not many people can say that so the neighbours love me. I’ve already been invited over for Turkish coffee (mmm...coffee you can stand your spoon in…)
Plus we’ve seen some great houses we could potentially move into. One is right on the edge of the escarpment that overlooks Hamilton, and the view is incredible! It’s got 3 bedrooms, a dining room, living room, kitchen, 2 bathrooms, and a basement, and it’s overpriced (yes really) at 125,000 pounds. We reckon we can knock ‘em down to 115. I love this country!
The weather is also getting incredibly lovely here. It’s about 25 degrees C every day and sunny. I’m getting a tan just walking around (me! A tan!). So despite the slight lack of things to do (and that won’t last for long) life is good. Especially as I get to belt out a tune or two at the auditions next week : ) Watch out Canada, there’s a diva on the loose!
