I'm still alive, and this blog is not totally dead.

Updates coming soon, including my adventures in the woods, chasing off bears, and finding a new place to live.

I like ...

I'm kind of in love with this artist (Lawrence Yang).  He's whimsical, magical and a little strange.  Lots of colors and lines and shapes and fun stuff like that.  And colors.  Did I mention the colors? 'Cause yeah. Colors. Whimsy and blue go very well together, don'tcha think?

 

"not suspicious, but merely Canadian."

 Courtesy of Imgur:

 

a little personal

I wish I could show you

When you are lonely or in darkness

The astonishing light of your own being.

-- Hafiz

   The past seven months have been a journey for me.  A long, winding road that has led down to the abyss and beyond.  I have suffered, I have been miserable, and I have doubted everything about myself. I have questioned reality, my position in life and the motives of friends and family.  I have wondered and worried about the past while anxiously tabulating every single mishap that has led up to this point. I have calculated my errors and accidents, and at times, it becomes an equation that seems like it will never balance itself. 

  And yet, here I am, nearly a year later and somehow more complete than I have ever been.  My spirit is bruised, my psyche is sore, and yet I am full of hope.  I can carry my head high, sure in the knowledge that I am trying to better myself, trying to become a more complete person, trying to evolve and grow towards something greater than I have ever yet been.

  Growing is a difficult process.  I never realized it until now.  I take two steps forward, and then fall backwards.  I begin to grow confident in myself, and suddenly crumble inwards.  I love my body, only to pick it apart.  I feel confident, which is then eroded by anxiety and self doubt.  It's not a straight forward process, this business of learning to love yourself.  It hurts.  It aches.  It itches.  It cramps. Sometimes, it fails miserably. 

  Yet, slowly, ever so slowly, I begin to doubt myself less.  I try a little harder.  I acknowledge the good moments in my day.  The sun is shining again, and I can see it, feel it, taste it.  I'm no longer hidden behind a dark and gloomy cloud.  Not always, anyway. And that's a start. A beautiful, joyous start.

  You yourself, as much as anybody in the universe, deserve your love and affection.

-- Buddha 

  There is so much love in your heart that you could heal the planet.

-- Louise Hay

No one can make you feel inferior without your permission.

-- Eleanor Roosevelt

 

    

a snow day

  2 days of snow.

  No one willing to shovel the sidewalks.

  A girl with no car.

  This is the result.

 

inspiration

 "Opening ourselves to possible failure is an important part of creativity.  One failure need not stop us from acting again.  We learn from our failures."

-- Amit Goswami, 'The Visionary Window', pg. 195

canadiana 101: maple taffy / tire d'érable

  Maple taffy (or what I call 'awesomeness on a stick') is a delicious treat that I experienced for the first time yesterday.  It is a perfect mix of sticky, chewy and, if you wait long enough, hard.  It will also glue your teeth together if you bite in to it too fast, which I discovered the hard way. 

 According to Wikipedia, the treat is made by boiling maple syrup, and then pouring it on to ice or fresh, clean snow.  You place a  stick in the mass of maple syrup, which rapidly hardens and turns in to a lollipop of sorts.  You can eat it immediately and savor the goo factor, or you can wait and let the candy harden.

  The trick is to catch as much maple syrup as you can on your stick and find just the right moment to bite in to the maple mess.  Unfortunately, I didn't get enough practice yesterday, so my technique is not perfected (yet).

  It's a treat that is associated with eastern Canada, but apparently western Canadians also know a thing or too about maple taffy.  It's caloric, sugary, and absolute heaven.  I highly recommend trying it.

  There are several websites that tell you how to make an at-home version, no snow required.  However, I think half the fun is playing in the snow and getting cold while eagerly waiting for your maple taffy creations.

valentine's day northern lights

   Ah, Valentine's Day,  the most awkward of holidays.  For a girl who loathes public displays of affection, conversation heart candies and anything to do with cupids, Valentine's Day is not the best way to celebrate love.  And anyway, I find it rather offensive that the greeting card industry has made an official day for Love, Affection and Sex -- as if you can't have these things the rest of the year.  (I mean hell, if I had a boyfriend who only ever brought me chocolates on Valentine's Day, he'd be dumped pretty quickly.  Call me shallow, but what ever.)

  Naturally, I was absolutely dreading V.D. this year.  I've been single for almost 9 months now, and the prospect of some stupid holiday rubbing it in my face was not a pleasurable thought.  It was bad enough strolling around campus the week leading up to Valentine's, and watching all the couples cooing and kissing all over each other (in public, I might add -- ick.)  V. Day itself was pretty much unbearable around the university, with cute couples strolling around, hand in hand, and making romantic noises about dinner and 'plans' for later that evening.  Gag me with a spoon, people.

  In the end, however, I ended up having a pretty good (platonic)  Valentine's Day.  I went out for pizza with a friend, gorged on some killer chocolate cake, and watched an absolutely stunning display of the northern lights.  They were gorgeous last night, shimmering across the sky in vivid greens and reds.  I had a perfect view from my living room balcony.  It's impossible not to be awed and inspired by those beautiful lights, and it certainly was the most unique way to spend a Valentine's Day evening.

  Not romantic, but certainly awesome.  In a way, I'm really glad I got to enjoy the holiday as a single girl. 
If I had been hanging out with a boyfriend, I probably wouldn't have noticed the lights in the first place.  Perhaps it's a sign that all is well in my universe, and that I should just accept the fact that I'm single.  After all, there are worse things.  I got to see some beautiful lights across the night sky, cram my face with chocolate cake, and not have to worry about looking fat for some guy.  All in all, much better than spending V. Day out to dinner, awkwardly exchanging cards and trying to get in to the spirit of an otherwise lifeless and completely pointless holiday.

photos: ice crystals

I was lucky enough to wake up to a window covered in ice crystals yesterday morning.  It was one of those rare and magical moments that makes living in the far north worth it.  Click on the photos to enlarge them -- the details of the crystal are worth a look.  

My bedroom window at 7am, when the windchill outside was -45C (-49F).

Like stars.

Ice + sunlight = Mother Nature's version of stained glass.

One more, because they're so beautiful.

a girl's guide to surviving -45C (-49F to Americans)

  Today in the Great White North it is -38C, with windchill.  Tomorrow morning it's expected to hit the warm and balmy low of -45C (which is -49F for those of you who live in the States.)  Temperatures like these aren't all that unusual up north, and can last for days, and sometimes weeks, on end.

  Do you remember those headaches you used to get as a kid when you ate ice cream too fast? Well, that's what going outside in insanely cold weather is like.  Your entire body instantly starts to tingle, ache and then go numb.  Even with a hat on, my head will start to throb like I've just downed an entire box of Popsicles.  My knees get stiff, and then the joints on my fingers start to bend very s l o w l y.  Needless to say, walking anywhere can be quite a painful experience, even when dressed appropriately for the weather.

Should you ever find yourself stuck in some good 'ole northern Canadian weather, here are some simple things to have around the house that will help your skin, hair and extremities survive the frigid cold.  A few things are expensive, but most are just basic things you can find around the house.

  Vitamin E Ointment

Vitamin E in a gel form is pretty much like magic.  It soothes chapped skin, helps to heal cuts, and creates a nice barrier of protection for cracked lips.  I use it all over my face before and after going outside in the extreme weather.  For those of you with oily skin, there's an added bonus: it doesn't make you break out.  You can use it all over your body, although I like it most on my face.



Olive Oil

Cheap, you can find it at any grocery store, and it's awesome for the skin.  Cold weather is very drying and irritating for face, hands and everything else.  Olive oil is a nice way to combat peeling, cracked skin -- as long as you can deal with smelling like an Italian kitchen.  One piece of advice: I tend to avoid using it on my face, as it is quite heavy.  I prefer it for feet, knees, hands and legs.  Other good options are: Coconut oil and Castor oil, although I know they can sometimes be harder to find.

Moroccan Oil

Cold weather will slaughter, murder and otherwise destroy your hair.  My hair has a horrible habit of drying out at the ends while staying oily at the roots.  Moroccan Oil works magic on my dry ends, without weighing my hair down and making it look flat or greasy.  It also stops those horrible static fly-aways that happen when you have to wear a lot of hats. Plus, it smells really nice.  You can find it on amazon.com, amazon.ca or in a local salon. Expensive, but totally worth it.

Dryer Sheets

They work on hair like magic.  Seriously.  When I'm in a pinch, I use them to tame static and gnarly ends.  It makes your hair smell nice, to boot.  Find a brand you like, and try it out.  Personally, I am a sucker for Snuggles, that cloyingly sweet bear that you see on all those dryer sheet commercials.  I also heard of another excellent (albeit) illegal use for dryer sheets, but I'll save that one for another time ... if ever.


  Other must haves:

A long scarf: You need it long enough to drape around your neck, mouth and nose.  Breathing through a scarf really cuts down on the horrible my-lungs-are-getting-frostbitten feeling that can happen when ever you step outside.  I usually double wrap mine around my mouth and nose for added warmth.

Mittens in Gloves: Double up! Take a pair of mittens and wrap a pair of heavier gloves around them.  Relying on a single pair of mittens or gloves won't work; you need two layers.  It helps, trust me!

Ski socks:  They work.  'Nuff said.   Find them at a sporting good store. Your feet will thank you.

canadiana 101: the inuksuk

 I'd never heard of an Inuksuk until I moved to Canada.  While we don't have them in the United States, they are literally everywhere in Canada.  Originally found among many of the Arctic cultures (including the Inuit and Inupiat), the symbol has become adopted by Canadian citizens of all varieties.  It was heavily featured in the Vancouver Winter Olympic Games, and is often viewed as the archetypal symbol of Canada. In fact, unlike the maple leaf (that other famous Canadian symbol), Inuksuit can be found across the country, while the maple tree only grows in the east. 


  While I won't go in to the political ramifications of adopting (or, as some would argue, co-opting) a piece of indigenous culture, I do find it interesting how beloved Inuksuit are among Canadians.  You'll find them in all kinds of places, from front yards to the most remote corners of national parks.  You'll spot them for sale in tacky souvenir shops, and being displayed in art galleries as 'high art.'


  For the uninitiated, the Inuksuk is literally a pile of rocks.  Inuksuit (plural form, not a typo) often take the shape of a human figure, with an erect back and outstretched arms.  They may be used for navigational purposes, for spiritual reasons or simply for aesthetic pleasure.  Honestly, I'm not sure what the heck they are traditionally used for, and I'm not sure many other people are, either.  Yet that doesn't stop people from loving, making and selling them.


  It should be pointed out that there is a lot of contention about the use of Inuksuit.  There is good reason for this -- the symbol has been taken completely out of its original cultural and spiritual context, and often gets co-opted in to advertising campaigns. The symbol is splashed across everything from tea towels and beer bottles.  Many Canadians don't even know what the the Inuksuit mean, and the fact that they do have spiritual value to the people of the north.  


  That said, I personally find them very beautiful and a wonderful symbol of the north.  It's always quite startling to come across an Inuksuk.  It brings to minds all kinds of questions -- who built it? When? For what purpose?


  I find it especially charming how tourists treat the inuksuit they come across while visiting national parks and other outdoorsy types of places where the Inuksuit tend to be built in larger numbers.  I have literally seen a pair of Canadian hikers build an Inuksuk, only to have it 'discovered' twenty minutes later by a pair of Europeans who loudly commented on the 'ancient Native artificat' in their midst.

In honor of the beautiful Canadian tradition of the Inuksuk, here are some photographs of various Inuksuit I have captured over the past year or so.  They're probably not ancient artifacts, but they are truly Canadian.

 

2:10am

  like most people, i never really express appreciation for the simple things that enrich my life.  they are small things, simple things, things that are rarely paid attention to.  they are things that are taken for granted and then put aside for later use.  that's the whole problem with modern life, really.  it's the same thing. many of us take the small things for granted, often to the point where it leaks over in to our relationships with people.  we assume that these people will always be there, and that they will always be around to help us through our various trials in life. our often very ridiculous, insignificant trials.

  it's been a difficult season, for many reasons. i'm not in a sour mood -- not truly -- but i cannot lie. things have been tough. i keep thinking how low i feel, and take all the positive things happening in my life for granted.  i push them aside. it'd ridiculous, really. i see it in other people too, so i know it's not just me.  it's a symptom of something larger, perhaps of modern society as a whole. who knows?

but no matter how difficult things get, there are always a number of things that make me truly happy. me, and you, and everyone else. we just need to appreciate them, instead of casting them aside until the moment we need them. as for me, it's those rare and fleeting moments of quiet peace, of a gentle and soundless kind of happiness, that enable me to keep functioning.  it's appreciation that keeps me strong.

 so, as a reminder to myself -- and maybe you too? -- here are some nice and simple things that make me smile. i hope some of these things make you smile, too. and if not, well, please take a moment to think about what small things enrich your life.  it's quite lovely to realize how lucky we all are, even down to the smallest and most seemingly insignificant of ways.

happy

candles.christmas lights. blue glass bottles. kittens. babies with big eyes. a good southern rain storm. old dogs. purple velvet. the smell of pancakes on the griddle. bird songs. freshly fallen snow. embers. your hand in mine. love. hope. confidence. acceptance. the smile of the dalali lama in his photos. having faith that it will all be okay.  hugging a friend after a long time apart. the quiet of 3 in the morning. the shadows of flickering flames on walls. monkey noises.  dolphins. the universe. prairie winds.  the winter moon. the summer sun.

as a side note: i didn't really intend to disregard upper case & lower case letters in this posting.  i actually rather loathe that sort of pretentious letter play that is so common in bad modern prose. it's definitely not my intent here.  any way, i just started writing and ended up not hiting the caps lock key once.  so, here it is.  not intentional, but it's not getting fixed, either. what the hell, i might as well break a few grammatical rules.  i already slaughter them by the bucketful as it is. 

thank you, canada

  I've been living in Canada for over a year now.  I am slowly settling in to this place.  I feel fond of my adopted home.  To be truthful, sometimes there are times that I wish I had been born Canadian; carrying around the social albatross that is an American identity can be very trying. People will often treat me differently, once they realize where I'm from. I love my country, but I'm also frightened for it, and at the directions it is going in.  If I were Canadian, I could let all of that go, and of all of the negativity I experience from non-Americans for being born in the 'Land of the Free'. 

  Canadians are honestly treated a lot better, at least from an international standpoint.

  So yes, I'm claiming Canadian identity for myself. It's not just because of the American issue.  It is also because I genuinely like the place.  It is different from any other place I've ever been, sometimes in subtle and unexpected ways.  I think that's a really beautiful thing, and something that I'm very fortunate to be able to experience.

 It may be temporary, but for the time that I live here, I would like to be able to consider myself as 'Canadian' as any other new immigrant.  I pay taxes, I abide by the laws, I've studied up on the history and social customs.  I have spent significant time here, starting as a young child.  I have family members that live in this country.  I speak the main language.  I share a common continent and cultural bond. So, why not?  

  This doesn't negate my own American identity, or the fact that I also identify with the nation of my father's origin.  When asked, I feel hard pressed to be able to list myself as belonging to any one country.  I have too many connections to too many places.  Is it a sign of modernity when people become multinational entities?


  In the understanding that this does not negate my 'American-ness' or 'European-ness' in any way, I would like to say a big thank you to the nation of Canada for hosting me for the past year.  You've been pretty friendly, and over all, a really positive experience.  I've met some truly kind people here, and learned a lot of important things.  My life has been richer since moving here. I've also learned that I can cope with really damn cold winters.  I think your weather kind of sucks, but then again, everything looks more beautiful in the snow.  So, yeah. Thank you. It's pretty good here.

  Thank you, Canada.

canadian finals rodeo

  The Canadian Finals Rodeo, held in November, is a massive international gathering of cowboys and cowgirls from across North America.  Held over four days, the CFR is one of those classically western events that you can only find in very specific parts of the world.  

  I had a chance to attend both the Canadian Finals Rodeo and the smaller Farmfair that proceeded the main event.  A friend invited me to the fair. She summed it up as "a bunch of cows and the guys who ride 'em."  I've had limited experience with rodeos, but never with one as large, famous or international as the Canadian Finals.  So, I figured, why not? I'm living in Canada, and I might as well soak up the local culture.  Plus, the opportunity to mingle with real cowboys was just to good to pass up. 

  We started off at the Farmfair.  It was a massive event in its own right, with different halls dedicated to everything and anything related to livestock.  Stalls and pens were ordered in precise, tidy rows, with their somewhat messier occupants held within.  There were all kinds of cows (so many breeds!), from fluffy white calves to massive black bulls.  I witnessed the age old ritual of the Cow Shit, which involves a cow uncomfortably shifting around, followed by a lifting of then tail, and then the almost immediate projective and spraying brown liquid.  I saw cute goats with their kids, quite a few beautiful horses, some ducks, chickens (which were absolutely ridiculous in the way that they pranced around their pen),  and even a little clique of pigs.  (Pig herd? Litter? Social unit of swine? Whatever works.  All that matters is how cute the sight of a bunch of pigs is!)


  We also strolled around and checked out the wide assortment of incredibly tacky wares for sale by an eclectic group of vendors.  I saw a lot of really bad art, mostly involving cowboys, mustangs and cow skulls.  You know, the usual kitschy fare that you find on the walls of seedy motels in Arizona.  There were a few questionable objects for sale, such as 'authentic dream catchers' and 'aboriginal style jewelry.'  There were quite a few food vendors, and I came very close to purchasing some Saskatoon berry syrup. To be honest, I kind of wish I had, in hindsight. 

  There was even a guy who was cooking a demo meal for a live audience.  I can't remember what he was selling, but I did sample the salad he created on the spot.  It was quite tasty, although I wasn't sure what the big deal was.  Salad is, after all, not especially difficult to throw together.


  The highlight of my evening was getting an autograph with Terry Grant, 'the Real Mantracker.'  A friend once described him to me as a 'Canadian Sean Connery,' which strangely fits, somehow.  He was formerly affiliated with a popular show here in Canada, Mantracker.  I won't waste time here writing about the show, but click on the link if you want to know more about it.  It's quite entertaining.

  Terry was friendly, charming and very attractive in person.  I think I ended up confessing my undying love for the Mantracker to all my friends for the rest of the night.  It certainly became a popular joke for the evening.


  After the Mantracker/cows/goats/tacky stuff for sale adventure at Farmfair, we headed over to the insanely crowded Canadian Finals Rodeo.  The crowd was massive, energetic and definitely fans of all things Western.  I felt distinctly out of place without a cowboy hat or boots.  Even a plaid shirt would have helped me feel more at home.


  For the rest of the evening, I sipped beers and watched the amazing spectacle that is the great North American rodeo.  Barrel racing (fast!), bronco riding (amazing!), bareback (bold), team and steer roping (skillful!) and bull riding (anticlimactic, since almost no one was able to hang on long enough for a decent ride.)  I loved every second of it.  There was such a charge of energy in the stadium, the lights were bright, the air smelled faintly of sweat and horse flesh, and people were rowdy but respectful.  

  It was especially fun to watch all the different personalities of the animals.  The calves and steer were especially funny; they had very distinct personas.  Some were quite prissy, and would prance about with the conceited grace of an especially leggy catwalk model.  Others were simply dignified, or bored.  A few were mischievous, and seemed to relish in making humans run around after them. 


  As with any new cultural experiences, there were a few unexpected moments during the rodeo.  I generally roll with the punches pretty well, but did find myself taken aback during the opening ceremony for the event.  A rather jarring scene unfolded, in which giant one crosses slowly descended from the rafters during the patriotic strains of 'O, Canada.' While the overhead lights dimmed in the auditorium, the crosses were lit up with the furious white glow of spotlights.  I felt like I was staring at the westernized version of a Liberace set.  For a moment I thought I had accidentally fallen into some parallel universe featuring an Evangelical mega church. It took me quite a while to realize that this rousing display was, in fact, in honor of a very important holiday in Canada.  Remembrance Day is a sacred tradition here, and treated with the utmost respect.  In the context of the holiday, the crosses were symbolic of the grave markers over the bodies of buried veterans.  A lovely gesture, but rather jarring when it has to be explained to you. 

 


  For anyone interested in going, you can sometimes get discount tickets.  I'd definitely suggest the Farmfair, as well.  Who can resist the sight of fluffy cows and little lambs with big brown eyes?  You might even get to pet some, if you're lucky.




 

happy canaversary to me!

HAPPY CANAVERSARY!

I moved to Canada on August 24, 2010.  As hard as it is to believe, it is now one year later.  I've officially lived in Canada for an entire 365 days!

I want to say thank you to my adopted home. I am happy to live here.  While I have some things I still don't understand (CFL ? Why do you guys have ketchup flavored chips? How do I learn to keep track of all your political parties?), there are a ton of things that I have learned to love since moving up north (Don Cherry! Grasshopper Wheat Ale! Elk sausage at the farmer's market!). 

Thanks, Canada. 

on the topic of unexpected and small miracles ...

We've had quite a stormy and wet summer here in the north, and the weather has mostly been a mixture of damp, gloomy and frustrating.  However, every now and then something beautiful comes along after a particularly vicious rain storm and blossoms across the sky in a technicolor riot.  I only wish my photographs could somehow do this sight justice.

Below is my collection of Summer Rainbows.  My rainbow count so far has been five in a span of about six weeks.  Maybe Someone Above is trying to tell me something? Here's hoping for more rainbows.

Double Rainbow

Different day, same location

Massive rainbow

Rainbow detail (isn't it beautiful?)

Yet another double rainbow!

I must live in Rainbow Alley -- I have the perfect place to view rainbows from my 20th floor balcony



Last but not least, a rainbow from the Rocky Mountains

Magical hot air balloons, taken from my balcony.  Little miracles like these are what keep me going right now.

america bashing

I was speaking to a (Canadian) professor of mine the other day about stereotypes and nationalities, and she blatantly let me know that most Americans made her "cringe" and that she felt an intense disgust towards them.  There was no specific reason why, just that their 'American-ness' offended her on some deep level. 

 I found this a rather odd admission to make, considering the woman teaches cultural anthropology and is responsible for instructing students from all over the world.  Apparently key anthropological ideas about cultural relativism and trans-nationalism have somehow passed her by. Then again, this is the same professor who has lectured undergraduates on the "stupidity of American culture" in her classroom.  Yes, a little bizarre for a professor who is responsible for teaching about cultural difference.  Then again, it's not terribly shocking.  Her attitude is quite common in Canada, and it's one that has become a central point in Canadian patriotism.

While I am very fond of Canada, I am a little exhausted by the concept of Canadian identity.  I hear time and time again how Canada is an international peace keeper, a welcoming and egalitarian society full of outdoorsy folk with a penchant for poutine and hockey.  Yes, it's mostly true -- Canadians are generally very polite, friendly and great to be around.  I've eaten a lot of  poutine and watched a little bit of hockey since I've moved here.  Canada tends to be socially more liberal, and certainly produces better beer, which seem to go hand in hand.

  Am I playing on popular stereotypes? Yes, and obviously so.  Yet many Canadians seem to readily embrace these very things. There's absolutely nothing wrong with it, and in fact can be quite charming.  I totally love you Canada, really and truly. 

 However -- and this is a major point -- I find that the vast majority of Canadian identity seems to be about exclusion.  That is, Canadians are quick to point out that they are not American.  America is seen as that pesky and bossy neighbor to the south, full of fat rednecks who love their guns and Bibles.  Canadian identity is all about not being like those uncivilized people below their pristine borders.  Canadians have great national health care (unlike Americans), are skinny (unlike Americans), civilized (unlike Americans), well mannered (unlike Americans) and they never, ever eat at McDonald's (unlike Americans). Oh yeah, and Europeans don't hate Canadians (unlike Americans). While the reality of the situation is a lot different -- there are lots of fat people and Bible thumpers in Canada, and yeah, quite a few Europeans living in the USA, including my dad-- it doesn't really seem to matter.  The national discourse surrounding Canadian identity reminds me of the language used by colonial-era English when they dismissed their Irish and Scottish neighbors as the filthy and unwashed masses.

  This attitude is readily apparent in the media.  I find subtly anti-American headlines on the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation's television programming and website all the time.  Articles abound on all sorts of negative American news stories.  Anything positive about the US gets pushed aside, but anything sensational manages to make it to the front page. Headlines are carefully worded to create as much furor and controversy as possible. It's especially apparent on the CBC.ca website, which encourages readers to voice their opinions -- which are almost always rabidly one sided and full of vitriol towards "those arrogant Yanks."  (By the way, has anyone considered that southern Americans tend to loathe being called Yankees? But I digress.)

  In the past week, the CBC has run extensive coverage on 'Carmeggedon' in Los Angeles, otherwise known as the shutting down of the 405 Freeway, a major thoroughfare in the City of Angels.  Various articles have elaborated on the "looming shutdown" of the highway and American fears of "epic traffic jams."  The subtext of the news coverage has been that Americans "can get out" of their "cars once in a while and survive."  (All quoted from CBC news articles from July 15 and 17, 2011).

  Perhaps not the most vitriolic news coverage, but then again, incredibly one-sided and hardly news worthy for most Canadians.  While the piece did not serve as hard cutting coverage, it somehow made the front page. Additionally, it managed to feed into the on-going stereotyping of America in the Canadian press. Americans were depicted in a farcical light, as idiots unable to live without their cars.  Many people who commented on the articles were aghast, wondering why "Americans are such idiots?!"  One commentor fumed over the "greed of the American people and their giant cars." 

  Of course, what the article didn't explain is that public transportation in Los Angeles is underfunded and fairly useless.  LA is one of those cities that you really need to own a car in, because otherwise you're going to spend hours going from point A to point B.  Good luck catching a bus and getting to work on time.  The 405 is an important road and a major transportation corridor for the LA metro area. 

  By leaving out this information, the CBC catered to the image of Americans as fat, lazy slobs who are addicted to their cars.  A sort of patriotic Canadian chest thumping became very apparent from the reactions to the articles, which amounted to 'we are Canadian and we don't rely on cars like Americans!' (Totally untrue, but anyway.)

  During the July 4th weekend, the CBC ran extensive coverage on American stories that were anything but positive.  Most had to do with re-hashing security fears surrounding 9/11.  I couldn't really make the connection between the 9/11 stories and the 4th of July, but apparently the CBC was trying to make one. Additionally, a lot of the news coverage played up on the 'differences' between America and Canada, which seemed to amount to a lot of hype over Canadians burning down the White House way back in 1814.

  I'm not alone in observing this.  It's been noted by one diplomat that "the degree of comfort with which Canadian broadcast entities, including those financed by Canadian tax dollars, twist current events to feed longstanding negative images of the U.S. - and the extent to which the Canadian public seems willing to indulge in the feast - is noteworthy as an indication of the kind of insidious negative popular stereotyping ... in Canada." (Toronto Sun, December 12, 2010).  It's rather sad to me that so much of Canadian identity has become one of exclusion and xenophobic posturing.

  Of course, not all Canadians buy into the hype.   I've met plenty of Canadians who have expressed interest in my American roots. A lot of people have been curious about life in the States.  Many more have been simply disinterested, and not entirely sure where the hell New York City or Washington D.C. are. 

  There are many intelligent people here who are able to realize that there isn't a whole heck of a lot of difference between Canada or the United States, despite what the rest of the world would like to think. After all, Canada and the United States are in bed with each other politically.  We fight the same wars, are part of NATO, and uphold the same capitalistic, corporate mentality.  Admittedly, the USA has a horrible habit of policing the world.  I can't deny that.  But all that policing comes with a heck of a lot of (quiet) Canadian support.  As for the fears about Americanization ... I can understand it, but it doesn't really explain why many Canadians readily accept American stores into their country.  Perhaps it's because both Canadians and Americans seem to like large quantities of low quality and cheap crap.  (Both countries also seem to share a fondness for bad food at inexpensive prices.)

  Despite these similarities, I've also encountered people who've been downright rude and hostile to me once they found out I was American.  During one such encounter, I was on the local train, riding from the university to downtown.  I struck up a conversation with a young man, who started off as polite and friendly. However, once he asked me where I was from, he shuddered and replied, "I am so sorry for you." 

  When I first began teaching here, many of my Canadian students tried to shame me about my nationality.  They would demand that I recite all of the Canadian provinces, and implied that no American could possibly know these things.  They asked me to account for the Americanization of Canada, and why Bush was elected. (Um, since when am I responsible for the Republican Party?)

 Funnily enough, a lot of these same students had family in the Canadian military (which was, until very recently, in Afghanistan) and brought in lunches from Subway and McDonald's.  When I finally turned the tables on them by asking them to name ten states (the same number as the provinces), most of the students couldn't.  We had a big laugh about it and after that the students backed off, but it was a rough start to my first semester in Canada.

  More than anything, I have realized that there isn't that much of a difference between Canadians and Americans.  We all belong to the same continent, and the concept of our respective nations are completely artificial and man made.  Neither country has been around very long, and the populations of both nations are largely made up of immigrants from other parts of the world.  We look the same, tend to sound the same, and generally have the same cultural values, despite what everyone else seems to think.  Heck, Canadians can't even tell I'm American.  If they can't tell a difference, then why is it suddenly a big deal when they realize where I'm from? Nothing magically changes at the border.  I'm not a lesser human being because I have a social security number.

  So, I guess my point is to question why one country feels compelled to define itself by what it is not.  I love Canada dearly, and I happily live here.  I pay my Canadian taxes and follow Canadian laws.  I respect the history of Canada, and enjoy the usually charming Canadian sense of national pride.

   I want to feel welcome in my adopted country.  I came here because I have always liked Canada.  This beautiful country is known for accepting all people, races, religions and nationalities -- except me.  I'm continually reminded that I am not truly at home here, and that a lot of people are willing to dislike me because of where I was born.  Instead of judging me as human being, they judge the color of my passport.  (Passport racism, perhaps?)

  I'm sure this post will offend some people, but I'm standing by it.  I do not deny that similar issues exist for immigrants in America.  The USA has a lot of problems, and I'll be the first to admit that. However, this is a blog about my experiences abroad.  I know that this is an issue for a lot of people, and that I'm not alone in feeling this way.  I just hope that people will learn to not judge someone because of where they happened to be born.

  Oh, and for the record: I'm a dual citizen.  If I suddenly flash my other passport around, does that make me a superior person?

  One love people, because we all belong to the human race.  Nationality is a concept that evolves continually.  Don't trip yourself up on it.

alone

  As I'm writing this, I feel like my heart has been pulled out of my chest. It's as if I can see it, lying on the floor, gasping for air like a fish out of water.  My heart, my soul, my entire being has been crushed. 

  My partner of ten years has left me.  There aren't words that are adequate to express the level of sorrow and loss that I am feeling.  I just know that my entire world has fallen apart.  Everything I own, everyone I know, every memory I have  are all linked to one person.  And now that person is gone, and I am left holding on to the scraps of my entire adult life. 

  I am Alice, and I just fell down the rabbit hole.  My life is upside down.  I think about the days, weeks and months ahead of me, and I can't even breathe.  All of the pain in my life has been, up until this moment, inconsequential. 

  Friends have told me to take it "one day at a time."  But you know what? That is too much.  I can't even fathom hour by hour, let alone day by day.  I am plodding along, watching each minute inch past and hoping that five minutes from now will somehow hurt less than it does right now. 

  I thought soul mates were forever.  I can't fathom not having this man in my life.  Even apart, he is my best friend, my brother, my lover, my dearest and most beloved of all companions in the universe.  I could never talk to him again, and it wouldn't change a thing.  He is truly a part of who I am.

  I know the universe is trying to teach me an important lesson, and I find myself struggling to accept that.  Perhaps I need to learn to accept suffering, or that nothing is permanent.  I don't even know at this point.  But whatever lesson it is, I just have to ask: damn, why does it have to be so painful? 

  

just in time for the 4th of July ...

 
I normally am not a chest thumping, super patriotic sort of person.  Nor do I generally like the writing of Ernest Hemingway.  However, I found (and liked) a poem which combines both of these things.

Happy Independence Day to my fellow Americanos, and a belated happy Canada Day to my Canucks.   I won't get to celebrate 4th of July this year, but I enjoyed the 1st of July thoroughly.  Canadians know how to party!

 I Like Americans

 Ernest Hemingway

(originally credited as 'A Foreigner' and written while he was abroad in Canada ... sort of like me.)

 I like Americans.

They are so unlike Canadians.

They do not take their policemen seriously.

They come to Montreal to drink.

Not to criticize.

They claim they won the war.

But they know at heart that they didn't.

They have such respect for Englishmen.

They like to live abroad.

They do not brag about how they take baths.

But they take them.

Their teeth are so good.

And they wear B.V.D.'s all the year round.

I wish they didn't brag about it.

They have the second best navy in the world.

But they never mention it.

They would like to have Henry Ford for president.

But they will not elect him.

They saw through Bill Bryan.

They have gotten tired of Billy Sunday.

Their men have such funny hair cuts.

They are hard to suck in on Europe.

They have been there once.

They produced Barney Google, Mutt and Jeff.

And Jiggs.

They do not hang lady murderers.

They put them in vaudeville.

They read the Saturday Evening Post

And believe in Santa Claus.

When they make money

They make a lot of money.

They are fine people.

  Happy Holidays to my friends north and south of the border, and love to all.