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Kindle vs. the real thing

November 14, 2009

My sister recently invested in the Kindle, and for the longest time she was debating it.  I understand her plight, because we are both book lovers who travel, and carrying around books is annoying.  I completely relate to the draw of electronic books, having embraced technology with my lovely iPhone.  Being able to buy a book anytime you want, downloading it automatically, and storing all of them in one convenient space, where they are at your fingertips anytime.

But I will resist the temptation to enter the electronic book fad, mostly because my relationship with books has been incredibly sentimental.  Books are my friends, I develop feelings for them, take them everywhere with me, often fall asleep with my arms around them, and wake up excited to delve into them.

I hug my books.

I dog-ear the pages, and re-read my favorites over and over.  I gift books to those I love, passing my strong emotional bond to another person, hoping they find it as touching as I do.  I judge people on the metro, at airport terminals, on the bus, by the books they are reading.  When impatient, I skip to the end of the book to see how it ends.  I like the feel of the pages in between my fingers and find comfort in the black ink on the page.

So when it comes to books (and newspapers, and magazines), I am traditional.  Having it electronic feels cold, impersonal and just not my style.  Bring on the paper.

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Montreal guide

November 14, 2009

I feel like I could have written a book about what an expat should know about Belgium when moving to Brussels — I would have called it

“You want to be a Belgian resident?  Ha ha ha ha”.

A similar guide should be created for Montreal, with chapters like:

  • Canada and its inferiority complex with its neighbor to the south
  • How to live in -30 temperatures and still look fabulous
  • Un char = a car and other fun quebecois phrases
  • Everyone lied to you — Montreal is not Europe.
  • Your kids will have to go to a french-speaking school.  Even if they don’t speak any french.  You can take it to court but it won’t do you any good.
  • Transportation – Montreal rocks.

That last chapter describes my feelings about Montreal and transportation in general.  It is not the best city for public transport, but it has:

  • wide sidewalks for pedestrians (everyone walks alot here)
  • a decent underground metro
  • good service on buses (at least in my neighborhood)
  • plenty of bike lanes
  • Bixi – the bike sharing service
  • and communauto, the car sharing service.

We recently joined communauto, and have really really liked it.  It is simple, it is easy, it is relatively cheap (don’t have to pay for gas and car maintenance, which is nice in a city like this, where potholes and arctic temperatures create high maintenance cars).  There are plenty of car pick ups spots, and one is near our house, and we’ve never had an issue with availability.

I give it a big thumbs up.

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Blogging Monster

November 13, 2009

Why am I blogging so much?  Because November is National Blog Posting Month, or NaBloPoMo.  It is a challenge, that is for sure, as I am not used to writing everyday.  There are plenty of people who can blog a few times a day, so I could definitely up my game.

But it is also a way for my blog to blossom, and for me to write my thoughts and feelings and experiences, and I hope you don’t mind being subjected to them everyday this month.

Today has been a long day, as I came home from work at 9pm and am exhausted from a busy week.  And now I have to take the dog out.  Good night friends.

 

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Poppy and the Canadian

November 12, 2009

All around Montreal, people are wearing poppies.  At first I saw it on a few people and thought it was a red pin.  Then I saw more people wearing them, and then I saw it closer — it is a fabric flower pinned to coat lapels.  Then I noticed distinguished veterans offering them for donations throughout the city.  Now I see them everywhere, a sea of people in the metro, down the streets, in the crowds, at restaurants, all around poppies are surrounding me.  It is a pretty poignant picture.

The poppies are being worn to commemorate brave Canadian men and women in the armed services, especially during the time of war.  As there are troops currently in Afghanistan from Canada, the significance is heightened.  I was moved by all the poppies, a constant reminder of sacrifices and honor.  It is also interesting to see how evolved our perception is of war, by remembering those who have made the ultimate sacrifice, and to reexamine they ways that we achieve the goals of war, without the killing.

Veteran’s Day, or Remembrance Day, as it is called in Canada falls on the same day that Baha’i’s celebrate the birth of Baha’u'llah, the founder of the Baha’i’ Faith.  Taking some time today to reflect about the two events, I thought alot of the evolution of humankind in the way we approach world issues.  Baha’u'llah brought new spiritual and social teachings for our time.  The essence of his message is unity — he states “the earth is but one country, and mankind its citizens,  and the ones of God, religion, sexes, races, and the human family.

Now is the time for us to live in unity.

remembrance day poppy

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Christophe!

November 11, 2009

Pedram’s bestest friend visited us from Geneva, where he works at the CERN as a nuclear engineer.  Do not make the mistake I did and ask him what he does — it includes such incredibly abstract ideas that it makes me dizzy to think about it.  Basically, it is like they are looking to collide neutrons (protons? electrons?  chupatrons?), which will create a huge black hole and kill us all.  They do this out of curiosity, because they are bored and have too much time and money on their hands.  (Just joking, he has reassured me that there is no reason to worry about the black hole).

Christophe is Belgian, and the means that him and Pedram talk in their own dialect, which includes:

ey, kwe?

ey, kwe!

which means, “hello, how are you doing?” and “I am doing great, thanks”.  When together, they also add a “quoi” at the end of every sentence, which I compare to my saying “like” all the time.

Christophe is a generally, all around, super cool laid back guy, and it is hard for me to make fun of him when he is just so nice. He is such a good guy that he never complained about us forcing him to enjoy the Quebecois cuisine of choice, poutine.  I’ll go more into poutine in detail sometime later, but it is a strange quebecois dish that is both hearty and tasteless.  Since Christophe is from Belgium where they eat horse, rabbits and raw beef, we figured he’d be fine with poutine.

And he was.  He never once complained, never once asked what was the funny cheese, what a strange combination of ingredients (his poutine mediterranean included eggs and sausage), never once made a face.  He finished the entire dish, using a knife and fork for his fries, leaving not a trace of gravy on his plate.

He left this morning, but not without gifting us some of our favorite gifts from the old continent — chocolate baby!  Swiss chocolate, but still oh so good.

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The second wife

November 10, 2009

Maybe it is because we have been watching Big Love, maybe it is because I am currently reading the 19th wife, but I have a strange suspicion that Pedram has become a polygamist and adopted a second wife.

The evidence keeps piling up, and I notice that many nights the subject will place itself between me and Pedram, giving me the stare of death to let me know who has my husband’s affection

 

photo 2(2)

 

The potential second wife also plays coy, drawing Pedram away from me and then seducing him with a belly rub

photo 3(2)

 

Just take a look at these lusty eyes.

photo 4(3)

First thing in the morning, and often late at night, they take long, discreet walks together.  Often I am not invited to join.  Rusby, the wife in question, will get considerably more attention.

Occasionally, while sitting on my husband’s lap, I find Rusby staring at me with one eye, the other one pretending to sleep.

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That is really creepy.  This might be a very hostile take over.

But that is not the worst part, I have caught them sharing incredibly intimate moments together.  And although when Rusby moved in, we made it clear that we would not be the kissing type, that never stops the second wife from trying.  Warning — this picture might gross you out.

photo 4(2)

 

PS – I think Pedram likes it.

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Making friends in Montreal

November 8, 2009

Making new friends in a new city can be tough.  When people tell me that I will make new friends in Montreal, my usual response is, “I don’t want new friends!  I want my new friends in Brussels to mixed with my old friends in Seattle, mashed with my family, sprinkled with those I love around the world to come to one space and shower me with love all of the time!”

I do not thrive in change.

But here are some of the things I did that I think helped me with my adjustment to Montreal:

1 – Do some sort of sport.  Pedram found squash buddies on craigslist, I found a yoga studio I liked and went often, my friend Katie finds an intramural soccer team in every city she lives in.  It is a good way to meet people, develop a routine, and stay active.

2 – Find a group of like-minded people.  For me this was easy, as there is an active Baha’i’ community in Montreal, and I was instantly introduced to people who share a similar base of thoughts as me.  They also teach language courses there and have plenty of activities.

3 – Be a volunteer.  Granted, I volunteer with dogs, so I don’t get alot of people contact in my volunteer work, but through the trainings and events I have made connections.  Plus, that is how we got Rusby, and he is pretty great.

4 – Try a new activity.  Knitting, gardening, cooking, whatever.  Go into stores you normally wouldn’t, ask questions from experts, see if they have classes, etc.

5 – Meet people who are in a similar situation.  Expats are a great way to share information and compare experiences.  It makes the city feel much smaller.

6 – Just say yes.  Eventhough you may not be interested in attending the community fair, or the local festival, or attending an event where you know no one – I highly recommend doing it.  Just say yes to any invitation, and hopefully something great will come out of it.

7 – Take a class.  My first friends in Brussels were friends I made in french class, which was a great way to practice the language (we didn’t have any other language in common) and make great friends.

And of course, you have to be patient.  Which is hard to hear, but it is so true.  It just takes time to find your niche and some great people in your new home.

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Pigeons are smart

November 8, 2009

Where do the pigeons go when it gets so cold in Montreal?  One day, they were all there, and today I didn’t see a single one.

pigeon

That is the entire post today – I’ve been thinking about it for a while.

PS – Pigeons freak me out.  Any animal with shifty eyes and occasional missing feet are creepy.

PPS – My dad, on the other hand, loves pigeons, and when I told him they are freaky animals, spent two hours explaining to me how smart pigeons are.  And then to demonstrate, brought them closer to feed out of his hand.

mike

PPPS – In case you don’t believe this, you should read about Cher Ami.  Very impressive.

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The little boy who peed

November 7, 2009

In all my time in Belgium, I never wrote about the most famous Brussels landmark on this blog, although we paraded almost every visiting guest there.  The one that attract several hundreds visitors a day, that everyone upon viewing feels disappointed but still takes a picture near this wonderful artifact.

I am not talking about the Grand Place, which is perhaps one of the most stunning squares I have ever seen, phenomenal in its grandeur and over 1000 years old.

grand_place_Image1

Nor am I talking about the Atomium, built for the 1958 Expo, or the mini-Europe, which sits next to it.

Atomium_20-08-07

But the true draw to visit Brussels rests with a statue of a small peeing boy, the wonderful Manneken Pis.  Tourist are always disappointed by his size, which is that of a tiny boy, and the fact that he is mounted in a closed gated area.  I guess they were hoping to pet him.  His story is also very confusing — he may have been a boy who (with his enormous bladder) stopped a fire.  Or perhaps he was the boy in the tree who peed on the opposing army during the wars.

200px-Manneken_Pis_2009

When I see the sight of disappointment on tourist faces, I feel the need to tell them “go eat the fries, go eat the waffles, go buy some chocolate!”  Because really, that is so much better than the peeing boy.  Even if you are there when he is dressed up.  Even if you see the peeing girl, or the peeing dog.  And don’t buy the chocolate mold of the peeing boy — leave the area and find some good stuff.

Why do I bring this up now?  Because on the french television tonight, they had a program called Manneken Pis, where they conducted interviews with Belgians who identified themselves with the peeing boy.  There are singing clubs who have Manneken Pis anthems, there are people who make outfits for him, there are police who have sentimental feelings for him.  And it just reminded me of how I really don’t get Belgians, and I probably never will.

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Fall Mornings

November 6, 2009

This morning, Pedram woke up before the alarm and let Rusby out of his crate.  That always wakes me up because Rusby cannot control himself and shakes the entire crate three feet to the left before Pedram can open his door.  And then he continues to shake uncontrollably with happiness, circling Pedram over and over in excitement, occasionally run to the bed to see if I am up, and then realizing I am not in the mood, running quickly back.

Then they go outside in our backyard and play for a while.  Usually, I snooze here for another 30 minutes.  But this morning I also got up, and after eating breakfast, we all went for a walk together.  The weather has been relatively okay — at this point I thought we would be up to our knees in snow, and although it is cold, it is at least sunny.

Then we come home, shower and get ready for the work day.  But not before leisurely drinking some tea.

I remember when I lived in Leschi (Seattle), how my wake-up to at-work time was 30 minutes — which included a 20 minute bus ride.  And how I would go for my coffee, eyes barely open, eat something around 10:30 because my stomach was growling, and sometimes look down and notice I am wearing two different socks.

Today I was awake a good 2 hours before heading to work.  I arrived already full from breakfast, no need for an additional tea or coffee, and with a 30 minute walk accomplished.  It is a much much better way to start the morning.

Of course, a part of me still thinking I should have taken that 1.5 hours and slept in, but I realize my capabilities, and know this will not last forever.  Knowing myself, it will not take long before I veto the at-home breakfast for a muffin on the go.

But this very fine fall morning, I am glad I got out of bed when I did.  And I know Rusby is happy I did too.

PS – Please excuse my still half sleeping look and outfit.