On my reading list, I have finally come to Sherman Alexie, the Native American storyteller and writer. His voice is courageous and mesmerizing. Both The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, for young adult readers, and The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven, a collection of short works, layer humor and heartbreak with extravagance and understatement.
Also, here's the podcast in which he talks about his experience moving between two cultures, which he describes as being like a job. He speaks in the context of going to high school off the reservation but continuing to live on the reservation. (It starts at about 29 minutes in.) "In the end, when you cross borders and boundaries, you end up becoming an alien in both worlds, and you end up having to really work hard in both places, and so it ended up feeling like a job."
I would add that it is sometimes possible to feel at home in each culture, just not fully. Actually, I think most people don't feel fully at home in their "home" culture, if they get beyond flag-waving and speak honestly. If you define "American culture" as "everything happening culturally in the U.S.," you've created a complex multifaceted shape. No one person could conceivably fit into it exactly. Same with "Canadian culture" -- two official languages, for starters.
But a sure way to see your "home" culture with new eyes is to move to a new one. And when you find a way to fit into the new culture, you have a new way to experience the feeling of "home." A new vocabulary.
Moving between the cultures of Canada and the U.S. is of course not as wrenching as moving between the Spokane Reservation and the dominant white culture of eastern Washington state. It's a different kind of cultural contrast, like the difference between night and...later that night.
Which is another example, albeit a trivial one. That last line -- the difference between night and later that night -- is from television. I was too young to understand the full range of angst on thirtysomething, and too old to be one of the Friends. Yet I own a Filofax in part because Ellyn gave one to Hope in a thirtysomething episode. From Friends, I know I appear as Monica but inside, I'm Phoebe. (And I know how to express a slight difference, between, say, a guy named Ross and a guy named Russ, or between aspects of Canadian culture and U.S. culture, from Friends.)
Although I don't fit exactly into either TV show's demographic, I can understand both. I move between them. I'm not fully at home in either, but I'm somewhat at home in each one.
The advantage of experiencing that alienation and hard work Alexie talks about (though the "hard work" of my privileged life was nothing compared to his experience) is that now I have two vocabularies with which to explain myself to someone. I have two vantage points from which I can examine (and experience) the world.
And being in both places lets me rest more easily in each one.
Showing posts with label culture shock. Show all posts
Showing posts with label culture shock. Show all posts
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
Juxtapositions
Lots of back and forth, this week--the cultural equivalent of the weather this February. One day the temperature is above freezing and everything in sight is melting; twelve hours later the temp is 11 below C or 11 above F, the winds are howling, and it's snowing again. Go figure.
So here are three other pairings.
High tech: In Canada, several federal agencies--Finance, Treasury Board, and Defense Research and Development Canada--are under cyberattack. The attackers are sophisticated enough to make it look like they're working for China. Employees of those agencies who require internet access have been authorized to work in cafes and from home (because those internet connections are so much more secure??). This has been going on for some six weeks but came to light only recently (did a cloaking device fail?).
Low tech: Minister Oda hand-drawing a caret (like this ^ ) and writing "not" to deny funding to an NGO. Here's a picture. My earlier take is here (hey, the "not" jokes used to be funny). Political commentators, and not especially left-leaning ones, either, are still talking about this, with ever-heightening rhetoric.
Haves: In the U.S., the Obama administration extended the Bush tax cuts for those whose income is more than $250,000 (for a couple, $200K for a single). Reason: people who pay taxes in the U.S. (and those of us U.S. citizens who legally DON'T because we PAY PAY PAY in another country but are still forced by U.S. tax law to justify EVERY SINGLE YEAR why we don't pay in the U.S. TOO, not that I'm bitter) are still voters. In the U.S., voters hate "tax increases," even if they are technically just cuts that are expiring, and even if they apply only to people who make a whackload more than you.
Have-nots: The new budget in the U.S. includes a $5.50 (Canadian? The loonie is worth more these days!) surcharge on people entering the U.S. from Canada by air and sea. This will net $100 million or so in revenue, a tiny blip on the screen of their need for revenue, especially compared to what they could have made had they reversed those tax cuts on the wealthy, but like whatever. Reason: Few paying the $5.50 vote in U.S. elections. I say "few" because Americans travel from Canada into the U.S. at times, too. However, I won't be paying this surcharge because flying from Minneapolis cuts the cost of travel significantly, even with gas/hotel/time factored in.
If you like shouting: read What is America, by Ronald Wright (Alfred A. Knopf Canada). Written in 2008 before the election, it's full of sloppy scholarship and polemic. In fact, the title could use a caret: What Is ^ America; at the caret, insert Wrong With. His thesis seems to be that "America," a term that changes meaning several times in the book, is and has always been a horrible, exploitive place and that the neoconservative fundamentalist approach to life and the world is wrong. I don't necessarily disagree with him. I just don't think shouting is the same thing as making an effective case. Also, he's lazy in his research and writing, and he has no solutions. (Yes, some of the shouting related to this book came from me as I read.)
If you like muttering: read Doing the Continental, by David Dyment (Dundurn Press, Toronto). Full disclosure: I have only been able to dip into this book. However, I heard him speak, and he claims his book was aimed at the regular, nonspecialist person riding the ferry or the subway. If that's true, his editors should have had him try another pass, especially at sentences like this one: "The Americans are so much a part of our reality that they contextualize us" (p. 16). However, what I appreciate about this book and the writer is that 1. he claims a new type of relationship between the two countries is possible and 2. that Canada holds the power to effect this change.
That's enough whiplash for one week, eh.
So here are three other pairings.
High tech: In Canada, several federal agencies--Finance, Treasury Board, and Defense Research and Development Canada--are under cyberattack. The attackers are sophisticated enough to make it look like they're working for China. Employees of those agencies who require internet access have been authorized to work in cafes and from home (because those internet connections are so much more secure??). This has been going on for some six weeks but came to light only recently (did a cloaking device fail?).
Low tech: Minister Oda hand-drawing a caret (like this ^ ) and writing "not" to deny funding to an NGO. Here's a picture. My earlier take is here (hey, the "not" jokes used to be funny). Political commentators, and not especially left-leaning ones, either, are still talking about this, with ever-heightening rhetoric.
Haves: In the U.S., the Obama administration extended the Bush tax cuts for those whose income is more than $250,000 (for a couple, $200K for a single). Reason: people who pay taxes in the U.S. (and those of us U.S. citizens who legally DON'T because we PAY PAY PAY in another country but are still forced by U.S. tax law to justify EVERY SINGLE YEAR why we don't pay in the U.S. TOO, not that I'm bitter) are still voters. In the U.S., voters hate "tax increases," even if they are technically just cuts that are expiring, and even if they apply only to people who make a whackload more than you.
Have-nots: The new budget in the U.S. includes a $5.50 (Canadian? The loonie is worth more these days!) surcharge on people entering the U.S. from Canada by air and sea. This will net $100 million or so in revenue, a tiny blip on the screen of their need for revenue, especially compared to what they could have made had they reversed those tax cuts on the wealthy, but like whatever. Reason: Few paying the $5.50 vote in U.S. elections. I say "few" because Americans travel from Canada into the U.S. at times, too. However, I won't be paying this surcharge because flying from Minneapolis cuts the cost of travel significantly, even with gas/hotel/time factored in.
If you like shouting: read What is America, by Ronald Wright (Alfred A. Knopf Canada). Written in 2008 before the election, it's full of sloppy scholarship and polemic. In fact, the title could use a caret: What Is ^ America; at the caret, insert Wrong With. His thesis seems to be that "America," a term that changes meaning several times in the book, is and has always been a horrible, exploitive place and that the neoconservative fundamentalist approach to life and the world is wrong. I don't necessarily disagree with him. I just don't think shouting is the same thing as making an effective case. Also, he's lazy in his research and writing, and he has no solutions. (Yes, some of the shouting related to this book came from me as I read.)
If you like muttering: read Doing the Continental, by David Dyment (Dundurn Press, Toronto). Full disclosure: I have only been able to dip into this book. However, I heard him speak, and he claims his book was aimed at the regular, nonspecialist person riding the ferry or the subway. If that's true, his editors should have had him try another pass, especially at sentences like this one: "The Americans are so much a part of our reality that they contextualize us" (p. 16). However, what I appreciate about this book and the writer is that 1. he claims a new type of relationship between the two countries is possible and 2. that Canada holds the power to effect this change.
That's enough whiplash for one week, eh.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
What's it All About?
As other attacks (Moscow) and shootings (Florida) take over the news internationally and in the U.S., Tucson is getting a bit of a reprieve from the spotlight.
It's been interesting to hear what Canadians tend to discuss in relation to the shooting, as opposed to what the discussion seems to be about in the U.S.
Canadians tend to want to talk about gun control. To a lesser extent, Canadians relate the Tucson shootings to mental health care, which (as with the rest of the U.S. healthcare system) is bewilderingly different and obviously inferior to Canada's.
The most public exception to this perspective is an opinion "writer" for Maclean's who I prefer not to name out of respect to those who actually write well-thought-out opinion pieces for that publication (even though I frequently disagree with them). This "writer" actually believes that if someone else in the Safeway parking lot had had a gun, fewer people would have been shot. (Aside from the other obviously ridiculous aspects of that statement, here's a question: How does she know no one else in that parking lot was carrying a gun?)
This is a storyline I've heard around the wires in the U.S. as well, which is as close as Americans can come to addressing issues of gun control. Because in the U.S., this event is not about gun control. It can't be. No discussion can be had about gun control, because a discussion that is a hollering match across a divide as wide as the Grand Canyon is not a real discussion.
Instead, the event in the U.S. has apparently become part of the storyline of the new, Republican-"led" Congress, what President Obama will say tonight in the State of the Union address, and whether he will win re-election in 21 months. It's all about the winning and the losing, folks.
Even the attempt to foster better communication (or appear to) by encouraging Democrats and Republicans to sit together, instead of in partisan groups, for tonight's speech has become all about "who's sitting by whom." Politics as high school.
Meanwhile, in Tucson, people are quietly trying to go about their lives. They are paying attention to their own mental health. Regular folks, along with political and religious leaders, are reclaiming the space in which the shootings occurred. The "I know someone who was there" and "I was across the street" and "an injured person is my neighbor" stories are working themselves out in their telling and re-telling.
As days become weeks and months, each person will make choices. They'll change, or not, based on what happened that day. Some may choose to continue to discuss guns, ethnicity, citizenship, mental health, public service, engagement, community.
But one thing Tucsonans know: the shooting is not even remotely about winning and losing. In Tucson, that small city, everyone is connected in some way to that event. They know all too well that real people lost their lives that day; their community lost a measure of innocence. A respected, vibrant Congresswoman struggles to recover. And no one--no one--won.
It's been interesting to hear what Canadians tend to discuss in relation to the shooting, as opposed to what the discussion seems to be about in the U.S.
Canadians tend to want to talk about gun control. To a lesser extent, Canadians relate the Tucson shootings to mental health care, which (as with the rest of the U.S. healthcare system) is bewilderingly different and obviously inferior to Canada's.
The most public exception to this perspective is an opinion "writer" for Maclean's who I prefer not to name out of respect to those who actually write well-thought-out opinion pieces for that publication (even though I frequently disagree with them). This "writer" actually believes that if someone else in the Safeway parking lot had had a gun, fewer people would have been shot. (Aside from the other obviously ridiculous aspects of that statement, here's a question: How does she know no one else in that parking lot was carrying a gun?)
This is a storyline I've heard around the wires in the U.S. as well, which is as close as Americans can come to addressing issues of gun control. Because in the U.S., this event is not about gun control. It can't be. No discussion can be had about gun control, because a discussion that is a hollering match across a divide as wide as the Grand Canyon is not a real discussion.
Instead, the event in the U.S. has apparently become part of the storyline of the new, Republican-"led" Congress, what President Obama will say tonight in the State of the Union address, and whether he will win re-election in 21 months. It's all about the winning and the losing, folks.
Even the attempt to foster better communication (or appear to) by encouraging Democrats and Republicans to sit together, instead of in partisan groups, for tonight's speech has become all about "who's sitting by whom." Politics as high school.
Meanwhile, in Tucson, people are quietly trying to go about their lives. They are paying attention to their own mental health. Regular folks, along with political and religious leaders, are reclaiming the space in which the shootings occurred. The "I know someone who was there" and "I was across the street" and "an injured person is my neighbor" stories are working themselves out in their telling and re-telling.
As days become weeks and months, each person will make choices. They'll change, or not, based on what happened that day. Some may choose to continue to discuss guns, ethnicity, citizenship, mental health, public service, engagement, community.
But one thing Tucsonans know: the shooting is not even remotely about winning and losing. In Tucson, that small city, everyone is connected in some way to that event. They know all too well that real people lost their lives that day; their community lost a measure of innocence. A respected, vibrant Congresswoman struggles to recover. And no one--no one--won.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Wondering When This Happened
Since a recent birthday (that ends in zero), I have found myself wondering about a few things.
Like: When did I become the person who, with (ahem) relative ease and competence, throws together a turkey dinner for the holidays? (I used to be the "next generation" person, a daughter or in-law, who helped the family matriarch get everything together.)
Like: When did I become someone who inspects every bit of barnacle skin that has recently begun appearing on various appendages, just to be sure that the barnacles are harmless? (I used to "lay out" in the sun in pursuit of a tan, positive that wrinkles and skin cancer would never come my way.)
Today I found myself wondering something slightly different, yet ultimately related: Why does the house smell like sweet-and-sour takeout?
The answer is that at some point, my husband accepted that he is the person who is responsible for ensuring that our home maintains some humidity in the driest time of the year. This means he fills and maintains the humidifier. Our well water is calcific (calceous? calciferous?) (contains lots of calcium) and that builds up and creates clogs. So he's running the humidifier with vinegar, which makes the house smell like sweet-and-sour sauce (to me).
All of which, taken together, indicates that at some point I crossed a boundary into adulthood. Which you would think wouldn't be news to someone whose recent birthday was not, alas, her 40th. Whose parents, as my nephew points out, now celebrate their birthdays in heaven. Whose keychain includes not only a plastic thingy for a gym membership and the library but also a CARP membership.
However, as I've said about moving to a new country, it's the little things about your journey into new territory that trip you up.
Aha! So that's what this is--culture shock. Okay. (Is it too late to go back? It's just that, like that Sherman Alexie quote about being at home in neither culture, I'm not always sure I belong here.)
Like: When did I become the person who, with (ahem) relative ease and competence, throws together a turkey dinner for the holidays? (I used to be the "next generation" person, a daughter or in-law, who helped the family matriarch get everything together.)
Like: When did I become someone who inspects every bit of barnacle skin that has recently begun appearing on various appendages, just to be sure that the barnacles are harmless? (I used to "lay out" in the sun in pursuit of a tan, positive that wrinkles and skin cancer would never come my way.)
Today I found myself wondering something slightly different, yet ultimately related: Why does the house smell like sweet-and-sour takeout?
The answer is that at some point, my husband accepted that he is the person who is responsible for ensuring that our home maintains some humidity in the driest time of the year. This means he fills and maintains the humidifier. Our well water is calcific (calceous? calciferous?) (contains lots of calcium) and that builds up and creates clogs. So he's running the humidifier with vinegar, which makes the house smell like sweet-and-sour sauce (to me).
All of which, taken together, indicates that at some point I crossed a boundary into adulthood. Which you would think wouldn't be news to someone whose recent birthday was not, alas, her 40th. Whose parents, as my nephew points out, now celebrate their birthdays in heaven. Whose keychain includes not only a plastic thingy for a gym membership and the library but also a CARP membership.
However, as I've said about moving to a new country, it's the little things about your journey into new territory that trip you up.
Aha! So that's what this is--culture shock. Okay. (Is it too late to go back? It's just that, like that Sherman Alexie quote about being at home in neither culture, I'm not always sure I belong here.)
Thursday, December 23, 2010
What It's Like
Most Canadians have only a vague idea of (and vague-r interest in) where Oklahoma is. I usually explain it's "Texas lite."
What is impossible to explain is what it's like to live there. How you can have regular conversations with people who are so kind and generous, and then hear them say that they hate people whose skin is a slightly different color. People who are polite and thoughtful but wonder why you don't drape your life in the stars and stripes--are you not patriotic?
What's impossible to understand is how easy it is to give up hope. It's easier to not speak up, because speaking up isn't successful, and it makes you a target. Because money, especially oil money, wins over people every. single. time. That truth, and it is TRUE, leads people, especially those who are liberal politically, to be very good at analyzing problems and not so good at finding solutions. Lots of dinner table complaining to those of like minds, less effort to change minds and policies.
So when I run into someoneo who can express this mixed bag of feelings, I share.
Here, watch this.
Here are some of my favo(u)rite lines:
"billboards with hate-sized font"
"looking for a sign" "a fish with feet"
"where the sunset stretches its arms wide as forgiveness across stolen plains"
"do not apologize for your presence"
Here's one I'm not sure I believe, but I'm glad she does.
"Oklahoma is worth the wait."
Did you also notice what she does in this piece? She gives those who live there--those with family there, those who are staying there for work or to raise children--coping strategies. Hono(u)r Woody Guthrie, learn your history (you'll note that the plains are stolen), show others you love them even though you don't understand them. She shows them a way to hope, a way to take action to support that hope.
Go Lauren! For more of her poetry (which is excellent), go to www.laurenzuniga.com.
What is impossible to explain is what it's like to live there. How you can have regular conversations with people who are so kind and generous, and then hear them say that they hate people whose skin is a slightly different color. People who are polite and thoughtful but wonder why you don't drape your life in the stars and stripes--are you not patriotic?
What's impossible to understand is how easy it is to give up hope. It's easier to not speak up, because speaking up isn't successful, and it makes you a target. Because money, especially oil money, wins over people every. single. time. That truth, and it is TRUE, leads people, especially those who are liberal politically, to be very good at analyzing problems and not so good at finding solutions. Lots of dinner table complaining to those of like minds, less effort to change minds and policies.
So when I run into someoneo who can express this mixed bag of feelings, I share.
Here, watch this.
Here are some of my favo(u)rite lines:
"billboards with hate-sized font"
"looking for a sign" "a fish with feet"
"where the sunset stretches its arms wide as forgiveness across stolen plains"
"do not apologize for your presence"
Here's one I'm not sure I believe, but I'm glad she does.
"Oklahoma is worth the wait."
Did you also notice what she does in this piece? She gives those who live there--those with family there, those who are staying there for work or to raise children--coping strategies. Hono(u)r Woody Guthrie, learn your history (you'll note that the plains are stolen), show others you love them even though you don't understand them. She shows them a way to hope, a way to take action to support that hope.
Go Lauren! For more of her poetry (which is excellent), go to www.laurenzuniga.com.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Wikileak Worthy
I've been trying to come up with something to say about the Wikileaks "revelations" about Canada. I'm feeling a little...torn, I guess you could say.
Here's what my Canadian half has to say.
Here's what my American half has to say.
I don't mean to make mock. Well, maybe a little mock.
But hey, World, here's the deal: Diplomacy is not the same as honesty. They have a separate word for it and everything.
Now, isn't there something else we could all be doing? Like maybe not bombing each other?
Here's what my Canadian half has to say.
I don't know, I just wonder, maybe, I guess I'm saying that what I think I might want to say, isn't really, you know, very...pithy or interesting or...valid. It's not as good as what Americans say about Canada, that's for sure.
Because they think we have an, um, inferiority complex? Like, we are so inferior, because of being, um, smaller and not-American, as a country, that is (because we are waaaay bigger in square miles, really, and three coastlines to contend with), and sometimes we show how bad we feel about ourselves by overcompensating and pretending to act all superior and smug.
Like when we make the U.S. the bad guys on our TV shows, and I might add those are based on real-life stories like Maher Arar, but maybe, you know, that's out of line.
Or maybe when we point out that we're actually, like, BIGGER than the U.S. as well as a whole separate country, and therefore, not-American is pretty much exactly how we should feel.
I'm sorry. Was I too loud? Just...I need a moment. Thanks.
Here's what my American half has to say.
Canada. Yeah. Hmm. They're like, north of Alaska? We don't really need them, not for anything important like oil or building materials or minerals or anything. Wait, let me check my BlackBerry...C-a-n-a... Oh, the Olympics, right. Like that hockey game meant something. They speak some French up there, don't they, and have a lady on their money?
I don't mean to make mock. Well, maybe a little mock.
But hey, World, here's the deal: Diplomacy is not the same as honesty. They have a separate word for it and everything.
Now, isn't there something else we could all be doing? Like maybe not bombing each other?
Monday, November 29, 2010
Two WikiThoughts
So, Wikileaks. So what?
1. News flash: DIPLOMACY REQUIRES TACT.
2. As the World High School Turns: Episode summary.
Chris, the crusading and/or conniving editor of the school newspaper, found a diary containing the most personal and private thoughts of Usa, the most popular girl in the school (just ask her).
Chris, being the crusading type, or possibly the connving type, plans to publish the diary in the school newspaper, page by page, thus drawing out the drama all week long.
The school is all a-twitter. (Twitter: See how au courant I am?) What does Usa think of us? Of me?
Those in the Asia club huddle to gossip, but then North Korea pokes South Korea in the eye and China says, "Don't make me come back there" and they lose their focus.
The members of the African club try not to be concerned. Australia and New Zealand shrug and go surfing with their Pacific Islander friends. Central and South America pretend to go about their business but hang out in the hallway outside the newspaper office.
Two groups of loners (yes, it's oxymoronic)--the Middle East and India/Pakistan/Bangladesh--brace themselves for the publication of nonsense about them (though Israel and India secretly think they'll come out looking relatively good).
Poor Haiti. It's home sick. (Seriously. Haiti deserves a better 2011.)
The Scandinavian Club remains aloof, as usual. Somone in the former Soviet club insults a former Baltic state and a scuffle ensues. Russia officiates.
The groups disband and reform: the History club (members of the former British Empire) meet to share rumors, then report back to their home continents. The former Soviet republics touch base with Turkey, the Middle East loners, and north Africa, then drift back.
Even the European Club, focused though they are on ekeing out each other's allowances, can't pretend they don't know that Usa's most secret feelings are going to be made public.
Meanwhile, Canada sits at the window, staring out into the evening. What will Usa say about me? Will Usa recognize my loyalty? Will she compliment my mission in Afghanistan, my compliance in trade negotiations, my leadership, uh, followership, uh, "being there"-ness in environmental and security issues? Will Usa go on record and tell everybody we're really best friends?
A horrible thought crosses Canada's mind: what if Usa doesn't say anything about me at all?
Tune in tomorrow, when Canada is forced to write her pal Usa a sternly worded letter (in invisible ink) in As The World High School Turns.
1. News flash: DIPLOMACY REQUIRES TACT.
2. As the World High School Turns: Episode summary.
Chris, the crusading and/or conniving editor of the school newspaper, found a diary containing the most personal and private thoughts of Usa, the most popular girl in the school (just ask her).
Chris, being the crusading type, or possibly the connving type, plans to publish the diary in the school newspaper, page by page, thus drawing out the drama all week long.
The school is all a-twitter. (Twitter: See how au courant I am?) What does Usa think of us? Of me?
Those in the Asia club huddle to gossip, but then North Korea pokes South Korea in the eye and China says, "Don't make me come back there" and they lose their focus.
The members of the African club try not to be concerned. Australia and New Zealand shrug and go surfing with their Pacific Islander friends. Central and South America pretend to go about their business but hang out in the hallway outside the newspaper office.
Two groups of loners (yes, it's oxymoronic)--the Middle East and India/Pakistan/Bangladesh--brace themselves for the publication of nonsense about them (though Israel and India secretly think they'll come out looking relatively good).
Poor Haiti. It's home sick. (Seriously. Haiti deserves a better 2011.)
The Scandinavian Club remains aloof, as usual. Somone in the former Soviet club insults a former Baltic state and a scuffle ensues. Russia officiates.
The groups disband and reform: the History club (members of the former British Empire) meet to share rumors, then report back to their home continents. The former Soviet republics touch base with Turkey, the Middle East loners, and north Africa, then drift back.
Even the European Club, focused though they are on ekeing out each other's allowances, can't pretend they don't know that Usa's most secret feelings are going to be made public.
Meanwhile, Canada sits at the window, staring out into the evening. What will Usa say about me? Will Usa recognize my loyalty? Will she compliment my mission in Afghanistan, my compliance in trade negotiations, my leadership, uh, followership, uh, "being there"-ness in environmental and security issues? Will Usa go on record and tell everybody we're really best friends?
A horrible thought crosses Canada's mind: what if Usa doesn't say anything about me at all?
Tune in tomorrow, when Canada is forced to write her pal Usa a sternly worded letter (in invisible ink) in As The World High School Turns.
Friday, September 24, 2010
What is this Stuff?
I have written elsewhere about chocolate-oatmeal macaroons. (They are distressingly easy to make.) (And I am proud to report that I haven't made any this whole week.)
The recipe calls for margarine. Since I had never made them before, I actually used margarine, though I am not nuts about its flavo(u)r, or lack thereof.
Side note: last week on CBC's Rewind program, they played an interview from 1949 with Kate Aitken, in which both Kate and her Vancouver host discuss the "bone of contention" that they call "MARG-rin." Not "MAR-juh-rin." Hard "g," two syllables. The whole interview is here (the first option); marg-rin appears at about 5 minutes. The podcast as a whole is a fun little trip into 1949 post-war radio. The voices sound different in a way that can't all be ascribed to patronizing condescension toward domesticity.
Anyway. I challenge you: without examining the labels, pick out the "marg-rin" from the samples above.
Yup. It's the bronze-wrapped thing.
See, back in The Old Country, all butter or butter-esque products come in long sticks, like the one center-top, above. (Or in tubs, but we pretend they don't exist because they're usually margarine and we don't like it and you can't cook with the kind that comes in tubs because it's whipped and doesn't measure correctly.)
In The Old Country, many recipes call for "a stick of butter." Imagine my surprise when I came to Canada and discovered that butter comes in "sticks" like the one to the right. A stick that says, "We're a logging country. We don't mess around with little sticks. Here, have some butter." Cutting 1/4 or 1/2 cup off that log o' butter is a different experience.
Fortunately, the powers that package marg-rin in Canada are aware of all those recipes. That square hockey puck thing is a half-cup, which makes it the Canadian equivalent to "a stick of margarine."
Logs o' butter, pucks o' marg-rin. Oh Canada.
Ah, you say, but isn't that thing at the top also a stick of butter? Yes, it is. But also, it is not. It is a product made by Lactantia, a Parmalat company. This particular product is a "butter" called "My Country." It is an unsalted, uncultured product with a "distinctive European flavour." This particular version is "Swiss flavour."
You know how the Swiss like their butter? Without flavo(u)r. Maybe it tastes like fat, but not in a particularly satisfying way. (I came into some of this product when our renters left and donated the contents of their fridge. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with it.)
I am a fan of butter. That is, I'm a fan of the kind of butter that tastes like something, and I don't want to hear how that "something" is added salt and chemicals required by some process or other. I don't care. I love the butter like the stuff to the right in the picture, stuff that has the taste from The Old Country. The kind that, in this country, comes in a big inconveniently shaped log.
Did I mention the inconvenience of the shape? Try cutting a piece to put into one of those butter dishes. The butter dishes of which we have several in this house. Yes, you'll find you're cutting a piece that's...the shape of a U.S.-style stick of butter.
I know. The log o' butter means less packaging. (One piece of foil, no cardboard box.) But dealing with it dirties at least one knife, and my fingers, every single time.
I also recognize that the butter dishes that are ubiquitous in this house were likely manufactured and imported as part of a trade agreement with The Old Country. Still. Logs o' butter do not lend themselves to pieces that fit into them.
At least the butter, the REAL butter, tastes good.
I didn't say this was earth-shattering stuff. When you're on vacation, something like this may be cute and interesting and a bit quaint. But when you're a resident, a permanent one, this stuff requires mental adjustments. And, like the oven wars of 2007, it's these little things in the New Country that are the most surprising and disconcerting.
Like finally finding a stick of butter, only to discover it doesn't taste like butter.
Or mentally changing your idea of a "butter dish" so that the dish resembles a small plate, because it's easier to saw an appropriately shaped piece off the log to fit a plate.
It's almost enough to make one wish for a batch of chocolate-oatmeal macaroons, just to take the edge off. Fortunately, the hockey pucks come in packages of 12. (Yes, 12 pucks of marg-rin to a box!) We've had only three batches of macaroons so far. Hmmm.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Spelling as a Political Act
Lately, I've been having what I have come to think of as Sherman Alexie moments. That is, those moments in which I feel "between cultures."
One of those between-culture moments has to do with language, perhaps not surprisingly, given what I do. As you might expect from an American living in Canada and working with words, I have had to create some mental rules around spelling.
When I write something, I use the spelling that the audience expects. American clients expect "color," and Canadians expect "colour." Great. That's easy. Usually, with the guidance of MS Word's language default setting and my own reading of Canadian periodicals, I can get it right. This rule works even in the creative work I'm writing more of nowadays: if it's designed for Canadian audiences, it gets Canadian spelling.
On Facebook, I've adopted some practices, mostly to see how they work. For example, I celebrated "Labour Day" this year because I celebrated it in Canada. When I converse online with American friends, I tend to "type American"; for Canadians, I "type Canadian."
You've seen me use parentheses on the blog here for things like
"favo(u)rite." It's a way to type "between cultures." Hey, we're an inclusive place here.
But then I wondered: when I'm just me, writing just for me, what do I use?
And THEN I wondered: when on earth do I write "just for me"?
The answer is, I don't. Even the journaling I do will be read by someone other than the writer. Even if that "someone" is some future version of me--well, that version of me won't be the same person that I am at the "now" in which I write.
This also ties in with something I first heard discussed in graduate school: writing is a powerful act. One of my professors said his favorite (he was American) students were those he taught in a penitentiary. They were extremely motivated to learn. Learning to read and write effective arguments could help with their appeals and help them gain parole. For them, writing was highly personal, political, powerful.
I was more recently reminded when listening to CBC's Sunday morning news program, which featured a panel discussion about language issues, that even spelling is political. Someone on the panel mentioned Noah Webster, who of course is famous for changing the spellings of words such as "center," "defense," and "traveler." He did it for unashamedly ideological reasons: American English should be different from British English.
So, I am tempted to say, "Oh for crying out loud, this is not a big deal." Except that it is. Language and identity are so closely related as to be inseparable. It gets to Sherman Alexie's statement that whoever lives between cultures eventually is at home in neither.
Is spelling going to be my measuring stick? (Notice how I avoided using "yardstick"?)
If so, I guess it's time to take a baseline measurement. At present, the default setting for my spelling is still American. I wonder how much longer that will be true.
One of those between-culture moments has to do with language, perhaps not surprisingly, given what I do. As you might expect from an American living in Canada and working with words, I have had to create some mental rules around spelling.
When I write something, I use the spelling that the audience expects. American clients expect "color," and Canadians expect "colour." Great. That's easy. Usually, with the guidance of MS Word's language default setting and my own reading of Canadian periodicals, I can get it right. This rule works even in the creative work I'm writing more of nowadays: if it's designed for Canadian audiences, it gets Canadian spelling.
On Facebook, I've adopted some practices, mostly to see how they work. For example, I celebrated "Labour Day" this year because I celebrated it in Canada. When I converse online with American friends, I tend to "type American"; for Canadians, I "type Canadian."
You've seen me use parentheses on the blog here for things like
"favo(u)rite." It's a way to type "between cultures." Hey, we're an inclusive place here.
But then I wondered: when I'm just me, writing just for me, what do I use?
And THEN I wondered: when on earth do I write "just for me"?
The answer is, I don't. Even the journaling I do will be read by someone other than the writer. Even if that "someone" is some future version of me--well, that version of me won't be the same person that I am at the "now" in which I write.
This also ties in with something I first heard discussed in graduate school: writing is a powerful act. One of my professors said his favorite (he was American) students were those he taught in a penitentiary. They were extremely motivated to learn. Learning to read and write effective arguments could help with their appeals and help them gain parole. For them, writing was highly personal, political, powerful.
I was more recently reminded when listening to CBC's Sunday morning news program, which featured a panel discussion about language issues, that even spelling is political. Someone on the panel mentioned Noah Webster, who of course is famous for changing the spellings of words such as "center," "defense," and "traveler." He did it for unashamedly ideological reasons: American English should be different from British English.
So, I am tempted to say, "Oh for crying out loud, this is not a big deal." Except that it is. Language and identity are so closely related as to be inseparable. It gets to Sherman Alexie's statement that whoever lives between cultures eventually is at home in neither.
Is spelling going to be my measuring stick? (Notice how I avoided using "yardstick"?)
If so, I guess it's time to take a baseline measurement. At present, the default setting for my spelling is still American. I wonder how much longer that will be true.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Trans-Canada Geography
This morning, on my way into town to run an early errand, I passed a van pulled into a...pull-into-thingy, as I call it...along the side of the road. The van was white, with an orange-gold-yellow-red flame/sun/bright design on it (I was driving at highway speeds so can't be more specific) and had a sign that said, in big letters, SAD.
I chuckled at the contrast between lettering and colouring. But I also knew what it was: a guy is biking across Canada to raise awareness of seasonal affective disorder (SAD).
We see a lot of those vans supporting folks biking/walking/running across Canada. Most notably, Terry Fox, whose attempt to run trans-Canada sadly ended near the city.
You might be surprised that everyone comes through Thunder Bay. Especially when you think about these numbers:
1. Canada, east-west, about 5514 kilometres (3300+ miles)
2. Canada, north-south, about 4634 km (2780+ miles)
3. U.S., east-west (continental), 4500 km (2800 miles)
4. U.S., north-south (continental), 3300 km (2000 miles)
Yes, give or take, depends on where you measure, yeah, yeah, all of that.
Your take-away: Canada is a honking big country--with one highway crossing it. ONE. Cleverly called the Trans-Canada highway (though it goes by lots of numbers), it comes right through Thunder Bay.
This is not to say that Canada has only one highway everywhere. One of my main objections to Toronto (or the GTA as we likes to say) is that it's all paved over. However, for much of the east-west breadth of this country, one road is all you get.
North-south, you got...nuthin', mostly. Yes, you can drive into Alaska, but that's, again, one highway, out west. Much of the country's north-south travel is by plane.
There are stories of bridges (train and now car) that, if demolished by acts of violence--say, a bomb in World War II or, in today's terms, an act of terrorism--would cripple the movement of people and goods from east to west. Of course, assuming the violence isn't perpetrated by Americans, Canadians could still GET from points east to points west, but they'd have to go through the U.S.
Which they would do, for the shopping.
My point is that Thunder Bay in many ways feels remote, isolated--one of the famed "ends of the earth." (Tell that to people in Sioux Lookout or a fly-in community. This is their "big city," their shopping destination.) However, it's really right smack in the middle of things, which makes it kind of a fun place to be.
(Cue Ontario Tourism music.)
I chuckled at the contrast between lettering and colouring. But I also knew what it was: a guy is biking across Canada to raise awareness of seasonal affective disorder (SAD).
We see a lot of those vans supporting folks biking/walking/running across Canada. Most notably, Terry Fox, whose attempt to run trans-Canada sadly ended near the city.
You might be surprised that everyone comes through Thunder Bay. Especially when you think about these numbers:
1. Canada, east-west, about 5514 kilometres (3300+ miles)
2. Canada, north-south, about 4634 km (2780+ miles)
3. U.S., east-west (continental), 4500 km (2800 miles)
4. U.S., north-south (continental), 3300 km (2000 miles)
Yes, give or take, depends on where you measure, yeah, yeah, all of that.
Your take-away: Canada is a honking big country--with one highway crossing it. ONE. Cleverly called the Trans-Canada highway (though it goes by lots of numbers), it comes right through Thunder Bay.
This is not to say that Canada has only one highway everywhere. One of my main objections to Toronto (or the GTA as we likes to say) is that it's all paved over. However, for much of the east-west breadth of this country, one road is all you get.
North-south, you got...nuthin', mostly. Yes, you can drive into Alaska, but that's, again, one highway, out west. Much of the country's north-south travel is by plane.
There are stories of bridges (train and now car) that, if demolished by acts of violence--say, a bomb in World War II or, in today's terms, an act of terrorism--would cripple the movement of people and goods from east to west. Of course, assuming the violence isn't perpetrated by Americans, Canadians could still GET from points east to points west, but they'd have to go through the U.S.
Which they would do, for the shopping.
My point is that Thunder Bay in many ways feels remote, isolated--one of the famed "ends of the earth." (Tell that to people in Sioux Lookout or a fly-in community. This is their "big city," their shopping destination.) However, it's really right smack in the middle of things, which makes it kind of a fun place to be.
(Cue Ontario Tourism music.)
Saturday, July 24, 2010
East or West...Up or Down...Where am I, Again?
In an interview on a podcast that I swear I heard but can't find now, Native American writer and storyteller Sherman Alexie said that people who travel between two cultures eventually end up at home in neither one.
I will likely write more about that idea, especially when I run across that darn podcast again. And no, I have not read any of Sherman Alexie's work, because I am at heart an intellectual lightweight. Although my stack of "to be read" impresses even me.
After two trips into the U.S. in the past two weeks, and some touring around amongst Americans, I recognize what he means.
Sometimes it feels easier to be in the U.S. It's not that I understand "the people" or "the culture" better. I have a long history of feeling out of place in the U.S. However, I think I share some of their mental default settings (probably also their mental defects, but that's another issue).
Here's an example. When politicians do something boneheaded in the U.S., well, some cadre of morons somewhere elected that bonehead and perhaps his or her days in office will be numbered.
But Canadians have a queen. A local stand-in (the Governor General) represents Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II in matters of state. I'm not completely sure what this means except that the GG has a literary award and she walks up and down rows of uniformed soldiers. (The GG has been female since I've lived in Canada, but we're due for a new guy in the fall.) In terms of actual matters of state, the Prime Minister, Parliament, and civil servants still seem to do the war-declaring and ongoing allocation of soldiers.
The GG is appointed by the Prime Minster, and thus We the People of Canada have little to no say in who it is. The person in this office has some kind of responsibility that used to be exercised by the Queen, whose claim to office is...being born.
Nothing against Her Majesty, of course. Just that my mental default is that people in positions of power are elected. Or they are celebrities, and thus are essentially unexplainable fireworks that will eventually fizzle out.
So where is home? Canada. But where do I fit culturally? Hmmm.
I will likely write more about that idea, especially when I run across that darn podcast again. And no, I have not read any of Sherman Alexie's work, because I am at heart an intellectual lightweight. Although my stack of "to be read" impresses even me.
After two trips into the U.S. in the past two weeks, and some touring around amongst Americans, I recognize what he means.
Sometimes it feels easier to be in the U.S. It's not that I understand "the people" or "the culture" better. I have a long history of feeling out of place in the U.S. However, I think I share some of their mental default settings (probably also their mental defects, but that's another issue).
Here's an example. When politicians do something boneheaded in the U.S., well, some cadre of morons somewhere elected that bonehead and perhaps his or her days in office will be numbered.
But Canadians have a queen. A local stand-in (the Governor General) represents Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II in matters of state. I'm not completely sure what this means except that the GG has a literary award and she walks up and down rows of uniformed soldiers. (The GG has been female since I've lived in Canada, but we're due for a new guy in the fall.) In terms of actual matters of state, the Prime Minister, Parliament, and civil servants still seem to do the war-declaring and ongoing allocation of soldiers.
The GG is appointed by the Prime Minster, and thus We the People of Canada have little to no say in who it is. The person in this office has some kind of responsibility that used to be exercised by the Queen, whose claim to office is...being born.
Nothing against Her Majesty, of course. Just that my mental default is that people in positions of power are elected. Or they are celebrities, and thus are essentially unexplainable fireworks that will eventually fizzle out.
So where is home? Canada. But where do I fit culturally? Hmmm.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Likes and Dislikes, Edited in Red (Happy Canada Day)
Like: Turning the page on the calendar over to the new month. Dislike: The alarming frequency with which I am doing it. Dislike #2: Realizing later that what I mean is rapidity, more than frequency, though frequency is no picnic either. Still, either is better than not turning pages at all.
Like: Pageantry, ritual, pomp, and ceremony. Dislike: Smug unthinking patriotism. It's a tough time of year for one as suspicious as I am.
Like: Writing and playing, paying bills and contributing to the greater social fabric. Dislike: Deadlines and having enough mental capacity to give only to them, not to share with the rest of the possible ways to write and play.
Like: Working when everyone else is on holiday. I get a lot done. Dislike: Working when everyone else is on holiday. I feel I should be more fun. But hey, I like it.
Like: Pageantry, ritual, pomp, and ceremony. Dislike: Smug unthinking patriotism. It's a tough time of year for one as suspicious as I am.
Like: Writing and playing, paying bills and contributing to the greater social fabric. Dislike: Deadlines and having enough mental capacity to give only to them, not to share with the rest of the possible ways to write and play.
Like: Working when everyone else is on holiday. I get a lot done. Dislike: Working when everyone else is on holiday. I feel I should be more fun. But hey, I like it.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!
The Queen is here. (Americans: This is the Queen of England. She is Head of State for Canada. That means she... well, except she... or maybe... oh, look it up.)
This afternoon, she got to ride on a big ship past a whole lineup of other ships from several different countries. Sailors stood on the decks, holding their headgear, and gave three cheers as she passed by. She lifted her gloved hand in gracious acknowledgment.
Some days I feel as lucky as a queen, when I see the things I see. But most of the time I'm pretty sure I'm not queen. Which is OK. I don't mind being part of the adoring crowd.
This afternoon, she got to ride on a big ship past a whole lineup of other ships from several different countries. Sailors stood on the decks, holding their headgear, and gave three cheers as she passed by. She lifted her gloved hand in gracious acknowledgment.
Some days I feel as lucky as a queen, when I see the things I see. But most of the time I'm pretty sure I'm not queen. Which is OK. I don't mind being part of the adoring crowd.
All together, now: hip hip...
huzzah!
(I call this the "neutrino" plant.
You can't see the plant but you can see its shadow.)
Hip hip...
(I call this the "neutrino" plant.
You can't see the plant but you can see its shadow.)
Hip hip...
huzzah!
(I love how the water
makes this rock look so different!)
Hip hip...
(I love how the water
makes this rock look so different!)
Hip hip...
huzzahhhhhhhhhh!!
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Summer Means Beer
To some people, at least. Beer at the baseball game, at the barbecue, with the hot dog or the bratwurst or the Italian sausage. Beer on a hot afternoon in the shade.
I'm not a big beer fan, but I am interested in advertising, and beer is one of the "you've made it" brands that every ad agency wants. According to Terry O'Reilly on CBC's Age of Persuasion, anyway.
And, from one of Terry's recent programs, here's one fascinating difference between beer ads in Canada and in the U.S.
In Canada, you can't show people drinking beer. In a beer commercial.
Seriously.
This prohibition apparently leads to other slightly arcane rules. If a beer bottle in a commercial is not full, the commercial has to show beer in a glass; the amount of the beer in the glass has to be the same as the beer no longer in the bottle. Otherwise, you imply that people are drinking beer.
And you can't show more beer containers than people in a scene because that implies that people are drinking, and more than one beer, at that.
I was so astounded by this that I missed some of the other esoterica, which you could probably look up somewhere. One rule had to do with showing cars (maybe all motorized vehicles) in beer ads. You can show them before you show the product, though it's frowned upon. But you can't show them after showing the product, because you can't imply that people drive after they have (not) been drinking. I think.
The other mainstream category I can think of off the top of my head that requires you not show the product being enjoyed is birth control. (Not counting anything in the porn/adult industry.) But fast food? Soft drinks? Cars? Okay, cars generally show a really awesome driver, not you, and no, you're not to attempt what you see, but still, someone is enjoying the product.
From the beer commercial prohibition, I deduce that Canadians are big believers in (a) controlling society through the subliminal messages communicated through advertising, and (b) making life hard for themselves.
At least if I find myself accidentally watching World Cup coverage (the Stanley Cup hunt being over), I'll know what to look for: decadent Americans (gasp) drinking beer!!!!
I'm not a big beer fan, but I am interested in advertising, and beer is one of the "you've made it" brands that every ad agency wants. According to Terry O'Reilly on CBC's Age of Persuasion, anyway.
And, from one of Terry's recent programs, here's one fascinating difference between beer ads in Canada and in the U.S.
In Canada, you can't show people drinking beer. In a beer commercial.
Seriously.
This prohibition apparently leads to other slightly arcane rules. If a beer bottle in a commercial is not full, the commercial has to show beer in a glass; the amount of the beer in the glass has to be the same as the beer no longer in the bottle. Otherwise, you imply that people are drinking beer.
And you can't show more beer containers than people in a scene because that implies that people are drinking, and more than one beer, at that.
I was so astounded by this that I missed some of the other esoterica, which you could probably look up somewhere. One rule had to do with showing cars (maybe all motorized vehicles) in beer ads. You can show them before you show the product, though it's frowned upon. But you can't show them after showing the product, because you can't imply that people drive after they have (not) been drinking. I think.
The other mainstream category I can think of off the top of my head that requires you not show the product being enjoyed is birth control. (Not counting anything in the porn/adult industry.) But fast food? Soft drinks? Cars? Okay, cars generally show a really awesome driver, not you, and no, you're not to attempt what you see, but still, someone is enjoying the product.
From the beer commercial prohibition, I deduce that Canadians are big believers in (a) controlling society through the subliminal messages communicated through advertising, and (b) making life hard for themselves.
At least if I find myself accidentally watching World Cup coverage (the Stanley Cup hunt being over), I'll know what to look for: decadent Americans (gasp) drinking beer!!!!
Saturday, April 3, 2010
A Four-Day Weekend
That's Easter up here, for some: Good Friday and Easter Monday are holidays to bank and government types.
However, stores like Canadian Tire and Home Depot were open today (Saturday). The gym was closed Friday and Saturday but will be open on Monday. My hair stylist was off Friday, worked today (whew), is off tomorrow (they close Sundays), works Monday, and is off Tuesday.
Meanwhile, my little "shouldn't church and state at least pretend to be separated?" mind can't quite wrap my head around this. Back when I worked at a job in the U.S., I knew people who took Good Friday off as a holiday, but it wasn't an official holiday. (Of course, as a freelancer in any country, every day both is and is not a holiday, not that I'm complaining.)
In any case, since there's a holiday, I baked something (chocolate chip scones), and because the holiday is Easter, I am making devilled eggs. It just seems kind of funny, that's why.
However, stores like Canadian Tire and Home Depot were open today (Saturday). The gym was closed Friday and Saturday but will be open on Monday. My hair stylist was off Friday, worked today (whew), is off tomorrow (they close Sundays), works Monday, and is off Tuesday.
Meanwhile, my little "shouldn't church and state at least pretend to be separated?" mind can't quite wrap my head around this. Back when I worked at a job in the U.S., I knew people who took Good Friday off as a holiday, but it wasn't an official holiday. (Of course, as a freelancer in any country, every day both is and is not a holiday, not that I'm complaining.)
In any case, since there's a holiday, I baked something (chocolate chip scones), and because the holiday is Easter, I am making devilled eggs. It just seems kind of funny, that's why.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Two Rs, Two Ss, Two Countries: Embarrassment
Honestly, people.
In Canada
- Stephen Harper "releases documents" about Afghan detainees--a disorganized crapload of redaction. Two boxes of deliberately NOT what the Opposition requested. A cheap political stunt.
- A University of Ottawa right-wing politician (there is one in Canada, yes) (a) invites Ann Coulter to speak as a political analyst, and (2) sets up a scene so that she imagines some grounds for filing a complaint with the Human Rights Commission.
- Canadian media cover the event as if she were a legitimate political analyst while labeling her a political entertainer. She claims she's using satire and being funny. Her presence in the world is to entertainment as championship wrestling is to Olympic wrestling. As in, NOT EVEN CLOSE.
In the U.S.
- As healthcare is debated and addressed in Congress, demonstrators hurl epithets at everyone from legislators to the president. I don't understand why anyone imagines name-calling is at all helpful. You think anyone you call "babykiller" is going to be interested in anything else you say?
- Democratic lawmakers get death threats and their offices are vandalized. It's not a political "statement": it's a crime. Do they not understand that?
- Republican lawmakers wait a day or two to speak out against the violence. Why is that? Do they support it? And by the way, as long as I've already mentioned Ann Coulter in this post, how do Republicans feel about how she represents the current administration, Muslims, and camels? Anyone willing to say publicly that she does not speak for you? I thought not.
- John McCain defends Sarah Palin. If he could only admit he was wrong and that she is now wrong, he'd regain the respect of 2/3 of the country and could contribute something of value to the country he claims to love so much. But he's always been the North Wind, not the Sun.
It's no wonder I'm crabby. I'm embarrassed by events and people on both sides of this border. I've had to name both Ann Coulter and Sarah Palin in this, my own space, where I try to keep the poison to a minimum. Grr.
For some people, apparently, spring is just a time of change--not hope. I'm trying not to be one of those people. I'm trying to look for a reason to smile in the insanity. Failing that, I guess I'll just have to smile anyway. Just don't tell me I have to.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Down the Well
I was all set to write today about this video that NBC showed before the Olympics Opening Ceremonies. In it, Tom Brokaw raves (for 6 minutes!!) about the "special bond" that the U.S. and Canada share. I would embed it, but I can't since YouTube and NBigBrotherC know I'm in the wrong country. It's available to Americans at nbcolympics.com, though.
In any case, it's really very sweet. It was forwarded to me by a Canadian friend who was blown away by the nice things it said about the people here.
I felt a slightly different vibe. By the end of the six minutes (6 minutes!!!), I felt as if I'd sat through a parental lecture. You know the kind.
"Why don't you ask that nice neighbor boy to the dance? His family are good people. Remember how last summer, you and he would run through the sprinkler together? And he was so polite when he came by the other day to sell magazines to raise money for the band. It's unfortunate about his skin but I'm sure it will clear up when he outgrows that baby fat."
Meanwhile, you have your eye on that bitchin' Aussie with the laughing eyes or the dashing Brit that looks like William. But NO, the 'rents have to nag on and on about the doofus next door with the silly laugh who blushes when he looks your way.
I'm sticking with Shane Koyczan's explanation of Canada, myself.
See how I managed to write about it without actually giving the context?
What I'm really writing about today is the well. This time of year, it freezes. Technically, the water freezes inside a join in the pipe. All I know is, water can't get from the well outside into the cistern in the basement, and that makes me nervous. The water, however, is at least there--which is sometimes doubtful in July and August, the prime visiting times, but that's another story.
Thus, one of our hairdryers goes down into the well at this time of year and stays there till May.
It's really safer than it sounds. For one thing, by "down the well" I mean "into the outdoor shaft that has the well part at the bottom" (well part = technical term). The hair dryer isn't near water. We all know bad things can result from that.
And also too, the hair dryer doesn't run all the time--just for ten or fifteen minutes in the morning, till the ice melts and the water runs again.
One disadvantage of having a hair dryer down the well is that it adds to the Clampett ambience of this otherwise somewhat respectable country house. (I swear the tires as landscaping aids depart this summer.) An extension cord runs from the outlet in the garage across what passes for a front lawn (or maybe it's the back lawn--away from the lake, but at the front of the house, very confusing) to the well shaft. We plug and unplug the extension cord at the garage to turn it on and off.
However, I suppose lack of water to the house would increase the Clampett ambience a lot faster than any extension cords (regular bathing being a custom in these here parts). Plus, this setup works, which is its main advantage. I do wonder at times whether there's a better way--but now, when it's cold and windy and there's snow on the ground, is not the time to seek it. Naturally, when the weather is better and thus more conducive to investigation, we don't need the fix.
Which, believe it or not, ties back into the "Introducing Canada to America" video. Yes, the two countries share a special relationship. The doofus next door is a perfectly sweet kid. If you're honest with yourself, you know this. The kid, Canada, doesn't really need the hard sell.
And if the U.S. just took a moment to be a good citizen of the continent, the U.S. would know that, too.
So thanks, Mr. Brokaw, but shut up. Let Canada speak for itself. And if the U.S. fans can resist the Darling Couple of Ice Dancing and the Gutsy Lady of Figure Skating...well, there's no hope for them anyway.
In any case, it's really very sweet. It was forwarded to me by a Canadian friend who was blown away by the nice things it said about the people here.
I felt a slightly different vibe. By the end of the six minutes (6 minutes!!!), I felt as if I'd sat through a parental lecture. You know the kind.
"Why don't you ask that nice neighbor boy to the dance? His family are good people. Remember how last summer, you and he would run through the sprinkler together? And he was so polite when he came by the other day to sell magazines to raise money for the band. It's unfortunate about his skin but I'm sure it will clear up when he outgrows that baby fat."
Meanwhile, you have your eye on that bitchin' Aussie with the laughing eyes or the dashing Brit that looks like William. But NO, the 'rents have to nag on and on about the doofus next door with the silly laugh who blushes when he looks your way.
I'm sticking with Shane Koyczan's explanation of Canada, myself.
See how I managed to write about it without actually giving the context?
What I'm really writing about today is the well. This time of year, it freezes. Technically, the water freezes inside a join in the pipe. All I know is, water can't get from the well outside into the cistern in the basement, and that makes me nervous. The water, however, is at least there--which is sometimes doubtful in July and August, the prime visiting times, but that's another story.
Thus, one of our hairdryers goes down into the well at this time of year and stays there till May.
It's really safer than it sounds. For one thing, by "down the well" I mean "into the outdoor shaft that has the well part at the bottom" (well part = technical term). The hair dryer isn't near water. We all know bad things can result from that.
And also too, the hair dryer doesn't run all the time--just for ten or fifteen minutes in the morning, till the ice melts and the water runs again.
One disadvantage of having a hair dryer down the well is that it adds to the Clampett ambience of this otherwise somewhat respectable country house. (I swear the tires as landscaping aids depart this summer.) An extension cord runs from the outlet in the garage across what passes for a front lawn (or maybe it's the back lawn--away from the lake, but at the front of the house, very confusing) to the well shaft. We plug and unplug the extension cord at the garage to turn it on and off.
However, I suppose lack of water to the house would increase the Clampett ambience a lot faster than any extension cords (regular bathing being a custom in these here parts). Plus, this setup works, which is its main advantage. I do wonder at times whether there's a better way--but now, when it's cold and windy and there's snow on the ground, is not the time to seek it. Naturally, when the weather is better and thus more conducive to investigation, we don't need the fix.
Which, believe it or not, ties back into the "Introducing Canada to America" video. Yes, the two countries share a special relationship. The doofus next door is a perfectly sweet kid. If you're honest with yourself, you know this. The kid, Canada, doesn't really need the hard sell.
And if the U.S. just took a moment to be a good citizen of the continent, the U.S. would know that, too.
So thanks, Mr. Brokaw, but shut up. Let Canada speak for itself. And if the U.S. fans can resist the Darling Couple of Ice Dancing and the Gutsy Lady of Figure Skating...well, there's no hope for them anyway.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Notes from a Broad Abroad
OK, I couldn't resist the title. Too late to claim "innocent." Gotta work with what I got.
We're on the road, soon to be home. Here are a few observations from the asphalt ribbon. (I'm sparing you the obnoxious healthcare conversation I got lured into on the flight between Denver and Tucson; it was a week ago and I'm still annoyed.)
The restrooms in the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum have sunscreen dispensers (SPF 30). For free. With a little lesson in how to apply sunscreen so as to prevent skin cancer. (Hint: use more than you think you need to.) What great customer service!! On a normal hot Arizona day, wearing sunscreen doesn't do anything but keep you from "experiencing slight discomfort" (sunburn or skin cancer) AFTER you leave the museum--but the Desert Museum cares about its customers' long-term health. I think that's socially responsible in the best possible way.
It's been a day for watching birds, if only we knew everything we were looking at. In terms of birds that hang out low to the ground, we saw several roadrunners this morning in New Mexico and pheasants in the Texas panhandle this afternoon. Also eagles, hawks, merlins (maybe), and other birds of prey. Plus a turquoise-blue small fat thing--like a robin, only blue all over--that we fortunately didn't hit with the car. I hate to think what would happen to those who squish the bluebird of happiness.
The Holiday Inn Express in Liberal, Kansas, features a Wizard of Oz "kids' room." I don't know what's in there because we don't qualify as kids. Dang. However, there's Oz memorabilia all over the walls. In any case, I already know Dorothy's lesson: there really IS no place like home.
Where I will be soon. I hope. Yes, this is a whole 'nother country.
We're on the road, soon to be home. Here are a few observations from the asphalt ribbon. (I'm sparing you the obnoxious healthcare conversation I got lured into on the flight between Denver and Tucson; it was a week ago and I'm still annoyed.)
The restrooms in the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum have sunscreen dispensers (SPF 30). For free. With a little lesson in how to apply sunscreen so as to prevent skin cancer. (Hint: use more than you think you need to.) What great customer service!! On a normal hot Arizona day, wearing sunscreen doesn't do anything but keep you from "experiencing slight discomfort" (sunburn or skin cancer) AFTER you leave the museum--but the Desert Museum cares about its customers' long-term health. I think that's socially responsible in the best possible way.
It's been a day for watching birds, if only we knew everything we were looking at. In terms of birds that hang out low to the ground, we saw several roadrunners this morning in New Mexico and pheasants in the Texas panhandle this afternoon. Also eagles, hawks, merlins (maybe), and other birds of prey. Plus a turquoise-blue small fat thing--like a robin, only blue all over--that we fortunately didn't hit with the car. I hate to think what would happen to those who squish the bluebird of happiness.
The Holiday Inn Express in Liberal, Kansas, features a Wizard of Oz "kids' room." I don't know what's in there because we don't qualify as kids. Dang. However, there's Oz memorabilia all over the walls. In any case, I already know Dorothy's lesson: there really IS no place like home.
Where I will be soon. I hope. Yes, this is a whole 'nother country.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Units of Measure
You know about centimetres vs. inches. You know about C vs. F. About litres vs. pints, quarts, etc. And kilos vs. pounds. Speed: km/hr vs. mph. And even loonies vs. greenbacks.
But generally speaking, time is time. Different cultures may celebrate different time-based holidays. The actual dates of the new year and even religious holidays like Christmas and Easter are up for grabs to some extent.
But an hour is an hour, a minute is a minute, etc. Right?
Yeah, sorta. But I have heard a time-related unit of measure only on this side of the border. (Yes, I know -- not a scientific survey at all.)
It's "sleep." As in, "Two sleeps till Christmas!" It's used in my own house, by the jolly crew on Canada A.M., and in the For Better or For Worse comic strip. Plus I've heard other people around town use the phrase.
I have not heard it used south of the border.
My husband, who is good at answering questions even when he doesn't REALLY know answers, thinks using "sleep" as an alternate for "day" comes from Native culture. Which you'd think would have been an influence south of the border as well, particularly in Oklahoma. However. I heard it here first and I'm sticking to that story.
It's my favourite Canadian measurement so far because it's easily understandable (darkness, then light) and requires no translation.
I also like it because it uses downtime as the measuring tool. Not the "day" part, in which we're supposed to rush and rush and get stuff done and compete and achieve and measure our successes by wins and dollars and citations and deals.
Nope. Instead, it celebrates the "sleep" part, when we are allowed -- encouraged, even -- to do nothing. Our bodies may be busy repairing the day's damage at the cellular level, but our consciousness can rest and perhaps even create some interesting stories to entertain us while we sleep.
And that's how I hope more of us can experience this coming weekend -- a holiday for some of us, an enforced weekend away from work for others. I hope the time is about BEING, not DOING. A time for refreshment and renewal.
But meanwhile, I have a little rushing around to do before my next sleep.
UPDATE: After googling, my husband now says that Native cultures tend to use use "sleep" as a unit of distance. As in, "Grandmother's house is two sleeps away." Its use as a unit of time is more a mainstream-culture thing.
All I know is, I heard it up here first.
But generally speaking, time is time. Different cultures may celebrate different time-based holidays. The actual dates of the new year and even religious holidays like Christmas and Easter are up for grabs to some extent.
But an hour is an hour, a minute is a minute, etc. Right?
Yeah, sorta. But I have heard a time-related unit of measure only on this side of the border. (Yes, I know -- not a scientific survey at all.)
It's "sleep." As in, "Two sleeps till Christmas!" It's used in my own house, by the jolly crew on Canada A.M., and in the For Better or For Worse comic strip. Plus I've heard other people around town use the phrase.
I have not heard it used south of the border.
My husband, who is good at answering questions even when he doesn't REALLY know answers, thinks using "sleep" as an alternate for "day" comes from Native culture. Which you'd think would have been an influence south of the border as well, particularly in Oklahoma. However. I heard it here first and I'm sticking to that story.
It's my favourite Canadian measurement so far because it's easily understandable (darkness, then light) and requires no translation.
I also like it because it uses downtime as the measuring tool. Not the "day" part, in which we're supposed to rush and rush and get stuff done and compete and achieve and measure our successes by wins and dollars and citations and deals.
Nope. Instead, it celebrates the "sleep" part, when we are allowed -- encouraged, even -- to do nothing. Our bodies may be busy repairing the day's damage at the cellular level, but our consciousness can rest and perhaps even create some interesting stories to entertain us while we sleep.
And that's how I hope more of us can experience this coming weekend -- a holiday for some of us, an enforced weekend away from work for others. I hope the time is about BEING, not DOING. A time for refreshment and renewal.
But meanwhile, I have a little rushing around to do before my next sleep.
UPDATE: After googling, my husband now says that Native cultures tend to use use "sleep" as a unit of distance. As in, "Grandmother's house is two sleeps away." Its use as a unit of time is more a mainstream-culture thing.
All I know is, I heard it up here first.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Pronunciation: Putting the "cow" in "Moscow"
Recently, Russia was in the news--specifically, the city of Moscow. And I noticed another difference in pronunciation up here.
In the U.S., the city in Idaho is pronounced "MOSS-koe," where "koe" sounds like "toe." The city in Russia, in contrast, is pronounced "MOSS-cow," where "cow" sounds like "moo" and chews grass.
In Canada, they're both pronounced "MOSS-koe," like the toe. That's the opposite of what I expected, based on the Canadian open vowel in "PASS-tuh," which is what we in the U.S. call "PAH-stuh" or, for the under-8 crowd, "puh-SKET-tee."
In such subtle ways we betray our background.
In the U.S., the city in Idaho is pronounced "MOSS-koe," where "koe" sounds like "toe." The city in Russia, in contrast, is pronounced "MOSS-cow," where "cow" sounds like "moo" and chews grass.
In Canada, they're both pronounced "MOSS-koe," like the toe. That's the opposite of what I expected, based on the Canadian open vowel in "PASS-tuh," which is what we in the U.S. call "PAH-stuh" or, for the under-8 crowd, "puh-SKET-tee."
In such subtle ways we betray our background.
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