As promised, for better or worse, one of the short films I was in is now online.
If the French part gets too boring to watch, you can look for
- My left hip, towards the beginning of the film,
- Anything involving the pole, throughout -- but especially at the end.
http://www.kino00.com/include/video_player.php?video=rimc08_hotelbar.mov&langue=fr
The good people of Canadia now say that on nights much like tonight, I'm rumored to be haunting the corner bar, dancing in black and white. I got black and white moves, baby. Black and white moves. But thanks to Montreal, my insides are nothing but technicolor.
17 January 2009
11 November 2008
Coat check
I started yesterday by meeting with the anglophones again, but in a different office than last time. Finding this new office afforded me the opportunity to discover the Montreal "underground" I've heard so much about. It's many, many miles of underground shops and restaurants, but the lighting and general design are such that you have the impression that you're actually outdoors. Wonderful concept for the winter, I suppose.
Anywho, ironically -- the receptionist at the anglophone office is francophone. And my French is still not perfect. I tell the receptionist I'm there to see Marie-Claude. She says something and points to a door. I didn't quite get what she said, so I assume Marie-Claude is behind that door. Naturally, I walk over to it and open it. It's a coat closet. Marie-Claude is not in there. I can feel the receptionist's eyes on my back. There's no recovering, other than to try another door that is slightly farther away. (Maybe she has bad aim when she points?) This door is locked. Someone hears me tug at the door and comes to open it, so I ask for Marie-Claude, and of course...no Marie-Claude there. I turn around and smile at the receptionist. Her look is classic. Language barrier notwithstanding, her expression says, "You are an idiot." The actual meeting with Marie-Claude went marginally well.
After all this, I had to sprint across town in my brand-new, not-broken-in, high-heeled shoes (ouch) to the location where we were to host the annual VIP event last night. The afternoon consisted of carrying long tables from one room to another, setting them up, and doing lots of heavy lifting--which I was able to do with ease, thanks to my early formation in the watermelon department.
Blisters aside, the night evolved beautifully. Hundreds of people attended and the night was a complete success. In some sort of cosmic joke-reference to my coat room experience in the morning, my job at the VIP event was to work the coat check. Fortunately, in the latter coat
room, I enjoyed the company of a fellow anglophone named Skylar Graham. I decided she has the coolest girl name of anyone I know (although part of me wonders if her name comes in chocolate or honey flavors). She's a starving composer. You can hear her music at http://www.myspace.com/simiangarden. Much to my dismay, my camera batteries had juice for only ONE picture last night. Here it is, of Skylar. Why, oh why, did my camera have to die?
There are many advantages to being coat check girls. For instance, you get to meet everyone at the party, and people bring you free food and beverages since you can't escape to get your own (I looked behind me at one point and realized I had two full plates of food and cookies, along with eight full glasses of champagne waiting...just no time to eat or drink any of it). Still, it's the thought that counts...and after the big event, I had the opportunity to chat with--and say goodbye to--many of my dearest friends here. My French-speaking friend Emilie left me with this statement in English: "I think you do not have an American brain." I took it as a huge compliment, knowing her intent was that I am, perhaps, a little bit French. At least in spirit.
While it's tempting to get thoroughly bummed about my departure tomorrow morning, the French have a good word. It's "salut." They use it for both "hi" and "bye." It gives me peace to know that goodbye is never really goodbye here. And I know I'll be back.
Random note: I should be getting a copy of the "hair in the wind" video very soon. If/when I do, I'll post it on my blog. Thanks for reading this, and thanks for all your emails along my journey. It's been great having you here with me.
Anywho, ironically -- the receptionist at the anglophone office is francophone. And my French is still not perfect. I tell the receptionist I'm there to see Marie-Claude. She says something and points to a door. I didn't quite get what she said, so I assume Marie-Claude is behind that door. Naturally, I walk over to it and open it. It's a coat closet. Marie-Claude is not in there. I can feel the receptionist's eyes on my back. There's no recovering, other than to try another door that is slightly farther away. (Maybe she has bad aim when she points?) This door is locked. Someone hears me tug at the door and comes to open it, so I ask for Marie-Claude, and of course...no Marie-Claude there. I turn around and smile at the receptionist. Her look is classic. Language barrier notwithstanding, her expression says, "You are an idiot." The actual meeting with Marie-Claude went marginally well.
After all this, I had to sprint across town in my brand-new, not-broken-in, high-heeled shoes (ouch) to the location where we were to host the annual VIP event last night. The afternoon consisted of carrying long tables from one room to another, setting them up, and doing lots of heavy lifting--which I was able to do with ease, thanks to my early formation in the watermelon department.
Blisters aside, the night evolved beautifully. Hundreds of people attended and the night was a complete success. In some sort of cosmic joke-reference to my coat room experience in the morning, my job at the VIP event was to work the coat check. Fortunately, in the latter coat
room, I enjoyed the company of a fellow anglophone named Skylar Graham. I decided she has the coolest girl name of anyone I know (although part of me wonders if her name comes in chocolate or honey flavors). She's a starving composer. You can hear her music at http://www.myspace.com/simiangarden. Much to my dismay, my camera batteries had juice for only ONE picture last night. Here it is, of Skylar. Why, oh why, did my camera have to die?There are many advantages to being coat check girls. For instance, you get to meet everyone at the party, and people bring you free food and beverages since you can't escape to get your own (I looked behind me at one point and realized I had two full plates of food and cookies, along with eight full glasses of champagne waiting...just no time to eat or drink any of it). Still, it's the thought that counts...and after the big event, I had the opportunity to chat with--and say goodbye to--many of my dearest friends here. My French-speaking friend Emilie left me with this statement in English: "I think you do not have an American brain." I took it as a huge compliment, knowing her intent was that I am, perhaps, a little bit French. At least in spirit.
While it's tempting to get thoroughly bummed about my departure tomorrow morning, the French have a good word. It's "salut." They use it for both "hi" and "bye." It gives me peace to know that goodbye is never really goodbye here. And I know I'll be back.
Random note: I should be getting a copy of the "hair in the wind" video very soon. If/when I do, I'll post it on my blog. Thanks for reading this, and thanks for all your emails along my journey. It's been great having you here with me.
09 November 2008
Choco-hopping, Leprechauns, and Disco Balls
Pictures are worth a thousand words. Because I'm wiped out after an excessively fun weekend with my cousin, here are 60-some pictures that visually describe our activities. If my math's right, that spares you from having to read about 60,000 words.
08 November 2008
Roche Papier Ciseaux
Had a huge, multi-hour power outage at work yesterday, the day of our big movie screening and the last business day before the annual VIP soirée we're hosting Monday. Without technology to support our last-minute crunch before these critically important events, Francois, Pascale, Jean-Francois, Olivier, Jules, Kim, Patrick, and I reverted to the only thing people did before computers and electricity: we played rock-paper-scissors (locally known as roche-paper-ciseaux) in the dark. I kept beating Francois (just like when we played fooseball), and he kept firing me from my job. We are responsible working adults.
Unfortunately, the power came back on, and the madness that ensued was not particularly enjoyable.
Kristi, my cousin, arrived around 5. After she helped me with some work stuff, we ate crepes at Juliette et Chocolat (but had to leave before the chocolat due to time constraints -- terrible. Just terrible). We went to the Lion d'Or for the film screening, where I had the happy-happy-happy pleasure of introducing her to nearly all of the people who have meant the most to me in the past months. Afterwards, my friends Nicholas and Mathieu invited us out for poutine at LaFleur. Good, good, good times.
Unfortunately, the power came back on, and the madness that ensued was not particularly enjoyable.
Kristi, my cousin, arrived around 5. After she helped me with some work stuff, we ate crepes at Juliette et Chocolat (but had to leave before the chocolat due to time constraints -- terrible. Just terrible). We went to the Lion d'Or for the film screening, where I had the happy-happy-happy pleasure of introducing her to nearly all of the people who have meant the most to me in the past months. Afterwards, my friends Nicholas and Mathieu invited us out for poutine at LaFleur. Good, good, good times.
05 November 2008
Go out to breakfast. Buy a tomato.
I created a to-do list a couple of weeks ago. These were the only two items on it. I stumbled across it yesterday and was highly amused by this level of responsibility I'd granted myself. Wonder if I got the tomato...might have dropped the ball on that one. It was likely too much to ask for a single day, don't you agree?
Before I forget, I apologize to my friends in Dallas for the blech/vomit comments. As you know, my blech/vomit references only a couple of specific things completely unrelated to you. I heart you.
Fun day today. Francois, Kim, Ariane, (some other guy), and I had lunch together in Chinatown to discuss the communications strategy for the future of Kino. I love being around these creative types. Business meetings are so different. Strategy is so different. Motivation is so different.
My cousin Kristi from DC is coming to visit me tomorrow and staying until Sunday. She requested that I show her "everything I've liked best so far" here in Montreal. This being the case, I'll have to suggest that she extend her stay by about two months.
Before I forget, I apologize to my friends in Dallas for the blech/vomit comments. As you know, my blech/vomit references only a couple of specific things completely unrelated to you. I heart you.
Fun day today. Francois, Kim, Ariane, (some other guy), and I had lunch together in Chinatown to discuss the communications strategy for the future of Kino. I love being around these creative types. Business meetings are so different. Strategy is so different. Motivation is so different.
My cousin Kristi from DC is coming to visit me tomorrow and staying until Sunday. She requested that I show her "everything I've liked best so far" here in Montreal. This being the case, I'll have to suggest that she extend her stay by about two months.
04 November 2008
Three Naders and a Plate of Poutine
When Pascale asked me to go out last night, she failed to mention that she was bringing her friend Antoine. [I keep deleting what I've written about Antoine. Suffice it to say that Antoine is French for...oh forget it. I'll just kidnap him and show you in person.] The three of us had a fabulous time at the Burgundy Lion, Hurley's Irish Pub, a hole-in-the-wall pizza place, and Champs Sportsbar (not like the Champs in the US -- this one's dedicated to hockey). Although we didn't know this before showing up, the Burgundy Lion was hosting the Montreal chapter of Democrats Living Abroad. As you can imagine, the election was as animated and rowdy as any sporting event I've ever seen.
In totally random other news, I just found out that my Granddad is having major surgery on Tuesday in Atlanta, which happens to be my last full day in Montreal. His odds of making it through the surgery aren't terribly good, but the doctors say it's a necessary risk. He's the strongest and most optimistic guy I know, though, and he's joking about how he'll still manage to chase nurses after they remove most of his leg. (But only the cute nurses--not just any nurse.) Coincidentally--although I don't really believe in coincidences--my dad is in town visiting him from California this week. I'm really glad they're able to spend time together. Every couple of days, my dad has been driving up to my Granddad's house in Nashville to retrieve some of his belongings. Check out this list of what he's found so far. Exactly as he wrote it in an email to me (you'll see he sorta makes up words sometimes):
Grandaddy Mottram's old typewriter [he owned an advertising agency in Milwaukee], a book with an inscription from Louisa May Alcott, dated 1902, great old pictures of about three or four generations of family, and some kinda romantic letters written to Grandma Kiddy from somebody not named Granddad. Which we haven't mentioned to him. They were locked up in the basement, and Carolyn [my dad's girlfriend] hadda break the lock to see what was inside. If we read them it could be Bridges of Madison County II, so they're in a box right now. Might just stay there. I also found all the old toy cars from about 1950 or before. Unfortunately, all of [my uncle, dad's brother] Paul's were broken. Mine were all not broken. Had nothing to do with my finding the box...An esselint rabit I musta made at about 5. Also a letter that I had written in school. It said something about, "I like my dad. I wonder if he likes me? It would be nice if he liked me because I like him..." Geech, nothing innersting there!
Dad wants me to squeeze in a trip to Atlanta next week, in addition to my planned travels to Chicago, Milwaukee, and back to (blech) Dallas, but this could be quite a challenge. Forgive me -- did I say "(blech) Dallas"? I meant "Dallas. Vomit." Much better.
In totally random other news, I just found out that my Granddad is having major surgery on Tuesday in Atlanta, which happens to be my last full day in Montreal. His odds of making it through the surgery aren't terribly good, but the doctors say it's a necessary risk. He's the strongest and most optimistic guy I know, though, and he's joking about how he'll still manage to chase nurses after they remove most of his leg. (But only the cute nurses--not just any nurse.) Coincidentally--although I don't really believe in coincidences--my dad is in town visiting him from California this week. I'm really glad they're able to spend time together. Every couple of days, my dad has been driving up to my Granddad's house in Nashville to retrieve some of his belongings. Check out this list of what he's found so far. Exactly as he wrote it in an email to me (you'll see he sorta makes up words sometimes):
Grandaddy Mottram's old typewriter [he owned an advertising agency in Milwaukee], a book with an inscription from Louisa May Alcott, dated 1902, great old pictures of about three or four generations of family, and some kinda romantic letters written to Grandma Kiddy from somebody not named Granddad. Which we haven't mentioned to him. They were locked up in the basement, and Carolyn [my dad's girlfriend] hadda break the lock to see what was inside. If we read them it could be Bridges of Madison County II, so they're in a box right now. Might just stay there. I also found all the old toy cars from about 1950 or before. Unfortunately, all of [my uncle, dad's brother] Paul's were broken. Mine were all not broken. Had nothing to do with my finding the box...An esselint rabit I musta made at about 5. Also a letter that I had written in school. It said something about, "I like my dad. I wonder if he likes me? It would be nice if he liked me because I like him..." Geech, nothing innersting there!
Dad wants me to squeeze in a trip to Atlanta next week, in addition to my planned travels to Chicago, Milwaukee, and back to (blech) Dallas, but this could be quite a challenge. Forgive me -- did I say "(blech) Dallas"? I meant "Dallas. Vomit." Much better.
Stump the American! It's everybody's favorite game.
Things I should know off the top of my head, but don't, as proven in today's discussions with my Canadian friends:
Q: How does the electoral college work, besides relating to each state's population?
(My) A: It has to do with the population of each state (mumble in English); it's hard to explain in French.
Q: Who's running for Senator in Texas?
(My) A: I don't remember.
Q: What does GOP stand for?
(My) A: It's a presidential acronym.
Q: I heard most people in the US don't vote for Senator -- why?
(My) A: Because we're lazy. It's hard to remember who stands for what. You saw my ballot--there are lots of people on it.
I'm sure you knew all the answers to these questions, but my right to vote should probably be revoked. I'm a little embarrassed of my lack of political knowledge.
Even so, Pascale (female friend, different from male friend Paskal, who was sent off to shoot a movie on a tropical island)--anyway, Pascale has invited me out tonight to a Presidential DrinkAThon. The theory is that you have a beer every time "your" candidate wins a state. I've proven today that I don't know much about politics, but I do know how many states there are. (Too bad no one asked.) A DrinkAThon is a terrible idea. No further questions.
***
Update: Pascale has convinced me to go out. It's not every day someone uses this old trick on me: "But Sarah, you have to come out. It'll be a historic night in Montreal -- bigger than when we won the Stanley Cup." That Stanley Cup gets me every time. HOWEVER, to keep tonight safe, I may just tell people I voted for Nader. Go, Nader!
Q: How does the electoral college work, besides relating to each state's population?
(My) A: It has to do with the population of each state (mumble in English); it's hard to explain in French.
Q: Who's running for Senator in Texas?
(My) A: I don't remember.
Q: What does GOP stand for?
(My) A: It's a presidential acronym.
Q: I heard most people in the US don't vote for Senator -- why?
(My) A: Because we're lazy. It's hard to remember who stands for what. You saw my ballot--there are lots of people on it.
I'm sure you knew all the answers to these questions, but my right to vote should probably be revoked. I'm a little embarrassed of my lack of political knowledge.
Even so, Pascale (female friend, different from male friend Paskal, who was sent off to shoot a movie on a tropical island)--anyway, Pascale has invited me out tonight to a Presidential DrinkAThon. The theory is that you have a beer every time "your" candidate wins a state. I've proven today that I don't know much about politics, but I do know how many states there are. (Too bad no one asked.) A DrinkAThon is a terrible idea. No further questions.
***
Update: Pascale has convinced me to go out. It's not every day someone uses this old trick on me: "But Sarah, you have to come out. It'll be a historic night in Montreal -- bigger than when we won the Stanley Cup." That Stanley Cup gets me every time. HOWEVER, to keep tonight safe, I may just tell people I voted for Nader. Go, Nader!
03 November 2008
Muscles from Brussels
This is what Jules called Francois after Francois was the only one able to fix the lever on Jules' broken bike.
I received my absentee ballot a few days ago. Today, I let Kim, a Canadian, vote for our candidate of choice. I hosted a brief ceremony during which I deemed her a temporary member of the United States for voting purposes, then she proudly filled in the circle on my ballot. (FYI, absentee ballots don't need to arrive for awhile; mine just has to be postmarked by tomorrow.) I started a brief campaign called "You, too, can be an American Citizen." It was a hit.
I received my absentee ballot a few days ago. Today, I let Kim, a Canadian, vote for our candidate of choice. I hosted a brief ceremony during which I deemed her a temporary member of the United States for voting purposes, then she proudly filled in the circle on my ballot. (FYI, absentee ballots don't need to arrive for awhile; mine just has to be postmarked by tomorrow.) I started a brief campaign called "You, too, can be an American Citizen." It was a hit.
02 November 2008
All play! You title this one. I don't know WHAT to call it.
With Canadian money burning a hole in my pocket, I ventured back out into society today. I began with breakfast at "L'Orange Pressé." It's a charming little restaurant on Avenue Mont-Royal, about a mile from where I live. Embracing my Canadian experience, I thought it would be fitting to order bacon and crepes with maple syrup. They were substantially better than any I've ever had in the U.S. Long live stereotypes!
With this lovely dining experience at this quaint restaurant in mind, I can't possibly express how bizarre the next event was. After paying, I asked where the restrooms were and was directed upstairs past cute little French-looking teapots. However, upon arriving upstairs, I was met by the gazes of about 10 Native American people, all of whom looked to be at least 150 years old, sitting at slot machines. Huh? It was as if I'd entered the Twilight Zone. They all stopped playing at the exact same time and turned around in their swivel chairs to look at me. Time froze. I froze. Never in a million years did I expect slot machines to be up there, making all their slot-machiney sounds. All eyes remained focused on me as I crossed the room. It was so truly surreal in the upstairs of this quaint French restaurant.
After that, I took a grand walking tour. In keeping with yesterday's "10" theme, I just checked
Mapquest, and I walked well over 10 bliss-filled miles today. Although I didn't plan this (especially since temps are in the 30s), I ended up exploring Mile End, Little Italy, Little Portugal, and several other Littles. I walked past my mountain three times. I love walking. I took only a few pictures, but you can see them here, if you'd like.
My only BAD decision of the day was to get a haircut. I haven't gotten one since July, so I figured it was about time. The place was expensive and the guy scheduled to cut my hair was attractive, so I figured it was a good recipe for a nice cut. I told him I'm growing it out to donate it again, so I just wanted him to clean up the layers a little and leave the length about the same. He responded, "Okay, just a refresh." I agreed. Simple, right? Wrong. He proceeded to randomly grab a large chunk of my hair and CHOP. I yelped, "STOP!" Too late. I reminded him I'm growing it out and advised him that that is too short. He shrugged it off and said, "No it's not." WHAT?! Was he serious? What was I to do? It's not like I could leap out of the chair with my hair all wet and half chopped off, without knowing where I could go to get it fixed late on a Sunday afternoon in a foreign city. By the same token, while I was vehemently objecting to his lunacy, I realized it would be in my best interest not to anger the man with the scissors. He continued to justify his craziness as his cutting tool went to town on my head, with me imploring him to "keep it like it was, s'il vous plait...s'il vous plait." When he was done hacking and drying, he brushed my hair forward over my eyes, grabbed hairspray (which I haven't used since I was 18) and sprayed so much I had a coughing fit. I couldn't even see with the concrete hair helmet in front of my eyes, which in its own way, was a blessing at the time. The final result? I have the harshest looking layers I've ever had, a cut that's not even remotely like what I requested, and a hairdresser who's undoubtedly wondering where his tip is. I sprinted out of there. Unless there's a follicular miracle tonight while I sleep, I may end up forgoing my planned hair donation and getting the rest chopped to chin-length tomorrow to even it out. It's the last thing I want to do, but it may be my only option. Short hair might be better than stupid hair. (Wish you were here to provide a much needed second opinion.) I realize this is a very small issue in life--it's only hair--but (sob, whimper), simonac.
With this lovely dining experience at this quaint restaurant in mind, I can't possibly express how bizarre the next event was. After paying, I asked where the restrooms were and was directed upstairs past cute little French-looking teapots. However, upon arriving upstairs, I was met by the gazes of about 10 Native American people, all of whom looked to be at least 150 years old, sitting at slot machines. Huh? It was as if I'd entered the Twilight Zone. They all stopped playing at the exact same time and turned around in their swivel chairs to look at me. Time froze. I froze. Never in a million years did I expect slot machines to be up there, making all their slot-machiney sounds. All eyes remained focused on me as I crossed the room. It was so truly surreal in the upstairs of this quaint French restaurant.
After that, I took a grand walking tour. In keeping with yesterday's "10" theme, I just checked
Mapquest, and I walked well over 10 bliss-filled miles today. Although I didn't plan this (especially since temps are in the 30s), I ended up exploring Mile End, Little Italy, Little Portugal, and several other Littles. I walked past my mountain three times. I love walking. I took only a few pictures, but you can see them here, if you'd like.My only BAD decision of the day was to get a haircut. I haven't gotten one since July, so I figured it was about time. The place was expensive and the guy scheduled to cut my hair was attractive, so I figured it was a good recipe for a nice cut. I told him I'm growing it out to donate it again, so I just wanted him to clean up the layers a little and leave the length about the same. He responded, "Okay, just a refresh." I agreed. Simple, right? Wrong. He proceeded to randomly grab a large chunk of my hair and CHOP. I yelped, "STOP!" Too late. I reminded him I'm growing it out and advised him that that is too short. He shrugged it off and said, "No it's not." WHAT?! Was he serious? What was I to do? It's not like I could leap out of the chair with my hair all wet and half chopped off, without knowing where I could go to get it fixed late on a Sunday afternoon in a foreign city. By the same token, while I was vehemently objecting to his lunacy, I realized it would be in my best interest not to anger the man with the scissors. He continued to justify his craziness as his cutting tool went to town on my head, with me imploring him to "keep it like it was, s'il vous plait...s'il vous plait." When he was done hacking and drying, he brushed my hair forward over my eyes, grabbed hairspray (which I haven't used since I was 18) and sprayed so much I had a coughing fit. I couldn't even see with the concrete hair helmet in front of my eyes, which in its own way, was a blessing at the time. The final result? I have the harshest looking layers I've ever had, a cut that's not even remotely like what I requested, and a hairdresser who's undoubtedly wondering where his tip is. I sprinted out of there. Unless there's a follicular miracle tonight while I sleep, I may end up forgoing my planned hair donation and getting the rest chopped to chin-length tomorrow to even it out. It's the last thing I want to do, but it may be my only option. Short hair might be better than stupid hair. (Wish you were here to provide a much needed second opinion.) I realize this is a very small issue in life--it's only hair--but (sob, whimper), simonac.
01 November 2008
10
Imagine my horror today when I counted the remaining cash in my wallet and found only 10$. While some places accept my Visa card, many do not--and Visa certainly doesn't get me on the metro.
After making this shockingly unpleasant discovery, I decided it would be a good day to stay home. And read. And write. And do laundry. And play romantic music while rubbing my two 5$ bills together to see if they'd produce more money. (No luck.)
I have only 10 pages left of my book, yet I'm putting off reading the end. My pace is about a paragraph a day, bookmarked by excuses of having to re-read sections I've enjoyed. I accept it as an all-too-obvious metaphor of my not wanting my Montreal story to end.
Tonight, as I commenced the sad planning of my scheduled departure in 10 days, I discovered something wonderful in my suitcase: an envelope full of Canadian cash. I'd forgotten I'd separated it from the rest shortly after my arrival two months ago.
If only I could buy another book.
After making this shockingly unpleasant discovery, I decided it would be a good day to stay home. And read. And write. And do laundry. And play romantic music while rubbing my two 5$ bills together to see if they'd produce more money. (No luck.)
I have only 10 pages left of my book, yet I'm putting off reading the end. My pace is about a paragraph a day, bookmarked by excuses of having to re-read sections I've enjoyed. I accept it as an all-too-obvious metaphor of my not wanting my Montreal story to end.
Tonight, as I commenced the sad planning of my scheduled departure in 10 days, I discovered something wonderful in my suitcase: an envelope full of Canadian cash. I'd forgotten I'd separated it from the rest shortly after my arrival two months ago.
If only I could buy another book.
Does this fir make me look fat?
Sunday is Francois' birthday, so Patrick, Jules, and I took him out to lunch today. After lunch, we enjoyed sangria and chocolate cake. Can't wait to suggest that for a business lunch at AT&...nevermind.
Though very tempted to stay in tonight, I realized I may not spend that many more Halloweens in Montreal. I'm determined to make the most of my time here. So, I got all lit up like a Christmas tree (in a manner of speaking--see photo) and joined a group for a ghost tour of old Montreal. It had the potential to be cheesy, but in fact, it was amazing. They hired literally hundreds of horrifying-looking zombies to roam the streets and taunt us during our tour. That was impressive. Our group was given a map with the assignment to find four specific ghosts and hear their stories. Given the ambiance--cobblestone streets, old stone buildings, dark alleys, and true stories of grizzly deaths that happened exactly where we were--some parts of it were actually pretty creepy. Especially with zombies lurking all around.
Afterwards, as we were walking along one of the streets, we found a Christmas store. I
felt right at home.
Five of us wrapped up the evening with a quick drink at a lovely bar, and now I'm home, where I'll be vacuuming fake pine needles off the floors, walls, and furniture for the next week. They're everywhere. Everywhere.
Though very tempted to stay in tonight, I realized I may not spend that many more Halloweens in Montreal. I'm determined to make the most of my time here. So, I got all lit up like a Christmas tree (in a manner of speaking--see photo) and joined a group for a ghost tour of old Montreal. It had the potential to be cheesy, but in fact, it was amazing. They hired literally hundreds of horrifying-looking zombies to roam the streets and taunt us during our tour. That was impressive. Our group was given a map with the assignment to find four specific ghosts and hear their stories. Given the ambiance--cobblestone streets, old stone buildings, dark alleys, and true stories of grizzly deaths that happened exactly where we were--some parts of it were actually pretty creepy. Especially with zombies lurking all around.
Afterwards, as we were walking along one of the streets, we found a Christmas store. I
felt right at home.
Five of us wrapped up the evening with a quick drink at a lovely bar, and now I'm home, where I'll be vacuuming fake pine needles off the floors, walls, and furniture for the next week. They're everywhere. Everywhere.
30 October 2008
Mooseburger Mooseburger Mooseburger
Pretty sure this wasn't what Jim Belushi was referring to. But I think it's what I ate.
In other news, my boss is using me. For my handwriting. Now that he's seen it, he's having me address envelopes and write on CDs. By the millions.
One might say I'm not exercising my full mental capacity, but it brings me back to my favorite part of American Beauty where Kevin Spacey's character is interviewing at the burger joint. In the scene I'm referencing, he's requesting an application for the job where the least amount of effort is required. Not management.
With Kevin Spacey as my muse, on a short-term basis, this totally works for me. I embrace it.
In other news, my boss is using me. For my handwriting. Now that he's seen it, he's having me address envelopes and write on CDs. By the millions.
One might say I'm not exercising my full mental capacity, but it brings me back to my favorite part of American Beauty where Kevin Spacey's character is interviewing at the burger joint. In the scene I'm referencing, he's requesting an application for the job where the least amount of effort is required. Not management.
With Kevin Spacey as my muse, on a short-term basis, this totally works for me. I embrace it.
29 October 2008
Crazy white stuff
...it's all over the ground! And blowing through the air! Down! Up! Sideways! What on earth could it be?
Cure for a fever: stand outside on a corner in the aforementioned crazy white stuff for 20 minutes, wearing only one jacket that's not quite warm enough (this is key), and letting 20 mph winds blow right through your body while you wait for a bus. According to the thermometer I finally bought today, my current body temperature is 93.9 degrees! Voila -- fever gone. And I didn't even go to medical school. Consider this my contribution to modern medicine.
Is it common for the same woman to be awarded an Oscar, a Grammy, and a Nobel peace prize?
I explored yet another new part of town today. This new part of town is what they call the "anglophone" part of town. It was like being on a different planet. I met with some important people (important according to Francois, and important that I be there because Francois doesn't speak English). I mentioned to one of the important women that I'd lived in Wisconsin for awhile. She replied, "I have cousins in Waukesha and my husband was just at the Badger game last weekend!" My mom grew up in Waukesha. Considering most people I've met in Montreal don't even know where Wisconsin is (much less that it's a state), this was a big deal. It also provided me with the opportunity to break out my Wisconsin Badger-branded winter head thing (not earmuffs or a hat - it's more of a headband you put over your ears). Everyone said, "Ooooooooh!" I felt like fireworks. Up until now, I've been wearing the head thing inside out here in Montreal; otherwise, I get too many questions about why there's a "W" on my forehead. Most people assume it's a political statement.
Cure for a fever: stand outside on a corner in the aforementioned crazy white stuff for 20 minutes, wearing only one jacket that's not quite warm enough (this is key), and letting 20 mph winds blow right through your body while you wait for a bus. According to the thermometer I finally bought today, my current body temperature is 93.9 degrees! Voila -- fever gone. And I didn't even go to medical school. Consider this my contribution to modern medicine.
Is it common for the same woman to be awarded an Oscar, a Grammy, and a Nobel peace prize?
I explored yet another new part of town today. This new part of town is what they call the "anglophone" part of town. It was like being on a different planet. I met with some important people (important according to Francois, and important that I be there because Francois doesn't speak English). I mentioned to one of the important women that I'd lived in Wisconsin for awhile. She replied, "I have cousins in Waukesha and my husband was just at the Badger game last weekend!" My mom grew up in Waukesha. Considering most people I've met in Montreal don't even know where Wisconsin is (much less that it's a state), this was a big deal. It also provided me with the opportunity to break out my Wisconsin Badger-branded winter head thing (not earmuffs or a hat - it's more of a headband you put over your ears). Everyone said, "Ooooooooh!" I felt like fireworks. Up until now, I've been wearing the head thing inside out here in Montreal; otherwise, I get too many questions about why there's a "W" on my forehead. Most people assume it's a political statement.
28 October 2008
How could I forget?
I thought they tossed this film since it was only a silly little "filler" between the real films, but if you want to see me looking ridiculous (who sings with their eyes closed?) and hear me sing "Flexfill" twice in one song, go to http://www.kino00.com/index.php?s=videos. Scroll down to Défi Langage Inventéde Albert Kwan.
I'm awaiting my Oscar.
No word on the other film yet.
Bringing out the sailor in me
Random (a)musings from today:
- New vocabulary word: Simonac ! Remember "tabernacle" (which, incidentally, they pronounce "tabernak")? Just like I typically use the softer versions in English ("shoot," "darn," etc.), "simonac" is the word I can safely use here. I knew a word like this had to exist. However, I'm already being in the habit of saying "tabernak." Oh well.
- I had dinner at a restaurant downtown tonight since I had to be in the area for a later event, anyway. I asked for a table for one. They gave me the table for one, but put me in front of a big mirror so I wouldn't have to eat "alone." Um...yeah, conversation was great...?
- On the metro today, I reached for the vertical metal bar you hold when you're standing, but I accidentally took a woman by the hand. Whoops. She looked at me. I laughed. She didn't. Sheesh. It's not like I tried to spoon her.
- My reason for having to stay downtown this evening is that my friend Johanne asked me to go to Juliette et Chocolat with her. I've been eying this place since my arrival. My friends, I have found Heaven on earth. I had a Nutella crepe (yes, finally - the crepe I've been craving!), but made a mental list of 15 other things on the menu I need to try. While I'm not as much of a chocoholic as many women are, I am seriously thinking about moving into this place. I could marry it.
- I told Johanne about a big day I have at work tomorrow. As we were leaving, she looked at me and said, "Merde!" I asked, "Is something wrong?" She responded, "No, that's what we say to wish someone good luck for a big day/important task...it's like saying 'break a leg' in English." So, wish me lots of merde for tomorrow!
27 October 2008
If the words "military coup" didn't deter me...
I was offered a fascinating opportunity today. Here's an excerpt:
"In short, I'm looking to bring over two reputable people who speak French, from anywhere from 10 days to 6 weeks, to Mauritania (capital Nouakchott) to give workshops/seminars on video production to Mauritanian youth and minorities interested in Democracy...as the democracy dialogue is sure to be fascinating on video here in Mauritania. We are living in a military coup since August 2008, and the term democracy is highly contested. There has been a crackdown on free speech and many are afraid to speak out against the military junta. Many people have ideas for films but no capacity of know-how...we need teachers who have even a little experience in the film industry and who can communicate in French."
They want me to do it. However, I'm not going to do it for a number of reasons (one of which is that I wouldn't really "blend in" very well in this African nation in the midst of a military coup), but I'm amazed that this particular door opened. Wow. Maybe I'd blend in better if I pierced my nose...hmmm....(kidding).
Other than that, I stayed home today. Although I lack a doctor or any instrument to verify this self-diagnosis, I have a fever and sinus infection/earache in both ears. Boo. I need more uh dat soupy soup soup.
"In short, I'm looking to bring over two reputable people who speak French, from anywhere from 10 days to 6 weeks, to Mauritania (capital Nouakchott) to give workshops/seminars on video production to Mauritanian youth and minorities interested in Democracy...as the democracy dialogue is sure to be fascinating on video here in Mauritania. We are living in a military coup since August 2008, and the term democracy is highly contested. There has been a crackdown on free speech and many are afraid to speak out against the military junta. Many people have ideas for films but no capacity of know-how...we need teachers who have even a little experience in the film industry and who can communicate in French."
They want me to do it. However, I'm not going to do it for a number of reasons (one of which is that I wouldn't really "blend in" very well in this African nation in the midst of a military coup), but I'm amazed that this particular door opened. Wow. Maybe I'd blend in better if I pierced my nose...hmmm....(kidding).
Other than that, I stayed home today. Although I lack a doctor or any instrument to verify this self-diagnosis, I have a fever and sinus infection/earache in both ears. Boo. I need more uh dat soupy soup soup.
26 October 2008
I want to get my nose pierced
I won't. But for the last week, I've wanted this. Consider this as further evidence that I'm losing my mind. Or reinventing myself. Or maybe...rediscovering my mom's hippie gene that's always been a little part of who I am. Out of curiosity, can you picture me with a pierced nose -- just a tiny diamond stud? I'm curious. Again, though, I won't do it. Probably not.
Olivier invited me to a birthday party today where everyone was going to play petanque. I couldn't get moving fast enough to make it there on time, though. Besides, I had crepes on the brain.
There's a tiny crepes place near the base of the mountain. I've been curious about it ever since my infamous mountain excursion. There are lots of crepes places in Montreal, but this is the one
that's been calling to me.
I walked the 2.5 miles there to discover that the place was closed. Instead, I ended up buying a really stupid Halloween costume. I don't know how those things are connected, especially since the costume I bought is entirely different from the costume I was planning to buy. Oh, and I haven't been invited to do anything for Halloween yet. Wish me luck with that. I'd hate to end up wandering the streets of Montreal in my stupid costume all by myself. Crepeless and alone in a stupid costume.
To complete today's excitement, my one and only TV channel is coming in tonight! TV is my little luxury because I rarely get it here, and I really want it to learn more French. Because it was the only option, I watched a dubbed-over French version of Beverly Hills Ninja. I may work in the film industry, but I'm clearly striving for a new personal low for my movie viewing at home.
If I ever end up writing a screenplay, I'll have Chris Farley and the Chipmunks among my list of people to thank.
***
If Snapfish isn't working for you for yesterday's pictures, try this link, instead. I don't like Picasa very much, but at the moment, I like it better than Snapfish!
Olivier invited me to a birthday party today where everyone was going to play petanque. I couldn't get moving fast enough to make it there on time, though. Besides, I had crepes on the brain.
There's a tiny crepes place near the base of the mountain. I've been curious about it ever since my infamous mountain excursion. There are lots of crepes places in Montreal, but this is the one
that's been calling to me.I walked the 2.5 miles there to discover that the place was closed. Instead, I ended up buying a really stupid Halloween costume. I don't know how those things are connected, especially since the costume I bought is entirely different from the costume I was planning to buy. Oh, and I haven't been invited to do anything for Halloween yet. Wish me luck with that. I'd hate to end up wandering the streets of Montreal in my stupid costume all by myself. Crepeless and alone in a stupid costume.
To complete today's excitement, my one and only TV channel is coming in tonight! TV is my little luxury because I rarely get it here, and I really want it to learn more French. Because it was the only option, I watched a dubbed-over French version of Beverly Hills Ninja. I may work in the film industry, but I'm clearly striving for a new personal low for my movie viewing at home.
If I ever end up writing a screenplay, I'll have Chris Farley and the Chipmunks among my list of people to thank.
***
If Snapfish isn't working for you for yesterday's pictures, try this link, instead. I don't like Picasa very much, but at the moment, I like it better than Snapfish!
25 October 2008
Impractical shoes on cobblestone streets
The drive between Montreal and Quebec City looked suspiciously like parts of semi-rural Wisconsin, with the exception of a random mountain every now and again. However, at a bend in the road that previous experience would have told me led to Tomahawk, we came upon a breathtakingly beautiful waterfall. It was at the point that I thought, Ooh, this is going to be an adventure.
I arrived in Quebec City via the Orleans Express bus line at about 4 p.m., which meant I had two hours to kill before Fred was scheduled to pick me up at the station. So, I did one of my very favorite things in the world: I explored. With no map in hand, no advice from the tourist desk, and no food in my stomach, I randomly picked a street that looked slightly less traveled than the rest and began my adventure. My first stop was a tiny stone bakery where I purchased a 100% butter croissant for 1.60$. You know if anything's advertised as "100% butter" it's going to provide an out-of-body culinary experience. With that as my fuel for body and mind, I continued to explore for the next two hours, then went back to the train station to meet Fred.
At about 6:10, as I was just starting to wonder whether Fred remembered we'd planned to meet at 6, I saw him sprinting towards me from about half a block away. Given that he's 23 years old and in the film business, it should have occurred to me that "I'll pick you up" does not necessarily imply that he has a car. Turns out that he lives about three miles from the bus station, and he was running late (no pun intended), so he sprinted so as not to keep me waiting too long. He could barely breathe by the time he reached me. I told him I didn't mind waiting and he could have walked - or called my cell phone - but he insisted that he wanted to be on time for me. (Did I mention the people here are nice?) We started walking back to his place and, as seems to be the theme of my trip, we stumbled upon a real live "big budget" movie being filmed on one of the streets. The people in it are famous Canada people. I don't know who the heck they are, but everyone else was very impressed and there was a big crowd. The actors just looked like normal people to me.
I didn't complain, of course, but because I was cold, I'd already walked at least seven miles that day, and my bag was starting to feel really heavy after carrying it all day long, I convinced Fred that we could spend 2.60$ each to take a bus the rest of the way. Once we got back to the apartment, Fred showed me his room (where I'd be staying; he'd take the couch in the living room), and he proudly informed me that he "saved up to buy sheets" before my arrival. I suddenly felt guilty about having asked him to splurge on the bus. In any case, I sincerely appreciated his thoughtfulness and generosity.
We hung out with Barbie (my friend with pink hair) and Ashli, their other roommate from St. Johns, Newfoundland. Ashli is a self-described "hippy hipster" -- and although it's becoming a cliche, she is one of the nicest people I've ever met. Ashli had never met me, of course, yet she took it upon herself to make a HUGE meal for all of us to "celebrate my arrival." For those of you who know me well, here's your chance to be very proud: I ate (and totally enjoyed) tofu cakes along with one of the spiciest things I've ever eaten, called "Julie Girls Carrot Ginger Soupy Soup Soup." It nearly made my head explode, but that would have been rude of me. On the bright side, it totally knocked out the cold I was fighting. Thank you, cayenne flakes and turmeric! (If anyone wants the recipe, let me know -- it was really delicious.) Not to focus on the food too much, but Ashli also "made up" a dessert on the spot -- another apple-y thing similar to what Anne-Jo made -- and I went back for thirds. Proud?
I woke up around 10 today with my borrowed screenwriting book by side, left a thank-you note on the kitchen table (no one else was up yet), and proceeded to explore the rest of Quebec City. My legs are logging a LOT of miles these days. It feels wonderful. I boarded my Montreal-bound bus late this afternoon, exactly as the sky opened up and it began pouring rain. Perfect timing, although even the rain would have had a hard time watering down my mood. I am so genuinely happy here.
Would you care to join me on my Quebec City walking tour? Here are my pictures -- along with captions so you know where we are together.
I arrived in Quebec City via the Orleans Express bus line at about 4 p.m., which meant I had two hours to kill before Fred was scheduled to pick me up at the station. So, I did one of my very favorite things in the world: I explored. With no map in hand, no advice from the tourist desk, and no food in my stomach, I randomly picked a street that looked slightly less traveled than the rest and began my adventure. My first stop was a tiny stone bakery where I purchased a 100% butter croissant for 1.60$. You know if anything's advertised as "100% butter" it's going to provide an out-of-body culinary experience. With that as my fuel for body and mind, I continued to explore for the next two hours, then went back to the train station to meet Fred.
At about 6:10, as I was just starting to wonder whether Fred remembered we'd planned to meet at 6, I saw him sprinting towards me from about half a block away. Given that he's 23 years old and in the film business, it should have occurred to me that "I'll pick you up" does not necessarily imply that he has a car. Turns out that he lives about three miles from the bus station, and he was running late (no pun intended), so he sprinted so as not to keep me waiting too long. He could barely breathe by the time he reached me. I told him I didn't mind waiting and he could have walked - or called my cell phone - but he insisted that he wanted to be on time for me. (Did I mention the people here are nice?) We started walking back to his place and, as seems to be the theme of my trip, we stumbled upon a real live "big budget" movie being filmed on one of the streets. The people in it are famous Canada people. I don't know who the heck they are, but everyone else was very impressed and there was a big crowd. The actors just looked like normal people to me.
I didn't complain, of course, but because I was cold, I'd already walked at least seven miles that day, and my bag was starting to feel really heavy after carrying it all day long, I convinced Fred that we could spend 2.60$ each to take a bus the rest of the way. Once we got back to the apartment, Fred showed me his room (where I'd be staying; he'd take the couch in the living room), and he proudly informed me that he "saved up to buy sheets" before my arrival. I suddenly felt guilty about having asked him to splurge on the bus. In any case, I sincerely appreciated his thoughtfulness and generosity.
We hung out with Barbie (my friend with pink hair) and Ashli, their other roommate from St. Johns, Newfoundland. Ashli is a self-described "hippy hipster" -- and although it's becoming a cliche, she is one of the nicest people I've ever met. Ashli had never met me, of course, yet she took it upon herself to make a HUGE meal for all of us to "celebrate my arrival." For those of you who know me well, here's your chance to be very proud: I ate (and totally enjoyed) tofu cakes along with one of the spiciest things I've ever eaten, called "Julie Girls Carrot Ginger Soupy Soup Soup." It nearly made my head explode, but that would have been rude of me. On the bright side, it totally knocked out the cold I was fighting. Thank you, cayenne flakes and turmeric! (If anyone wants the recipe, let me know -- it was really delicious.) Not to focus on the food too much, but Ashli also "made up" a dessert on the spot -- another apple-y thing similar to what Anne-Jo made -- and I went back for thirds. Proud?
I woke up around 10 today with my borrowed screenwriting book by side, left a thank-you note on the kitchen table (no one else was up yet), and proceeded to explore the rest of Quebec City. My legs are logging a LOT of miles these days. It feels wonderful. I boarded my Montreal-bound bus late this afternoon, exactly as the sky opened up and it began pouring rain. Perfect timing, although even the rain would have had a hard time watering down my mood. I am so genuinely happy here.
Would you care to join me on my Quebec City walking tour? Here are my pictures -- along with captions so you know where we are together.
24 October 2008
Marco!
Polo! I think "Polo" every time I hear someone call Marco's name. It's so tempting to say it, but no one here would know what I'm talking about...not that that's stopped me before.
Today was a day of great success. Here's why:
It was a thoroughly good day filled with success with my projects, delicious food, and entertaining conversation with good company.
I took tomorrow off work (although I'll miss being not paid...oh, never mind)...and am headed to Quebec city to stay with Fred and Barbie. I'm not taking my laptop, so depending when I decide to come back to Montreal, you have either a one- or two-day reprieve from reading my silly little blog.
A bientôt !
Today was a day of great success. Here's why:
- Something clicked between yesterday and today, and I had much better luck making subtitles. Yay! Or as Jules writes in French, Yé!
- Marco's a guy I met my first week here. At that point, I could not understand him at all. Seriously. I saw him again for the first time today, and without missing a beat, we had an entire conversation in his funky dialect of French. We talked for an hour about traveling, politics, and all sorts of things. I am so proud of myself. Again, yé! (Can you tell I like "yé?" It amuses me.)
- Anne-Jo, Francois' blonde, really liked the chocolate chip cookies I baked for her last week. So, she sent Francois to work today with an apple "something" for me. I don't have any idea what else was in it, but it was sooooooooooooo good.
- My friend Mat (short for Mathieu, of course, but here they drop the extra "t" we use in the States) -- anyway, Mat said I could borrow his book on screenwriting. Why not? It could be a fun hobby. (Funny typo - I just re-read this, and I originally typed "could be a fun jobby." That too.) Borrowing the book came at a high price, however...he said I had to peel potatoes.
It was a thoroughly good day filled with success with my projects, delicious food, and entertaining conversation with good company.
I took tomorrow off work (although I'll miss being not paid...oh, never mind)...and am headed to Quebec city to stay with Fred and Barbie. I'm not taking my laptop, so depending when I decide to come back to Montreal, you have either a one- or two-day reprieve from reading my silly little blog.
A bientôt !
22 October 2008
Rent-An-American
That was the subject line of an email Jules sent to Francois today. Francois told me about it and asked me to call Jules to see what he needed. I thought it was funny, so I started the conversation with, "Hi, I hear you need to rent me? Good news -- I am for rent, and I'm cheap today." Turns out he needs me to write English subtitles for about 15 films. Ooh. Daunting.
Remember how I am at taking phone messages? Okaaaay...and they trust me to do subtitles? Bad choice.
Here is an actual excerpt from a film I subtitled today. I re-read this and it cracked me up. Forgive the un-Sarah like profanity (I just write what they tell me to write) -- but that's part of why I find this excerpt funny.
Guy: I don't know what happened to the (something)! (He's yelling too fast - I can't understand him.)
Lisa: (Something else I can't understand because she's yelling too fast) - ...(something...) because I didn't call you! (Note: maybe it's "because I called you!") I don't care what you think! I told you I'm not sleeping with him! He's my brother!
Guy: F-ing bitch.
Lisa: I told you he's my brother! I hope the wind shoots you! (I don't think I'm right about this last part.)
(I decided spelling it out in my blog is too crude for me. You know...it's the F-word. I wrote it out in the movie itself. And the fact that I'm thinking about whether to spell it out in my blog only proves what a total dork I can be. I'm blushing in embarrassment of myself. I need to loosen up. Laugh at me if you will. I welcome it.)
Anyway, I'm getting parts of the films (usually better than this), but it is VERY slow for me...and clearly, someone else will have to help me out. Photoshop was easier. On the bright side, I'm getting much better at taking phone messages, and I'm doing much, much, much better with face-to-face conversations. Almost no problem with that now, regardless of accent/dialect. YAY!
I also bought a hat today, and am finding it crazy-funny that I packed my swimsuit for this trip. According to weather.com, it's 28 degrees right now. Maybe I'll put my swimsuit on and go for a walk.
Remember how I am at taking phone messages? Okaaaay...and they trust me to do subtitles? Bad choice.
Here is an actual excerpt from a film I subtitled today. I re-read this and it cracked me up. Forgive the un-Sarah like profanity (I just write what they tell me to write) -- but that's part of why I find this excerpt funny.
Guy: I don't know what happened to the (something)! (He's yelling too fast - I can't understand him.)
Lisa: (Something else I can't understand because she's yelling too fast) - ...(something...) because I didn't call you! (Note: maybe it's "because I called you!") I don't care what you think! I told you I'm not sleeping with him! He's my brother!
Guy: F-ing bitch.
Lisa: I told you he's my brother! I hope the wind shoots you! (I don't think I'm right about this last part.)
(I decided spelling it out in my blog is too crude for me. You know...it's the F-word. I wrote it out in the movie itself. And the fact that I'm thinking about whether to spell it out in my blog only proves what a total dork I can be. I'm blushing in embarrassment of myself. I need to loosen up. Laugh at me if you will. I welcome it.)
Anyway, I'm getting parts of the films (usually better than this), but it is VERY slow for me...and clearly, someone else will have to help me out. Photoshop was easier. On the bright side, I'm getting much better at taking phone messages, and I'm doing much, much, much better with face-to-face conversations. Almost no problem with that now, regardless of accent/dialect. YAY!
I also bought a hat today, and am finding it crazy-funny that I packed my swimsuit for this trip. According to weather.com, it's 28 degrees right now. Maybe I'll put my swimsuit on and go for a walk.
21 October 2008
Dr. Bruce Banner Gets Angry, Cold, Warm(er)
Here's something I like about Montreal:
The first page of one of the major newspapers is dedicated to good news; specifically, good deeds that strangers have performed for one another. Here are two of today's actual headlines (except for that I've forgotten the names): "Person A rescued Person B from a burning building, and everyone is fine." "Person X stopped traffic to rescue a puppy that had wandered into a busy street, and promptly returned him to his 10-year-old owner." Yay for good news! *Hug* to Montreal.
Here's something I did not like today:
Francois, Jules, and I went out for Chinese at lunch. (I didn't mind that part.) However, for the first time ever, I got a mean fortune cookie. Seriously. Mean. Insulting. I was so mad at it. It should be ashamed of itself. Francois and Jules both got nice fortunes. Tabernacle! Since when are fortune cookies rude? Have you ever gotten a rude fortune cookie? Even worse, when we played the fortune game, it was, like, horribly rude.
Here's something I have to learn to live with while I'm here because it's not bad; it just comes with the territory:
I am becoming a human icicle. For my walk home, it was 43 degrees, but according to weather.com, it "feels like 35." It was pouring rain, sideways. Plus, the wind was so strong it blew my umbrella right out of my hand...twice. I also quickly learned that my waterproof shoes are not at all waterproof.
As a result, I bought an overpriced North Face vest to wear under the other jacket I wore today. That's right--two jackets. I become my own Incredible Hulk when I wear them together (minus the green). And yes, I have a warmer jacket back here at the apartment, but now if I need to, I can wear three jackets. It could happen before my time here is through.
Random note: Doesn't this look like a great place to stay for people who like the cold? I totally want to go there, except for that I don't. I'd need at least seven jackets for it.
The first page of one of the major newspapers is dedicated to good news; specifically, good deeds that strangers have performed for one another. Here are two of today's actual headlines (except for that I've forgotten the names): "Person A rescued Person B from a burning building, and everyone is fine." "Person X stopped traffic to rescue a puppy that had wandered into a busy street, and promptly returned him to his 10-year-old owner." Yay for good news! *Hug* to Montreal.
Here's something I did not like today:
Francois, Jules, and I went out for Chinese at lunch. (I didn't mind that part.) However, for the first time ever, I got a mean fortune cookie. Seriously. Mean. Insulting. I was so mad at it. It should be ashamed of itself. Francois and Jules both got nice fortunes. Tabernacle! Since when are fortune cookies rude? Have you ever gotten a rude fortune cookie? Even worse, when we played the fortune game, it was, like, horribly rude.
Here's something I have to learn to live with while I'm here because it's not bad; it just comes with the territory:
I am becoming a human icicle. For my walk home, it was 43 degrees, but according to weather.com, it "feels like 35." It was pouring rain, sideways. Plus, the wind was so strong it blew my umbrella right out of my hand...twice. I also quickly learned that my waterproof shoes are not at all waterproof.
As a result, I bought an overpriced North Face vest to wear under the other jacket I wore today. That's right--two jackets. I become my own Incredible Hulk when I wear them together (minus the green). And yes, I have a warmer jacket back here at the apartment, but now if I need to, I can wear three jackets. It could happen before my time here is through.
Random note: Doesn't this look like a great place to stay for people who like the cold? I totally want to go there, except for that I don't. I'd need at least seven jackets for it.
20 October 2008
Womanizer
Francois is back to work. My first important task of the day was updating him on all the people who have "hooked up" in the past week -- Jean-Francois and Vanessa, Jules and Lawrence, another Francois and IForgotHerName, and Kate and Marc, among others. I think there's something in the water.
It's not in my water, though, just FYI. Just other people's water. Or wine. Whatever.
This aside, Patrick ("grapes") decided mid-afternoon that it was time for the three of us to take a break. He did this by walking into our office and yelling, "BREAK!" in English, twice -- once to me and once to Francois. Okay. We follow him into his office, where he has Youtube up on his computer. He already showed me this video last week, but he's decided Francois and I both need to watch it with him. Only this time, he dances along. I can't possibly put into words how funny this is to watch, given Patrick's general lack of resemblance to Britney. He's got moves, though. (To my straight male friends who are seeing this video: consider this the counterpart to the link to male models a few weeks ago -- this is as good as it's gonna get from my side.)
This song is now completely stuck in my head, and I keep finding myself dancing to it with my own Britney-like moves. Thank goodness I'm alone. Besides, while I might think my moves are Britney-like, they're probably more Barney-like in actuality. Disappointing.
Otherwise, it was a regular day. Francois asked me to do some things in Photoshop. I said, "Sure!" (Panic: I don't know Photoshop. Why did I say "sure"?) So, I did the responsible thing and checked my personal email, instead. You never know -- one of you might have sent me Photoshop instructions on a whim. I could hope. Eventually, I kinda sorta figured it out, but not entirely. Maybe I'll color him what he wanted. I know how to color...
It's not in my water, though, just FYI. Just other people's water. Or wine. Whatever.
This aside, Patrick ("grapes") decided mid-afternoon that it was time for the three of us to take a break. He did this by walking into our office and yelling, "BREAK!" in English, twice -- once to me and once to Francois. Okay. We follow him into his office, where he has Youtube up on his computer. He already showed me this video last week, but he's decided Francois and I both need to watch it with him. Only this time, he dances along. I can't possibly put into words how funny this is to watch, given Patrick's general lack of resemblance to Britney. He's got moves, though. (To my straight male friends who are seeing this video: consider this the counterpart to the link to male models a few weeks ago -- this is as good as it's gonna get from my side.)
This song is now completely stuck in my head, and I keep finding myself dancing to it with my own Britney-like moves. Thank goodness I'm alone. Besides, while I might think my moves are Britney-like, they're probably more Barney-like in actuality. Disappointing.
Otherwise, it was a regular day. Francois asked me to do some things in Photoshop. I said, "Sure!" (Panic: I don't know Photoshop. Why did I say "sure"?) So, I did the responsible thing and checked my personal email, instead. You never know -- one of you might have sent me Photoshop instructions on a whim. I could hope. Eventually, I kinda sorta figured it out, but not entirely. Maybe I'll color him what he wanted. I know how to color...
19 October 2008
Taking care of myself
Note: sorry about the funky use of color in this post...I can't seem to fix it...hopefully it's just a temporary glitch!!
Anyway...
I have to admit I was lonely Friday and yesterday, which is rare for me. So, today I did something I've not done before. I went to a "MeetIN" event. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the concept, MeetIN is an organization dedicated to helping people who are new to an area meet other people in the same situation. It's specifically advertised as a "non-dating" group that focuses on friendships rather than romantic relationships. Sounds good to me.
I'm so glad I went! We met at a gallery to see Sophie Calle's exhibit, "Prenez soin de vous." This translates to "Take care of yourself." Because the gallery's website explains it better than I could, here's its gist of the exhibit: At the heart of this exhibition is a break-up e-mail that the artist received from a lover, which ends with the line “Take Care of Yourself”. Sophie Calle decided to do just that: “I received an email telling me it was over. I didn’t know how to respond. It was almost as if it hadn’t been meant for me. It ended with the words “Take Care of yourself”. And so I did. I asked 107 women (including two made from wood and one with feathers), chosen for their profession or skills, to interpret this letter. To analyze it, comment on it, dance it, sing it. Dissect it. Exhaust it. Understand it for me. Answer for me. It was a way of taking the time to break up. A way of taking care of myself.”
Contrary to what it might seem, it was not a depressing exhibit at all -- most of it was enlightening, funny, or otherwise cognitively interesting. It was fascinating to see how women in different professions interpreted his same words (the accountant's perspective versus the police officer's perspective versus the poet's perspective, for example). I highly recommend it for both men and women if it ends up in a city near you. (There were plenty of
guys there.)
Afterwards, four of us went to get a beverage. I cannot possibly express how much I enjoyed my white hot chocolate. (Not "white hot" in the temperature sense, although I did lose a couple of taste buds--think white chocolate, hot. Yum! This could be my new vice.) I really got along well with one of the girls, Johanna, so we may get together again. I walked home through old Montreal (here's a pic of Notre Dame Basilica). I'm feeling much less lonely this evening.
By the way, I received an email saying that if I want to stay in this apartment in Montreal until January 5, I can. Hmmm....how badly do I need a paycheck? I probably need the paycheck, but...hmmmm.....
Anyway...
I have to admit I was lonely Friday and yesterday, which is rare for me. So, today I did something I've not done before. I went to a "MeetIN" event. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the concept, MeetIN is an organization dedicated to helping people who are new to an area meet other people in the same situation. It's specifically advertised as a "non-dating" group that focuses on friendships rather than romantic relationships. Sounds good to me.
I'm so glad I went! We met at a gallery to see Sophie Calle's exhibit, "Prenez soin de vous." This translates to "Take care of yourself." Because the gallery's website explains it better than I could, here's its gist of the exhibit: At the heart of this exhibition is a break-up e-mail that the artist received from a lover, which ends with the line “Take Care of Yourself”. Sophie Calle decided to do just that: “I received an email telling me it was over. I didn’t know how to respond. It was almost as if it hadn’t been meant for me. It ended with the words “Take Care of yourself”. And so I did. I asked 107 women (including two made from wood and one with feathers), chosen for their profession or skills, to interpret this letter. To analyze it, comment on it, dance it, sing it. Dissect it. Exhaust it. Understand it for me. Answer for me. It was a way of taking the time to break up. A way of taking care of myself.”
Contrary to what it might seem, it was not a depressing exhibit at all -- most of it was enlightening, funny, or otherwise cognitively interesting. It was fascinating to see how women in different professions interpreted his same words (the accountant's perspective versus the police officer's perspective versus the poet's perspective, for example). I highly recommend it for both men and women if it ends up in a city near you. (There were plenty of
guys there.)Afterwards, four of us went to get a beverage. I cannot possibly express how much I enjoyed my white hot chocolate. (Not "white hot" in the temperature sense, although I did lose a couple of taste buds--think white chocolate, hot. Yum! This could be my new vice.) I really got along well with one of the girls, Johanna, so we may get together again. I walked home through old Montreal (here's a pic of Notre Dame Basilica). I'm feeling much less lonely this evening.
By the way, I received an email saying that if I want to stay in this apartment in Montreal until January 5, I can. Hmmm....how badly do I need a paycheck? I probably need the paycheck, but...hmmmm.....
18 October 2008
My weight in ants
I should never again say, "I'll never do that." Previous real-life examples:
"I would never live in Texas."
"I never want to go to Canada -- it's too cold there."
"There are lots of things I want to do in Montreal, but I will never go to the Insectarium."
Although it was a chilly day (high 40s at best), I decided on a whim to go to the Botanical Gardens. However, when I exited the metro station, I accidentally found the Olympic Village (summer Olympics of 1976), and had to wander a new neighborhood before I succeeded in finding the gardens. Once I found them, I started with...you guessed it, the Insectarium. Not because I wanted to go in there, but because it offered something I needed: heat. I am not accustomed to walking around in the cold, no matter how bundled up I am. Once inside the building, I passed up nearly all the "icky" bugs in search of the so-called butterfly room. Probably because of the exhibit at the Milwaukee Public Museum, I pictured the butterflies being alive in there, but sadly for them, they're not. So, I braved the frigid cold (by my standards) and explored the exterior gardens for several hours. The highlight-- because, let's face it, most of the other plants are cold and dead by now -- was the Magic of Lanterns. It was really, really pretty. I've heard it's even prettier at night, and I considered hanging around outside in the dropping temps (supposed to get down to 27 tonight) waiting for it to get dark, but you know what? I like being warm, and I didn't want to end up cold and dead like the flowers. Lovely image, isn't it?
Here are some pretty pictures of my day if you'd like to take the walk with me from the comfort of your presumably heated room.
On an unrelated note, here's my movie update for you. On a whim last night, I emailed the slimy but handsome actor, Andre, to ask if he had a copy of the script yet. He sent me a long apology saying he got the impression I didn't want to do the "intimate scene" with him (YA THINK?) and they already finished filming last week. He opened the door for continued conversation by sending me a long list of questions, but I'm pretty sure slimy is still slimy. Perhaps they could find a space for him in the Insectarium.
"I would never live in Texas."
"I never want to go to Canada -- it's too cold there."
"There are lots of things I want to do in Montreal, but I will never go to the Insectarium."
Although it was a chilly day (high 40s at best), I decided on a whim to go to the Botanical Gardens. However, when I exited the metro station, I accidentally found the Olympic Village (summer Olympics of 1976), and had to wander a new neighborhood before I succeeded in finding the gardens. Once I found them, I started with...you guessed it, the Insectarium. Not because I wanted to go in there, but because it offered something I needed: heat. I am not accustomed to walking around in the cold, no matter how bundled up I am. Once inside the building, I passed up nearly all the "icky" bugs in search of the so-called butterfly room. Probably because of the exhibit at the Milwaukee Public Museum, I pictured the butterflies being alive in there, but sadly for them, they're not. So, I braved the frigid cold (by my standards) and explored the exterior gardens for several hours. The highlight-- because, let's face it, most of the other plants are cold and dead by now -- was the Magic of Lanterns. It was really, really pretty. I've heard it's even prettier at night, and I considered hanging around outside in the dropping temps (supposed to get down to 27 tonight) waiting for it to get dark, but you know what? I like being warm, and I didn't want to end up cold and dead like the flowers. Lovely image, isn't it?
Here are some pretty pictures of my day if you'd like to take the walk with me from the comfort of your presumably heated room.
On an unrelated note, here's my movie update for you. On a whim last night, I emailed the slimy but handsome actor, Andre, to ask if he had a copy of the script yet. He sent me a long apology saying he got the impression I didn't want to do the "intimate scene" with him (YA THINK?) and they already finished filming last week. He opened the door for continued conversation by sending me a long list of questions, but I'm pretty sure slimy is still slimy. Perhaps they could find a space for him in the Insectarium.
17 October 2008
Normalcy
Some days are more "normal" than others. Today involved going to the post office to pick up an incredibly thoughtful care package from Sarah Brammer (undergrad roommate), heading into work for awhile, coming home, putting on my pajamas long before it was dark outside, and watching the rest of the ridiculous chipmunks movie. (There was nothing else to watch.) It's a very quiet Friday night for me. Besides that, I had a long talk with my Dad. Today's his 60th birthday. I also talked to my Granddad, with whom I've been speaking several times a week ever since my Grandma Kiddy passed away 15 years ago. Granddad has been in and out of the hospital for quite some time now (he's currently "in"). Tonight he referenced the booties they're making him keep on his feet, and felt the need to say, "You know, honey -- booties -- but not the 'shake your booty' variety." Thanks, Granddad. Like I really needed to picture my 86-year-old grandfather shaking his booty... :-/ (I don't know where he would have learned that expression.) By the way, if I've never told you his "thong" story, remind me the next time we talk.
Friends with pink hair
I don't have friends with pink hair in Dallas. Here in Montreal, I do.
Had lunch with my friend Kate today--the Australian actress who's doing her own personal world tour. She had left here a couple of weeks ago to go to New York, Seattle, and Vancouver. However, she was lured back to Montreal by a boy she met briefly while he was visiting Sydney a couple of years ago, but finally really met the last time she was here in his hometown of Montreal. In any case, she and I found a fantastic little pizza restaurant (something I've been craving since my arrival here) and had a wonderful time catching up. She's here for three days before heading on to London, but may end up here again depending what happens with the aforementioned boy. For your viewing pleasure, I've attached a short film of his. I wonder if Kate was his muse for Anika.
This evening, I went to a screening of movies. This was a big one in an opulent old cinema (pictures here). At least 100 people were there (probably more -- I'm guessing kind of like the "how many jelly beans are in the jar" game) -- and it was a huge success. The actor I've written about, Andre, was there with his famous girlfriend, but I resisted the temptation to say hello to them (ha). Afterwards, Barbara (friend with pink hair), Jean-Francois, Vanessa, Mathieu, and several others invited me out to dinner and drinks at an incredible restaurant. They planned to wrap up the night with more drinks and dancing at a UQAM (Universite de Quebec a Montreal) bar, but it was too lame for me, so I left. (Translate: I was more tired than they were.) On the bright side, I've been offered free lodging in Quebec City next weekend by Barbara with the pink hair and her 23-year-old roommate Fred (independently of one another, which is nice), so I'm going to take them up on it.
Had lunch with my friend Kate today--the Australian actress who's doing her own personal world tour. She had left here a couple of weeks ago to go to New York, Seattle, and Vancouver. However, she was lured back to Montreal by a boy she met briefly while he was visiting Sydney a couple of years ago, but finally really met the last time she was here in his hometown of Montreal. In any case, she and I found a fantastic little pizza restaurant (something I've been craving since my arrival here) and had a wonderful time catching up. She's here for three days before heading on to London, but may end up here again depending what happens with the aforementioned boy. For your viewing pleasure, I've attached a short film of his. I wonder if Kate was his muse for Anika.
This evening, I went to a screening of movies. This was a big one in an opulent old cinema (pictures here). At least 100 people were there (probably more -- I'm guessing kind of like the "how many jelly beans are in the jar" game) -- and it was a huge success. The actor I've written about, Andre, was there with his famous girlfriend, but I resisted the temptation to say hello to them (ha). Afterwards, Barbara (friend with pink hair), Jean-Francois, Vanessa, Mathieu, and several others invited me out to dinner and drinks at an incredible restaurant. They planned to wrap up the night with more drinks and dancing at a UQAM (Universite de Quebec a Montreal) bar, but it was too lame for me, so I left. (Translate: I was more tired than they were.) On the bright side, I've been offered free lodging in Quebec City next weekend by Barbara with the pink hair and her 23-year-old roommate Fred (independently of one another, which is nice), so I'm going to take them up on it.
15 October 2008
The boss of me
Today, I had four new bosses. Each of these people assumed I had nothing else going on because Francois is out, so they all contacted me to help them with "just a few things." After I was done, I took a leisurely six-mile walk to unwind, during which a homeless man emphatically and loudly proclaimed that he loves me. I'm touched -- I didn't know he cared. Afterwards, I came home and ate an odd combination of comfort food. I feel better now.
Once again, my walk was unbelievably pretty! The light continues to be perfect. My favorite time of day has always been just slightly before (or right at) dusk, when the sun has that warm, glow-y look. I think it's the combination of that plus the changing colors of the leaves that makes everything so fairytale-like here--not to mention the continued romance of being in a French-speaking town. The pictures really don't do any of this justice, but here they are, anyway.
Once again, my walk was unbelievably pretty! The light continues to be perfect. My favorite time of day has always been just slightly before (or right at) dusk, when the sun has that warm, glow-y look. I think it's the combination of that plus the changing colors of the leaves that makes everything so fairytale-like here--not to mention the continued romance of being in a French-speaking town. The pictures really don't do any of this justice, but here they are, anyway.
14 October 2008
Happy Election Day!
Today is election day in Canada. We're about to get a new President. I don't exactly understand politics here, but I think people are voting among five major parties (conservative, liberal, green, and two others) -- yet everything is still somehow connected to the Queen of England. Her picture is on the cash here and supposedly we're in a "constitutional monarchy." I don't quite get it, so I did a little research online, and learned that there are more than five parties--with no mention of the Queen (at least at this site). I wonder if the "Marijuana Party" is at all related to the "work less" party.
Francois is not working this week, so I'm in charge of the office...scary thought. I only have to go in for an hour or two per day, though, so I should be able to explore quite a bit more. (Maybe this means I'm voting for the "work less" party.)
On days when I have nothing better to write, I'll see if I can find a short film for you to enjoy. This one is simple (and less than two minutes long) but kind of creative.
Francois is not working this week, so I'm in charge of the office...scary thought. I only have to go in for an hour or two per day, though, so I should be able to explore quite a bit more. (Maybe this means I'm voting for the "work less" party.)
On days when I have nothing better to write, I'll see if I can find a short film for you to enjoy. This one is simple (and less than two minutes long) but kind of creative.
13 October 2008
Happy Thanksgiving!
Today is Thanksgiving Day in Canada, so I had the day off work. What would be better than to celebrate the holiday with Jim Chin?
For those of you who don't know Jim, he's a friend I met at Madison freshman year. We met on a Twister board, an
d as the final two contestants on the board
for over an hour, we created the foundation for a truly unique bond. The funny thing is that we have opposite memories about who won. (I'm sure it was me -- did 20 years of ballet not prepare me for a simple Twister game?!) In any case, roughly 16 years after that game, we're still great friends,
and it's really wonderful that he has to be here on business for a few days.
We walked around old Montreal for awhile then had (a non-turkey) Thanksgiving dinner at the Jardin Nelson. Here are some pictures of us looking cold but being happy to see each other.
For those of you who don't know Jim, he's a friend I met at Madison freshman year. We met on a Twister board, an
d as the final two contestants on the board
for over an hour, we created the foundation for a truly unique bond. The funny thing is that we have opposite memories about who won. (I'm sure it was me -- did 20 years of ballet not prepare me for a simple Twister game?!) In any case, roughly 16 years after that game, we're still great friends,
and it's really wonderful that he has to be here on business for a few days.We walked around old Montreal for awhile then had (a non-turkey) Thanksgiving dinner at the Jardin Nelson. Here are some pictures of us looking cold but being happy to see each other.
Awake until 2050
That's what I'll probably be, thanks to an incredible excess of green tea in the last half a day.
My friend Paskal and I decided to get together around 3:30 today, starting at a coffee shop. One cup of tea there. Then we decided to go to the Goethe Institute, but upon arrival, we learned that it was closed. So, we moved on to the Museum of Contemporary Art, instead. By the time we got there, it was scheduled to close in about 20 minutes, so we left there, as well. We were both hungry by then (there was lots of walking involved between these places), so we went to a restaurant in Chinatown. Enter a few more cups of green tea. When it came time to order, however, we learned that they were out of everything we both wanted, including "all vegetables" (how odd), so we left. We tried to get into a second Chinese restaurant, but they were too busy. Third Chinese restaurant -- finally open -- and had vegetables. We ate there, and I, 1) tried imperial rolls for the first time (pretty good), and 2) was "forced" (by Paskal) to use my chopsticks ("batons chinois") instead of my fork and knife. This made for relatively slow eating on my part, but I did my best. Add several cups of green tea here, and I've hit my antioxidant quota for the year. Unfortunately, they didn't offer fortune cookies at the end of the meal. We both wanted them, though, so we found a Chinese grocery store and bought an entire bag of them. We broke all the cookies therein just to get the fortunes. This was a good time.
Afterwards, we tried to hit a movie, but the timing was off. What's with this luck?! So, we ended up at a bar. Upon looking at the clock just now, I realized that we spent almost 12 hours together...but frankly, I'm not sure we accomplished much of anything--other than enough green tea consumption to contribute to insomnia for the next several decades.
My friend Paskal and I decided to get together around 3:30 today, starting at a coffee shop. One cup of tea there. Then we decided to go to the Goethe Institute, but upon arrival, we learned that it was closed. So, we moved on to the Museum of Contemporary Art, instead. By the time we got there, it was scheduled to close in about 20 minutes, so we left there, as well. We were both hungry by then (there was lots of walking involved between these places), so we went to a restaurant in Chinatown. Enter a few more cups of green tea. When it came time to order, however, we learned that they were out of everything we both wanted, including "all vegetables" (how odd), so we left. We tried to get into a second Chinese restaurant, but they were too busy. Third Chinese restaurant -- finally open -- and had vegetables. We ate there, and I, 1) tried imperial rolls for the first time (pretty good), and 2) was "forced" (by Paskal) to use my chopsticks ("batons chinois") instead of my fork and knife. This made for relatively slow eating on my part, but I did my best. Add several cups of green tea here, and I've hit my antioxidant quota for the year. Unfortunately, they didn't offer fortune cookies at the end of the meal. We both wanted them, though, so we found a Chinese grocery store and bought an entire bag of them. We broke all the cookies therein just to get the fortunes. This was a good time.
Afterwards, we tried to hit a movie, but the timing was off. What's with this luck?! So, we ended up at a bar. Upon looking at the clock just now, I realized that we spent almost 12 hours together...but frankly, I'm not sure we accomplished much of anything--other than enough green tea consumption to contribute to insomnia for the next several decades.
11 October 2008
Puff
Before I move to today's adventures, I should let you know that I can check karaoke off my to-do list. You'll be proud to know that--at his special request--I sang "Puff the Magic Dragon" (in English) with a French guy named Jean-Francois last night. It was especially good with his accent and my accent together, and after a fair amount of liquid courage for both of us. And by "good" I mean "terrible." I'm pretty sure I'm gonna get kicked out of Canada for it. Fortunately, I had enough sense to leave the bar before my Madonna solo was called. Madonna? What was I thinking when I put that request in? Granted, I practiced the (to remain nameless) Madonna song, like, 10 million times in my bedroom when I was 12, but yikes! Glad I got out of there and still had some dignity today.
Moving on to tonight's adventures, Jules (a director) invited me to a screening of his films tonight. Even though I was 45 minutes late, I was still among the first to arrive. As an aside, I cannot figure out this punctuality thing...for some events, people arrive 30 minutes early, and for others, it's fine to be two hours late. I always seem to pick the wrong one. In any case, I arrived at the interesting old converted warehouse where the screening was to take place, and didn't know anyone besides Jules. After a few minutes, though, I noticed a rather nice-looking guy looking at me from across the room. A bit later, I noted that he was still looking. Third time, I returned the look and smiled. He smiled back and indicated that I should head over to his side of the room. So I did. He started leaning in for what I presumed was the "nice to meet you" kiss on each cheek. However, as I was leaning in towards his face, he didn't reciprocate and kind of went a different direction... He reached behind me to remove the large tag off the shirt I bought today. My first words to him, in English: "Crap! Thank you."
I can't tell you how many times I reminded myself to cut that stupid tag off today. We chatted for awhile and he ended up being very nice (name's Christophe), and that's the end of that.
The movies were good. Then I came home. I'm pretty sure I've embarrassed myself enough in this 24-hour period.
Moving on to tonight's adventures, Jules (a director) invited me to a screening of his films tonight. Even though I was 45 minutes late, I was still among the first to arrive. As an aside, I cannot figure out this punctuality thing...for some events, people arrive 30 minutes early, and for others, it's fine to be two hours late. I always seem to pick the wrong one. In any case, I arrived at the interesting old converted warehouse where the screening was to take place, and didn't know anyone besides Jules. After a few minutes, though, I noticed a rather nice-looking guy looking at me from across the room. A bit later, I noted that he was still looking. Third time, I returned the look and smiled. He smiled back and indicated that I should head over to his side of the room. So I did. He started leaning in for what I presumed was the "nice to meet you" kiss on each cheek. However, as I was leaning in towards his face, he didn't reciprocate and kind of went a different direction... He reached behind me to remove the large tag off the shirt I bought today. My first words to him, in English: "Crap! Thank you."
I can't tell you how many times I reminded myself to cut that stupid tag off today. We chatted for awhile and he ended up being very nice (name's Christophe), and that's the end of that.
The movies were good. Then I came home. I'm pretty sure I've embarrassed myself enough in this 24-hour period.
10 October 2008
"I want to neglect the remainder of my life with you"
Some of you have used online translation services to send me notes in French, along with questions about how accurate they are. I found this funny little video that will give you some idea. Incidentally, it was made by the same organization I'm working for, but not the Montreal chapter.
Now I have to tell you about one of the very best days of my entire life. I slept in, got up,
went back to bed (why not?), got up (again), then decided: It's Mountain Time. There are no words to accurately describe the feeling I had while climbing the mountain. I'll just say that the sunlight was perhaps the prettiest I've ever seen, the leaves are all perfect Fall colors, and everything smelled good. I heard there are two beautiful cemeteries somewhere on the mountain, but as I was walking towards them, I heard myself think, "Why would I want to see dead people when I'm feeling so alive?" So, I went another direction. I know it sounds silly, and not nearly as silly as if I confessed to you
that I was singing "Born Free" to myself during my ascent, but I felt truly, truly happy all day long.
At the top of the mountain, they have what they call "The Chalet," which is perhaps the prettiest rest stop/scenic outlook on the planet. And they sell poutine. I decided this would be the perfect location for me to try poutine for the first time. I'll admit it looks terrible, and I don't normally even like things that are all "together" like that (I'm a total "on the side" person)...but poutine is good.
Here are pictures of 10,000 trees and a couple of me from my wonderful day.
This would be enough activity for one day, other than that I have two more social offers for the evening. I'm going to start the night singing karaoke (a secret wish of mine, believe it or not!) with Jean-Francois and friends, perhaps followed by dancing later with another group of people. The dancing doesn't start until after 11 p.m. (ouch), so we'll see if I make it...after all, I climbed a mountain today!
Now I have to tell you about one of the very best days of my entire life. I slept in, got up,
went back to bed (why not?), got up (again), then decided: It's Mountain Time. There are no words to accurately describe the feeling I had while climbing the mountain. I'll just say that the sunlight was perhaps the prettiest I've ever seen, the leaves are all perfect Fall colors, and everything smelled good. I heard there are two beautiful cemeteries somewhere on the mountain, but as I was walking towards them, I heard myself think, "Why would I want to see dead people when I'm feeling so alive?" So, I went another direction. I know it sounds silly, and not nearly as silly as if I confessed to you
that I was singing "Born Free" to myself during my ascent, but I felt truly, truly happy all day long.At the top of the mountain, they have what they call "The Chalet," which is perhaps the prettiest rest stop/scenic outlook on the planet. And they sell poutine. I decided this would be the perfect location for me to try poutine for the first time. I'll admit it looks terrible, and I don't normally even like things that are all "together" like that (I'm a total "on the side" person)...but poutine is good.
Here are pictures of 10,000 trees and a couple of me from my wonderful day.
09 October 2008
"Fresh like a flower"
...is what Jules tells me he smells like after finally being able to take a shower today. I have no idea where these French guys learn these expressions, but they crack me up.
Francois didn't show up for work this morning. So, I bought some postcards and went to the National Library of Quebec. Checked back at work - still no Francois. So, I explored the neighborhood some more. Went back to work - still no Francois. Fortunately, this time, the main door to the building was unlocked. Patrick ("grapes"), who shares the office adjacent to Francois, let me into my area. Upon checking my email, I learned that Francois' blonde, who's five months pregnant, had to be admitted to the hospital last night due to a fever and contractions. Not good. Aside from the obvious concern I have for them (no prognosis for the baby yet), it also hit me that Francois mentioned another proposal that we were scheduled to start--and finish--today. He's clearly not coming in, so it's up to me. I called two of the guys I know who might know something about it, and fortunately, they both rushed to the rescue. Together, we wrote, assembled, and delivered the proposal with exactly one minute to spare. It had to be hand delivered, and the lady who was to receive it was literally walking out the door when we got there. And here I thought I was safe from this kind of work outside the walls of AT&T...ugh!
The funny thing in all of this is that every time the phone rang, I answered it (hesitantly!) -- and probably due to adrenaline, I understood people pretty well. Odd!
I took about a three-mile walk after work to unwind, and I'm much better now, thank you very much. (After writing all that, I just realized that no one probably wants to read about this kind of work thing. I'll skip writing on days like this, going forward.) :) I'm hoping to have some good stories after this weekend.
Francois didn't show up for work this morning. So, I bought some postcards and went to the National Library of Quebec. Checked back at work - still no Francois. So, I explored the neighborhood some more. Went back to work - still no Francois. Fortunately, this time, the main door to the building was unlocked. Patrick ("grapes"), who shares the office adjacent to Francois, let me into my area. Upon checking my email, I learned that Francois' blonde, who's five months pregnant, had to be admitted to the hospital last night due to a fever and contractions. Not good. Aside from the obvious concern I have for them (no prognosis for the baby yet), it also hit me that Francois mentioned another proposal that we were scheduled to start--and finish--today. He's clearly not coming in, so it's up to me. I called two of the guys I know who might know something about it, and fortunately, they both rushed to the rescue. Together, we wrote, assembled, and delivered the proposal with exactly one minute to spare. It had to be hand delivered, and the lady who was to receive it was literally walking out the door when we got there. And here I thought I was safe from this kind of work outside the walls of AT&T...ugh!
The funny thing in all of this is that every time the phone rang, I answered it (hesitantly!) -- and probably due to adrenaline, I understood people pretty well. Odd!
I took about a three-mile walk after work to unwind, and I'm much better now, thank you very much. (After writing all that, I just realized that no one probably wants to read about this kind of work thing. I'll skip writing on days like this, going forward.) :) I'm hoping to have some good stories after this weekend.
08 October 2008
The mountain mocks me
Starting the day as errand girl (love it!), I had to take a bus across town. Of course, the bus took me right past the elusive mountain. Although I still couldn't climb it today, I now know how to get to it: walk just over one kilometer (about a mile) from my apartment to the metro station, take the green line south, get off at Place-des-Arts, take the #80 bus about two miles (was it north or south?) up Avenue du Parc, then ascend. Piece of cake, huh? (Um, no.) I'm going to try again on Friday since it's supposed to be a balmy 17 degrees (that's 63 Fahrenheit). Wish me luck.
Francois' favorite thing to have me do is check messages in voice mail. He does this for his own amusement because he knows I can't understand the dialect well in person, much less on the phone when there's no context. It's kind of become a running joke between us. I hand him post-it notes with messages like this: "Jean-Francois (?) (couldn't get the last name) called. His number is 514-842-??03. He wanted something, but I don't know what." Francois finds this so very funny. I do, too. I have to be able to laugh at myself. Fortunately, he actually let me read (and edit!) his proposal today and do some other "real" work, so I was able to add some actual value. In fact, we've accomplished so much that he's decided that our office is closed this Friday (hence my planned return to the mountain). He's the boss, so if he says work's canceled, work's canceled!
Funny little linguistic notes for you:
Francois' favorite thing to have me do is check messages in voice mail. He does this for his own amusement because he knows I can't understand the dialect well in person, much less on the phone when there's no context. It's kind of become a running joke between us. I hand him post-it notes with messages like this: "Jean-Francois (?) (couldn't get the last name) called. His number is 514-842-??03. He wanted something, but I don't know what." Francois finds this so very funny. I do, too. I have to be able to laugh at myself. Fortunately, he actually let me read (and edit!) his proposal today and do some other "real" work, so I was able to add some actual value. In fact, we've accomplished so much that he's decided that our office is closed this Friday (hence my planned return to the mountain). He's the boss, so if he says work's canceled, work's canceled!
Funny little linguistic notes for you:
- In Quebec French, if you have a girlfriend, you call her your "blonde" -- regardless of hair color. (People rarely marry here even when children are involved, so calling someone your "blonde" is the way to indicate it's serious.)
- If you have a serious boyfriend, you call him your "chum."
07 October 2008
Will work for donuts
I love it when Francois asks me to be "errand girl." This means I get to explore more areas
of the city. Today, he sent me to Old Montreal (which I've seen once before but love it) and some other interesting places. (Apparently I'm not into details tonight). Here are pictures from my errand running: a random pretty building in the middle of town, a daycare group walking through Chinatown (I kept ending up behind herds of little kids everywhere I went today), and a free-standing building that's an ice cream shop.
I'm helping Francois put together a proposal for a grant. If only I
knew anything about proposals...but he won't let me help, other than to put the paper in the binders. I find this funny since it's only the second proposal he's ever written, and I've done, um, probably too many. Proposal writing is the one thing I could actually do competently here...but okay, whatever!
Towards the end of the day, Mathieu Drouin (director) stopped by the office to ask me if I could help him add English subtitles to his film. One day last week when we were running errands together,
we stopped at a Tim Horton's for lunch. It's the equivalent of a Dunkin' Donuts in the States, except for that you buy lunch and the donut of your choice comes with it. Long story short, he remembered which kind of donut is my favorite (Boston Creme), and came equipped with one as payment for my subtitling assistance. Thoughtful! He also invited me to a party this Friday, but he "might not be there." Huh?
of the city. Today, he sent me to Old Montreal (which I've seen once before but love it) and some other interesting places. (Apparently I'm not into details tonight). Here are pictures from my errand running: a random pretty building in the middle of town, a daycare group walking through Chinatown (I kept ending up behind herds of little kids everywhere I went today), and a free-standing building that's an ice cream shop.I'm helping Francois put together a proposal for a grant. If only I
knew anything about proposals...but he won't let me help, other than to put the paper in the binders. I find this funny since it's only the second proposal he's ever written, and I've done, um, probably too many. Proposal writing is the one thing I could actually do competently here...but okay, whatever!Towards the end of the day, Mathieu Drouin (director) stopped by the office to ask me if I could help him add English subtitles to his film. One day last week when we were running errands together,
we stopped at a Tim Horton's for lunch. It's the equivalent of a Dunkin' Donuts in the States, except for that you buy lunch and the donut of your choice comes with it. Long story short, he remembered which kind of donut is my favorite (Boston Creme), and came equipped with one as payment for my subtitling assistance. Thoughtful! He also invited me to a party this Friday, but he "might not be there." Huh?
06 October 2008
Texas Hold 'Em for Dummies
I'm regressing. Rather than getting better at French, I'm getting worse. I can no longer understand people I could understand perfectly a few weeks ago. I'm messing up even the most simple sentences and misunderstanding the most basic commands (much to my boss' dismay, I'm sure). I don't know what's happening. It's like my brain has shut off the language. I'm not giving up (of course not!), but I really hope my brain gets back in gear soon!
A couple of you have asked about Andre, the actor who wants me to be in the movie with him. He's very persistent...he's now asking me to dinner, sending me more flirtatious instant messages, and so forth. It's flattering, of course -- but I don't wanna, so I'm not gonna. I agree he's not hard on the eyes, but I'm just not interested. Francois counseled me to ask him how "Suzanne" is doing next time he asks me out. No update on the movie yet.
In another totally random tangent, please refrain from sharing my blog address with others. Someone (I know who) mentioned it to someone else, and it made for an awkward email about my private life in Dallas. Remember -- there are often far fewer than six degrees of separation, and I really don't want Kevin Bacon to know about my personal life. :)
On my way home from work tonight, I saw the detached cover of a "Texas Hold 'Em for Dummies" book on the sidewalk. It's always funny to see anything "Texas" when I'm so far from it.
A couple of you have asked about Andre, the actor who wants me to be in the movie with him. He's very persistent...he's now asking me to dinner, sending me more flirtatious instant messages, and so forth. It's flattering, of course -- but I don't wanna, so I'm not gonna. I agree he's not hard on the eyes, but I'm just not interested. Francois counseled me to ask him how "Suzanne" is doing next time he asks me out. No update on the movie yet.
In another totally random tangent, please refrain from sharing my blog address with others. Someone (I know who) mentioned it to someone else, and it made for an awkward email about my private life in Dallas. Remember -- there are often far fewer than six degrees of separation, and I really don't want Kevin Bacon to know about my personal life. :)
On my way home from work tonight, I saw the detached cover of a "Texas Hold 'Em for Dummies" book on the sidewalk. It's always funny to see anything "Texas" when I'm so far from it.
05 October 2008
Nancy Drew and The Case of the Missing Mountain
Because I'd been little more than a bump on a log yesterday, I decided to explore more of Montreal today. My mission: Climb the Mountain. For those of you who may be geographically and/or topographically impaired like me, Montreal is a relatively flat city on a small island. The only exception to its flatness is a single mountain. Since I'd been unsuccessful in walking all the way to the mountain my first weekend here, and I've since figured out the metro system, I decided to take the metro there. According to the mountain's website (yes, the mountain blogs, just like me), you can take really "any street" to get there once you're in the vicinity.
I took the metro to a stop called Place-des-Arts. Sounded like a nice stop to me. As the name implied, this stop planted me smack dab in the middle of the arts district and right at the Museum of Contemporary Art. Good to know--but not for today! I exited the station and looked around. While I didn't see the mountain, I did see a political rally going on right outside. Like the U.S., Canada is in the middle of elections. They vote next week, I think. The political rally was for people against Harper. I'm not 100% sure, but I think Harper is the leader of the conservative party. I listened for a couple of minutes (plenty of harsh references to Bush, interestingly), then I moved on in search of the mountain.
Several blocks later and still no mountain. I'm not even sure whether I'm walking towards or away from it, but I've happened upon what appears to be the Best Shopping District on the Planet, so I continue to walk down this busy street. At every corner, I think, "Heeeere, mountain, mountain, mountain...come out, come out wherever you are..." but it doesn't want to play. How can I be missing an entire mountain?
Finally, I found it. It's at the corner of Banana Republic (that's how I'll remember how to get there). I walked up the street towards it. Interestingly, this lands me at McGill University. I'd
been wondering where that was. I decided to walk through the campus. It's beautiful , and right at the base of the mountain. Unfortunately, once I got all the way to where the mountain starts, I noted a large wall that separates the mountain from everything else.
Because this city's still new to me, I didn't want to take too many side streets trying to find my way past this wall, lest I should lose my way back to the subway station and end up wandering the streets forever. So, I let the mountain win once again. I walked back through the shops, stopped in a beautiful church and peacefully listened to the choir for awhile, then made my way home.
I promise you: I will climb this mountain before I leave Montreal. It can run, but it cannot hide. (Except for when it hides.)
Here are some more pictures from my walk today.
I took the metro to a stop called Place-des-Arts. Sounded like a nice stop to me. As the name implied, this stop planted me smack dab in the middle of the arts district and right at the Museum of Contemporary Art. Good to know--but not for today! I exited the station and looked around. While I didn't see the mountain, I did see a political rally going on right outside. Like the U.S., Canada is in the middle of elections. They vote next week, I think. The political rally was for people against Harper. I'm not 100% sure, but I think Harper is the leader of the conservative party. I listened for a couple of minutes (plenty of harsh references to Bush, interestingly), then I moved on in search of the mountain.
Several blocks later and still no mountain. I'm not even sure whether I'm walking towards or away from it, but I've happened upon what appears to be the Best Shopping District on the Planet, so I continue to walk down this busy street. At every corner, I think, "Heeeere, mountain, mountain, mountain...come out, come out wherever you are..." but it doesn't want to play. How can I be missing an entire mountain?
Finally, I found it. It's at the corner of Banana Republic (that's how I'll remember how to get there). I walked up the street towards it. Interestingly, this lands me at McGill University. I'd
been wondering where that was. I decided to walk through the campus. It's beautiful , and right at the base of the mountain. Unfortunately, once I got all the way to where the mountain starts, I noted a large wall that separates the mountain from everything else.Because this city's still new to me, I didn't want to take too many side streets trying to find my way past this wall, lest I should lose my way back to the subway station and end up wandering the streets forever. So, I let the mountain win once again. I walked back through the shops, stopped in a beautiful church and peacefully listened to the choir for awhile, then made my way home.
I promise you: I will climb this mountain before I leave Montreal. It can run, but it cannot hide. (Except for when it hides.)
Here are some more pictures from my walk today.
04 October 2008
Loonies, Toonies, and Lions (Oh My!)
I never finished watching the Chipmunks movie last night -- that opening scene was all I could take (although it did actually cheer me up considerably due to its sheer lunacy). And I've been singing that song all day long today.
I woke up with a sore throat, body aches, and chills this morning, but fortunately, Francois had told me to come in "around 1 p.m." Not bad for a Friday start time. What I didn't realize, however, is that my day would go straight until 3 a.m., and that I'd be "ticket counter girl" for a screening of films tonight at the Lion d'Or. This is not an easy job when I have a line full of Quebec French people giving me loonies and toonies and cash, and I'm trying to understand both their dialect and their monetary system. I'm pretty sure I gave one guy 22$ in change for his 20$.
What this job did afford me, however, was an opportunity to greet everyone who attended. Long story short, I spoke with Patrick ("grapes") about a feature film he's written for which he's just received funding. (So many of these people are really serious about the film industry, and actually succeeding in it.) Later, my friend Paskal showed up (neither of us knew the other would be there), and after the films, we departed. We walked a couple of miles in 40-degree temps with 20 mph winds, in search of another game of pockets. Good times, despite the cold. And my pockets game is improving.
My new friend Ariane has invited me to see an Andy Warhol exhibit tomorrow afternoon. While I'm not exactly a Warhol fan, she's incredibly nice (like just about everyone I've met in Montreal), and I sincerely appreciate the offer to do something social. Who knows -- since my perspective on many other things appears to be changing in Canada -- maybe I'll discover that even I like Warhol better here. Or not.
At the very least, I'm developing a solid social network of wonderfully warm, funny, intelligent, and interesting people. Canadian people. I like this.
I woke up with a sore throat, body aches, and chills this morning, but fortunately, Francois had told me to come in "around 1 p.m." Not bad for a Friday start time. What I didn't realize, however, is that my day would go straight until 3 a.m., and that I'd be "ticket counter girl" for a screening of films tonight at the Lion d'Or. This is not an easy job when I have a line full of Quebec French people giving me loonies and toonies and cash, and I'm trying to understand both their dialect and their monetary system. I'm pretty sure I gave one guy 22$ in change for his 20$.
What this job did afford me, however, was an opportunity to greet everyone who attended. Long story short, I spoke with Patrick ("grapes") about a feature film he's written for which he's just received funding. (So many of these people are really serious about the film industry, and actually succeeding in it.) Later, my friend Paskal showed up (neither of us knew the other would be there), and after the films, we departed. We walked a couple of miles in 40-degree temps with 20 mph winds, in search of another game of pockets. Good times, despite the cold. And my pockets game is improving.
My new friend Ariane has invited me to see an Andy Warhol exhibit tomorrow afternoon. While I'm not exactly a Warhol fan, she's incredibly nice (like just about everyone I've met in Montreal), and I sincerely appreciate the offer to do something social. Who knows -- since my perspective on many other things appears to be changing in Canada -- maybe I'll discover that even I like Warhol better here. Or not.
At the very least, I'm developing a solid social network of wonderfully warm, funny, intelligent, and interesting people. Canadian people. I like this.
02 October 2008
Getting my squeak on
Everyone here says the best way to acclimate to the Quebec accent is to watch more TV. I'm trying, but about four days ago, I pushed "something" on one of my five remotes that rendered my TV completely useless. I can still watch DVDs, but for the life of me, I cannot figure out which combination of buttons I push--on which of the five remotes--in which order--to make the plain ol' TV work again.
Today was my first truly frustrating day in Montreal.
Francois asks me to listen to the voice mail messages at the office. I can't understand them. Francois asks me to build an Excel workbook full of information. But I can't find the information. I finally find some of the information, and Excel crashes before I'd saved the document. I start over...and the document crashes again. Francois asks me to run up to the local copy shop, and when I get there, the copy shop guy can't open the CD I gave him of files to print--so I have to return empty-handed to Francois. I am feeling totally incompetent. Useless. Deflated. Discouraged.
The day continues like this until I return from a break down the hall, to find that Karl has come to the office to see Francois. Seeing Karl's friendly face is all it takes for me to feel better. I stop working and decide that watching Karl talk is the best way for me to learn Quebec French. Karl makes me laugh. I feel like I'm 12 (giggle). Honestly, since when am I this immature? Karl leaves, and I go back to being 34; and feeling 110. Sigh. (For the record, I'm not actually "interested" in Karl -- I feel the need to point that out. I just enjoy looking at him. And talking to him. Whatever.)
Before I left for the day, Patrick, AKA "He Who Brings Me Grapes," offered me a movie to watch since I'm stuck with movies instead of TV. It's Alvin and the Chipmunks (in French). It says "Get your squeak on" across the top of the DVD. In lieu of watching TV, I am going to improve my French by watching dubbed-over, rapping chipmunks. Somebody shoot me.
***
Update an hour later: For anyone who hasn't seen the Chipmunks movie (you haven't?!), the opening scene begins with this song about having a bad day. I'm not taking myself so seriously anymore today. Thank you, O Wise Chipmunks.
Today was my first truly frustrating day in Montreal.
Francois asks me to listen to the voice mail messages at the office. I can't understand them. Francois asks me to build an Excel workbook full of information. But I can't find the information. I finally find some of the information, and Excel crashes before I'd saved the document. I start over...and the document crashes again. Francois asks me to run up to the local copy shop, and when I get there, the copy shop guy can't open the CD I gave him of files to print--so I have to return empty-handed to Francois. I am feeling totally incompetent. Useless. Deflated. Discouraged.
The day continues like this until I return from a break down the hall, to find that Karl has come to the office to see Francois. Seeing Karl's friendly face is all it takes for me to feel better. I stop working and decide that watching Karl talk is the best way for me to learn Quebec French. Karl makes me laugh. I feel like I'm 12 (giggle). Honestly, since when am I this immature? Karl leaves, and I go back to being 34; and feeling 110. Sigh. (For the record, I'm not actually "interested" in Karl -- I feel the need to point that out. I just enjoy looking at him. And talking to him. Whatever.)
Before I left for the day, Patrick, AKA "He Who Brings Me Grapes," offered me a movie to watch since I'm stuck with movies instead of TV. It's Alvin and the Chipmunks (in French). It says "Get your squeak on" across the top of the DVD. In lieu of watching TV, I am going to improve my French by watching dubbed-over, rapping chipmunks. Somebody shoot me.
***
Update an hour later: For anyone who hasn't seen the Chipmunks movie (you haven't?!), the opening scene begins with this song about having a bad day. I'm not taking myself so seriously anymore today. Thank you, O Wise Chipmunks.
01 October 2008
Priorities
I shared last night's story with my dad, and he's concerned about Paskal's offer to be my tour guide. He said "Paskal" sounds too much like "Rascal" -- even though I assured him that the emphasis is on the second syllable, and that there's no reason to worry. So, from now on, I'll be spending time with "Dottie," "Mildred," "Dorothy," and "Eleanor." Pas...I mean "Dottie" did get back to me last night, by the way.
Since Francois was kind enough to give me the day off today, I spent it relaxing. Kate (the Australian actress) and I got together for awhile at a beautiful outdoor market. She drank coffee, I drank tea, we both ate chocolate, and it was a lovely day of girltalk. We have a lot in common, so I'm sorry to see her go. She leaves tomorrow to go to New York City for three days, then she's heading to Seattle and Vancouver to check them out. Afterwards, she's flying back to London, where her dad lives. She's had a year of major changes, and has been roaming the globe since March trying to figure out where she's going to "land." We both agree that time appears to be speeding up, so it's important that we (and you, and everyone) spend time doing things we're passionate about, with people who inspire us. That sounds right to me.
Since Francois was kind enough to give me the day off today, I spent it relaxing. Kate (the Australian actress) and I got together for awhile at a beautiful outdoor market. She drank coffee, I drank tea, we both ate chocolate, and it was a lovely day of girltalk. We have a lot in common, so I'm sorry to see her go. She leaves tomorrow to go to New York City for three days, then she's heading to Seattle and Vancouver to check them out. Afterwards, she's flying back to London, where her dad lives. She's had a year of major changes, and has been roaming the globe since March trying to figure out where she's going to "land." We both agree that time appears to be speeding up, so it's important that we (and you, and everyone) spend time doing things we're passionate about, with people who inspire us. That sounds right to me.
30 September 2008
If he could see me right now...
Up until a few minutes ago, it was a normal day of office-y / housework-y stuff. I did, however, learn that my "hair in the wind" movie is one of only a short few that IS going to make it onto the official DVD of the short films from last week. They threw out many of the others, but kept that one. Yay...I think!
I have to tell you this, no matter how unattractive it may make me sound. (We're friends and I'm hoping you like me anyway.) I'm sitting here doing desperately-needed laundry, wearing (gasp) blue, white, and yellow striped pajama pants and a pink, green, and brown flowery shirt that I wore to work today. I'm a clashy colorful explosion (clashy, not classy)! I have Clearasil on part of my face, and a tummy full of mac and cheese and chocolate milk. (Really, I rarely eat like this...but it's cold tonight and this combo sounded good.) Oh, and I called Paskal (from Saturday's pockets/poutine) earlier tonight and left him a message indicating that I'd like to take him up on his offer to be my tour guide of Montreal. I keep checking my phone, but he hasn't returned my call yet. Maybe the message didn't record. Maybe the sound cut out as I left my phone number...I really have to stop checking my phone...
Okay, keep this less-than-flattering image of me in mind as I continue...
So, as I sit here feeling entirely ho-hum, I hear my Facebook window "click" with a new instant message. I figure it's Shelley or somebody like that. I look, and much to my surprise, it's an actor named Andre, who's in the "hair in the wind" movie with me. We didn't really speak at all the day of that shooting, other than introductions, and he paid me a nice compliment. Yesterday, he sent me an email (via Facebook) asking if I'm still in town for awhile. I heard he has a girlfriend, though, so I didn't
reciprocate at all. I told a couple of the guys at work about the email. They were shocked. Little did I know, he's a relatively famous actor in Canada! I looked online, and lo and behold, he's all over the place -- he's even done a couple of successful TV series here, among other things. Famous or not famous, though, I'm not looking to play a "personal supporting role" with an actor who's already in a committed relationship. That'd be slimy. Here's a picture of him that I found online.
Back to my story. I hear the click of an instant message, and it's him. Here's the conversation. Forgive me for keeping it in French...I'll translate...the French is just for my own record-keeping so I can look back at this someday and laugh.
Andre
7:22pm Andre
I PROMISE you I will never in my life do an "intimate" scene beyond anything I'd feel comfortable having my parents watch. And my Granddad. And you. I don't even know if I'll do this at all. Contrary to what my must-have-been-possessed fingers typed, I am not an actress, even "a little." I work at the phone company.
I have to tell you this, no matter how unattractive it may make me sound. (We're friends and I'm hoping you like me anyway.) I'm sitting here doing desperately-needed laundry, wearing (gasp) blue, white, and yellow striped pajama pants and a pink, green, and brown flowery shirt that I wore to work today. I'm a clashy colorful explosion (clashy, not classy)! I have Clearasil on part of my face, and a tummy full of mac and cheese and chocolate milk. (Really, I rarely eat like this...but it's cold tonight and this combo sounded good.) Oh, and I called Paskal (from Saturday's pockets/poutine) earlier tonight and left him a message indicating that I'd like to take him up on his offer to be my tour guide of Montreal. I keep checking my phone, but he hasn't returned my call yet. Maybe the message didn't record. Maybe the sound cut out as I left my phone number...I really have to stop checking my phone...
Okay, keep this less-than-flattering image of me in mind as I continue...
So, as I sit here feeling entirely ho-hum, I hear my Facebook window "click" with a new instant message. I figure it's Shelley or somebody like that. I look, and much to my surprise, it's an actor named Andre, who's in the "hair in the wind" movie with me. We didn't really speak at all the day of that shooting, other than introductions, and he paid me a nice compliment. Yesterday, he sent me an email (via Facebook) asking if I'm still in town for awhile. I heard he has a girlfriend, though, so I didn't
reciprocate at all. I told a couple of the guys at work about the email. They were shocked. Little did I know, he's a relatively famous actor in Canada! I looked online, and lo and behold, he's all over the place -- he's even done a couple of successful TV series here, among other things. Famous or not famous, though, I'm not looking to play a "personal supporting role" with an actor who's already in a committed relationship. That'd be slimy. Here's a picture of him that I found online.Back to my story. I hear the click of an instant message, and it's him. Here's the conversation. Forgive me for keeping it in French...I'll translate...the French is just for my own record-keeping so I can look back at this someday and laugh.
Andre
Sarah serais-tu à l'aise de faire ma girlfriend dans un short film? (Translation: Sarah would you be comfortable playing my girlfriend in a short film?)
7:22pmSarah
Salut Andre. Qu'est-ce que ca veut dire exactemment? :) (Translation: Hi Andre. What does that mean exactly?)
7:22pm Andre
lollll
7:25pm Andre
Un de mes amis doit finaliser un scénario de court métrage... Et je vais avoir une copine dans le film... Es-tu comédienne un peu... Peut-être que ça t'intéresse simplement pas !! (Translation: One of my friends is finalizing a script for a short film... And I'm going to have a girlfriend in the film...Are you a bit of an actress...Maybe that interests you a little!!)
7:26pmSarah
Oui, je suis comedienne "un peu". (Translation: Yes, I'm an actress "a little.") (Internal note: Am I? Since when?)
7:26pm Andre
loll
Est-ce que ça peut t'intéresser (Translation: Might this interest you?)
7:28pmSarah
Tu sais que je n'ai pas d'accent quebecois...c'est plutot francais/americain... mais si ca ne te derange pas...oui, peut-etre, apres avoir lu le scenario... tu me flattes. (Translation: You know I don't have a Quebec accent...it's more French/American...but if that wouldn't bother you...yes, maybe, after having read the script...You flatter me.)
7:29pm Andre
ok je te reviens la-dessus... Je crois qu'il y a cependant une scène intime... Anyway je te ferai lire. Tu me diras si ça t'intéresse!! je t'ai trouvé très naturelle, charmante et jolie. bonne soirée !! x (Translation: OK I'll get back to you about it later...I think, however, there is an intimate scene...Anyway I'll let you read it. You'll tell me if it interests you. I found you very natural, charming, and pretty. Have a nice evening. x)
7:31pmSarah
Merci beaucoup. :)
(Translation: Thanks a lot.) (Internal note: Remember how I look right now? I am laughing out loud in super, extreme embarrassment and humility...I am SO not whatever he thinks I am...this cannot possibly be happening...blush, blush, blush...)
I PROMISE you I will never in my life do an "intimate" scene beyond anything I'd feel comfortable having my parents watch. And my Granddad. And you. I don't even know if I'll do this at all. Contrary to what my must-have-been-possessed fingers typed, I am not an actress, even "a little." I work at the phone company.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)