That Proposition 8 is back on California's political agenda is good, but that this is even still an issue blows my mind. Especially in a state such as California, which is regarded as one of the more liberal, forward-thinking states, it amazes me that the "threat to marriage" the overturning of Prop 8 presents has resulted in such an uproar by religious fanatics and their supporters.
The Protect Marriage group filed an appeal to Prop 8 being overturned. Protect Marriage? Are you kidding me? What exactly are you protecting? A 50% failure rate? A hetero couple's right to get hitched on a whim while drunk in Vegas? A woman going on her fourth nuptials? "Marriage is sacred." Not anymore, it isn't.
People that infringe on others' basic human rights are insecure cowards. If the biggest "contribution" you can make in your life is denying gays the right to legally declare their love and commitment and obtain the same protection that marriage offers straight couples, then you are a worthless human being.
This is a religious debate, hands down. I guess that "freedom of religion" bit is just to be ignored.
The only argument in favour of Prop 8 that makes even a remote shred of sense (but don't take that to mean I agree with it; I'm just playing Devil's advocate) is the argument that children should be brought up in a home with a mother and a father. This argument would all be fine and dandy, if Protect Marriage were also fighting against single parent homes, divorces, parenting by family members that are not technically the child(ren)'s parents (e.g.: grandparents, aunts, uncles, older siblings, Joey and uncle Jesse on Full House, etc) and any other marriage that by their definition isn't a "real" marriage.
How on earth did they come to the conclusion that a child being raised by two parents of the same sex is bad? Show me evidence that a child whose upbringing was by two men or two women has any less chance of success in life, whose social skills are hindered, who will be rejected and shunned by their peers.
This debate absolutely infuriates me. Granting gays the right to marry is akin to letting blacks sit wherever they want on the bus. Are we going to revisit the racial segregation debate? No, of course not, because thinking that people of one colour are somehow superior to those of another colour is foolish and misinformed, and any reasonable person will wholeheartedly agree with this. So how is the gay marriage debate any different?
Logical, sensible people - religious or otherwise - will recognize that allowing same-sex marriages poses no threat to their own "traditional" marriages, and will support that basic rights and freedoms be afforded to everyone, regardless of the gender of their partner.
I'm even pro-polygamy, if it weren't a fast track to minor girls being exploited (I'm looking at you, Bountiful). It's not for me, but if it works for others, why would I give a damn about it?
It's just love, guys. You're just denying the right to love and be loved in a way that's formally recognized.
You know what this planet needs more of?
Love.
So why are we arguing against it? I don't get it.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Get Your Paps, Ladies!
I volunteer at Options for Sexual Health in Mission as a receptionist and methods counsellor. It's two hours a week that's usually a fun-filled opportunity to catch up with the other volunteers, some of whom I've become very close with over the years (I've been there since 2002), and it's a way to give back that helps the whole community.
Any organization that helps prevent unwanted pregnancy, quells the spread of sexually transmitted infections, and promotes sexual health is an organization that I stand behind. We are contributing to fewer teen moms (sorry MTV), fewer cases of STIs, and early detection of cervical issues, including cervical cancer.
People have always has misconceptions about OPT, especially when it was under its former name Planned Parenthood. It seems to conjure up images of hungover girls buying Plan B after an ill-prepared night out, or of a stream of women getting their third or fourth or tenth abortions. While we do offer emergency contraceptives, and we will discuss all options (parenthood, adoption, abortion – we're pro-choice!) with clients whose pregnancy tests come back positive, the majority of our clients are young (16-25) women who understand the importance of taking care of themselves, and recognize that prevention is the best route.
Of course we do get the oh-my-god-what-have-I-done types, but who hasn't had a lapse in judgment? I dare you to show me a single girl whose never forgotten to take her birth control.
Much like how our clinic is sometimes grossly misunderstood, so are pap smears. It's mild discomfort at its worst, and the whole exam takes less than five minutes. You're dressed and done before you know it!
Donating blood is more uncomfortable and takes longer than a pap test. I would know, as I used to donate, up until those bastards told me I was "too anaemic to donate." Pfft. Plucking your eyebrows is more painful than a pap. Seriously, sitting there naked save for a paper blanket with your knees apart is the worst part. I promise.
A few weeks ago, a young (I believe she was only 22) client of ours came in, and mentioned the results of her pap. It showed abnormal and possibly pre-cancerous cells, and she was headed back in for additional tests. She was calm, cool and collected, because knowing there might be a problem this early on means she's going to have it taken care of before it has a chance to develop into a real issue.
And yet, people are still arguing that women don't need to get paps until they're in their thirties. If our 22-year-old client had heeded that advice and waited eight years to get her first pap? She might not have even made it that long.
Still unsure? That's fine, because the unknown can be scary. I invite you to come to any of the OPT clinics and talk about it. We can show you exactly what to expect, you can talk to the nurse who will be doing the exam, and you can check out the exam room. You can even have a friend or volunteer go in with you to hold your hand and distract you from having a nurse all up in your bits!
Please. It's important.
If you come to the Mission chapter, look for me. I'll be wearing a t-shirt that looks like this:
(No seriously, I have this shirt, thanks to Nicole of Wet Coast Nurse's Curses. She's got one too, and we have six more on order. This is our new unofficial clinic uniform. Yay!)
Any organization that helps prevent unwanted pregnancy, quells the spread of sexually transmitted infections, and promotes sexual health is an organization that I stand behind. We are contributing to fewer teen moms (sorry MTV), fewer cases of STIs, and early detection of cervical issues, including cervical cancer.
People have always has misconceptions about OPT, especially when it was under its former name Planned Parenthood. It seems to conjure up images of hungover girls buying Plan B after an ill-prepared night out, or of a stream of women getting their third or fourth or tenth abortions. While we do offer emergency contraceptives, and we will discuss all options (parenthood, adoption, abortion – we're pro-choice!) with clients whose pregnancy tests come back positive, the majority of our clients are young (16-25) women who understand the importance of taking care of themselves, and recognize that prevention is the best route.
Of course we do get the oh-my-god-what-have-I-done types, but who hasn't had a lapse in judgment? I dare you to show me a single girl whose never forgotten to take her birth control.
I'm a speculum! I look like a friendly bird!
Much like how our clinic is sometimes grossly misunderstood, so are pap smears. It's mild discomfort at its worst, and the whole exam takes less than five minutes. You're dressed and done before you know it!
Donating blood is more uncomfortable and takes longer than a pap test. I would know, as I used to donate, up until those bastards told me I was "too anaemic to donate." Pfft. Plucking your eyebrows is more painful than a pap. Seriously, sitting there naked save for a paper blanket with your knees apart is the worst part. I promise.
A few weeks ago, a young (I believe she was only 22) client of ours came in, and mentioned the results of her pap. It showed abnormal and possibly pre-cancerous cells, and she was headed back in for additional tests. She was calm, cool and collected, because knowing there might be a problem this early on means she's going to have it taken care of before it has a chance to develop into a real issue.
And yet, people are still arguing that women don't need to get paps until they're in their thirties. If our 22-year-old client had heeded that advice and waited eight years to get her first pap? She might not have even made it that long.
Still unsure? That's fine, because the unknown can be scary. I invite you to come to any of the OPT clinics and talk about it. We can show you exactly what to expect, you can talk to the nurse who will be doing the exam, and you can check out the exam room. You can even have a friend or volunteer go in with you to hold your hand and distract you from having a nurse all up in your bits!
Please. It's important.
If you come to the Mission chapter, look for me. I'll be wearing a t-shirt that looks like this:
(No seriously, I have this shirt, thanks to Nicole of Wet Coast Nurse's Curses. She's got one too, and we have six more on order. This is our new unofficial clinic uniform. Yay!)
Monday, July 26, 2010
City vs. ‘Burbs: the Rebuttal
I take serious issue with the Province’s Sunday print edition cover story. Unfortunately, it seems to be print-only, so I can't link to it here.
Update: it is online, see it here. When I searched earlier I could only find the teaser, not the article itself. It is missing the comparison chart that the print edition has though, and that's where I drew my numbers from.
City vs. ‘Burbs
Where does it cost less to live? The surprising answer inside. By Lena Sin.
Hardly. The teaser by-line basically gives it away. Everyone assumes the city costs more than the suburbs, so of course the “surprising” end result will be that the city comes out cheaper.
Living in or near Vancouver means this is a topic we hear about daily; city vs country, the cost of commuting vs the value of a backyard, the carbon footprint that each lifestyle offers. I know few people that haven’t debated moving to one from the other or vice versa.
I’ll admit it up front: I am a country girl. When I was eight, my parents decided that the street we were living on in Maple Ridge (207th, in Hammond), was getting to be too busy, so we left one heritage home for another, and moved to the house I still have managed to not be kicked out of, in Ruskin, Mission. With a park right next door, a frog- and fish-filled pond in the backyard, over half an acre of fenced space for us and the dogs to roam, and a view of the river across the street, it’s absolutely picture perfect.
When I was younger, weekends and summers were filled with unchaperoned trips to the river, block parties, and adventures with the other neighbourhood kids. We were picked up by a yellow school bus right from when I moved here in grade three through to the end of high school, with John the bus driver (who knew each one of us by name) dressing up as Santa and handing out candy canes on the last day of school before Christmas break.
Living in the city has its advantages. I know this better than many, as when I was working in Gastown I was spending over three hours a day commuting. Even with how nice the West Coast Express is, a commute like that takes its toll, and if I were to work downtown again I’d absolutely be moving to cut down on time spent on travel. Not to downtown, mind you, but to somewhere a little friendlier on the commute, like Port Moody or Coquitlam.
I love the country, and anyone who knows me knows this.
But what do I love more than the country? Unbiased, well-researched journalism.
City vs. ‘Burbs: the article
The article depicts a family of two parents and their young child, and compares two lifestyles: one in an 800 sq ft condo in Yaletown, and another in a 1,940 sq ft house in Coquitlam’s Burke Mountain.
Condo price: $639,000
House price: $629,000
Wait, what? $629,000 for a house outside of the city? That can’t be right, and is absolutely not an accurate depiction of an average single-family home in the Lower Mainland, new or used. $639k for a downtown condo probably is average; $629k for a suburban house is way off the mark.
Don’t even get me started on how few families could afford a condo or house that expensive to begin with.
According to my primitive internet research, around $640,000 is an average price for a house in Coquitlam, so the article’s $629,000 isn’t unrealistic by any means. But that’s Coquitlam, and its prices are going to be much higher than Aldergrove, Maple Ridge, Abbotsford or Mission. If you’re not dead-set on new, there’s a cute, well maintained, four-bedroom, two-bathroom 2200+ sq ft house built in 1950 for $524,900 in Coquitlam.
Condo living: $3,602/month
House living: $4,440/month
A couple I know recently purchased their first house: a newer, recently-renovated, four-bedroom house (three bedrooms on main floor, one in basement suite) in central Mission for right around $400,000. They have a basement suite tenant whose rent contributes to their mortgage payment, and their backyard is plenty big enough for their two German Shepard-cross dogs. When they have children, they will have ample room for them, and if they choose to move it will be because they want to, not because they’ve run out of bedrooms and are forced to.
I don’t know what their monthly mortgage payment is, but I can do the guesswork. Even if they didn’t put any money down on the home – which wasn’t the case – their monthly mortgage payment is still only ~$2100*, which is $329 less than the mortgage payment estimate in the article. Subtract another $700 that they net monthly from their tenant, and their payment is down to $1400/month. With a difference of over $1000 in mortgage payments, monthly living in the house in the suburbs is now cheaper than the condo in the city by $231.
Of course, this increases other costs. The monthly West Coast Express pass increases by about $120/month when riding from Mission to Waterfront, rather than from Coquitlam ($298.50 vs. $178.75). They may find themselves driving further when transit isn’t an option, but that is offset slightly by the cheaper gas prices found out this way. But other expenses, like groceries and dining out, not to mention property taxes (about $3500 for their place, compared to nearly $5000 for the article’s house), are less expensive here than in the city.
I couldn’t determine the specific house plan that the author used in her comparison, but I know the type: cookie-cutter, often strata-regulated, vinyl-siding, personality-free homes. These developments abound, and there are similar ones in Maple Ridge (Silver Ridge, for example) and Abbotsford (Auguston). Curious to know what 1,940 sq ft will get you, I did some research.
Basically, for any house over 1600 sq ft, you get at least three bedrooms and two and a half baths, plus an unfinished basement that can likely be converted into more.
An 800 sq ft condo in Yaletown? At best it’s two bedrooms, two baths, with zero room to expand.
She also didn’t include lot size, which is a little unbelievable. Lot size hugely affects a property’s price, and is one of the major factors in buying a house rather than a condo, if not the major factor. If this house is situated on an acre of prime real estate, then its high price makes a little more sense, but again, that’s not a realistic portrayal of average suburb living.
Why Ms. Sin didn’t choose to use comparable homes in her example is beyond me. If this family is planning on having more children, then they are going to need to move to a larger, and thus more expensive, condo in Yaletown. If this family isn’t planning on procreating any further, then they didn’t need to buy a three- or four-bedroom house; a 1200 sq ft two-bedroom, two-bath house would have been sufficient, and would have come at a substantially lower price.
And while a family’s budget for a home may be $639,000, there isn’t a rule saying that they have to or will spend that amount. I wouldn’t spend that much on a house in the Valley if I had a million dollars at my disposal, because it just isn’t necessary. Quality homes on spacious lots come at lower prices than that.
This says one of two things: either the author was determined to prove a point and found a house expensive enough to back up her claims, or she has no idea what qualifies as a solid representation of suburban living, and didn’t bother to research otherwise.
Either way, this is incredibly poor journalism.
And what’s the value of quiet? Of having a backyard? Of being able to just open the patio door when Fido needs to whiz, rather than having to take the elevator down eight stories and walk two blocks away to the dog park? Of letting your kids run around the street without fear of them being hit by a bus? Of sending them down to the basement where you can’t hear them when they’re rambunctious and it’s pouring rain outside? Of being able to see the stars at night? Difficult things to put a price on.
The article echoes the same sentiment that everyone, including myself, will agree on: obviously more is involved in the city vs. suburbs decision than the dollars involved.
But this article is a poor representation of the cost of living outside of the city, and I’m disappointed in the Province’s obvious bias.
*Thank you RBC mortgage payment calculator.
Update: it is online, see it here. When I searched earlier I could only find the teaser, not the article itself. It is missing the comparison chart that the print edition has though, and that's where I drew my numbers from.
City vs. ‘Burbs
Where does it cost less to live? The surprising answer inside. By Lena Sin.
Hardly. The teaser by-line basically gives it away. Everyone assumes the city costs more than the suburbs, so of course the “surprising” end result will be that the city comes out cheaper.
Living in or near Vancouver means this is a topic we hear about daily; city vs country, the cost of commuting vs the value of a backyard, the carbon footprint that each lifestyle offers. I know few people that haven’t debated moving to one from the other or vice versa.
I’ll admit it up front: I am a country girl. When I was eight, my parents decided that the street we were living on in Maple Ridge (207th, in Hammond), was getting to be too busy, so we left one heritage home for another, and moved to the house I still have managed to not be kicked out of, in Ruskin, Mission. With a park right next door, a frog- and fish-filled pond in the backyard, over half an acre of fenced space for us and the dogs to roam, and a view of the river across the street, it’s absolutely picture perfect.
When I was younger, weekends and summers were filled with unchaperoned trips to the river, block parties, and adventures with the other neighbourhood kids. We were picked up by a yellow school bus right from when I moved here in grade three through to the end of high school, with John the bus driver (who knew each one of us by name) dressing up as Santa and handing out candy canes on the last day of school before Christmas break.
Living in the city has its advantages. I know this better than many, as when I was working in Gastown I was spending over three hours a day commuting. Even with how nice the West Coast Express is, a commute like that takes its toll, and if I were to work downtown again I’d absolutely be moving to cut down on time spent on travel. Not to downtown, mind you, but to somewhere a little friendlier on the commute, like Port Moody or Coquitlam.
I love the country, and anyone who knows me knows this.
But what do I love more than the country? Unbiased, well-researched journalism.
City vs. ‘Burbs: the article
The article depicts a family of two parents and their young child, and compares two lifestyles: one in an 800 sq ft condo in Yaletown, and another in a 1,940 sq ft house in Coquitlam’s Burke Mountain.
Condo price: $639,000
House price: $629,000
Wait, what? $629,000 for a house outside of the city? That can’t be right, and is absolutely not an accurate depiction of an average single-family home in the Lower Mainland, new or used. $639k for a downtown condo probably is average; $629k for a suburban house is way off the mark.
Don’t even get me started on how few families could afford a condo or house that expensive to begin with.
According to my primitive internet research, around $640,000 is an average price for a house in Coquitlam, so the article’s $629,000 isn’t unrealistic by any means. But that’s Coquitlam, and its prices are going to be much higher than Aldergrove, Maple Ridge, Abbotsford or Mission. If you’re not dead-set on new, there’s a cute, well maintained, four-bedroom, two-bathroom 2200+ sq ft house built in 1950 for $524,900 in Coquitlam.
Condo living: $3,602/month
House living: $4,440/month
A couple I know recently purchased their first house: a newer, recently-renovated, four-bedroom house (three bedrooms on main floor, one in basement suite) in central Mission for right around $400,000. They have a basement suite tenant whose rent contributes to their mortgage payment, and their backyard is plenty big enough for their two German Shepard-cross dogs. When they have children, they will have ample room for them, and if they choose to move it will be because they want to, not because they’ve run out of bedrooms and are forced to.
I don’t know what their monthly mortgage payment is, but I can do the guesswork. Even if they didn’t put any money down on the home – which wasn’t the case – their monthly mortgage payment is still only ~$2100*, which is $329 less than the mortgage payment estimate in the article. Subtract another $700 that they net monthly from their tenant, and their payment is down to $1400/month. With a difference of over $1000 in mortgage payments, monthly living in the house in the suburbs is now cheaper than the condo in the city by $231.
Of course, this increases other costs. The monthly West Coast Express pass increases by about $120/month when riding from Mission to Waterfront, rather than from Coquitlam ($298.50 vs. $178.75). They may find themselves driving further when transit isn’t an option, but that is offset slightly by the cheaper gas prices found out this way. But other expenses, like groceries and dining out, not to mention property taxes (about $3500 for their place, compared to nearly $5000 for the article’s house), are less expensive here than in the city.
I couldn’t determine the specific house plan that the author used in her comparison, but I know the type: cookie-cutter, often strata-regulated, vinyl-siding, personality-free homes. These developments abound, and there are similar ones in Maple Ridge (Silver Ridge, for example) and Abbotsford (Auguston). Curious to know what 1,940 sq ft will get you, I did some research.
Basically, for any house over 1600 sq ft, you get at least three bedrooms and two and a half baths, plus an unfinished basement that can likely be converted into more.
An 800 sq ft condo in Yaletown? At best it’s two bedrooms, two baths, with zero room to expand.
She also didn’t include lot size, which is a little unbelievable. Lot size hugely affects a property’s price, and is one of the major factors in buying a house rather than a condo, if not the major factor. If this house is situated on an acre of prime real estate, then its high price makes a little more sense, but again, that’s not a realistic portrayal of average suburb living.
Why Ms. Sin didn’t choose to use comparable homes in her example is beyond me. If this family is planning on having more children, then they are going to need to move to a larger, and thus more expensive, condo in Yaletown. If this family isn’t planning on procreating any further, then they didn’t need to buy a three- or four-bedroom house; a 1200 sq ft two-bedroom, two-bath house would have been sufficient, and would have come at a substantially lower price.
And while a family’s budget for a home may be $639,000, there isn’t a rule saying that they have to or will spend that amount. I wouldn’t spend that much on a house in the Valley if I had a million dollars at my disposal, because it just isn’t necessary. Quality homes on spacious lots come at lower prices than that.
This says one of two things: either the author was determined to prove a point and found a house expensive enough to back up her claims, or she has no idea what qualifies as a solid representation of suburban living, and didn’t bother to research otherwise.
Either way, this is incredibly poor journalism.
And what’s the value of quiet? Of having a backyard? Of being able to just open the patio door when Fido needs to whiz, rather than having to take the elevator down eight stories and walk two blocks away to the dog park? Of letting your kids run around the street without fear of them being hit by a bus? Of sending them down to the basement where you can’t hear them when they’re rambunctious and it’s pouring rain outside? Of being able to see the stars at night? Difficult things to put a price on.
The article echoes the same sentiment that everyone, including myself, will agree on: obviously more is involved in the city vs. suburbs decision than the dollars involved.
But this article is a poor representation of the cost of living outside of the city, and I’m disappointed in the Province’s obvious bias.
*Thank you RBC mortgage payment calculator.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Dad, on Eggs (and Ex-Boyfriends)
[Necessary background information: Richie is my ex-boyfriend. Dad did not think much of him.]
Dad, filling up the beer fridge:
"The eggs are in the way."
"So take them out. Eggs don't need to be in the fridge."
"What? No, they'll go bad. They come out of a hot hen, and then they either turn into a chick or they go in the fridge."
"Think about it though: that chick lives off the yolk for a month and it doesn't go bad. They don't need to be in the fridge. Richie's family had chickens and they never put their eggs in the fridge."
"Yeah but look at what happened to him."
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Life and Stuff!
I'm somewhere in week three of Concerta, and week 500 (or so it feels) of job hunting. Concerta's been helping a lot. I don't even know where to begin; I feel calmer and more clear-headed and far more productive. Little things aren't bothering me like they used to, and if I stay on top of taking it early (like 7am) it doesn't affect my sleep schedule.
When I last saw Sommi he confirmed that it doesn't have rollover effects, and that I can skip it on days that I don't need it. Since I don't mind being a scatterbrain when it's a weekend and it doesn't matter if I get everything done on a certain schedule (And since they're over $3/pop. That adds up fast when you're living on a dwindling savings account and EI hasn't kicked in yet.), I skipped them Saturday and Sunday of last weekend.
I also know that dependency is a threat, and the biggest issue is that things that formerly were pleasurable or exciting won't be that way sans drugs. I was at the Lions game on Sunday, and there was no shortage of cheer or excitement in this girl, so I'm fine so far. I think/hope.
But last Monday and Tuesday were horrible. I felt completely stressed out and disorganized, and it culminated with an awful night at the clinic Tuesday evening. I don't know if it was related to taking the weekend off of Concerta, but for now I'm going to stick with taking it daily for a few weeks before trying a couple days off again. I'm also on a temporary leave of sorts from the clinic for a few weeks. Two hours of volunteering shouldn't be the most stressful part of my week, and some things need to get fixed there before I return.
One of the weird things I've noticed is that I sing or hum all the time. I always sing a lot, like in the car or in the shower, and I often hum when I'm stressed. But this is like all day long every day. Did I always do this and never notice? Or is this new? I have no idea.
Job hunting... well, nothing yet. Still frustrated at the lack of responses (and interviews, and offers), but it's a tough market right now and there's nothing I can do but keep trudging on. I'm investigating a couple of different school options so that I have a backup plan if September rolls around and I still haven't found any sort of meaningful work.
I really want to be working though; I need to put this education to use. I also desperately need a new(er) car, and I need to get out of mom and dad's house and hair. While education is something worth going into debt for, I'd rather it be something I choose to do, rather than feel that I'm forced into doing it because my current education isn't netting me any gigs.
I turn 25 on Sunday. Part of me is excited because hey, birthdays are cool, and I've got an away Lions game and a Rihanna concert to keep me entertained. I keep wanting to freak out because "25" makes me think things like "boyfriend" and "moved out" and "career" and I don't have any of those things happening in my life. When I look at my friends and what they've got going on, all those things are in there and more, like marriage and dogs and car payments.
But I have to remember what I do have going on for me as 25 approaches. I've got 15 countries under my belt, six of which were on a long solo trip. While it's no doctorate, I do have a respectable education from a reputable college, and a bucketload of useful experience to go with it. I've got a good family (that loves me despite all my flaws), incredible friends that I can always depend on, and it's summertime and football season. Really? Life isn't all that bad.
When I last saw Sommi he confirmed that it doesn't have rollover effects, and that I can skip it on days that I don't need it. Since I don't mind being a scatterbrain when it's a weekend and it doesn't matter if I get everything done on a certain schedule (And since they're over $3/pop. That adds up fast when you're living on a dwindling savings account and EI hasn't kicked in yet.), I skipped them Saturday and Sunday of last weekend.
I also know that dependency is a threat, and the biggest issue is that things that formerly were pleasurable or exciting won't be that way sans drugs. I was at the Lions game on Sunday, and there was no shortage of cheer or excitement in this girl, so I'm fine so far. I think/hope.
But last Monday and Tuesday were horrible. I felt completely stressed out and disorganized, and it culminated with an awful night at the clinic Tuesday evening. I don't know if it was related to taking the weekend off of Concerta, but for now I'm going to stick with taking it daily for a few weeks before trying a couple days off again. I'm also on a temporary leave of sorts from the clinic for a few weeks. Two hours of volunteering shouldn't be the most stressful part of my week, and some things need to get fixed there before I return.
One of the weird things I've noticed is that I sing or hum all the time. I always sing a lot, like in the car or in the shower, and I often hum when I'm stressed. But this is like all day long every day. Did I always do this and never notice? Or is this new? I have no idea.
Job hunting... well, nothing yet. Still frustrated at the lack of responses (and interviews, and offers), but it's a tough market right now and there's nothing I can do but keep trudging on. I'm investigating a couple of different school options so that I have a backup plan if September rolls around and I still haven't found any sort of meaningful work.
I really want to be working though; I need to put this education to use. I also desperately need a new(er) car, and I need to get out of mom and dad's house and hair. While education is something worth going into debt for, I'd rather it be something I choose to do, rather than feel that I'm forced into doing it because my current education isn't netting me any gigs.
I turn 25 on Sunday. Part of me is excited because hey, birthdays are cool, and I've got an away Lions game and a Rihanna concert to keep me entertained. I keep wanting to freak out because "25" makes me think things like "boyfriend" and "moved out" and "career" and I don't have any of those things happening in my life. When I look at my friends and what they've got going on, all those things are in there and more, like marriage and dogs and car payments.
But I have to remember what I do have going on for me as 25 approaches. I've got 15 countries under my belt, six of which were on a long solo trip. While it's no doctorate, I do have a respectable education from a reputable college, and a bucketload of useful experience to go with it. I've got a good family (that loves me despite all my flaws), incredible friends that I can always depend on, and it's summertime and football season. Really? Life isn't all that bad.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Will Work For Cardboard Box
I am so sick of jobhunting. Or moreso, I'm so sick of not getting responses. If I were at least getting to the interview stage, or even just a response, I'd be so much more positive about this. But no replies whatsoever? Absolutely frustrating.
I'm probably also a little jaded, because when I was at Resilience, Ella and I replied to everyone. It takes 30 seconds to fire off a canned "sorry, you haven't made it to our interview round" email, and then the people that took the time to apply for our jobs at least knew that their email was received and reviewed. Then, for those that replied and asked why we didn't want to meet with them, we gladly took the time to let them know what it was about their application that prevented them from being interview-worthy.
On Monday of last week something right up my alley showed up in the Writers/Editors section of Craigslist:
Editor/Office Asst (Burnaby)
Health care company looking for a full time Editor/Office Assistant. Mon-Fri, 8am- 4pm. Primary responsibity is to edit therapists' assessment reports . In addition there may be some opportunities for writing health related articles. Helping with phone, scheduling and misc tasks will also be required. The ideal candidate must have an excellent command of the English language both verbal and written, be very focused, detail oriented, efficient, have initiative, and a team player. English degree an asset. Understanding of medical terminology helpful. Please include hourly wage expectation in your cover letter.
* Location: Burnaby
* Compensation: depending on experience
* Principals only. Recruiters, please don't contact this job poster.
* Please, no phone calls about this job!
* Please do not contact job poster about other services, products or commercial interests.
So between my penchant for editing, my Certificate of Technical Writing (not an English degree but a worthy substitute given the position), and my job history working at a company that makes software for doctors and residents, I think I should have been a shoo-in for an interview.
But that dreaded last line: Please include hourly wage expectation in your cover letter.
I hate that. I absolutely completely hate when employers don't post what they're offering for the job, and moreso when they want you to tell them what you think it's worth. It's rude and a waste of people's time to not say what you want to pay. If it's $12 an hour, I wouldn't have bothered applying. If it's $40 an hour, I'm severely under-qualified and I'll let someone with ten years of experience step up as clearly that's what you're asking for. At least post a freaking wage range.
Come Friday I haven't heard anything, so I sent an inquiry email. I got a reply this morning:
interviewing this week. Your salary expectation is hire than what we are offering
I'm going to ignore that she misspelled "higher" as "hire."
ARGH. I'd hope that if what I put for an hourly wage ($20/hour, which isn't unreasonable) was only one or two dollars an hour higher than what they wanted to pay, they'd at least have the decency to reply with an option to negotiate. But because her response seemed to imply that I'd been written off entirely due to my astronomical asking price, I'd guess that they're hoping to find someone to do this for $14/hour or less.
I'm nearly 25, with an education from BCIT and over five years of relevant experience, half of which was working with medical terminology and coding systems, and you're telling me that $20/hour is too much? That'd all be fine and dandy, except that they want someone with a university education too. If four+ years of full-time school doesn't net you at least $20/hour, I'm sure glad I didn't bother with uni.
"Therapist" is vague, but I doubt there's a therapist on the planet that charges less than $60/hour. Speech therapists, physiotherapists, family therapists are all going to charge at least that for their services. And since it's "therapists' reports," there's more than one to cover the cost of having someone edit their reports.
You get what you pay for.
Update: She replied. They're offering $16. Why not just say that from the beginning? I don't get it.
I'm probably also a little jaded, because when I was at Resilience, Ella and I replied to everyone. It takes 30 seconds to fire off a canned "sorry, you haven't made it to our interview round" email, and then the people that took the time to apply for our jobs at least knew that their email was received and reviewed. Then, for those that replied and asked why we didn't want to meet with them, we gladly took the time to let them know what it was about their application that prevented them from being interview-worthy.
On Monday of last week something right up my alley showed up in the Writers/Editors section of Craigslist:
Editor/Office Asst (Burnaby)
Health care company looking for a full time Editor/Office Assistant. Mon-Fri, 8am- 4pm. Primary responsibity is to edit therapists' assessment reports . In addition there may be some opportunities for writing health related articles. Helping with phone, scheduling and misc tasks will also be required. The ideal candidate must have an excellent command of the English language both verbal and written, be very focused, detail oriented, efficient, have initiative, and a team player. English degree an asset. Understanding of medical terminology helpful. Please include hourly wage expectation in your cover letter.
* Location: Burnaby
* Compensation: depending on experience
* Principals only. Recruiters, please don't contact this job poster.
* Please, no phone calls about this job!
* Please do not contact job poster about other services, products or commercial interests.
So between my penchant for editing, my Certificate of Technical Writing (not an English degree but a worthy substitute given the position), and my job history working at a company that makes software for doctors and residents, I think I should have been a shoo-in for an interview.
But that dreaded last line: Please include hourly wage expectation in your cover letter.
I hate that. I absolutely completely hate when employers don't post what they're offering for the job, and moreso when they want you to tell them what you think it's worth. It's rude and a waste of people's time to not say what you want to pay. If it's $12 an hour, I wouldn't have bothered applying. If it's $40 an hour, I'm severely under-qualified and I'll let someone with ten years of experience step up as clearly that's what you're asking for. At least post a freaking wage range.
Come Friday I haven't heard anything, so I sent an inquiry email. I got a reply this morning:
interviewing this week. Your salary expectation is hire than what we are offering
I'm going to ignore that she misspelled "higher" as "hire."
ARGH. I'd hope that if what I put for an hourly wage ($20/hour, which isn't unreasonable) was only one or two dollars an hour higher than what they wanted to pay, they'd at least have the decency to reply with an option to negotiate. But because her response seemed to imply that I'd been written off entirely due to my astronomical asking price, I'd guess that they're hoping to find someone to do this for $14/hour or less.
I'm nearly 25, with an education from BCIT and over five years of relevant experience, half of which was working with medical terminology and coding systems, and you're telling me that $20/hour is too much? That'd all be fine and dandy, except that they want someone with a university education too. If four+ years of full-time school doesn't net you at least $20/hour, I'm sure glad I didn't bother with uni.
"Therapist" is vague, but I doubt there's a therapist on the planet that charges less than $60/hour. Speech therapists, physiotherapists, family therapists are all going to charge at least that for their services. And since it's "therapists' reports," there's more than one to cover the cost of having someone edit their reports.
You get what you pay for.
Update: She replied. They're offering $16. Why not just say that from the beginning? I don't get it.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Brain Update
This is day 4 of Concerta, and I'm feeling... all over the map. But better. I'm definitely seeing improvements in focus and I'm feeling way less distracted. I'm also starting to discern between what's a result of dysfunction, and what's a result of bad habit. And instead of "Omg I have so many responsilibities I don't know where to start panic panic paaaaannnniiiiiiiccccc" I've been thinking "Hey, I've got stuff to do. I'll make a list and see what I can tackle."
WHO AM I???
That is so new to me. I've never been that way, and it's so refreshing to have this new clarity. I've accomplished more job-hunting each day this week than I did in all of last week.
One of the characteristics of ADD is a tendency to be argumentative, and can lead to issues with relationships, and that is me to a T. I'm still opinionated and that's never going to change, but there have already been instances where I've surrendered rather than continue arguing, for the sake of my sanity (and undoubtedly those to whom I'm surrendering are grateful too. I know I was right anyway).
There are some downfalls. If I take it too late in the day I find it difficult to sleep at night. My eyes feel like they're bulging out of my head a little bit. Sometimes I feel physically wired, as though I've had a cup of coffee. And of course, there's always the threat of dependency in the long-run.
And now that I'm feeling more aware of everything, I'm getting irritated by new things; the radio used to just be background noise, but now I'm aware of talking and commercials and I keep turning it off because it's too irritating. I've also noticed how much traffic is on our road. I swear I never used to hear cars go by. No wonder my parents complain that the road is too busy.
It's like now that my brain is quiet, I'm hearing way more than I did before.
Last week, pre-drugs, I complained that a day decided it was going to be full of anxiety and insecurity (and not for any particular reason, e.g. PMS). A friend that has been dealing with her own ADD replied and said both her and her brother have ADD, and they've found that they're more inclined to feel anxious when dehydrated. On that particular day I hadn't been drinking any water, and looking back I can definitely see a correlation. (Especially when alcohol is factored in. Hoo boy.)
So I'm taking Concerta, eating well (and staying hydrated), making regular visits to the gym, going to yoga, and doing a far better job of prioritizing my days. I'm still a long way from fixed (I've managed to forget to turn the iron off three days in a row now. Go team), but I can feel a shift for the better.
WHO AM I???
That is so new to me. I've never been that way, and it's so refreshing to have this new clarity. I've accomplished more job-hunting each day this week than I did in all of last week.
One of the characteristics of ADD is a tendency to be argumentative, and can lead to issues with relationships, and that is me to a T. I'm still opinionated and that's never going to change, but there have already been instances where I've surrendered rather than continue arguing, for the sake of my sanity (and undoubtedly those to whom I'm surrendering are grateful too. I know I was right anyway).
There are some downfalls. If I take it too late in the day I find it difficult to sleep at night. My eyes feel like they're bulging out of my head a little bit. Sometimes I feel physically wired, as though I've had a cup of coffee. And of course, there's always the threat of dependency in the long-run.
And now that I'm feeling more aware of everything, I'm getting irritated by new things; the radio used to just be background noise, but now I'm aware of talking and commercials and I keep turning it off because it's too irritating. I've also noticed how much traffic is on our road. I swear I never used to hear cars go by. No wonder my parents complain that the road is too busy.
It's like now that my brain is quiet, I'm hearing way more than I did before.
Last week, pre-drugs, I complained that a day decided it was going to be full of anxiety and insecurity (and not for any particular reason, e.g. PMS). A friend that has been dealing with her own ADD replied and said both her and her brother have ADD, and they've found that they're more inclined to feel anxious when dehydrated. On that particular day I hadn't been drinking any water, and looking back I can definitely see a correlation. (Especially when alcohol is factored in. Hoo boy.)
So I'm taking Concerta, eating well (and staying hydrated), making regular visits to the gym, going to yoga, and doing a far better job of prioritizing my days. I'm still a long way from fixed (I've managed to forget to turn the iron off three days in a row now. Go team), but I can feel a shift for the better.
Monday, June 7, 2010
The Time I Gave Up and Got Drugs
After seeing my doctor two weeks ago and deciding to go the diagnosis-first route, I was expecting a callback within a couple of days to let me know when my psychiatrist appointment would be. Last year when I was referred to a sinus specialist I got the call for the appointment a couple of days after I saw my doc, with the appointment being a week or two after that.
I called the office back after not hearing anything for a week and was told that I won't get the appointment time and date for probably another month. Then the appointment will be for minimum one month after that, but more likely two. Apparently shrinks are in much higher demand than ear, nose & throat docs.
Three months.
That's a long time.
I've been trying a handful of things to stay focused and try to fix this feeling of never being able to accomplish anything. I've been skipping out on yoga because other things have gotten in the way, but I'm going back tonight. I've been attempting meditation, and while I can mostly/somewhat/kind of calm my brain when that's my focus, it doesn't change that I go right back to Miss Scatterbrain the second I go back to non-om life. And since I know that part of this is bad habit, I've been actively trying to align my awareness (for lack of a non-douchey way of saying that), and forcing myself to stop and think and prioritize before throwing myself at something else.
But it's not really working. I'm still feeling like I can't do anything right, or on time, or at all. Like just now, when I realized that my salmon burger was (over)done because I could smell the smoke. I'm less than ten feet from the stove. What the fuck.
Or this morning when I was happy with myself that I got up and headed straight to the gym, and even remembered to grab my waterbottle that I'd removed from my gym bag. But then I got to the gym and realized that I'd forgotten my sports bra and to eat breakfast. So in an unsupported, low-blood-sugar state I drove myself home.
I can't figure out why regular day-to-day tasks are such a challenge for me. I have trouble with things that I do every single day. I make eleven trips up and down the stairs when I'm getting ready to head out because my brain cannot think clothes-perfume-deodorant-purse-cellphone all at once, and instead thinks of one more thing each time I start putting on my shoes. I forgot to turn off the oven on Friday when I was baking, and thankfully remembered half an hour later. A neighbour had to tell me that I left the lights on in my car. Even driving's becoming difficult, and I'm finding myself way less attentive than before. I used to be better at this.
So after some internal debate, I called back to my doc's office and made an appointment for today. Which I was late for. Surprise surprise.
Sommi is a good doctor. He cares about you as a person, not just you as a patient, and he's not very pro-drugs the way some doctors are. He'll give you a referral or write you a prescription whenever you need it, but he'll recommend self-help books and specialists and neti-pots and meditation and anything else he thinks might be a better route than immediately prescribing drugs.
I went in today, and told him that while I still want to see a psychiatrist and get a proper diagnosis (which he backed 100%), I think I'd like to try something in the interim. Sommi was happy with this plan, because if he prescribes something and it works, then our suspicions are confirmed. If it doesn't work, then we're back at square one with no risks or damage and one thing crossed off the list. He was also happy that it was my idea to try something, not his, because he likes it when patients make their own mind up about trying a med. (Good thing I don't have a penchant for pharmaceuticals, as that would be quite the enabling statement.)
So for the next two weeks, beginning today, I'm taking 18mg of Concerta. Sommi said he's been really happy with the results he's seen in patients to whom he's prescribed it, and would take it himself if he decided to treat the ADD that he suspects he has. Within a week I should notice a difference in focus, and after I'm to see him again to let him know if it's working or not. He's also given me a prescription for another two weeks' worth of 27mg, in case I feel like it's working a little and want to test the waters on a slightly beefier dose (and in case I can't get in to see him right away).
I don't like that this is where I'm at. I hate that this is where I'm at. I feel like I'm failing horribly, and disappointing everyone around me. But something needs to change, and while all this is still new, it already feels like this is a last resort. It's not cheap either, at $41 for 14 doses, and especially on my unemployed budget, but I need to get this sorted. I need this to be fixed. And soon.
Fingers crossed.
I called the office back after not hearing anything for a week and was told that I won't get the appointment time and date for probably another month. Then the appointment will be for minimum one month after that, but more likely two. Apparently shrinks are in much higher demand than ear, nose & throat docs.
Three months.
That's a long time.
I've been trying a handful of things to stay focused and try to fix this feeling of never being able to accomplish anything. I've been skipping out on yoga because other things have gotten in the way, but I'm going back tonight. I've been attempting meditation, and while I can mostly/somewhat/kind of calm my brain when that's my focus, it doesn't change that I go right back to Miss Scatterbrain the second I go back to non-om life. And since I know that part of this is bad habit, I've been actively trying to align my awareness (for lack of a non-douchey way of saying that), and forcing myself to stop and think and prioritize before throwing myself at something else.
But it's not really working. I'm still feeling like I can't do anything right, or on time, or at all. Like just now, when I realized that my salmon burger was (over)done because I could smell the smoke. I'm less than ten feet from the stove. What the fuck.
Or this morning when I was happy with myself that I got up and headed straight to the gym, and even remembered to grab my waterbottle that I'd removed from my gym bag. But then I got to the gym and realized that I'd forgotten my sports bra and to eat breakfast. So in an unsupported, low-blood-sugar state I drove myself home.
I can't figure out why regular day-to-day tasks are such a challenge for me. I have trouble with things that I do every single day. I make eleven trips up and down the stairs when I'm getting ready to head out because my brain cannot think clothes-perfume-deodorant-purse-cellphone all at once, and instead thinks of one more thing each time I start putting on my shoes. I forgot to turn off the oven on Friday when I was baking, and thankfully remembered half an hour later. A neighbour had to tell me that I left the lights on in my car. Even driving's becoming difficult, and I'm finding myself way less attentive than before. I used to be better at this.
So after some internal debate, I called back to my doc's office and made an appointment for today. Which I was late for. Surprise surprise.
Sommi is a good doctor. He cares about you as a person, not just you as a patient, and he's not very pro-drugs the way some doctors are. He'll give you a referral or write you a prescription whenever you need it, but he'll recommend self-help books and specialists and neti-pots and meditation and anything else he thinks might be a better route than immediately prescribing drugs.
I went in today, and told him that while I still want to see a psychiatrist and get a proper diagnosis (which he backed 100%), I think I'd like to try something in the interim. Sommi was happy with this plan, because if he prescribes something and it works, then our suspicions are confirmed. If it doesn't work, then we're back at square one with no risks or damage and one thing crossed off the list. He was also happy that it was my idea to try something, not his, because he likes it when patients make their own mind up about trying a med. (Good thing I don't have a penchant for pharmaceuticals, as that would be quite the enabling statement.)
So for the next two weeks, beginning today, I'm taking 18mg of Concerta. Sommi said he's been really happy with the results he's seen in patients to whom he's prescribed it, and would take it himself if he decided to treat the ADD that he suspects he has. Within a week I should notice a difference in focus, and after I'm to see him again to let him know if it's working or not. He's also given me a prescription for another two weeks' worth of 27mg, in case I feel like it's working a little and want to test the waters on a slightly beefier dose (and in case I can't get in to see him right away).
I don't like that this is where I'm at. I hate that this is where I'm at. I feel like I'm failing horribly, and disappointing everyone around me. But something needs to change, and while all this is still new, it already feels like this is a last resort. It's not cheap either, at $41 for 14 doses, and especially on my unemployed budget, but I need to get this sorted. I need this to be fixed. And soon.
Fingers crossed.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Something is Wrong With My Brain: Part II
I went and saw Sommi today. He's been my doctor my entire life and it's awesome to have a familiar face to spill all my problems to. After he caught up on all the important stuff ("How was your trip? How's your brother? Any boyfriends?") I told him all the stuff that's going on (read: wrong) in my brain and that I think it might be something bigger than just me being bad at being good at things.
He thinks it might be ADD/ADHD too, and was surprised at how I hadn't addressed it sooner. He was also super great about making me not feel like a creature made of broken parts (Does your doctor hug you? I bet he doesn't. Dr Sommi is awesome.), because apparently a lot of people have undiagnosed and untreated ADD/ADHD.
There are three routes to go:
1. Treat it yourself, like with a self-help book.
Two Christmases ago my mom gave me the Idiot's Guide to Organizing Your Life. For my birthday last July she gave me the Smart Cookies' Guide to Making More Dough and Getting Out of Debt. Despite all my good intentions, and despite piling them on top of all the other books so I see them on a near daily basis, do you think I've read even a chapter of either? No, of course not. So I don't think a book full of self-motivated exercises is the way to go. Not right now, anyway.
2. Get some drugs.
Sommi wasn't opposed to giving me a trial prescription for something to try to help me with my concentration issue, and I have a feeling meds are probably going to come into play at some point, but as always I'll leave them as a last resort. I also know that some of the common ADD meds out there (e.g.: Adderall) are super highly addictive. And while I don't have a super-addictive personality (chocolate and internet and lipgloss, but not much else really) and I don't use recreational drugs, I'm still sketched out about anything that's been labeled as a narcotic in some countries.
3. Get a proper diagnosis from a psychiatrist, and go from there.
I chose this route. Even though ADD is common and it sounds like I probably have it to some degree, I don't want to start treating something until I know for sure I have it. And as Sommi mentioned, it could always be something else. Maybe I'm completely batshit crazy! I'm sure some of my exes would vouch for that.
So in the next couple of days I'll be told when my appointment with a psychiatrist is (hopefully it's days or weeks and not months), and we go from there.
I just want to be normal!
He thinks it might be ADD/ADHD too, and was surprised at how I hadn't addressed it sooner. He was also super great about making me not feel like a creature made of broken parts (Does your doctor hug you? I bet he doesn't. Dr Sommi is awesome.), because apparently a lot of people have undiagnosed and untreated ADD/ADHD.
There are three routes to go:
1. Treat it yourself, like with a self-help book.
Two Christmases ago my mom gave me the Idiot's Guide to Organizing Your Life. For my birthday last July she gave me the Smart Cookies' Guide to Making More Dough and Getting Out of Debt. Despite all my good intentions, and despite piling them on top of all the other books so I see them on a near daily basis, do you think I've read even a chapter of either? No, of course not. So I don't think a book full of self-motivated exercises is the way to go. Not right now, anyway.
2. Get some drugs.
Sommi wasn't opposed to giving me a trial prescription for something to try to help me with my concentration issue, and I have a feeling meds are probably going to come into play at some point, but as always I'll leave them as a last resort. I also know that some of the common ADD meds out there (e.g.: Adderall) are super highly addictive. And while I don't have a super-addictive personality (chocolate and internet and lipgloss, but not much else really) and I don't use recreational drugs, I'm still sketched out about anything that's been labeled as a narcotic in some countries.
3. Get a proper diagnosis from a psychiatrist, and go from there.
I chose this route. Even though ADD is common and it sounds like I probably have it to some degree, I don't want to start treating something until I know for sure I have it. And as Sommi mentioned, it could always be something else. Maybe I'm completely batshit crazy! I'm sure some of my exes would vouch for that.
So in the next couple of days I'll be told when my appointment with a psychiatrist is (hopefully it's days or weeks and not months), and we go from there.
I just want to be normal!
Monday, May 24, 2010
Something is Wrong With My Brain
I've long known I get easily distracted, I procrastinate too much, I rarely accomplish things on time and often don't accomplish things at all. I'm a packrat and I get overwhelmed by all the stuff and things around me.
But recently I've started to wonder if there's something more/worse going on, possibly to the tune of ADD/ADHD. While I definitely don't want to be diagnosed with a mental illness, albeit one that's common and treatable and won't make me a social outcast, I think that whatever's wrong with me has got to be more than just me being a scatterbrain and disorganized. Feeling like I can't ever accomplish anything unless it's supremely interesting has got to be more than just the result of bad habits.
So I did something horrible. I Googled the symptoms of ADD/ADHD in adults. It's like the internet wrote eighty million pages on what's happening in my brain. I got super overwhelmed reading through it because it felt like someone got in my head and looked at how fucked up it feels all the time and wrote it all down. Reading things like "inability to focus on anything repetitive or uninteresting" and "constant 'chatter' in your head" and "poor money management" and "chronic lateness" made me get all panicky and start crying. Seeing "tendency to cry easily" didn't help any.
Regular person:
-realizes responsibilities
-writes a list of things to do
-prioritizes items on list
-accomplishes items (mostly) in order
Sam
-realizes at the last second that she has things to do
-trusts her brain to remember them
-forgets 50% of things that needed to be done
-does one of the things that needed to be done
-feels supremely great about the one thing that did get done
-goes to bed with a false sense of accomplishment
-wakes up the next day panicked that nothing got accomplished and now there's even more to do than before
-goes to the gym
-decides to make a list
-has lunch
-has a nap
-makes a list
-misplaces list
-makes a new list
-leaves the house forgetting said list at home
-tries to manage without list
-fails miserably
-repeats cycle on a daily basis
As a perfect example of my dysfunctional mindset, this post (although obviously you can't see it now) was written in disjointed chunks as my brain thought of everything at once and my fingers tried to keep up.
Everything I do happens that way. I'm always forgetting laundry in the washer for days and then it smells all funky and then I have to rewash it. My oil changes are often a few thousand kilometres overdue even though I'll think of it every time I get in the car. I go to Superstore at least three times a week because I'm too impatient to wait until I have a reasonable list of things to get and I'm always forgetting some of the few things I'm specifically going for. I find it nearly impossible to sit still, and rarely finish watching movies. I miss every important play when watching sports games because I was talking or reading the menu or trying to figure out what that guy's t-shirt says, and then I'll forget to watch the instant replay. Sometimes I'm surprised that I'm even capable of driving.
If I have to be somewhere an hour away at 8 and I have to get gas and it takes me an hour to get ready, I can figure out that this means that I need to start getting ready at 5:45. At 6 I'll realize I'm already running late. At 6:15 I'll start getting ready. I'll finally leave the house at 7:30. Then I'll forget that I need gas and go the wrong direction. And because I'm cheap, I'll turn around and drive back the wrong way to where gas is cheaper. Then I'll forget which exit I need to take and have to make a detour. Then I finally show up at 9pm.
I talk too fast and I write too fast and I do things too impulsively and I lose my train of thoughts and I buy things I shouldn't and I forget to mail letters and I accidentally bought shampoo instead of conditioner and now my hair is tangly and I can't sit still and I can't turn off the radio station-like noises in my head and I forget to respond to messages and I spent an hour rolling pennies and and I have all these good intentions of getting lots of things done and I just can never seem to manage. Ever. And it's driving me crazy. And now it's driving everyone around me crazy too.
So I'm calling Dr Sommi tomorrow to get this shit figured out. It's on my list. Wish me luck.
But recently I've started to wonder if there's something more/worse going on, possibly to the tune of ADD/ADHD. While I definitely don't want to be diagnosed with a mental illness, albeit one that's common and treatable and won't make me a social outcast, I think that whatever's wrong with me has got to be more than just me being a scatterbrain and disorganized. Feeling like I can't ever accomplish anything unless it's supremely interesting has got to be more than just the result of bad habits.
So I did something horrible. I Googled the symptoms of ADD/ADHD in adults. It's like the internet wrote eighty million pages on what's happening in my brain. I got super overwhelmed reading through it because it felt like someone got in my head and looked at how fucked up it feels all the time and wrote it all down. Reading things like "inability to focus on anything repetitive or uninteresting" and "constant 'chatter' in your head" and "poor money management" and "chronic lateness" made me get all panicky and start crying. Seeing "tendency to cry easily" didn't help any.
Regular person:
-realizes responsibilities
-writes a list of things to do
-prioritizes items on list
-accomplishes items (mostly) in order
Sam
-realizes at the last second that she has things to do
-trusts her brain to remember them
-forgets 50% of things that needed to be done
-does one of the things that needed to be done
-feels supremely great about the one thing that did get done
-goes to bed with a false sense of accomplishment
-wakes up the next day panicked that nothing got accomplished and now there's even more to do than before
-goes to the gym
-decides to make a list
-has lunch
-has a nap
-makes a list
-misplaces list
-makes a new list
-leaves the house forgetting said list at home
-tries to manage without list
-fails miserably
-repeats cycle on a daily basis
As a perfect example of my dysfunctional mindset, this post (although obviously you can't see it now) was written in disjointed chunks as my brain thought of everything at once and my fingers tried to keep up.
Everything I do happens that way. I'm always forgetting laundry in the washer for days and then it smells all funky and then I have to rewash it. My oil changes are often a few thousand kilometres overdue even though I'll think of it every time I get in the car. I go to Superstore at least three times a week because I'm too impatient to wait until I have a reasonable list of things to get and I'm always forgetting some of the few things I'm specifically going for. I find it nearly impossible to sit still, and rarely finish watching movies. I miss every important play when watching sports games because I was talking or reading the menu or trying to figure out what that guy's t-shirt says, and then I'll forget to watch the instant replay. Sometimes I'm surprised that I'm even capable of driving.
If I have to be somewhere an hour away at 8 and I have to get gas and it takes me an hour to get ready, I can figure out that this means that I need to start getting ready at 5:45. At 6 I'll realize I'm already running late. At 6:15 I'll start getting ready. I'll finally leave the house at 7:30. Then I'll forget that I need gas and go the wrong direction. And because I'm cheap, I'll turn around and drive back the wrong way to where gas is cheaper. Then I'll forget which exit I need to take and have to make a detour. Then I finally show up at 9pm.
I talk too fast and I write too fast and I do things too impulsively and I lose my train of thoughts and I buy things I shouldn't and I forget to mail letters and I accidentally bought shampoo instead of conditioner and now my hair is tangly and I can't sit still and I can't turn off the radio station-like noises in my head and I forget to respond to messages and I spent an hour rolling pennies and and I have all these good intentions of getting lots of things done and I just can never seem to manage. Ever. And it's driving me crazy. And now it's driving everyone around me crazy too.
So I'm calling Dr Sommi tomorrow to get this shit figured out. It's on my list. Wish me luck.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Dad Quotes
33 years of working in mills means my dad is hard of hearing. But rather than asking "Pardon?" he just spits out whatever he thought he heard, in the form of a question.
Like just now:
Dad: "Supposed to be a nice day tomorrow, 23 degrees."
Me: "Ooooh it went up a degree!"
Dad: "You want to buy an effigy?"
Other gems include:
Me: "It's Ryan Phillippe."
Dad: "Who's that?"
Me: "He's an actor. He was married to Reese Witherspoon."
Dad: "He was made a new citizen?"
During one of our many milk debates (I like skim, he likes straight whipping cream):
Sam: "Can't you just put Creamo in your skim?"
Dad: "Don't you wanna put a staple in the tent?"
Dad was talking to Will about Will selling his truck:
Dad: "What are you going to do with $2500?"
Will: "Go to the Phillipines."
Dad: "Build a guillotine?"
Like just now:
Dad: "Supposed to be a nice day tomorrow, 23 degrees."
Me: "Ooooh it went up a degree!"
Dad: "You want to buy an effigy?"
Other gems include:
Me: "It's Ryan Phillippe."
Dad: "Who's that?"
Me: "He's an actor. He was married to Reese Witherspoon."
Dad: "He was made a new citizen?"
During one of our many milk debates (I like skim, he likes straight whipping cream):
Sam: "Can't you just put Creamo in your skim?"
Dad: "Don't you wanna put a staple in the tent?"
Dad was talking to Will about Will selling his truck:
Dad: "What are you going to do with $2500?"
Will: "Go to the Phillipines."
Dad: "Build a guillotine?"
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Boobs! FOR SCIENCE!
In retaliation to one of the most ridiculous allegations of all time, Boobquake is happening tomorrow.
Jennifer McCreight dreamt up Boobquake as a joke in response to this statement:
"Many women who do not dress modestly ... lead young men astray, corrupt their chastity and spread adultery in society, which (consequently) increases earthquakes"
-Hojatoleslam Kazem Sedighi ,Tehran's acting Friday prayer leader
The idea spread like wildfire, and there are currently over 100,000 people lending their support and boobs to the cause tomorrow. After declaring my own participation on Twitter, Paul Chapman (editor for the Province, and not the first time my tweets have landed me in the Province!) asked me if I'd like to take part in a fun interview regarding Boobquake for a local story.
See the Province's story featuring yours truly and my weapons of mass seduction here.
Jennifer McCreight dreamt up Boobquake as a joke in response to this statement:
"Many women who do not dress modestly ... lead young men astray, corrupt their chastity and spread adultery in society, which (consequently) increases earthquakes"
-Hojatoleslam Kazem Sedighi ,Tehran's acting Friday prayer leader
The idea spread like wildfire, and there are currently over 100,000 people lending their support and boobs to the cause tomorrow. After declaring my own participation on Twitter, Paul Chapman (editor for the Province, and not the first time my tweets have landed me in the Province!) asked me if I'd like to take part in a fun interview regarding Boobquake for a local story.
See the Province's story featuring yours truly and my weapons of mass seduction here.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Earth Day! And Why it Makes Me Sad.
"Treat the Earth well. It was not given to you by your parents.
It is loaned to you by your children."
~ Kenyan proverb
WARNING: This post may get a little preachy, and I might come out looking like a hippie.
I could cry today, because I'm so frustrated with people and how they treat this planet. Moreso, I'm frustrated by people's apathy.
We live in a rural area on a main street, and one that many a fisherman makes his home-away-from-home when he needs to "get away from it all."
We also have two trailer parks on our street. One is mostly home to retirees, and as a result it is tidy and kempt. The other is your stereotypical trailer park, full of trailer trash, both figuratively and literally. I spent seven years delivering papers there twice a week, and I went to elementary and high school with many of the children that live there, so I've seen it all firsthand. One Saturday morning I witnessed young children playing in their front yard, which was littered with aftermath from the previous night's party: dozens of beer cans and porn mags. I'm not kidding.
And we're the main street that 20- and 30-somethings use to get to Stave Lake, home to the mud flats and off-roading trails, and often a dumping ground for stolen vehicles.
So as a result of the types of people that frequent our street, its shoulders and ditches are home to styrofoam bait containers, chocolate bar wrappers, pop cans, beer cans, countless cigarette butts and packages, and trash from most fast-food restaurants, especially Tim Horton's.
It's also a dumping ground for large things, for those too cheap or too lazy to properly dispose of them. I just called Mission Public Works to have them pick up the double-size futon that's been laying on the side of the road for well over a week now. There are countless garbage bags filled with dirt - a lovely gift from the grow-ops in the neighbourhood - and apparently one fisherman went home pantsless after he tore a hole in his and left them for someone else to deal with.
So this morning, as I was feeling all lovey dovey about the Earth, I picked up a heavy-duty garbage collection bag and one of those sweet robot arm garbage-picker-upper things from my neighbour (the neighbourhood used to share in weekly garbage pickups) and set off with Jack in tow. In less than half a kilometre my bag was so full and heavy that one of the handles broke. I also came home disheartened, because my bag can't hold the paint cans and plant pots that I had to leave behind.
So with all of this, you'd expect we live in a pretty rough, ugly neighbourhood, right?
Wrong. I took this just now, standing in my front yard.
I'd hate to see how people treat a place that isn't this beautiful.
I also get frustrated with people's lack of motivation to actually do anything more than just say "Happy Earth Day!" Words don't undo pollution, or automatically sort your recyclables from your compostables from your garbage, or plant trees, or pick up garbage that thoughtless others have tossed out their window.
Usually I hate the expression "if you aren't part of the solution, you're part of the problem," but it's days like today that it couldn't ring any truer.
So I'm happy to report that today I'm part of the solution. I've resolved to make today a car-free day, in efforts to reduce my carbon emissions. Instead of turning up the heat in the house because it's cold, I'm going to layer up. I'm planning on not creating any garbage today; all the waste I produce will either be recyclable or compostable. And I walked down the street to pick up free-range organic eggs from our neighbours' farm today for my good-for-the-environment lunch.
Happy Earth Day! Do something good for the environment please.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Things That I Think Are Stupid
The Price of Razorblades.
I've been buying the same blades for about ten years now. They're not advertised by Gillette anymore, and haven't been in some time, and they will probably be discontinued soon as the handle's been unavailable for a couple of years now.
So with no advertisement, and no cost of R&D, you'd think the price would stay roughly the same, right?
Wrong.
Ten years ago: about $10, or $1/blade.
Today: $17, or $1.70/blade.
You can't tell me that inflation has caused the price to increase 70%. A piece of plastic housing two thin strips of metal (Yes, mine only have two blades. I don't need 16 blades to shave.) should cost mere pennies to produce. By the time you package and ship and resell that ten pack it should cost no more than $3 or $4.
But it's a monopoly market, as there aren't any inexpensive alternatives. Professional waxing and laser hair removal cost small fortunes. Electric razors don't come cheap either, and with a lifespan of only a couple of years, they probably cost more in the long run. Disposables aren't as good (not to mention the unnecessary garbage they create), and generic brands, if you can find them, aren't up to snuff.
And what are we supposed to do in protest? Boycott razorblades? That's only hurting ourselves.
I'm just going to start buying lots of blade packs of ebay. Still not as cheap as it should be, but a substantial savings over what you'll pay at the grocery store.
Bikram's Yoga, aka Hot Yoga.
Ok, so let's get this straight. The same temperature and humidity that causes the government to issue heat warnings about when it happens in the summer is the same environment that you're working out in? You're spending anywhere from 60 to 90 minutes in a makeshift sauna, when a real sauna is filled with signage warning you not to stay for longer than 15 minutes, and to leave immediately if you begin to feel nauseous or dizzy.
And everyone is getting their sweat on. But unlike in a gym, where the air is circulated and conditioned, Bikram's is in a sealed-off room. Nice. You're breathing in everyone else' sweat and breath. Better hope no one's getting a cold, because you'll be getting it too.
What's worse is that you're told not to drink any water. This goes against everything we've been taught since the beginning of PE classes.
In the 45 minutes I spend doing cardio on the elliptical at my gym I will polish off an entire 1 litre bottle of water, and another 500mls on my drive home.
"Oh but I lose so much weight with Bikram's! I feel so awesome after Bikram's!"
Yes, you do. But you put it back on as soon as you rehydrate yourself. That's probably why you feel so good after your workout; stepping outside into cool air where you can finally drink water is bound to feel euphoric after you've been trying not to pass out for an hour.
Feeling dizzy, light-headed or nauseous while working out = bad
Not staying hydrated while working out = bad
Paying $20 for an hour-long group workout = stupid
I'm not anti-yoga, nor am I anti-saunas. But together? Anyone who participates in this needs to give their head a good shake.
"It makes me feel amazing!"
If you're lacking amazement in your life, here are some other, not-so-stupid things you can try instead:
-regular workouts (including regular yoga!)
-recycling
-volunteering
-cuddling puppies
-giving hugs
And the best part? None of those cost $20/hour to do! You're welcome.
AirCare
Oh wait, we already went over that.
I've been buying the same blades for about ten years now. They're not advertised by Gillette anymore, and haven't been in some time, and they will probably be discontinued soon as the handle's been unavailable for a couple of years now.
So with no advertisement, and no cost of R&D, you'd think the price would stay roughly the same, right?
Wrong.
Ten years ago: about $10, or $1/blade.
Today: $17, or $1.70/blade.
You can't tell me that inflation has caused the price to increase 70%. A piece of plastic housing two thin strips of metal (Yes, mine only have two blades. I don't need 16 blades to shave.) should cost mere pennies to produce. By the time you package and ship and resell that ten pack it should cost no more than $3 or $4.
But it's a monopoly market, as there aren't any inexpensive alternatives. Professional waxing and laser hair removal cost small fortunes. Electric razors don't come cheap either, and with a lifespan of only a couple of years, they probably cost more in the long run. Disposables aren't as good (not to mention the unnecessary garbage they create), and generic brands, if you can find them, aren't up to snuff.
And what are we supposed to do in protest? Boycott razorblades? That's only hurting ourselves.
I'm just going to start buying lots of blade packs of ebay. Still not as cheap as it should be, but a substantial savings over what you'll pay at the grocery store.
Bikram's Yoga, aka Hot Yoga.
Ok, so let's get this straight. The same temperature and humidity that causes the government to issue heat warnings about when it happens in the summer is the same environment that you're working out in? You're spending anywhere from 60 to 90 minutes in a makeshift sauna, when a real sauna is filled with signage warning you not to stay for longer than 15 minutes, and to leave immediately if you begin to feel nauseous or dizzy.
And everyone is getting their sweat on. But unlike in a gym, where the air is circulated and conditioned, Bikram's is in a sealed-off room. Nice. You're breathing in everyone else' sweat and breath. Better hope no one's getting a cold, because you'll be getting it too.
What's worse is that you're told not to drink any water. This goes against everything we've been taught since the beginning of PE classes.
In the 45 minutes I spend doing cardio on the elliptical at my gym I will polish off an entire 1 litre bottle of water, and another 500mls on my drive home.
"Oh but I lose so much weight with Bikram's! I feel so awesome after Bikram's!"
Yes, you do. But you put it back on as soon as you rehydrate yourself. That's probably why you feel so good after your workout; stepping outside into cool air where you can finally drink water is bound to feel euphoric after you've been trying not to pass out for an hour.
Feeling dizzy, light-headed or nauseous while working out = bad
Not staying hydrated while working out = bad
Paying $20 for an hour-long group workout = stupid
I'm not anti-yoga, nor am I anti-saunas. But together? Anyone who participates in this needs to give their head a good shake.
"It makes me feel amazing!"
If you're lacking amazement in your life, here are some other, not-so-stupid things you can try instead:
-regular workouts (including regular yoga!)
-recycling
-volunteering
-cuddling puppies
-giving hugs
And the best part? None of those cost $20/hour to do! You're welcome.
AirCare
Oh wait, we already went over that.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Exciting things that happened this week!
This was a week of firsts.
I experienced something I've been moderately (and unjustifiably) hateful of for some time now.
1) The Snuggie.
I take it all back. You are soft and warm, and even though you're a little bit staticky I'm still really into you. Literally.
2) Waking up in a Snuggie.
Thank you Jenn, I owe that one all to you.
3) New Snuggie-based projects.
I'm going to make a Lions Snuggie for this season. There was even talk of an orange three-person Snuggie for Jenn, Doug and I. Doug doesn't know about it yet, and Jenn pretended she wasn't super excited about that idea, but I know better.
4) Pho.
I've finally tried pho! And it was super delicious! It's like I live in Vancouver or something. And I managed to eat the entire bowl without having to ask for a fork. Gold star for me.
5) I fell in love with Jim's new beagle puppy, Barnaby.
Not to be confused with Burnaby. Having a tiny puppy asleep on your chest while he twitches and whimpers because he's dreaming is probably the cutest thing ever. And I am an expert on cute things, so you can rest assured that this is an accurate statement.
6) I won (another) contest!
My reign as queen of the radio contest isn't up yet, as I scored a pair of tickets to Rihanna at GM Place. ON MY BIRTHDAY!
And the most exciting thing that happened this week...
7) I was asked to MC Nicole and Nathan's wedding!
And oh boy, am I excited! So I get to play makeup artist the morning of the wedding, and then I get to spend all night on a mic. I'm so excited about it you'd think I were the one getting hitched or something.
Mistress of Ceremonies. I like it. Only 278 days to go!
I experienced something I've been moderately (and unjustifiably) hateful of for some time now.
1) The Snuggie.
I take it all back. You are soft and warm, and even though you're a little bit staticky I'm still really into you. Literally.
2) Waking up in a Snuggie.
Thank you Jenn, I owe that one all to you.
3) New Snuggie-based projects.
I'm going to make a Lions Snuggie for this season. There was even talk of an orange three-person Snuggie for Jenn, Doug and I. Doug doesn't know about it yet, and Jenn pretended she wasn't super excited about that idea, but I know better.
4) Pho.
I've finally tried pho! And it was super delicious! It's like I live in Vancouver or something. And I managed to eat the entire bowl without having to ask for a fork. Gold star for me.
5) I fell in love with Jim's new beagle puppy, Barnaby.
Not to be confused with Burnaby. Having a tiny puppy asleep on your chest while he twitches and whimpers because he's dreaming is probably the cutest thing ever. And I am an expert on cute things, so you can rest assured that this is an accurate statement.
6) I won (another) contest!
My reign as queen of the radio contest isn't up yet, as I scored a pair of tickets to Rihanna at GM Place. ON MY BIRTHDAY!
And the most exciting thing that happened this week...
7) I was asked to MC Nicole and Nathan's wedding!
And oh boy, am I excited! So I get to play makeup artist the morning of the wedding, and then I get to spend all night on a mic. I'm so excited about it you'd think I were the one getting hitched or something.
Mistress of Ceremonies. I like it. Only 278 days to go!
Monday, April 5, 2010
I don't know how I had a job.
As I am now job hunting, step one is getting my cover letter, references and resume in tip-top shape. The last job I had was a big-girl job, and I remember how pleased I was with the final version of my resume.
Oh, to be young and blindingly naive again.
Part of why I now know everything that is wrong with my resume is because I helped with several rounds of hiring at my last job. With all the atrocious resumes, cover letters, email correspondence leading up to interviews and the interviews themselves, I've got an arsenal of hire-me-NOW weaponry at my disposal.
And it's nice to know that we were much more stringent than most employers were.
Do you know how hard it is to find someone who has both a particular skill set and the ability to spell their own name correctly? Apparently the two are mutually exclusive.
It also helps that during my tenure at Resilience, I took the 12-week Word course through BCIT, as part of my technical writing program. That course was worth its weight in gold. If it had measurable weight. Just say it's worth its textbook's weight in gold.
Highlights from my 2007 resume
-Under Activities & Interests I put "new experiences." What a loser.
-There are upwards of one hundred different styles in the Styles & Formatting sidebar. ONE HUNDRED. Actually, in my continuing quest for journalistic integrity, and in my other quest to stop over-exaggerating everything all the time, I'm actually going to count.
Ok, so I was sort of right and sort of wrong. There are eighty-five different styles, but that is not including the standard ones that are already included with Word. It's well over a hundred if you include those.
Eighty-five.
Do you know how many is a good number to aim for?
Maybe ten or twelve.
So basically what this says is, "I'm telling you in words that I'm proficient with Word, but I'm proving this to be an outrageous lie as soon as you actually look at how I whipped this together. I'm also making it painfully obvious that my good friend Google helped me find a template on some website and that's what I based my resume off of."
Think of it this way: the words are the skin, and the styles are the skeleton.
And your employer has an x-ray machine.
You better hope your bones are in order.*
-I included an Objective.
Now I'm always torn on this one. I don't like the Objective section per se, but I also don't like jumping right into Skills or some other section. I feel like there needs to be some sort of "Hi I'm Sam and I want to work for you!" before I start telling you all the reasons I'm awesome. And I know that's what the cover letter is for, but you can't always assume that a potential employer is going to look at your cover letter first. We'll see what I come up with as I go.
Regardless, Objective is wrong wrong wrong.
-I underlined stuff. In blue. Wtf is wrong with me?
So it's clear I have some work ahead of me. And sadly, the more I read through this, the less I'd want to hire me. I thought I'd have some substance to work from, but apparently not.
*This, of course, is primarily for any position that includes writing. If you're a mechanic applying at Joe's Car Repair, they won't care if you used styles. They might not even care if you use Notepad.
Oh, to be young and blindingly naive again.
Part of why I now know everything that is wrong with my resume is because I helped with several rounds of hiring at my last job. With all the atrocious resumes, cover letters, email correspondence leading up to interviews and the interviews themselves, I've got an arsenal of hire-me-NOW weaponry at my disposal.
And it's nice to know that we were much more stringent than most employers were.
Do you know how hard it is to find someone who has both a particular skill set and the ability to spell their own name correctly? Apparently the two are mutually exclusive.
It also helps that during my tenure at Resilience, I took the 12-week Word course through BCIT, as part of my technical writing program. That course was worth its weight in gold. If it had measurable weight. Just say it's worth its textbook's weight in gold.
Highlights from my 2007 resume
-Under Activities & Interests I put "new experiences." What a loser.
-There are upwards of one hundred different styles in the Styles & Formatting sidebar. ONE HUNDRED. Actually, in my continuing quest for journalistic integrity, and in my other quest to stop over-exaggerating everything all the time, I'm actually going to count.
Ok, so I was sort of right and sort of wrong. There are eighty-five different styles, but that is not including the standard ones that are already included with Word. It's well over a hundred if you include those.
Eighty-five.
Do you know how many is a good number to aim for?
Maybe ten or twelve.
So basically what this says is, "I'm telling you in words that I'm proficient with Word, but I'm proving this to be an outrageous lie as soon as you actually look at how I whipped this together. I'm also making it painfully obvious that my good friend Google helped me find a template on some website and that's what I based my resume off of."
Think of it this way: the words are the skin, and the styles are the skeleton.
And your employer has an x-ray machine.
You better hope your bones are in order.*
-I included an Objective.
Now I'm always torn on this one. I don't like the Objective section per se, but I also don't like jumping right into Skills or some other section. I feel like there needs to be some sort of "Hi I'm Sam and I want to work for you!" before I start telling you all the reasons I'm awesome. And I know that's what the cover letter is for, but you can't always assume that a potential employer is going to look at your cover letter first. We'll see what I come up with as I go.
Regardless, Objective is wrong wrong wrong.
-I underlined stuff. In blue. Wtf is wrong with me?
So it's clear I have some work ahead of me. And sadly, the more I read through this, the less I'd want to hire me. I thought I'd have some substance to work from, but apparently not.
*This, of course, is primarily for any position that includes writing. If you're a mechanic applying at Joe's Car Repair, they won't care if you used styles. They might not even care if you use Notepad.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
AirCare's Sole Purpose is to Remind Poor People That They're Poor
Alternate blog post titles:
Volkswagens and AirCare: enemies to the death.
"Did it pass AirCare?" "It's a Volkswagen. Of course not."
AirCare: The Bane of My Existence
First World Problems
I'm probably not going to elicit much sympathy from this, as I could have had a new(er) car instead of the one I already have. But because I made the "fun!" (aka irresponsible!) choice to quit my job and then spend my big pile of money gallivanting around some continents for a while, I came home to my high-mileage 1997 Golf.
I loved this car when I got itfive years ago. After driving an awesomely charismatic but supremely unsafe and unreliable yellow '72 Superbeetle for three years, upgrading to a car that was produced when I was already alive was amazing.
I still love you, Mabel. You death trap on wheels you.
And I love things about this car. Like how a tank of gas that will get me 550km costs less than $40. Or how... it has a manual transmission! And... doors. And wheels... And it gets me from point A to point B relatively unscathed... Ok, so there isn't much that's great about this car. But it's (usually) cheap to run, and I don't have any sort of monthly car payment.
Car payments are why I don't have a newer, nicer car.
Do you know how much a monthly car payment for a new Civic is? $300
And the car payment for the sole car that might actually motivate me into taking on a monthly car payment, aka a Dodge Challenger?
At least $600.
(That was the sound of my bank account getting raped.)
So I still have my 13-year-old, junky-but-mostly-reliable, practically-free-to-drive Golf. I should probably throw some money at it, like to paint the hood or fix the cracked-to-shit windshield, the latter of which would not hold up in a vehicle inspection. But as it's high mileage and never been rebuilt, it would probably be smarter just to sell it before its maintenance bills are more than the car's value.
I cancelled its insurance pre-departure and put storage insurance on it. And I was actually excited to reinsure it, as three years has now elapsed since my car accident and ICBC's accident forgiveness would have kicked in, making my already practically free to drive car even freer. Whoa that's actually a word? Awesome! Freer freer freer.
I head to the local Autoplan to reinsure my car, hand her all my paper work, get my blank cheque ready (as I had forgotten it on the first attempt), and smugly wait to hear just how cheap my monthly insurance payment is going to be.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Your AirCare's expired."
If hopes and dreams dying was audible, that's the sound.
She could have also said, "Cry. Then please go to your nearest mechanic and pay $300."
AirCare is a tax on the poor.
New vehicles are exempt from AirCare for their first seven years of life. After that they only need to be checked every two years, and they usually pass with flying colours.
AirCare was implemented in 1992. Does this mean that vehicles built prior to 1992 are exempt? No. Cars built in 1992 or previous need to be checked every year.
AirCare should be much the same as how the seatbelt law works: if your car was built without seatbelts before the seatbelts law came into effect, you don't need to install seatbelts in your car.
And while I realize that this still wouldn't make my 1997 Golf exempt from AirCare, it would make me a little less bitter about all the hell they caused me with my 1972 Bug. But AirCare is government, which means it's not much more than a thinly-veiled cash grab, and despite similar programs being nixed throughout the states they had been implemented in because it's becoming increasingly pointless, AirCare still exists because the BC government likes to tax the poor.
I don't drive a '97 Golf because I think it's fun to not have things like airbags and air conditioning and ABS brakes and power windows. I drive it because I can't afford anything else right now. Because I spent all my money on silk and silver in India. Pity me.
You know what else I can't afford? The mechanic bill, to fix my off-the-chart nitrogen oxide rating. Because I quit my job before I went on said silver and silk shopping spree. Cue more pity.
Do you think they looked at my supremely-below-average carbon monoxide reading and gave me a break? Or averaged the three readings? Or though, ehhh two out of three ain't bad, off you go. Nope. Not even a high five.
Carbon monoxide? WILL KILL YOU.
Nitrogen oxide? Makes your car go fast! Wheeeee!
If you are in the 1992 or older category, where regulations say you need to go through AirCare every year, they charge you $23 for the exam.
If you are in the 1993 and newer category, where you only need to go through AirCare every two years, the testing fee is $47.
Whoa, what's that?
Both exams are exactly the same. But if we're only going to see you every two years, we're going to charge you double! That's the price you pay for being able to afford a new car that was built to meet modern emissions standards!
My car is pretty economical in the grand scheme of things. It even rated as having better than average gas consumption for its class in the AirCare test. If I were to take that $40 tank of gas and light it on fire, it would still be more Earth-friendly than a new V8 diesel that spews out a thick plume of black smoke every time you hammer on the pedal.
Maybe this is Mother Nature's vengeance for how I drove Richie's truck. In that case, I'm sorry MN. Love you!
But because that brand new $78,000 F350 V8 meets the emissions standards for its class, it doesn't even need to go on its first date with AirCare until 2016. And that first date won't even be awkward and it'll pass with flying colours and it'll do the stride of pride out of the AirCare lineup like no tomorrow.
So let's break it down.
Typical redneck: $15,600 for truck/year* + $6,000 for diesel/year** = $21,600 annual vehicle expenses
*($78,000 / 5 year payment plan)
**(20,000km / 400km per tank x $120 per fill)
Me: $900 for car/year*** + $1455 for gas/year**** = $2,355 annual vehicle expenses
***($4,500 / 5 years of ownership)
****(20,000 / 550km per tank x $40 per fill)
I'm not even factoring in insurance, which is exponentially more for a vehicle that expensive, compared to what it costs me for mine.
One of us can afford expensive car repairs, and the other cannot.
One of us is hands-down spewing more pollutants into the air than is necessary, and the other is not.
But I'm the one being penalized for emissions and on my way to fork out a few hundred dollars in repairs.
AirCare is a tax on the poor.
Volkswagens and AirCare: enemies to the death.
"Did it pass AirCare?" "It's a Volkswagen. Of course not."
AirCare: The Bane of My Existence
First World Problems
I'm probably not going to elicit much sympathy from this, as I could have had a new(er) car instead of the one I already have. But because I made the "fun!" (aka irresponsible!) choice to quit my job and then spend my big pile of money gallivanting around some continents for a while, I came home to my high-mileage 1997 Golf.
I loved this car when I got it
I still love you, Mabel. You death trap on wheels you.
And I love things about this car. Like how a tank of gas that will get me 550km costs less than $40. Or how... it has a manual transmission! And... doors. And wheels... And it gets me from point A to point B relatively unscathed... Ok, so there isn't much that's great about this car. But it's (usually) cheap to run, and I don't have any sort of monthly car payment.
Car payments are why I don't have a newer, nicer car.
Do you know how much a monthly car payment for a new Civic is? $300
And the car payment for the sole car that might actually motivate me into taking on a monthly car payment, aka a Dodge Challenger?
At least $600.
(That was the sound of my bank account getting raped.)
So I still have my 13-year-old, junky-but-mostly-reliable, practically-free-to-drive Golf. I should probably throw some money at it, like to paint the hood or fix the cracked-to-shit windshield, the latter of which would not hold up in a vehicle inspection. But as it's high mileage and never been rebuilt, it would probably be smarter just to sell it before its maintenance bills are more than the car's value.
I cancelled its insurance pre-departure and put storage insurance on it. And I was actually excited to reinsure it, as three years has now elapsed since my car accident and ICBC's accident forgiveness would have kicked in, making my already practically free to drive car even freer. Whoa that's actually a word? Awesome! Freer freer freer.
I head to the local Autoplan to reinsure my car, hand her all my paper work, get my blank cheque ready (as I had forgotten it on the first attempt), and smugly wait to hear just how cheap my monthly insurance payment is going to be.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Your AirCare's expired."
If hopes and dreams dying was audible, that's the sound.
She could have also said, "Cry. Then please go to your nearest mechanic and pay $300."
AirCare is a tax on the poor.
New vehicles are exempt from AirCare for their first seven years of life. After that they only need to be checked every two years, and they usually pass with flying colours.
AirCare was implemented in 1992. Does this mean that vehicles built prior to 1992 are exempt? No. Cars built in 1992 or previous need to be checked every year.
AirCare should be much the same as how the seatbelt law works: if your car was built without seatbelts before the seatbelts law came into effect, you don't need to install seatbelts in your car.
And while I realize that this still wouldn't make my 1997 Golf exempt from AirCare, it would make me a little less bitter about all the hell they caused me with my 1972 Bug. But AirCare is government, which means it's not much more than a thinly-veiled cash grab, and despite similar programs being nixed throughout the states they had been implemented in because it's becoming increasingly pointless, AirCare still exists because the BC government likes to tax the poor.
I don't drive a '97 Golf because I think it's fun to not have things like airbags and air conditioning and ABS brakes and power windows. I drive it because I can't afford anything else right now. Because I spent all my money on silk and silver in India. Pity me.
You know what else I can't afford? The mechanic bill, to fix my off-the-chart nitrogen oxide rating. Because I quit my job before I went on said silver and silk shopping spree. Cue more pity.
Do you think they looked at my supremely-below-average carbon monoxide reading and gave me a break? Or averaged the three readings? Or though, ehhh two out of three ain't bad, off you go. Nope. Not even a high five.
Carbon monoxide? WILL KILL YOU.
Nitrogen oxide? Makes your car go fast! Wheeeee!
If you are in the 1992 or older category, where regulations say you need to go through AirCare every year, they charge you $23 for the exam.
If you are in the 1993 and newer category, where you only need to go through AirCare every two years, the testing fee is $47.
Whoa, what's that?
Both exams are exactly the same. But if we're only going to see you every two years, we're going to charge you double! That's the price you pay for being able to afford a new car that was built to meet modern emissions standards!
My car is pretty economical in the grand scheme of things. It even rated as having better than average gas consumption for its class in the AirCare test. If I were to take that $40 tank of gas and light it on fire, it would still be more Earth-friendly than a new V8 diesel that spews out a thick plume of black smoke every time you hammer on the pedal.
Maybe this is Mother Nature's vengeance for how I drove Richie's truck. In that case, I'm sorry MN. Love you!
But because that brand new $78,000 F350 V8 meets the emissions standards for its class, it doesn't even need to go on its first date with AirCare until 2016. And that first date won't even be awkward and it'll pass with flying colours and it'll do the stride of pride out of the AirCare lineup like no tomorrow.
So let's break it down.
Typical redneck: $15,600 for truck/year* + $6,000 for diesel/year** = $21,600 annual vehicle expenses
*($78,000 / 5 year payment plan)
**(20,000km / 400km per tank x $120 per fill)
Me: $900 for car/year*** + $1455 for gas/year**** = $2,355 annual vehicle expenses
***($4,500 / 5 years of ownership)
****(20,000 / 550km per tank x $40 per fill)
I'm not even factoring in insurance, which is exponentially more for a vehicle that expensive, compared to what it costs me for mine.
One of us can afford expensive car repairs, and the other cannot.
One of us is hands-down spewing more pollutants into the air than is necessary, and the other is not.
But I'm the one being penalized for emissions and on my way to fork out a few hundred dollars in repairs.
AirCare is a tax on the poor.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Home, sweeeeeet beautiful home!
After being away for nearly three months, home brings many realizations with it.
1. I own a shit-tonne of stuff.
The amount of stuff that I have crammed into my >10’x14’ room is borderline unbelievable. Couple that with the basement crawlspace, one section of which is devoted entirely to housing all the things I’ve accumulated over the last handful of years in anticipation of moving out.
Much of the things are home things, like decorative stuff, art, and textiles. In this way, I’m totally my mother’s daughter, and a textbook Cancer.
I’m not, however, my mother’s daughter in that there is absolutely no cohesion to any of the things I own. At all.
If something meets any one of the following criteria, I will buy it:
-if it’s a bright colour
-if it’s many bright colours
-if it’s black, white or grey
-if it’s silver
-if it’s gold
-if it’s shiny or sparkly
-if it’s glass
-if it's metal
-if it's wood
-if it's old
-if it’s an interesting conversation piece
-if it would look nice on a bookshelf
-if it’s a miniature version of something
-if it’s an oversized version of something
-if it would be fun to take to a party
-if it’s BC Lions merchandise
This theme continued while travelling, and of the above list only one criterion did not come into play while abroad, which is obviously the Lions criterion.
So what did I do?
I bought Olympiacos stuff instead.
So now I’m tasked with finding homes or storage for all the new things I’ve brought home. The biggest undertaking will be for the smallest items, as I bought a royal inheritance worth of jewelry and I have no idea where it’s all going to live. But hey, I’m unemployed! I have time for stuff like this now.
When I finally do move out, I’m going to have go the museum route: paint the walls stark white, throw everything in, and pretend that I meant for everything to be completely disconnected from everything else. It's art.
2. I have a shit-tonne of clothes.
And oh boy, am I excited for them! After three months of one pair of jeans, one cardigan, one sweater and a rotation of a half dozen t-shirts and three scarves, I’m ready to be a real girl again. Wearing the same dozen pairs of underwear for 80 days is a travesty. And when you’re gallivanting around the planet, seeing how much amazing stuff there is out there, your boring clothes make you feel extra boring. I don’t like feeling boring.
3. I am not very good at planning.
I had intended for all my laundry to be washed, folded and put away before my departure. As I quickly ran out of time before I left, things like normal adult responsibilities got shoved aside.
But seeing as how I was employed then, and I am unemployed now, it’s not like I don’t have the time to do it all now! So I guess I am good at planning.
4. Dogs are jerks.
I'm gone for nearly three months (4.8 dog years to be exact), and Jack is more excited to see my dad than me.
Edit: 80 days is not 4.8 dog years, it's 1.53. How I screwed that up so badly is beyond me. But still, more than a year? And all he did was sniff my shoe.
5. Bacon is no more delicious after not eating it for three months.
Because bacon was already at maximum delicious, that's why.
6. Your own bed is so amazingly luxuriously comfy after a three month absence.
Seriously. It was heaven.
1. I own a shit-tonne of stuff.
The amount of stuff that I have crammed into my >10’x14’ room is borderline unbelievable. Couple that with the basement crawlspace, one section of which is devoted entirely to housing all the things I’ve accumulated over the last handful of years in anticipation of moving out.
Much of the things are home things, like decorative stuff, art, and textiles. In this way, I’m totally my mother’s daughter, and a textbook Cancer.
I’m not, however, my mother’s daughter in that there is absolutely no cohesion to any of the things I own. At all.
If something meets any one of the following criteria, I will buy it:
-if it’s a bright colour
-if it’s many bright colours
-if it’s black, white or grey
-if it’s silver
-if it’s gold
-if it’s shiny or sparkly
-if it’s glass
-if it's metal
-if it's wood
-if it's old
-if it’s an interesting conversation piece
-if it would look nice on a bookshelf
-if it’s a miniature version of something
-if it’s an oversized version of something
-if it would be fun to take to a party
-if it’s BC Lions merchandise
This theme continued while travelling, and of the above list only one criterion did not come into play while abroad, which is obviously the Lions criterion.
So what did I do?
I bought Olympiacos stuff instead.
So now I’m tasked with finding homes or storage for all the new things I’ve brought home. The biggest undertaking will be for the smallest items, as I bought a royal inheritance worth of jewelry and I have no idea where it’s all going to live. But hey, I’m unemployed! I have time for stuff like this now.
When I finally do move out, I’m going to have go the museum route: paint the walls stark white, throw everything in, and pretend that I meant for everything to be completely disconnected from everything else. It's art.
2. I have a shit-tonne of clothes.
And oh boy, am I excited for them! After three months of one pair of jeans, one cardigan, one sweater and a rotation of a half dozen t-shirts and three scarves, I’m ready to be a real girl again. Wearing the same dozen pairs of underwear for 80 days is a travesty. And when you’re gallivanting around the planet, seeing how much amazing stuff there is out there, your boring clothes make you feel extra boring. I don’t like feeling boring.
3. I am not very good at planning.
I had intended for all my laundry to be washed, folded and put away before my departure. As I quickly ran out of time before I left, things like normal adult responsibilities got shoved aside.
But seeing as how I was employed then, and I am unemployed now, it’s not like I don’t have the time to do it all now! So I guess I am good at planning.
4. Dogs are jerks.
I'm gone for nearly three months (4.8 dog years to be exact), and Jack is more excited to see my dad than me.
Edit: 80 days is not 4.8 dog years, it's 1.53. How I screwed that up so badly is beyond me. But still, more than a year? And all he did was sniff my shoe.
5. Bacon is no more delicious after not eating it for three months.
Because bacon was already at maximum delicious, that's why.
6. Your own bed is so amazingly luxuriously comfy after a three month absence.
Seriously. It was heaven.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Day 80 of 80 – the end is here!
I did it! I’m less than 45 minutes from touchdown in Vancouver and I’m so many emotions right now. I’m beyond excited to see my dad who’s picking me up, I’m anxious to get through baggage collection and customs because they never go speedily enough, and I’m so ready to be home.
What home will bring is a little uncertain, so I’m approaching that with a touch of trepidation. I’m gearing up for what is hopefully a very temporary stint in unemployment and being incomeless, and as soon as new work is found my next up task is to (finally) move out of mom and dad’s. Big changes ahead!
The biggest thing this journey has taught me is that in the grand scheme of life, I’ve won the fucking lottery. To be born Canadian, to speak English, to be upper middle class with a million opportunities at my feet, to be able to quit my job to go travel with parents who are beyond supportive, to have an education, to be what we take for granted as completely average in North America is the 99th percentile to the rest of the planet.
And I hope that when I’m home, that is the lesson that stays with me most. I hope I’m as kind to people as possible, to reflect the kindness that’s been displayed to me for the past 80 days. I hope that I complain less, because I’ve seen what real poverty looks like, what real problems are. I hope that I continue to be able to travel, and that I capitalize on those opportunities. I definitely didn’t earn this trip – it fell in my lap like everything else I’ve been given, like every other trip I’ve been on – but I am still so grateful. The next trip will be one that I scrimp and save for, and earn the hard way.
This planet is so amazing. How incredible is it that we can hurl ourselves through the air in a metal tube going 900km an hour and end up on the other side of the world in less than half a day. We owe the Wright brothers big time.
Time to prep for landing, which means this is cut short. Probably a good thing, because I’m getting teary on a plane. Never a good thing.
I wish I could tell Dan about my trip. He’d be so stoked.
What home will bring is a little uncertain, so I’m approaching that with a touch of trepidation. I’m gearing up for what is hopefully a very temporary stint in unemployment and being incomeless, and as soon as new work is found my next up task is to (finally) move out of mom and dad’s. Big changes ahead!
The biggest thing this journey has taught me is that in the grand scheme of life, I’ve won the fucking lottery. To be born Canadian, to speak English, to be upper middle class with a million opportunities at my feet, to be able to quit my job to go travel with parents who are beyond supportive, to have an education, to be what we take for granted as completely average in North America is the 99th percentile to the rest of the planet.
And I hope that when I’m home, that is the lesson that stays with me most. I hope I’m as kind to people as possible, to reflect the kindness that’s been displayed to me for the past 80 days. I hope that I complain less, because I’ve seen what real poverty looks like, what real problems are. I hope that I continue to be able to travel, and that I capitalize on those opportunities. I definitely didn’t earn this trip – it fell in my lap like everything else I’ve been given, like every other trip I’ve been on – but I am still so grateful. The next trip will be one that I scrimp and save for, and earn the hard way.
This planet is so amazing. How incredible is it that we can hurl ourselves through the air in a metal tube going 900km an hour and end up on the other side of the world in less than half a day. We owe the Wright brothers big time.
Time to prep for landing, which means this is cut short. Probably a good thing, because I’m getting teary on a plane. Never a good thing.
I wish I could tell Dan about my trip. He’d be so stoked.
100 things I learned on my trip
1. Smiling will get you everywhere.
2. I am worth 4,000,000 camels, 100 pashminas and a shop, or two blocks of the pyramids.
3. India is insane.
4. The Eiffel Tower really is all it's cracked up to be.
5. A good book means you never eat dinner alone.
6. Expect to pay as much for tea in Europe as you would for a sandwich in Canada.
7. The best samosas in the world are halfway between Varanasi and the Nepal border, on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, and cost Rs 2 (approximately 5¢ CDN).
8. The Greek islands are best visited in the summer.
9. The Champs-Elysees is everything that's wrong with humanity.
10. Water purifcation tablets, drops and your own water bottle are completely unnecessary.
11. Going by the meter in a taxi in India means the driver will circle the city repeatedly to make more money.
12. It is fiscally irresponsible not to attend happy hour.
13. Canadians go travelling for a gap year, or take time off work. Americans study abroad for a semester.
14. Europe treats the Euro exactly like the dollar. $3.75 for a hot chocolate at home, €3.75 for a hot chocolate in Amsterdam.
15. France needs a lesson or two in silver quality and pricing from Egypt and India.
16. Dutch is the most hilariously ridiculous language, both on paper and when spoken.
17. Top Deck is a terrible tour company.
18. Gap Adventures is an awesome tour company.
19. India: just as stinky as you'd expect.
20. Never backpack without a sleeping bag.
21. The French love English accents.
22. Blonde hair equals celebrity status in India.
23. Athens' stray dogs are collectively cared for by everyone, and even get regular vet checkups.
24. 9/10 Americans don't deserve their reputation as rude, arrogant, ignorant travellers. But that 1/10, they couldn't deserve it more.
25. 9/10 Canadians do deserve our reputation as kind, grateful, polite travellers. The 1/10 should be exiled to America.
26. Missing your best friend's wedding sucks. It sucks really, really bad.
27. Greece is hoarding the world's supply of tall, dark and handsome.
28. Watching a cremation on the banks of the Ganges isn't creepy at all. In fact, it's beautiful.
29. The French call the Netherlands "Pays-Bas."
30. In the Cairo airport, smiling nicely means they'll let you board a plane with contraband.
31. When presented with a squatter toilet and a western toilet, the squatter will be less disgusting.
32. Every single dog, no matter its breed, colour, size or disposition, reminds me of Jack and how much I miss him.
33. It's not if you'll get sick, it's when, and for how long, and how badly.
34. Scarves make excellent packing material. That's how I justify purchasing more than a dozen.
35. In India, you can spend as much time haggling the price as the actual taxi ride takes.
36. The pyramids really are all they're cracked up to be.
37. Check your tickets. You may have already paid for a ferry ticket when you bought your bus ticket, and don't need to buy another.
38. It is easier to read Greek than to speak it.
39. If you're confused, and someone else also looks confused, they speak English.
40. Apparently "Je ne parle Francais" is code for "I speak French."
41. Losing your camera makes an expensive night out drastically more expensive.
42. Cameras are cheaper at home than abroad. By about $250.
43. The security at the Kathmandu airport is both the most stringent and the most lax on the planet.
44. In some countries, staring isn't considered rude. That doesn't make it any less creepy though.
45. No matter how little English someone speaks, they'll still know how to ask "Boyfriend? Husband?"
46. A leader can make or break a tour.
47. Elephants love love love oranges and bananas.
48. The French actually dress like their stereotype: navy and white stripes and berets abound.
49. Greeks don't understand lineups.
50. A load of laundry costs more than dinner in a nice restaurant.
51. The Mona Lisa is way smaller than you'd expect it to be.
52. Paris' free wifi doesn't work for non-locals.
53. A $300 netbook more than pays for itself in internet café savings.
54. That same netbook proves priceless when it houses a backup of all your photos and you've lost your camera.
55. The Acropolis really is all it's cracked up to be.
56. Haggling something down to one-sixth of its original price isn't unheard of.
57. Canada has the best tasting vegetables.
58. Athens has more history than they know what to do with. Case in point: H&M has a glass floor so you can see the ruins below.
59. The air pollution in New Delhi is equivalent to smoking 20 cigarettes a day.
60. Starbucks tastes exactly the same everywhere.
61. The Euromullet: not just for dudes anymore.
62. A $10 tube of mascara at home is €15 in France.
63. If North America is a year behind European fashion, 2011 will be the year of the really ugly jean.
64. Flea markets at home: great deals abound. Flea markets in Paris: €575 for two chairs, €190 for a non-precious metal necklace, €80 for an ad from an old magazine.
65. The Red Light District in Amsterdam isn't as seedy, dirty, disgusting, dangerous or immoral as some say. In fact, it's none of those things. It's just business.
66. In the Catacombes, being nice to the security guard means he'll take pictures of you with flash.
67. Ferries in Greece are on time about a third of the time.
68. Bollywood films are fantastic.
69. Getting sprayed by an elephant's trunk is the coolest waterfight ever.
70. Six days worth of clean clothes can easily last you two weeks.
71. India is the only country whose airports have reasonable prices for food.
72. Accordions will drown out your headphones, no matter how loud you turn up your music. So will clarinets.
73. 50ml of astringent will last you exactly 80 days!
74. The Taj Mahal really is all it's cracked up to be.
75. Cows causing traffic jams in India is not a myth.
76. Paris has a miniature version of the Statue of Liberty.
77. People are entirely too generous to me.
78. NOFX didn't write Aux Champs-Elysees.
79. Buses in India have air conditioners, but no heaters.
80. Egyptians are crazy for blue eyes.
81. YVR is the nicest airport.
82. A seven hour bus ride is half the price of a three hour train ride.
83. I am incapable of travelling without a purse, and should never again attempt such a feat.
84. Outside of North America, I am taller than many men. In India, I am taller than most men.
85. It is possible to mispronounce "Sam."
86. Being in Greece while your parents are in Chile after a massive earthquake is the lonliest feeling in the world.
87. Woolly mammoth skeletons are just as cool as dinosaur skeletons. Possibly moreso.
88. The Pink Palace is not all it's cracked up to be.
89. Daylight savings time does not happen on the same day in every country.
90. Many of the oil paintings available in touristy areas are actually made in China.
91. Rhinos snort with displeasure when you wake them up.
92. Dining in restaurants for every meal sounds glamorous until you try it. Eating out loses its appeal when it's a necessity, not a luxury.
93. The best tasting meals are the ones put together out of €20 worth of groceries. Saving money is delicious.
94. Lonely Planet books are worth their weight in gold.
95. Paris is home to both the best and worst French fries on the planet.
96. I am incapable of not buying additional luggage to cart around my souvenirs.
97. People really are generally good, and really want to help you.
98. The more you travel, the more you realize you haven't seen even a shred of what there is to see.
99. The world is unbelievably amazing.
100. There really is no place like home.
2. I am worth 4,000,000 camels, 100 pashminas and a shop, or two blocks of the pyramids.
3. India is insane.
4. The Eiffel Tower really is all it's cracked up to be.
5. A good book means you never eat dinner alone.
6. Expect to pay as much for tea in Europe as you would for a sandwich in Canada.
7. The best samosas in the world are halfway between Varanasi and the Nepal border, on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, and cost Rs 2 (approximately 5¢ CDN).
8. The Greek islands are best visited in the summer.
9. The Champs-Elysees is everything that's wrong with humanity.
10. Water purifcation tablets, drops and your own water bottle are completely unnecessary.
11. Going by the meter in a taxi in India means the driver will circle the city repeatedly to make more money.
12. It is fiscally irresponsible not to attend happy hour.
13. Canadians go travelling for a gap year, or take time off work. Americans study abroad for a semester.
14. Europe treats the Euro exactly like the dollar. $3.75 for a hot chocolate at home, €3.75 for a hot chocolate in Amsterdam.
15. France needs a lesson or two in silver quality and pricing from Egypt and India.
16. Dutch is the most hilariously ridiculous language, both on paper and when spoken.
17. Top Deck is a terrible tour company.
18. Gap Adventures is an awesome tour company.
19. India: just as stinky as you'd expect.
20. Never backpack without a sleeping bag.
21. The French love English accents.
22. Blonde hair equals celebrity status in India.
23. Athens' stray dogs are collectively cared for by everyone, and even get regular vet checkups.
24. 9/10 Americans don't deserve their reputation as rude, arrogant, ignorant travellers. But that 1/10, they couldn't deserve it more.
25. 9/10 Canadians do deserve our reputation as kind, grateful, polite travellers. The 1/10 should be exiled to America.
26. Missing your best friend's wedding sucks. It sucks really, really bad.
27. Greece is hoarding the world's supply of tall, dark and handsome.
28. Watching a cremation on the banks of the Ganges isn't creepy at all. In fact, it's beautiful.
29. The French call the Netherlands "Pays-Bas."
30. In the Cairo airport, smiling nicely means they'll let you board a plane with contraband.
31. When presented with a squatter toilet and a western toilet, the squatter will be less disgusting.
32. Every single dog, no matter its breed, colour, size or disposition, reminds me of Jack and how much I miss him.
33. It's not if you'll get sick, it's when, and for how long, and how badly.
34. Scarves make excellent packing material. That's how I justify purchasing more than a dozen.
35. In India, you can spend as much time haggling the price as the actual taxi ride takes.
36. The pyramids really are all they're cracked up to be.
37. Check your tickets. You may have already paid for a ferry ticket when you bought your bus ticket, and don't need to buy another.
38. It is easier to read Greek than to speak it.
39. If you're confused, and someone else also looks confused, they speak English.
40. Apparently "Je ne parle Francais" is code for "I speak French."
41. Losing your camera makes an expensive night out drastically more expensive.
42. Cameras are cheaper at home than abroad. By about $250.
43. The security at the Kathmandu airport is both the most stringent and the most lax on the planet.
44. In some countries, staring isn't considered rude. That doesn't make it any less creepy though.
45. No matter how little English someone speaks, they'll still know how to ask "Boyfriend? Husband?"
46. A leader can make or break a tour.
47. Elephants love love love oranges and bananas.
48. The French actually dress like their stereotype: navy and white stripes and berets abound.
49. Greeks don't understand lineups.
50. A load of laundry costs more than dinner in a nice restaurant.
51. The Mona Lisa is way smaller than you'd expect it to be.
52. Paris' free wifi doesn't work for non-locals.
53. A $300 netbook more than pays for itself in internet café savings.
54. That same netbook proves priceless when it houses a backup of all your photos and you've lost your camera.
55. The Acropolis really is all it's cracked up to be.
56. Haggling something down to one-sixth of its original price isn't unheard of.
57. Canada has the best tasting vegetables.
58. Athens has more history than they know what to do with. Case in point: H&M has a glass floor so you can see the ruins below.
59. The air pollution in New Delhi is equivalent to smoking 20 cigarettes a day.
60. Starbucks tastes exactly the same everywhere.
61. The Euromullet: not just for dudes anymore.
62. A $10 tube of mascara at home is €15 in France.
63. If North America is a year behind European fashion, 2011 will be the year of the really ugly jean.
64. Flea markets at home: great deals abound. Flea markets in Paris: €575 for two chairs, €190 for a non-precious metal necklace, €80 for an ad from an old magazine.
65. The Red Light District in Amsterdam isn't as seedy, dirty, disgusting, dangerous or immoral as some say. In fact, it's none of those things. It's just business.
66. In the Catacombes, being nice to the security guard means he'll take pictures of you with flash.
67. Ferries in Greece are on time about a third of the time.
68. Bollywood films are fantastic.
69. Getting sprayed by an elephant's trunk is the coolest waterfight ever.
70. Six days worth of clean clothes can easily last you two weeks.
71. India is the only country whose airports have reasonable prices for food.
72. Accordions will drown out your headphones, no matter how loud you turn up your music. So will clarinets.
73. 50ml of astringent will last you exactly 80 days!
74. The Taj Mahal really is all it's cracked up to be.
75. Cows causing traffic jams in India is not a myth.
76. Paris has a miniature version of the Statue of Liberty.
77. People are entirely too generous to me.
78. NOFX didn't write Aux Champs-Elysees.
79. Buses in India have air conditioners, but no heaters.
80. Egyptians are crazy for blue eyes.
81. YVR is the nicest airport.
82. A seven hour bus ride is half the price of a three hour train ride.
83. I am incapable of travelling without a purse, and should never again attempt such a feat.
84. Outside of North America, I am taller than many men. In India, I am taller than most men.
85. It is possible to mispronounce "Sam."
86. Being in Greece while your parents are in Chile after a massive earthquake is the lonliest feeling in the world.
87. Woolly mammoth skeletons are just as cool as dinosaur skeletons. Possibly moreso.
88. The Pink Palace is not all it's cracked up to be.
89. Daylight savings time does not happen on the same day in every country.
90. Many of the oil paintings available in touristy areas are actually made in China.
91. Rhinos snort with displeasure when you wake them up.
92. Dining in restaurants for every meal sounds glamorous until you try it. Eating out loses its appeal when it's a necessity, not a luxury.
93. The best tasting meals are the ones put together out of €20 worth of groceries. Saving money is delicious.
94. Lonely Planet books are worth their weight in gold.
95. Paris is home to both the best and worst French fries on the planet.
96. I am incapable of not buying additional luggage to cart around my souvenirs.
97. People really are generally good, and really want to help you.
98. The more you travel, the more you realize you haven't seen even a shred of what there is to see.
99. The world is unbelievably amazing.
100. There really is no place like home.
Friday, March 26, 2010
J'adore Paris!
It has been a crazy busy few days, so I'll just hammer out the Cliffsnotes version, as the days are beginning to blur.
On Tuesday, Sandy and I set out to explore Paris. We walked along the Seine, and then went into Notre Dame. Later, he headed to the gym and I headed back to Montmarte, as the book I bought from the Dali museum giftshop was French, and I needed to exchange it for the English version. The return trip worked out well because I really like the Montmarte area, despite its hustle and bustle of tourists, and I found a beautiful little original painting. A lot of the cheap art for sale is actually produced in China (The painting I bought in Greece is probably not made in Greece. So sad.), so I was happy to find something original and authentically French. I also got to see more of the breakdancers that make the steps their stage, and I stayed to watch a couple of their shows. If ever in Paris, go to Montmarte!
Later, I met up again with Sandy for dinner. We walked to the Moulin Rouge, and as we couldn't possibly afford to go in (apparently entry fees are around $150), we did the next best thing: ate dinner right across the street with the Moulin Rouge in sight!
On Wednesday we went to the amazing Chateau de Versailles, home of a dozen or so Louis-es, and their wives, including Marie Antionette. It is ridiculous! The level of luxury that they lived in was unbelievable, and to think that this massive palace was constructed without the use of cranes or modern tools, or that its ceilings were painstakingly painted without the use of scissor lifts (and sometimes entire ceilings were painting by only one person), is amazing. The building itself is a work of art, and its interior is a museum in itself. Dozens upon dozens of massive eerily-lifelike portraits hang throughout its rooms and halls, and many of its rooms are still fully furnished.
My favourite room is the hall of mirrors. 17 huge windows facing the garden on one wall are matched with 17 giant mirrors on the opposite wall. About a hundred million massive chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and I can only imagine what the room would have been like when set with gargantuan dining tables to receive loads of guests. (I think it was a banquet room, but I may be wrong. Regardless, it would be quite the setting for a party.)
Afterwards, Sandy and I split up as he needed to head back to Paris sooner than expected, and I wanted to further explore the gardens. My knee's been bugging me, and as it was a 2km+ walk to Marie Antionette's estate, I opted for the little train that tours the grounds.
Marie Antionette's estate was a little less than thrilling, as the opulence and decadence that she's so widely known for didn't come through in its buildings or furnishings. She was one of the few wives that abandoned the common rules and insisted things be done her way (it was usually the king's job to decide how things should look), so her influence is widely seen throughout the main palace. Plus her over-the-top costumes aren't displayed anywhere in Versailles. I was expecting to see more from her, but that's ok; I certainly wasn't disappointed.
I took the train back to Paris, and then the metro back to Sandy's, and soon was fast asleep as the day had tuckered me right out.
Yesterday I got up with the intentions of seeing the Eiffel Tower at 12:30pm, with time afterwards for the Catacombes. As nice as it's been having Sandy as a tour guide, I was happy to venture off on my own. I like going at my own pace without worrying about what others want to see or do, and it gives me time to soak in everything Paris.
Despite having a reservation for 12:30, I didn't actually reach the summit until 1:30. The lines and rain and wait were so so worth it though, as the view from the top is beyond amazing. Even the views from the lower floors are astounding, and there's a good reason hundreds (if not thousands) of people stand in hours-long lineups to ascend it.
While at the top, the rain subsided and glimpses of blue sky began to peek through the clouds. After wandering its perimeter several times, I descended to the second level. Paris has done a good job in including lots of information and displays throughout all the tower's levels, so if you get tired of seeing the view (yeah right), you can get your education on instead.
After two hours or so on the tower (I'm not going to be back anytime soon, may as well get my money's worth!), I finally descended back to ground level. It was too late to hit up the Catacombes as I had originally planned, so I set off to find Paris' Statue of Liberty, three bridges away.
France gave the US a giant Statue of Liberty to commemorate the States' 100 year anniversary of its declaration of independence. Three years later, as a thank-you, the US gives France a miniature bronze version of the same statue.
Way to be generous and original, America.
The Parisian statue is facing west, towards her American sister, and while it certainly can't compare to the Staten Island version, it was still pretty neat to see a Statue of Liberty in person. No lines or crowds either! But that's probably just because it's too tiny to even consider climbing.
Post-faux New Yorkness I headed to the Champs-Elysees to Fnac, as I wanted to find a copy of the cookbook that was for sale in the Eiffel Tower giftshop, but hopefully at a non-giftshop price. The book is called a Little Taste of France, and it was French recipes in English. If I can't find it in Paris I'll have to look for it at home, because its recipes looked deeeelicious! The first Fnac proved bookless, so I was sent to a different location, this time with books, but still no luck. After admitting defeat (for now), I metro-ed back to Sandy's for the night.
If anyone's looking for a birthday gift for me (because I know my birthday is the most important day of your collective lives), get me this! I promise I won't cook you frogs legs.
On Tuesday, Sandy and I set out to explore Paris. We walked along the Seine, and then went into Notre Dame. Later, he headed to the gym and I headed back to Montmarte, as the book I bought from the Dali museum giftshop was French, and I needed to exchange it for the English version. The return trip worked out well because I really like the Montmarte area, despite its hustle and bustle of tourists, and I found a beautiful little original painting. A lot of the cheap art for sale is actually produced in China (The painting I bought in Greece is probably not made in Greece. So sad.), so I was happy to find something original and authentically French. I also got to see more of the breakdancers that make the steps their stage, and I stayed to watch a couple of their shows. If ever in Paris, go to Montmarte!
Later, I met up again with Sandy for dinner. We walked to the Moulin Rouge, and as we couldn't possibly afford to go in (apparently entry fees are around $150), we did the next best thing: ate dinner right across the street with the Moulin Rouge in sight!
On Wednesday we went to the amazing Chateau de Versailles, home of a dozen or so Louis-es, and their wives, including Marie Antionette. It is ridiculous! The level of luxury that they lived in was unbelievable, and to think that this massive palace was constructed without the use of cranes or modern tools, or that its ceilings were painstakingly painted without the use of scissor lifts (and sometimes entire ceilings were painting by only one person), is amazing. The building itself is a work of art, and its interior is a museum in itself. Dozens upon dozens of massive eerily-lifelike portraits hang throughout its rooms and halls, and many of its rooms are still fully furnished.
My favourite room is the hall of mirrors. 17 huge windows facing the garden on one wall are matched with 17 giant mirrors on the opposite wall. About a hundred million massive chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and I can only imagine what the room would have been like when set with gargantuan dining tables to receive loads of guests. (I think it was a banquet room, but I may be wrong. Regardless, it would be quite the setting for a party.)
Afterwards, Sandy and I split up as he needed to head back to Paris sooner than expected, and I wanted to further explore the gardens. My knee's been bugging me, and as it was a 2km+ walk to Marie Antionette's estate, I opted for the little train that tours the grounds.
Marie Antionette's estate was a little less than thrilling, as the opulence and decadence that she's so widely known for didn't come through in its buildings or furnishings. She was one of the few wives that abandoned the common rules and insisted things be done her way (it was usually the king's job to decide how things should look), so her influence is widely seen throughout the main palace. Plus her over-the-top costumes aren't displayed anywhere in Versailles. I was expecting to see more from her, but that's ok; I certainly wasn't disappointed.
I took the train back to Paris, and then the metro back to Sandy's, and soon was fast asleep as the day had tuckered me right out.
Yesterday I got up with the intentions of seeing the Eiffel Tower at 12:30pm, with time afterwards for the Catacombes. As nice as it's been having Sandy as a tour guide, I was happy to venture off on my own. I like going at my own pace without worrying about what others want to see or do, and it gives me time to soak in everything Paris.
Despite having a reservation for 12:30, I didn't actually reach the summit until 1:30. The lines and rain and wait were so so worth it though, as the view from the top is beyond amazing. Even the views from the lower floors are astounding, and there's a good reason hundreds (if not thousands) of people stand in hours-long lineups to ascend it.
While at the top, the rain subsided and glimpses of blue sky began to peek through the clouds. After wandering its perimeter several times, I descended to the second level. Paris has done a good job in including lots of information and displays throughout all the tower's levels, so if you get tired of seeing the view (yeah right), you can get your education on instead.
After two hours or so on the tower (I'm not going to be back anytime soon, may as well get my money's worth!), I finally descended back to ground level. It was too late to hit up the Catacombes as I had originally planned, so I set off to find Paris' Statue of Liberty, three bridges away.
France gave the US a giant Statue of Liberty to commemorate the States' 100 year anniversary of its declaration of independence. Three years later, as a thank-you, the US gives France a miniature bronze version of the same statue.
Way to be generous and original, America.
The Parisian statue is facing west, towards her American sister, and while it certainly can't compare to the Staten Island version, it was still pretty neat to see a Statue of Liberty in person. No lines or crowds either! But that's probably just because it's too tiny to even consider climbing.
Post-faux New Yorkness I headed to the Champs-Elysees to Fnac, as I wanted to find a copy of the cookbook that was for sale in the Eiffel Tower giftshop, but hopefully at a non-giftshop price. The book is called a Little Taste of France, and it was French recipes in English. If I can't find it in Paris I'll have to look for it at home, because its recipes looked deeeelicious! The first Fnac proved bookless, so I was sent to a different location, this time with books, but still no luck. After admitting defeat (for now), I metro-ed back to Sandy's for the night.
If anyone's looking for a birthday gift for me (because I know my birthday is the most important day of your collective lives), get me this! I promise I won't cook you frogs legs.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Paris! And a whole lotta awesome!
For some reason I always use the phrase "With my luck..." and go on to forecast some unfortunate result, but I really should stop, because I seem to have amazing luck. (Anyone who knows my history with radio contests can attest to this.)
I am in Paris! And what was shaping to be a week of disaster (travel tip: do not save the most expensive part of your trip until the very end) has ended up being absolutely fantastic. So far anyway, and we'll cross our fingers it stays that way.
As I've been travelling in the off-season, I've had the luxury of leaving bookings til the last minute, sometimes booking stuff the day-of and still having all options available to me. But as it's now spring break season, which marks the beginning of high-season, things have changed.
Cue knight in shining armour to rescue damsel in distress! (Minus the romance.)
On Wednesday, back in Athens ("Back in Athens." How often do you get to say that?!), I met Sandy, who lives in Paris and was visiting Athens just for a handful of days during his holidays. On Thursday morning we went exploring around Athens before he had to leave for his plane, and he mentioned that if I had an trouble finding a hostel in Paris that I could crash at his place if need be. I thanked him for the offer, but didn't plan on taking him up on it as I didn't want to impose.
Later that afternoon I started planning my week in Paris, and was horrified to see that all of my top choices, and all of my second choices, and all of my last resorts were booked for Saturday night. Basically nothing near anything was available, and the hostels far away from everything with horrible ratings were still at least €25. After paying only €20/night for my super lovely, super equipped, super central hostel in Athens for which there was loads of availability, this made my heart sink.
I picked two nights in one room at St Christopher's Inn for Sunday and Monday, then a different room for Tuesday and Wednesday (I had to pick and choose to get the best rates. Not fun.), and made my reservation.
Then I fired off a Facebook message to Sandy asking him if I could take him up on his offer to crash at his apartment, as there wasn't anything reasonable available for Saturday night.
I posted my frustration on Facebook. Cue more heroes!
Mom says that she'll spring for a nice hotel for me for the weekend (Thanks mom!), Nicole finds a far-from-terrible offering on Hostelworld (when I looked they were full, so there must have been a cancellation), and Michael offers me a place to stay if I don't mind sharing a bed with him at Franck & Martine's place. (More about that later!)
If you want to feel loved, just make your status update that you're possibly homeless for a night.
Sandy gets back to me and tells me that I'm more than welcome. He even offers to meet me at the airport, which I assure him he doesn't need to do. He gives me directions to his place and I breathe a massive sigh of relief. I was joking that the worst case scenario* was me in my sleeping bag under the Eiffel Tower, and for a moment it seemed like that might actually be a reality.
*If the worst case scenario my life presents me is sleeping beneath the Eiffel Tower, I'll take it!
My last day in Athens was great. Mandy, who is from North Carolina but studying in Prague, and I spent the day touring the National Archaeological Museum, eating gelato, shopping for souvenirs and having an amazing Greek dinner. Then I was up dark and early at 5am on Saturday morning to head out for the airport, and Paris!
Michael, whom I met on the India/Nepal tour, and whom I spent the first two days of my trip travelling with as we were the first to arrive at the hotel in New Delhi, lives in Denmark. He was in Paris this weekend for a semi-business visit, and our timing just happened to work out perfectly that we could meet! He invited me to lunch at the apartment of his friends' on Sunday, with a plan to do a little exploring before and after.
The flight was fine, I slept much of the way as I was so tired from getting less than four hours of sleep. (Pesky takeoff interrupted my nap. Life is hard.) Then I collected my bags and set off for Sandy's.
The Paris metro system is INSANE! 14 lines, crisscrossing all over the city. Athens had three lines, and I thought it was huge. From Charles de Gaulle airport to Sandy's is a shuttle, a train, and then two metro lines. But I made it, and with no problems!
Sandy's best friend Emilie (who I might add is the most adorable thing ever) was over, and Sandy had cooked up some super delicious chicken and coconut rice. (Note to self: learn how to make coconut rice.) Later, Sandy and I are talking about my reservations for the week and he says that I'm more than welcome to stay the entire week, and that he likes having company.
So I can a) move my super heavy bags (you'd think I bought a chunk of marble column or something) to St Christopher's on Sunday night, sleep in one room for two nights, then switch rooms for another two nights, then move to wherever there's availability after that which might not even be in the same hostel, and be cranky every time I have to repack my bags.
Or I can b) cancel my reservations and stay at Sandy's all week, saving me at least €200 on accommodation, plus extra savings in not having to eat out every meal.
B it is! So now I've got the keys to an apartment in Paris for the week. Sandy also insisted I take his bedroom (I put up a big fight over this one but he's more stubborn than I am so he won) and he'd take the pullout couch in the living room so that he can stay up and watch TV or whatever, and he claims he sleeps in the living room all the time anyway. I feel like a jerk about it, but the last few nights have been the best sleep I've had this whole trip, so I won't complain too much.
Later on Saturday afternoon, Sandy, Emilie and I ventured out to meet up with their friend Sebastian, and we ran errands. I was careening my head every which way whenever we came out of the metro, because I had yet to see the Eiffel Tower or l'Arc de Triomphe, and I was hoping to spot them. (No dice.) Sandy and I parted ways with them later to meet up with Rashid and his super adorable four-year-old daughter Aida for Indian food. Then back to the apartment and I hit the hay.
Sunday morning I headed out to meet Michael. We'd planned to meet at Rue Mac Mahon, which is one of the streets branching out from the roundabout at l'Arc de Triomphe. As I came up the escalator out of the metro, there it was! I actually got a little teary when I saw it; all I could think was, "NOW I'm in Paris!"
Michael's been to Paris a handful of times before, but had never been to the top. We bought our tickets and began the 284 spiral steps to the top. The view was gorgeous! Despite it being overcast, it was an amazing view of the city. Then I turned around and saw...
the Eiffel Tower!!
Pretty cool that the first time I saw the Eiffel Tower was from atop l'Arc de Triomphe.
It is even more stunning in person. It's rivalled in height only by a couple of office towers, none of which are even in the same direction, so it stands tall and proud in the middle of Paris. I can't believe that it was originally only a temporary installation, but I can understand why its popularity made it a permanent fixture on the Paris horizon.
When we were done arcing, Micheal and I walked to the Eiffel Tower. He's been up it several times already and didn't want to go around, so we just wandered its vicinity before heading to Franck and Martine's.
Franck has been a business partner / friend of Michael's for seven or so years now, despite Franck being enough Michael's senior that he could have been his father. Franck and Martine live in the most beautiful apartment I've ever been in. The building was built around 1890, and the apartment has wood floors, a marble fireplace, and the most gorgeous mouldings I've ever seen. It's on the sixth floor of the building, which is the top floor, so the huge windows let in tonnes of light. They've kept much of the paint and furniture light or white, so the place feels airy. I loved it! Unfortunately, it's probably a few million out of my price range. Apartments like that don't come cheap.
They were the sweetest couple and made me feel so welcome. It's not often that you get to go to a city and see what a typical (well, this apartment probably isn't typical for the average Parisian, but you know what I mean) home is like. We had a very Parisian lunch, that began with pate, baguette and sausage in at the coffee table, and then we sat down for the main meal.
The main was roast chicken and the best French fries I've had in my life (or frites, if I want to be French about it). Martine is an excellent cook! Apparently, good fries are cooked more than once, with "rest" periods in between to let the oil drain off the fries. She used sea salt on them and they were delicious.
The second course is typically a salad or cheese, but we were spoiled with both. The man is supposed to turn the salad (the dressing sits in the bottom of the bowl), but Franck was spilling lettuce everywhere so Martine did it for him. The cheese was amazing; a super creamy brie that spilled out onto your plate as soon as you cut it, and a hard chevre (I thought chevre was only ever creamy, but I was wrong!). Then for dessert we had Martine's marvelous apple tart. I think I should pick up a French cookbook while I'm here, because the food was to die for.
Michael and I got to the apartment a little before 2, and lunch wasn't done until 3:40. They definitely take their time eating!
While Franck and Martine were incredibly lovely, I have to say my favourite character at their place was their dog Cookie, a Griffon. I fell in love with her (and she with me too, dare I say), and I had this cute brown head on my lap for much of my visit. She reminded me so much of Jack in appearance, but she didn't have any terrier in her. If all Griffons are as sweet and as cute as Cookie then I'd definitely consider adopting one one day. Love love love Cookie!
After our lovely lunch, Michael and I set off for the afternoon. We went to Montmarte and the Salvador Dali museum. Espace de Salvador Dali is pretty tiny by typical museum standards (and absolutely miniature compared to the Louvre), but it was still pretty interesting. The melting clocks are hands-down his most famous works, but I didn't know that he carried that and other themes into different styles of art, including lost-was sculptures. My favourite two pieces are ones that look like one thing on paper, but when viewed on a mirrored column they are something completely different. The first looked like abstract rocks on paper, but in the mirror it was s skull, and the second transformed from cute butterfly to creepy face.
Other recurring themes are women with drawers all over their bodies, and elephants with long spindly spider-esque legs. One things for sure: Dali was absolutely insane.
As infamous as his melting clocks is Dali's moustache, and I couldn't help but buy a book aptly titled Dali's Mustache from the giftshop. As the back of the book reads WARNING! This book is preposterous! there wasn't any way I couldn't bring it home with me.
I also discovered that a photograph that I've always really liked was by Dali, as I had no idea who the person responsible was previously.
Then we took the metro to the Latin Quarter, and saw the gorgeous Notre Dame at night. Then we found a little Spanish-ish (Maybe it was Colombian?) restaurant for dinner, and wrapped up our visit with crepes and hot chocolate.
I didn't think I'd ever see Michael again unless I went to Copenhagen, or unless he came to Vancouver, so it's awesome that our paths crossed in Paris. He's a sweetheart and it was nice to have someone to explore the city with.
Yesterday I set off with the intentions of going up the Eiffel Tower. When I got to the tower, I was awestruck. It seems the closer you get to it, the more amazing it becomes. It's no surprise that it's huge, but after only ever seeing it on TV or in miniature form, seeing its actual size is incredible.
Also incredible? The lines. To buy tickets, to get to the stairs, to get to the elevator. They were insane. I was out of cash, and the ATMs under the tower didn't accept my card, so I admitted defeat for the day and set off for the Champs-Elysees instead. I checked online, and you can buy tickets to the tower for a specific time and day, so I'm definitely going to do that instead later this week.
The Champs-Elysees is a sight to see. It's loaded with flagship stores of the most expensive brands (Louis Vuitton, Chanel, Hermes, etc) and department-sized versions of stores we even have at home, like Sephora. (Interestingly, the Sephora store had a Mac counter within it. I previously thought they were competitors, but I guess not!). The stores are more like museums, with giant light displays, items hanging from the ceilings as though they are art and not for sale, and security guards everywhere ensuring you don't touch their precious goods.
I indulged in the only two things I could afford on Champs-Elysees: McDonalds and its free wifi. Post-Big Mac, I headed back to Sandy's for the night, as I was spent.
I am in Paris! And what was shaping to be a week of disaster (travel tip: do not save the most expensive part of your trip until the very end) has ended up being absolutely fantastic. So far anyway, and we'll cross our fingers it stays that way.
As I've been travelling in the off-season, I've had the luxury of leaving bookings til the last minute, sometimes booking stuff the day-of and still having all options available to me. But as it's now spring break season, which marks the beginning of high-season, things have changed.
Cue knight in shining armour to rescue damsel in distress! (Minus the romance.)
On Wednesday, back in Athens ("Back in Athens." How often do you get to say that?!), I met Sandy, who lives in Paris and was visiting Athens just for a handful of days during his holidays. On Thursday morning we went exploring around Athens before he had to leave for his plane, and he mentioned that if I had an trouble finding a hostel in Paris that I could crash at his place if need be. I thanked him for the offer, but didn't plan on taking him up on it as I didn't want to impose.
Later that afternoon I started planning my week in Paris, and was horrified to see that all of my top choices, and all of my second choices, and all of my last resorts were booked for Saturday night. Basically nothing near anything was available, and the hostels far away from everything with horrible ratings were still at least €25. After paying only €20/night for my super lovely, super equipped, super central hostel in Athens for which there was loads of availability, this made my heart sink.
I picked two nights in one room at St Christopher's Inn for Sunday and Monday, then a different room for Tuesday and Wednesday (I had to pick and choose to get the best rates. Not fun.), and made my reservation.
Then I fired off a Facebook message to Sandy asking him if I could take him up on his offer to crash at his apartment, as there wasn't anything reasonable available for Saturday night.
I posted my frustration on Facebook. Cue more heroes!
Mom says that she'll spring for a nice hotel for me for the weekend (Thanks mom!), Nicole finds a far-from-terrible offering on Hostelworld (when I looked they were full, so there must have been a cancellation), and Michael offers me a place to stay if I don't mind sharing a bed with him at Franck & Martine's place. (More about that later!)
If you want to feel loved, just make your status update that you're possibly homeless for a night.
Sandy gets back to me and tells me that I'm more than welcome. He even offers to meet me at the airport, which I assure him he doesn't need to do. He gives me directions to his place and I breathe a massive sigh of relief. I was joking that the worst case scenario* was me in my sleeping bag under the Eiffel Tower, and for a moment it seemed like that might actually be a reality.
*If the worst case scenario my life presents me is sleeping beneath the Eiffel Tower, I'll take it!
My last day in Athens was great. Mandy, who is from North Carolina but studying in Prague, and I spent the day touring the National Archaeological Museum, eating gelato, shopping for souvenirs and having an amazing Greek dinner. Then I was up dark and early at 5am on Saturday morning to head out for the airport, and Paris!
Michael, whom I met on the India/Nepal tour, and whom I spent the first two days of my trip travelling with as we were the first to arrive at the hotel in New Delhi, lives in Denmark. He was in Paris this weekend for a semi-business visit, and our timing just happened to work out perfectly that we could meet! He invited me to lunch at the apartment of his friends' on Sunday, with a plan to do a little exploring before and after.
The flight was fine, I slept much of the way as I was so tired from getting less than four hours of sleep. (Pesky takeoff interrupted my nap. Life is hard.) Then I collected my bags and set off for Sandy's.
The Paris metro system is INSANE! 14 lines, crisscrossing all over the city. Athens had three lines, and I thought it was huge. From Charles de Gaulle airport to Sandy's is a shuttle, a train, and then two metro lines. But I made it, and with no problems!
Sandy's best friend Emilie (who I might add is the most adorable thing ever) was over, and Sandy had cooked up some super delicious chicken and coconut rice. (Note to self: learn how to make coconut rice.) Later, Sandy and I are talking about my reservations for the week and he says that I'm more than welcome to stay the entire week, and that he likes having company.
So I can a) move my super heavy bags (you'd think I bought a chunk of marble column or something) to St Christopher's on Sunday night, sleep in one room for two nights, then switch rooms for another two nights, then move to wherever there's availability after that which might not even be in the same hostel, and be cranky every time I have to repack my bags.
Or I can b) cancel my reservations and stay at Sandy's all week, saving me at least €200 on accommodation, plus extra savings in not having to eat out every meal.
B it is! So now I've got the keys to an apartment in Paris for the week. Sandy also insisted I take his bedroom (I put up a big fight over this one but he's more stubborn than I am so he won) and he'd take the pullout couch in the living room so that he can stay up and watch TV or whatever, and he claims he sleeps in the living room all the time anyway. I feel like a jerk about it, but the last few nights have been the best sleep I've had this whole trip, so I won't complain too much.
Later on Saturday afternoon, Sandy, Emilie and I ventured out to meet up with their friend Sebastian, and we ran errands. I was careening my head every which way whenever we came out of the metro, because I had yet to see the Eiffel Tower or l'Arc de Triomphe, and I was hoping to spot them. (No dice.) Sandy and I parted ways with them later to meet up with Rashid and his super adorable four-year-old daughter Aida for Indian food. Then back to the apartment and I hit the hay.
Sunday morning I headed out to meet Michael. We'd planned to meet at Rue Mac Mahon, which is one of the streets branching out from the roundabout at l'Arc de Triomphe. As I came up the escalator out of the metro, there it was! I actually got a little teary when I saw it; all I could think was, "NOW I'm in Paris!"
Michael's been to Paris a handful of times before, but had never been to the top. We bought our tickets and began the 284 spiral steps to the top. The view was gorgeous! Despite it being overcast, it was an amazing view of the city. Then I turned around and saw...
the Eiffel Tower!!
Pretty cool that the first time I saw the Eiffel Tower was from atop l'Arc de Triomphe.
It is even more stunning in person. It's rivalled in height only by a couple of office towers, none of which are even in the same direction, so it stands tall and proud in the middle of Paris. I can't believe that it was originally only a temporary installation, but I can understand why its popularity made it a permanent fixture on the Paris horizon.
When we were done arcing, Micheal and I walked to the Eiffel Tower. He's been up it several times already and didn't want to go around, so we just wandered its vicinity before heading to Franck and Martine's.
Franck has been a business partner / friend of Michael's for seven or so years now, despite Franck being enough Michael's senior that he could have been his father. Franck and Martine live in the most beautiful apartment I've ever been in. The building was built around 1890, and the apartment has wood floors, a marble fireplace, and the most gorgeous mouldings I've ever seen. It's on the sixth floor of the building, which is the top floor, so the huge windows let in tonnes of light. They've kept much of the paint and furniture light or white, so the place feels airy. I loved it! Unfortunately, it's probably a few million out of my price range. Apartments like that don't come cheap.
They were the sweetest couple and made me feel so welcome. It's not often that you get to go to a city and see what a typical (well, this apartment probably isn't typical for the average Parisian, but you know what I mean) home is like. We had a very Parisian lunch, that began with pate, baguette and sausage in at the coffee table, and then we sat down for the main meal.
The main was roast chicken and the best French fries I've had in my life (or frites, if I want to be French about it). Martine is an excellent cook! Apparently, good fries are cooked more than once, with "rest" periods in between to let the oil drain off the fries. She used sea salt on them and they were delicious.
The second course is typically a salad or cheese, but we were spoiled with both. The man is supposed to turn the salad (the dressing sits in the bottom of the bowl), but Franck was spilling lettuce everywhere so Martine did it for him. The cheese was amazing; a super creamy brie that spilled out onto your plate as soon as you cut it, and a hard chevre (I thought chevre was only ever creamy, but I was wrong!). Then for dessert we had Martine's marvelous apple tart. I think I should pick up a French cookbook while I'm here, because the food was to die for.
Michael and I got to the apartment a little before 2, and lunch wasn't done until 3:40. They definitely take their time eating!
While Franck and Martine were incredibly lovely, I have to say my favourite character at their place was their dog Cookie, a Griffon. I fell in love with her (and she with me too, dare I say), and I had this cute brown head on my lap for much of my visit. She reminded me so much of Jack in appearance, but she didn't have any terrier in her. If all Griffons are as sweet and as cute as Cookie then I'd definitely consider adopting one one day. Love love love Cookie!
After our lovely lunch, Michael and I set off for the afternoon. We went to Montmarte and the Salvador Dali museum. Espace de Salvador Dali is pretty tiny by typical museum standards (and absolutely miniature compared to the Louvre), but it was still pretty interesting. The melting clocks are hands-down his most famous works, but I didn't know that he carried that and other themes into different styles of art, including lost-was sculptures. My favourite two pieces are ones that look like one thing on paper, but when viewed on a mirrored column they are something completely different. The first looked like abstract rocks on paper, but in the mirror it was s skull, and the second transformed from cute butterfly to creepy face.
Other recurring themes are women with drawers all over their bodies, and elephants with long spindly spider-esque legs. One things for sure: Dali was absolutely insane.
As infamous as his melting clocks is Dali's moustache, and I couldn't help but buy a book aptly titled Dali's Mustache from the giftshop. As the back of the book reads WARNING! This book is preposterous! there wasn't any way I couldn't bring it home with me.
I also discovered that a photograph that I've always really liked was by Dali, as I had no idea who the person responsible was previously.
Then we took the metro to the Latin Quarter, and saw the gorgeous Notre Dame at night. Then we found a little Spanish-ish (Maybe it was Colombian?) restaurant for dinner, and wrapped up our visit with crepes and hot chocolate.I didn't think I'd ever see Michael again unless I went to Copenhagen, or unless he came to Vancouver, so it's awesome that our paths crossed in Paris. He's a sweetheart and it was nice to have someone to explore the city with.
Yesterday I set off with the intentions of going up the Eiffel Tower. When I got to the tower, I was awestruck. It seems the closer you get to it, the more amazing it becomes. It's no surprise that it's huge, but after only ever seeing it on TV or in miniature form, seeing its actual size is incredible.
Also incredible? The lines. To buy tickets, to get to the stairs, to get to the elevator. They were insane. I was out of cash, and the ATMs under the tower didn't accept my card, so I admitted defeat for the day and set off for the Champs-Elysees instead. I checked online, and you can buy tickets to the tower for a specific time and day, so I'm definitely going to do that instead later this week.
The Champs-Elysees is a sight to see. It's loaded with flagship stores of the most expensive brands (Louis Vuitton, Chanel, Hermes, etc) and department-sized versions of stores we even have at home, like Sephora. (Interestingly, the Sephora store had a Mac counter within it. I previously thought they were competitors, but I guess not!). The stores are more like museums, with giant light displays, items hanging from the ceilings as though they are art and not for sale, and security guards everywhere ensuring you don't touch their precious goods.
I indulged in the only two things I could afford on Champs-Elysees: McDonalds and its free wifi. Post-Big Mac, I headed back to Sandy's for the night, as I was spent.
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