Milestone

Uncovering urban lifestyle, contemporary trends and other (Canadian) peculiarities from a totally biased and nonobjective European perspective. Infiltration, intrigues, wonder and more ...

And then she turned two…

… Already. And while she barely grasps the significance of the second milestone, it left us, her parents in a state of worn out wonder: “Has it been two years already ? Time certainly moves like a stealthy submarine under the arctic ice, when you’re on subtropical island looking the other way…”

"not here..."

Much has happened in her development. She grew, learned to eat solid food, learned that some solids are better than others (chocolate and ice cream being an important parameter in that decision making process), stood up and walked, ran, jumped, bounced, rolled and confuses dancing with randomly wiggling her hips. She developed a vocabulary that consisted of Bangla, English, Dutch and something that is uniquely her own. She learned what a playground is, that it is often preceded by a bicycle ride and the transitive property of whining for a bicycle ride leading to the eventual playground. She figured out the subtleties of stalling going to bed by asking for milk, a big hug, making sure her teeth are brushed (up to three times), another big hug, going through her entire repertoire of songs and reading that book she wasn’t interested in two minutes before her parents decided it was “sleepy time”. She mastered a boatload of skills that we jaded, semi-matured people take for granted.

Raising this wacky little person over the last two years has been an intensive but incredibly rewarding experience.

As for relevance to this blog: her becoming two has no bearing on Vancouver. As any self proclaimed world class city, it cares as much about a single individual as the sea does about the droplets in its waters. However the connection between her becoming two this week and Vancouver is not random.

As we were driving back from work to pick up our genetic production from her daycare, we got stuck in an unusual downtown traffic jam. It turned out that the Vancouver police had blocked off a road or two in the heart of the city center. This required traffic to flow around and through the much less efficient back roads at a pace of roughly three cars per traffic light cycle. Needless to say, the road-rage enabled persona that takes over the body of my beloved SO from time to time, was having a field day.

Vancouver is a popular destination for film crews to hang out and occasionally shoot a movie or a series. While sitting in the car we theorized (*) that our predicament was the result of a movie being shot against the shapely form(s) of the BC Dome.

bc dome is enjoying a sunset

When we came back home, we found out that reasons for our delay were a lot more sobering: for some of us, the two year mark is not the next step in a promising life but the grim and undeserved end point. When something like that happens on the crosswalk you use every other week, a stone throw away from where you live, in the same week your own daughter turns two, it hits a nerve.

While at the time of writing there’s no clarity on what exactly happened, traffic and its patrons aren’t one of Vancouver’s prettier sides. A blog worthy topic for another day… for now I’ll set aside some extra chocolate and ice creamfor our Nearly-One-Meter-Julie-Andrews-Wanna-Be who is as per now on an expedited traffic training course.

(*) This would be a theory involving colorful characters like morons, fucktards, idiots and the cluebat deprived.

Som3Th1ng Rnd

Beaches

The joy of random encounters

Uncovering urban lifestyle, contemporary trends and other (Canadian) peculiarities from a totally biased and nonobjective European perspective. Infiltration, intrigues, wonder and more ...

"The date this email was *sent* is considered the date of notification."
- automated email message from the VPL

The road from home to work and work to home tends to be an enjoyable event. I have the choice to complete my journey by several means and vehicles. There's the undersized bus (C21 / C23 shuttle), the skytrain (*), my trusty bike and the two bipedal devices stuck to my body.

it´s a sign, but not as we know it

But there's a problem with each of these options; the bus sign tends to whine that it's "full" on any random rainy day, since the driver is only allowed to take as many people as there are seats plus one or two unseated, unlucky and ultimately bruised passengers. The skytrain gets me to work so fast I have no time to take out my daily dose of semi-literature and enjoy a satisfactory reading experience. The bicycle is actually more a hypothetical option than something I would really consider given Vancouver's hilly profile and my wimpy condition. I actually walked back once, and by walking I mean the kind of walk that follows from drinking those one or two beers after you already have three or seven too many. Somehow, I feel it's an approach that wouldn't be met with highly appreciative comments of my employer.

it´s beer, just as we know it

Yet, all these are just minor issues. The greatest form of excitement is the chance to drive into the person in front of you while rubbernecking the accident in the opposing lane. At best, one gets to show off one's mighty middle finger at people who should have peacefully passed away several years ago (**). What I miss are the completely random events that cross your path every now and then.

For example:

At a red pedestrian light at a random T junction somewhere in Vancouver, I patiently await approval of the opposing traffic light to cross the street. From the right, an average sized pickup truck stops in front of the red traffic light. The driver's door opens in a determined fashion and an oriental middle aged man hops out. Leaving his door open, he makes a dash for the passenger light at which he fanatically starts pressing the button of the passenger light in an attempt to make his own red light turn green slightly quicker. I wonder if I should share my opinion that the buttons of pedestrian lights only serve to give the pedestrians the illusion that they actually have some control over the situation. The window of opportunity to start an in depth discussion on this fascinating topic is smashed shut in my face as the man legs it back into his car. Convinced of his powers and believing in a positive outcome, he slowly pulls his car up slightly over the line. I must admit that his conviction certainly made a difference as the traffic light promptly switches to green (****). As I pass in front of his average sized pickup truck, I give him an approving nod. Nice trick; next lesson is figuring out which button is related to what light and thanks for the effort.

said intersection

Not as good as coffee in the morning but it beats spraining the muscles around your central proximal phalanges after another enjoyable car ride in another enjoyable traffic jam any day.

(*) where "sky" can also mean subterranean as far as Canadians are concerned, and "train" is urban for le metro.

(**) debatable if they actually did die in some severe cases. Added bonus– you still get to rubberneck at accidents or middle finger that idiot that doesn't respect your pedestrian / bicycle rights.

(****) White actually, as pedestrian lights in Vancouver feature red and white lights.

Som3Th1ng Rnd

The continuing evolving gene pool

Who needs to see Maple leaves ?

Uncovering urban lifestyle, contemporary trends and other (Canadian) peculiarities from a totally biased and nonobjective European perspective. Infiltration, intrigues, wonder and more ...

“Cyril peered myopically at the \”Cock-A-Doodle-Doo\” in a heavy Gothic script. Somewhere in his tiny mad chicken mind a very distinct and chilly understanding formed that he'd better learn to read very, very quickly.” [1]

Pratchett's books in combination with Denny's food are somehow a great counter for hangovers. Hangovers come easily these days, all it takes is a couple of beers and my head feels like a wooden board with a serious case of woodworm. Denny's therefore has become one of those places which has a high probability of seeing me as a customer on Sunday mornings.

The Denny's at Davie is a very ordinary foodboer (*), filled with ordinary, mostly Caucasian people, eating very ordinary greasy dishes, served by Asian waiters and girls who didn't quite make it into the Cactus club (**). The interior is done by a designer inspired by the gray and brown 50s / 60s style that reigned supreme in American restaurants around that time.

gray and brown r0x0rz

“I'm like so full”, the chubby girl in the booth next to me whines to her friend. Nevertheless, in the same breath, she manages to stuff another greasy sausage and a big chunk of French bread with butter in her face. A slightly out-of-place Axl Rose comments over the speakers with a fitting “Welcome to the jungle baby”. The girl fails to notice this offhand irony and continues to ramble on how she's been playing hockey most of her life, but "omg" now she considers "like" quitting. Given the amount of food she continues to shove into her mouth, despite her being full, makes me wonder if that will do her already round figure much good... But as Axl states “You're a very sexy girl, that's very hard to please”.

An extremely refined and well kept lady enters Denny's. Followed by an incredible dorky looking, unkempt male. They take the booth across me. From what I can make out, the geekenstein proves to be her husband or lover, or very special friend who she likes to hold hands with in the Denny's. Whatever the case, it makes one wonder how some of these fine specimens of women end up with the most improbable doofballs ... Although some cases may be attributed to money, this one clearly doesn't. I should ask the SO sometimes, she'll probably can explain it from first hand experience.

on the lookout

“Are you done ?” the waitress with the eccentric hairdo demands to know.

“Done with everything except the coffee” I declare.

She nods and picks up my mug, plate, formerly filled with eggs, bacon and some French toast and sets off. After approximately one meter she halts and turns around.

“Sorry, what did you say ?” she likes to know.

Being well aware of my sometimes faster-than-light-mumbling-fashion of speech, I try in a clearer, slower way: “Yes I'm done, except for the coffee”.

She still looks puzzled.

“Me ... Done ... want coffee” I try.

“Oh okay, yes, I'm sorry, I'm French speaking”.

“No worries, no one is perfect” I offer with a smile “I'm Dutch”.

She seems to consider this for a moment, after which her memory prompts her to ask if I'd like more coffee. I tell her no thanks, I have enough material for my blog... more puzzled looks.

Content with a belly full of greasy substances, I set off to take a walk along the sea wall towards Stanley Park, hopefully burning some of that fat and making some pictures of the beautiful Vancouver Autumn scenery. A scenery which was originally the topic of this week's blog... But who needs pretty pictures of trees burning red when you have Denny's and Pratchet?

not the topic of this blog

(*) "Boer" literally means farmer in Dutch. Adding "boer" to a word usually indicates an establishment providing very common, unsophisticated goods or services, e.g. furnitureboer (IKEA) or consultancyboer (IBM).

(**) The Cactus club is a Yaletown Burgerboer that's known for its incredibly hot staff in short skirts. The male variant is rumored to make distinguished (female) lawyers wink involuntarily.

[1]Terry Pratchet, Reaper Man

book unrecommendation:

"How Ann Coulter is cute in the same way D.Duck is cute when he's angry and upset."

Giving it a away for free.

The Sandy Coasts of Van

Uncovering of the urban lifestyle, contemporary trends and other (Canadian) peculiarities from a totally biased and nonobjective European perspective. Infiltration, intrigues, wonder and more ...

The weather out here in West North America is defined as that state of the world between the periods of rain. It's a pleasant surprise when the Sun decides to peek her head out from behind the everlasting gray skies and blesses Canadia with some of her most divine beams (please take some time to recite that last line a couple of times, until you got the intonation right; meaning flowery and baroque (*)). But when it does, it causes a massive displacement of large segments of the local population... to the Vancouver Beaches.

Vancouver as seen from Jerico Beach

There's nothing typical Canadian about a beach trip though, the Canadian Beach Experience is pretty much the same as in the rest of the Western world. Elderly people hang out in full attire, hat, jacket and whatever else may guard you from the possible ravages of the elemental conditions. Parents drag their kids to the shorelines to make those amazing shapeless architectures (and each of those creations is without any question high grade photographable material). And any other age category strips down to the bare minimum, to show off his or her curves to gain the attention of the other sex.

The safety of the people who feel like swimming, is guarded by experienced life guards in the well known red outfit. In case one would decide to drown, these people will wheel up their classical live saving devices off the beach, and row towards the rescue in a speedy fashion. Given the antiquity of both device and operator, my guess is that this measure serves other purposes than the good old fashioned rescue. The mission statement of this life saving operation will probably linger somewhere between “good intentions” and making sure “the bodies don't clutter up the boat-routes further out”.

David Hasselhoff's dad and his faithfull boat look after the swimmers

Vancouver has an abundance of sandy coast lines, and many of them are named and identified as a “beach”. A quick look at any Vancouver map provides us with a host of colourfull names like Locarno Beach, Jerico Beach, Kitsalano Beach, Sunset Beach, Iona Beach to name a few. The Sunset Beach in particular offers a breathtaking sunset on a regular basis (I leave it to Captain Obvious to draw any conclusions with regards to the name).

One particular interesting part on Sunset Beach is the Inukshuk on the west point. It's a stone landmark used as a milestone or directional marker by the Inuit of the Canadian Arctic and means "something which acts for or performs the function of a person.". [Wikipedia] You'll probably going to see it somewhat more around 2010, as it's the official logo of the 2010 Vancouver Olympics.

the Inukshuk

Another interesting sight is the abundance of palm trees along the boulevard of Sunset beach. Given the right time of the day and light, one can easily forget this is Canada and not some subtropical destination. In case one does get slightly misplaced ideas, just wait a day ... Soon enough the skies will cloud up again, to bring another one of those refreshing rainy episodes. Thus putting both of ones feet firmly on the puddled Canadian ground. As the Candians say: one hairy dry moose doesn't mean the summer is here yet, eh ?

(*) No I have no idea what I'm saying there either

Why it's better here than there

Battlestar Canadia

The weekly uncovering of the urban lifestyle, contemporary trends and other (Canadian) peculiarities from a totally biased and nonobjective European perspective. Infiltration, intrigues, wonder and more ...

very now and then life grants little breaks which add some colour and flavour to the ongoing daily grind. Like that huge pile of steaming dog shit, left behind on the sidewalk you just missed stepping in. The sweaty coworker who finally discovered the meaning and use of deodorant. A recipe that goes horribly wrong but turns out to be better than the original. Last week granted me with one of those...

The email from a friendly and informed coworker read (paraphrased): “FYI tomorrow the television series Battlestar Galactica (BSG) will be recording an episode two blocks away from Radical. The episode will feature a war zone and they will apply the necessary amount of explosions and other pyrotechnics. The good people of the Vancouver fire department and police will see to it nothing bad happens.”

The Cylons have a plan...

Television doesn't hold much appeal to me. Not entirely because I don't even own one (in Canada) but BSG is amongst the few precious series I follow with a passion. As such, the said email gave me that same feeling many of us used to get the night before your birthday... I didn't get much sleep due to all the anticipation and excitement.

In my head, I was already walking on the set amongst all those interesting characters the show features: Starbuck, Boomer, Six. Naturally they would be impressed by my elusive charisma and stunning appearance. It wouldn't be long before they would convince the director to take me on the show to act out the more intimate scenes.

Chantalle, however, didn't quite cooperate.

Chantalle is the producer assistant and soon-to-be-famous screenplay writer who, for the time being, guards the entrance to the set of BSG. She struck me as a genuinely interesting person. Prior to BSG, she has “done” a number of movies and series of which I only recall the Fantastic Four. And that was thanks to her somewhat funny anecdote regarding the director´s obsession to keep the appearance of a pivotal character in that movie a secret.

Chantalle, guarding and blocking the way between me and my destiny.

Despite my best attempt of sucking up to her, she wouldn't let us anywhere near the actual set. The best she could do was to show us the schedule for the day which I suspect, she is allowed to do to give the “fans” at the gates the impression they actually seen something relevant. To me, it was a piece of paper with a font so small, I could only barely make out the word “pilot”.

Kept outside in the blazing sun... No Starbuck, no Boomer, no Six. One disillusion richer.

Regardless of the shattered dream, there was no reason for disappointment. It was easy enough to take some shots of the outside of the set, which featured a crafty hole in wall and a huge yellow crane with some cameras. Also, I got some close-up shots of the stars' trucks and trailers, which are impressively white and endlessly fascinating. It turned out to be a fruitful lunch break that yielded plenty of blog material and as far as the broken dream; it's nothing Photoshop can't fix.

Dream retained; in the background the actual set.

For those boring hours, when you should be working.

Looking for a fight eh ?

Next year, same time, things will probably be somewhat different from where I am now. These are the classified reports keeping the home front informed about what's really going on in Canadia.

A recent survey showed that Canadia is considered a “universal popular country” by the rest of the world. Canadia cheered and did a little victory dance singing “we are the champions”, but most certainly also “those are the losers” whilst excessively pointing at their southern neighbours. The cheerfulness lasted a while but eventually the Canadians scratched themselves on their head and wondered “but why, eh?”.

As it turned out, no one had a clue what Canadia is all aboot. Since they kinda look American, talk like an American, but unlike America they don't invade countries when the politicians feel like it, the rest of the world probably thought “meh, then they must be a'right”.

The Canadians must have felt like it was time they ended that “friendly quiet” image and show the world what Canadia stands for. It was time the world acknowledged Canadian Power, time to show the world Canadia has teeth and isn't afraid to use it... and last Saturday was that day.

My Saturday began around 11:00 AM in a pub. A pub filled with English football fans trying to yell their country to a victory over the Israelites ... and three Scots cheering whenever the Israelites did something that looked like it could mean trouble for the English. The match was so good, large amounts of beer were necessary to keep the spirits of the fans up. Not entirely against expectations, it ended in a solid 0 – 0 draw, enough reason for more beer.

Maybe we should have joined the ritual of celebrating a lousy game. Instead, on the way back, my English companion and myself ended up in the Demonstration of Canadian Power.

It was slaughter, it was violent, it showed exactly what Canadia at its worst is capable of... and I didn't bring any recording device to share what it witnessed there. Luckily we're living in the Web 2.0 world and sure enough not long after I found a accurate report on YouTube.

Before you hit 'play', I do wish to point out that I take no responsibility for the contents shown.

Success is the ability to go from one failure to another with no loss of enthusiasm. (Winston Churchill)

Oneliners and other things that may make you smile