Shot Through the Heart..

...and you're to blame, mama you almost gave me a bad name.

Spending a night out on the town with my mom, I discovered that I barely escaped life with the moniker Bambi. Bambi Jones. Imagine how my life would be different as Bambi. The world most likely wouldn't have taken me very seriously, so I might have focused on my looks instead of books. I would never become a phD, although I possibly would have had more dates in high school. I would probably own a lot more pastel clothing than I currently do, and I would assuredly be on a first-name basis with the girls down at the Clinique counter. I'd probably still have the massive debt, but I'd have a closet full of out-dated handbags, shoes, and snazzy outfits to attribute it to, and not student loans and/or a possible (oh, who am I kidding--RAGING) DVD-collecting addiction.

What I don't understand is how my mother could be proud of how I've turned out. After hearing this and all the other names she considered "blessing" me with (Jade, among others), it seems she was really hoping I'd turn out to be an exotic dancer of some sort. I guess she can be proud that I adopted the handle Fifi all on my own...

Thank you a million fold to those with the sense to talk my mother out of that one!

Death to the Turkey

It's great seeing old friends over the holidays. I'm back in Ohio for the great turkey feast and I've forgotten how much I love the mid-west. On my way to meet a friend staying in Orrville (To the uninitiated, it's the home of Smuckers Jams and not much else), I drove by some of the best middle-America signage! You know you've landed when you see signs such as "Nothing Satisfies like Beef..." and restaurants serving All-You-Can-Eat Pancakes *and* Chili. I'm not sure if the chili and pancakes came together as a meal, or perhaps one on top of the other, but I was on my home and I didn't really feel the need to stop and inquire.

Other exciting things I passed included an old circus trailer. And I mean an awesome old wooden one with carved decorations around the top and sides. Most of the paint had worn away and it looked pretty beat up, but was still one of the coolest things I've ever seen. That one I almost pulled over for!

Le Gout de la Ville

Marie invited me to a lecture at the Architecture Museum called The Taste of the City. I wasn't sure if it would be in French or in English, but I knew that listening to a man talk about the sensuality of food for an hour would make me hungry, so dinner was in order beforehand. Our tummies rumbled as we walked to a shwarma place with a neon man cutting meat from the rotisserie. We settled in for some good grub and headed out.

My French is improving pretty quickly, but apparently not fast enough to attend lectures on Gastronomy and city life. So as I sit there, eyes closed not to doze but rather to focus on the language, I wasn't too upset to realize the shwarma we had for dinner wasn't sitting well. I spent the rest of the lecture dans les toilettes. I would have liked to have heard more, and I was doing reasonably well, but there always seemed to a few key points I was missing. For example, "We all are aware of the effects of blah." Blah was a word he frequently used, at least according to my wetware translation device. It wasn't the most stimulating of lectures, especially since he read directly from his paper, including the words "Introduction" and "Conclusion." Painful.

The Winter Descends...

Today was the first day of stickin' snow. It snowed/hailed for a very short time a few days ago, but today was slushy, almost icy, windy and cold...and it's only just beginning. Snow is so pretty...especially if you can look at it through a window or play in it, but trudging through it on your way to work isn't nearly as cute or fun.

Luckily, after the tri-packing disaster that caused the loss of most of my winter goods, I've restocked on the winter gear front. I've got a great winter coat with big hood (it's even waterproof so that slushy rain/snow is no problem!) and a good pair of mittens (a few thinner gloves to wear underneath). I'm working on the boots/scarf/hat combo, but that should be along shortly. After Taiwan's super mild winter/high heat summer, I'm really concerned about losing digits in the -40 degree weather! I'm not sure my body can take it! We'll see, but you may want to start thinking up some nicknames for me in the event that I lose any fingers or toes to frostbite. Some personal favorites are Stubby Jones, 2 Phalange, or 7 digit Bridget.

The Old Port of Montr�al. I lifted the pic from Globosapiens. 

Psychology of the Dance Floor

After the play last night, a couple of us went out for beers in the Old Port. Richard's friend was nearby and we headed over to meet him and some folks at a "pub."

As it turns out, we were all gathered by this cat who had promised all of us a chill night out at a bar with possibly a guitar player. Turns out it was a dance club with a $7 dollar cover, shitty music, shittier beer($5 dollar 6 oz Labatt drafts?! Are you kidding me?), and all the grinding college students those things bring. Plus, said cat bailed about 5 minutes after Seb and Caterine got there, and Richard, Marie, and I never even saw him.

So, there we all sat in the corner, being the old folks I remember at the club in my day...bitter and surrounded by a growing pile of plastic beer cups. Two for one speicals tend to lead people towards double fisting. But in the immortal words of Gloria Estefan, "the rhythym (or all the double fisting) is gonna get you" and we found ourselves unable to beat 'em, thus joinin' 'em in some good old fashioned table dancing. This was of course the only option since there was no dance floor, yet an absurd amount of picnic tables filled with jiggling co-eds.

It was then that I witnessed a new dynamic. There was of course girl-on-girl dancing the last time I went to a club, but this time it was a little different. Three girls were rubbing their asses on each other in order to escape the two dudes re-enacting club scenes from A Night at the Roxbury, that is, sandwiching a chick and then high-fiving. The girls weren't totally freaked out, but not interested for sure. I wonder if girl-on-girl grinding is in some ways the new circle of girls dancing...

This is research I have no intention of following up on. Clubs with barmaids in leiderhosen are not for me.

Lest I Bore You with Pictures...

While at the workshop, I learned something interesting about Canadian schools and within them, French. Several French teachers mentioned a stigma attached to being a French teacher. Apparently it isn't a popular job, and some schools rope unwilling teachers into being FSL (French as a Second Language) teachers. This may be because the students have sometimes as little as 100 minutes of French a week, and they don't show much progress even after having two or more years learning. This is frustrating for students and parents, and of course the teachers who'd like to see their students do well and enjoy themselves. I wasn't sure what the stigma was exactly, and since this was a covert mission I couldn't pump them for info the way I would during a normal convo. So I pose the question: Is there a stigma for French teachers/classes in Canada? What is it? How does it work? Why? And is there a corresponding stigma for a subject in the States? A friend of mine suggested Gym. Are there any others? I guess this was more a series of questions instead of one...

Lantern Festival 2005: The Year of the Rooster 

The famed "Hot Pot" resto. Meat and vegetables are delivered on a plate and you cook them in a pot of boiling water with spices.  

"The Chief" Owner of 89K Bar in Taichung. Harleys/Native vibe, in the middle of Taiwan.  

Just a glance to the right while driving... 

The Family hosting 

One-Month Old Baby and his lucky Weiguoren 

Our Scooter Gang 

And Finally...

Now that I have my computer back (Oh Happy Day!) and an internet connection, I can finally post some of the pictures from Taiwan. These two are from my trip to Kenting in the south of Taiwan for New Year last year.

Pool near the shore 

The Gang in Kenting for New Years 2005 

BLISTERfield

I've never ridden on a long-haul bus in the U.S., although now the count is up to two for the number of other countries I've ridden them in. I've always heard such horror stories about Greyhound, and what with the stellar quality of long-haul buses in Taiwan (I'm sure I posted about the Vibro-buses), I was sure that I would be utterly disappointed and perhaps sickened by the state of the transportation.

Meanwhile, it was pleasant, clean, slow, but not at all the horrible thing I thought it would be! Sadly, this morning on my way back to Montreal, I didn't have time for the morning cup of coffee and all it helps to, uh, get "moving." So I found myself in a very awkward position. Make a turdie on the bus, possibly stinking up the whole thing, *or* waiting until we make a stop with a break. I chose the latter. When we rolled up to our stop for a blessedly long 30 minute break (compared with the 15 min. one we got on the way to Toronto), I high-tailed it to the 'washroom.' It was noon and I was hungry so I thought I'd squeeze some lunch in there too. Uh-huh.

Flash forward to me running to Tim Horton's and trying to shove scalding hot chili into my face before the bus pulls away. I spent most of the rest of the trip home slowly sipping water to dull the pain of my mouth burns. Luckily, it was only another 4 hours back. My mouth also seems to be sufficiently healed.

Thanks to Jen and Matthew for letting me crash on their couch and being the loveliest of hosts! It was fun!

Toronto: Home of the Black Squirrel

Cassandra Jones, alias Sandra, is in Toronto this weekend to accomplish two missions.

No. 1: Attend a workshop on new techniques to teach/learn French involving something akin to sign langauge.

No. 2: Visit other covert agents of her underground vigilante squad Jen and Matthew, aliases unknown.

Our operatives have observed her as she moves through the city and have witnessed the following events...

8:15 am Sandra moves through Runnymeade Subway station, apparently en route to workshop. Has obtained a transfer, but is unsure how to use it. Asks attendant how to use only to be answered by look of utter disbelief at the stupidity of the asker. In a seeming huff, she answers that she'll figure it out herself, thanks him harshly and proceeds to Eastbound train.

9 am Realizes that workshop is to start at 9 and she is still en route. Seems relieved by the presence of other passengers who appear out of their element. These other passengers declare their destination and it becomes clear that it is the same as Agent Sandra's. She seems comforted by this.

2 pm With an hour left of the workshop, Agent skips out due to extreme boredom with repetition of the same 5 points. She is overheard discussing the worth of said workshop, although she seems to be excited about the general program's concepts. Spends on hour + on the subway/bus system returning to Matthew and Jen's base of operations.

3 pm-Present Appears to be holed up inside Jen and Matthew's pad. Beer has been seen entering the apartment although there is no sign of Agent Sandra. Shouts and songs such as Agent Matthew's "On Wisconsin, Aw Wisconsin, you guys suck real bad. That's the song," could be heard emminating from the apartment as the Agents appeared to be watching a college football game. The smell of vegetarian nachos wafted from the window.

It operative on duty reports that phone calls have been placed confirming tonight's event of dinner and possibly dancing. Mode of transportation has yet to be determined. More reports to follow.

Will the damn phone stop ringin?

Number of calls in the last 30 mins about the mosque: 2
Number of times I haven't answered the phone this morning: 3
Number of important calls missed because I stopped answering the phone last night: 1

Ramadan is almost over...please let it almost be over!

Reverse Culture Shock

I think I'm finally over it. The reverse culture shock after getting back from Taiwan was so surprising, so unknown, I couldn't put my finger on why I felt so strange. I was in a weird mood, skittish around all the non-Asian English-speaking folks, mesmerized by how different things were from Taiwan. I mean, I'd heard about how people usually got culture shock when returning to the States after a trip like that, but I'd never had it before, or at least it was so subtle as to not be noticable. I've read lots about RCS, but no one seemed able to pin down the feelings I was having. The closest I could come to describing it was calling it a feeling of intimidation by almost everything Western. And folks, there's a lot of Western stuff in the West!

Anyway, progress went slowly, and I was sad that I had planned to move so soon after getting back. That's not to say I'm not diggin' Montreal, because I am, possibly more than any other city I've lived in. It's only that I uprooted myself again, before I'd had time to readjust from the last big uprooting.

So, I'm starting to feel like myself again. Whole, able to speak with folks (even non-Asian folks!), and more assured of my place in this big place we call the West. And hey, it only took 2 months! It took me 8 months in Taiwan to get over the culture shock!

Now, if only I could get a handle on the Metro system!

Settin' 'em up, and shootin' 'em down

So I'm doing better than I ever have in my life at getting jobs! Sadly, none of them are paying me yet.

It must be said that I've never had three consecutive job interviews land me (well, I was going to say paydirt, but it hasn't paid yet so...) some dirt of the non-paying variety. It's not that they won't earn me some cash eventually, it's just I have to build up my client base. Wow, that sounds extremely shady when I see it written down. But, lest ye worry, I'm not selling my body on the street, I'm working quite reputably as a private tutor/business English teacher.

Until I make some of the cash money, keep your fingers crossed!

C'est le Mosque?

Calls received asking "Is this the mosque?": 8
Number of these calls received between the hours of 9-11:30pm tonight: 7

Dude.

Uncle Klaus

I found out my uncle died the other day. It's the first time I haven't been with my family for a funeral.