I'm constantly finding things surprising here in Canada, sometimes in a good way and sometimes in a bad one. For example, I had a poster made for Isaac for his birthday and I've been trying to find those hard plastic things you slide on the top and bottom to hang it up but still keep it in good condition, but such a thing does not seem to exist over here; what's more, they don't use Blu Tack* either, so I'm left wondering what the hell you're supposed to do with posters if you're Canadian! Sellotape - oh no sorry, it's just tape here - seems to be the most oft-suggested option but it's hardly ideal. The search for a viable alternative continues...
Anyway, yesterday I had an example of a good way. We parked in the centre of town to pop into the shops - it costs $1 for an hour so we put 4 quarters in the parking meter and headed off to buy Isaac some shoes. We ended up chatting in the shop for ages to one of Isaac's friends, so when we headed back to the car, we saw a parking attendant writing us out a ticket. Oh no! We legged it over and Isaac said 'So...what if we were just leaving?' Ha ha, yeah right I thought. You know what these f*ckers are like, once they've started with a ticket there's no stopping them. "Well..." he began, "you'd have to put another quarter in the meter." he said. "Okay" said Isaac, and proceeded to do just that while the parking attendant put his book away and walked off, leaving me opened-mouthed, reeling, and only 25c poorer than before.
*in fairness, you CAN get it in a few places, but it's not commonplace at all and most Canadians look at you blankly - or in horror! - when you suggest it.
Showing posts with label interesting tidbits. Show all posts
Showing posts with label interesting tidbits. Show all posts
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Monday, September 07, 2009
Friday, April 03, 2009
French revolution
The annoying thing about not being able to blog very often is that by the time you do, the big news you have to tell is usually a bit stale and you've forgotten half the details. Still, I'll give it my best shot.
A couple of weeks ago, shortly after I wrote my last proper blog post in fact, we found ourselves staying at the vineyard we'd been picking at, the one with the manager called Atilla. We'd seen that they had a loo and a shower, as well as the kitchen we'd all been using for lunch, so we asked if it were possible to park our van there, just for the night and the German girls we were working with asked the same thing. Atilla said it was fine with him, but that we should check with the owner, Andy, who was also picking with us. I asked Andy, and he said he didn't have a problem with it as long as Atilla thought it would be fine. We went back to Atilla to double check and he said we were welcome to. He said that there was a French couple who worked on the vineyard and lived there, but that they were away on holiday with their parents. They were due back to work the next day however, so he assumed they'd be back at some point, but thought it would be fine. The German girls, Simone and Marie, went to the supermarket and bought us a feast - schnizel, potatoes and veggies - since we had a proper kitchen to use for once! So come 8.30pm, we were all in the kitchen preparing the food with plans to sit and watch a dvd on my laptop afterwards, when the French couple arrived back.
They walked into the kitchen and looked at us with shock. We all smiled and said hello - they did not return the smiles or the greetings - and I immediately explained that we'd been working there that day and were only staying for the one night. They asked us who had said we could stay and we said that Atilla and Andy had both agreed to it. They muttered a few words together in French (which I couldn't hear) and walked out, only to come back in looking confused and sour-faced a few minutes later. They asked, in very broken English, how long we'd be preparing food. We said we'd be done in around 20 minutes. They left again. We all sat around looking at each other, saying 'ooh, they don't seem to like us much do they?!' and decided that since the owner and manager had agreed to us being there, we had done nothing wrong and refused to feel bad about it. We finished making our food and sat at the table to eat. As we were just finishing, we were suddenly startled by the appearance of an older gentlemen - who I took to be the father of one of the French couple - at the window ,who immediately began screaming "SCHNELL SCHNELL! WE ARE WAITING FOR YOU!" And when I say screaming, I mean SCREAMING. We were all so shocked we had no idea what to do. At first, I'll admit, I thought it was a joke, but it quickly became apparent that it was not. He burst into the kitchen and carried on his tirade, in extremely broken English and German, shouting that this was their HOME and that we must LEAVE and so on, before he ran out again. A minute or so later, he returned with his wife and the French couple.
Now, I'm no longer a youngster, like the people I was with, and I will not tolerate that kind of behaviour towards me, particularly when it is completely unwarranted. I stood up and began to explain, calmly, that we were entitled to be there and that we had assumed that they were waiting for us to finish using the hob, so they could begin cooking their food, not that they were waiting for us to vacate the kitchen entirely. The older man began screaming again and...well I'll save you the verbal tennis* but it descended somewhat into a shouting match. From our side, however, the German girls remained silent and Isaac and I only raised our voices to be heard over the increasingly hysterical French contingent. The couple appeared to be trying to be fairly reasonable, the woman did say that it was not our fault and I agreed, saying that I thought that the behaviour of her father was completely unacceptable seeing as how we had done nothing wrong. When the father began screaming again - boy he liked to scream! - I turned to him with as fierce a look as I could muster and said 'YOU must stop speaking now as you are being very rude indeed!' He blustered for a moment and said "Why should I?" to which Isaac countered "Because you are ESCALATING this situation". He paused and turned to me, saying "You will not afraid me!" I fixed him with a furious glare and said "You will not afraid me either". For the rest of the conversation, when he tried to butt in, Isaac gave him the 'YOU. SHUT IT' signals with his hands, and the man did what he was told. Ha ha.
Eventually it was agreed that the French couple would take it up with Atilla and Andy in the morning - they were under the obviously erroneous impression that the facilities were theirs and theirs alone to use and were horrified that all the workers had been using 'their' kitchen at lunchtime. They said that they'd been there for three months- I said "So, in the last three months, no one else has stayed here?" No, they said, to which I replied "Well lucky you then, you only get us for one night!" They failed to see the funny side. Simone, Marie, Isaac and I decided we wanted no more to do with it, so (having already had our showers and eaten our food) we left, slightly afraid for what the crazy older man might do to us in the middle of the night if we did not...
*okay, it being a couple of weeks ago, I can't remember it word for word
A couple of weeks ago, shortly after I wrote my last proper blog post in fact, we found ourselves staying at the vineyard we'd been picking at, the one with the manager called Atilla. We'd seen that they had a loo and a shower, as well as the kitchen we'd all been using for lunch, so we asked if it were possible to park our van there, just for the night and the German girls we were working with asked the same thing. Atilla said it was fine with him, but that we should check with the owner, Andy, who was also picking with us. I asked Andy, and he said he didn't have a problem with it as long as Atilla thought it would be fine. We went back to Atilla to double check and he said we were welcome to. He said that there was a French couple who worked on the vineyard and lived there, but that they were away on holiday with their parents. They were due back to work the next day however, so he assumed they'd be back at some point, but thought it would be fine. The German girls, Simone and Marie, went to the supermarket and bought us a feast - schnizel, potatoes and veggies - since we had a proper kitchen to use for once! So come 8.30pm, we were all in the kitchen preparing the food with plans to sit and watch a dvd on my laptop afterwards, when the French couple arrived back.
They walked into the kitchen and looked at us with shock. We all smiled and said hello - they did not return the smiles or the greetings - and I immediately explained that we'd been working there that day and were only staying for the one night. They asked us who had said we could stay and we said that Atilla and Andy had both agreed to it. They muttered a few words together in French (which I couldn't hear) and walked out, only to come back in looking confused and sour-faced a few minutes later. They asked, in very broken English, how long we'd be preparing food. We said we'd be done in around 20 minutes. They left again. We all sat around looking at each other, saying 'ooh, they don't seem to like us much do they?!' and decided that since the owner and manager had agreed to us being there, we had done nothing wrong and refused to feel bad about it. We finished making our food and sat at the table to eat. As we were just finishing, we were suddenly startled by the appearance of an older gentlemen - who I took to be the father of one of the French couple - at the window ,who immediately began screaming "SCHNELL SCHNELL! WE ARE WAITING FOR YOU!" And when I say screaming, I mean SCREAMING. We were all so shocked we had no idea what to do. At first, I'll admit, I thought it was a joke, but it quickly became apparent that it was not. He burst into the kitchen and carried on his tirade, in extremely broken English and German, shouting that this was their HOME and that we must LEAVE and so on, before he ran out again. A minute or so later, he returned with his wife and the French couple.
Now, I'm no longer a youngster, like the people I was with, and I will not tolerate that kind of behaviour towards me, particularly when it is completely unwarranted. I stood up and began to explain, calmly, that we were entitled to be there and that we had assumed that they were waiting for us to finish using the hob, so they could begin cooking their food, not that they were waiting for us to vacate the kitchen entirely. The older man began screaming again and...well I'll save you the verbal tennis* but it descended somewhat into a shouting match. From our side, however, the German girls remained silent and Isaac and I only raised our voices to be heard over the increasingly hysterical French contingent. The couple appeared to be trying to be fairly reasonable, the woman did say that it was not our fault and I agreed, saying that I thought that the behaviour of her father was completely unacceptable seeing as how we had done nothing wrong. When the father began screaming again - boy he liked to scream! - I turned to him with as fierce a look as I could muster and said 'YOU must stop speaking now as you are being very rude indeed!' He blustered for a moment and said "Why should I?" to which Isaac countered "Because you are ESCALATING this situation". He paused and turned to me, saying "You will not afraid me!" I fixed him with a furious glare and said "You will not afraid me either". For the rest of the conversation, when he tried to butt in, Isaac gave him the 'YOU. SHUT IT' signals with his hands, and the man did what he was told. Ha ha.
Eventually it was agreed that the French couple would take it up with Atilla and Andy in the morning - they were under the obviously erroneous impression that the facilities were theirs and theirs alone to use and were horrified that all the workers had been using 'their' kitchen at lunchtime. They said that they'd been there for three months- I said "So, in the last three months, no one else has stayed here?" No, they said, to which I replied "Well lucky you then, you only get us for one night!" They failed to see the funny side. Simone, Marie, Isaac and I decided we wanted no more to do with it, so (having already had our showers and eaten our food) we left, slightly afraid for what the crazy older man might do to us in the middle of the night if we did not...
*okay, it being a couple of weeks ago, I can't remember it word for word
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Run Bambi run!
A classic example of children seeing things slightly differently to adults for you: I was watching Bambi with my friend Linda's daughter Chiara, who has just turned 3. You know that bit when Bambi and his mother were running through the forest away from the hunter and you hear that shot ring out, suddenly the mother is no longer behind him and eventually Bambi is told by a stag that appears that his mother can't be with him anymore; it is of course a very sad moment. Chiara turns to me, sadly, and says 'Bambi's mother can't be with him anymore because she's gone to have lunch.'
Friday, September 12, 2008
Blank looks
In my many attempts to answer the inevitable question "So, how was Canada?"*, I have found myself describing it as a Year of Blank Looks. Some from me, some from the Canadians, some from other assorted foreigners I have been un/fortunate enough to meet.
The thing is, most of the people I've spent time with have been both a) bleeding foreigners and b) mere fetuses. This makes common points of reference rather tricky. Just yesterday my lovely Canadian friend Janna wrote on Facebook "Oh Mia how I miss you and your outrageous Englishisms...". 'Outrageous Englishisms' in this context meaning saying "I'll pop that downstairs" or "I like your hair in bunches" or "I'll bring my swimming costume".
I'll give you a couple of other examples.
At work, a woman asked me where she should put her harness now she'd finished climbing. I replied "Just bung it over on the red rack" and pointed at said rack. She looked at me, blankly, and said "I have no idea what you just said. But I think I know what you meant by your pointing."
I introduced Isaac & Reilly to the wonderful series Life on Mars, which I'd downloaded on iTunes, and I was very amused to see two teenage Canadian rednecks become obsessed with 1970s Mancunian policing, but found myself having to pause it on a regular basis to try to explain what was being said. "It's 1973, nearly lunchtime, I'm 'aving 'oops" being a classic example.
I was up a tree (working hard, obviously) and saw Josh, a colleague, walking beneath me carrying a black bin bag, collecting rubbish. "Hey Bin Man!" I shouted. Cue blank look. "Bin Man!" I ventured again, in case he hadn't heard me. More blankness. "What?" "Bin Man! You're the bin man. You've got a bin bag. It's a bin bag. A black bin ba...no? No? Erm..." "I've been where?" You see the problem.
*which in reality is as hard to answer as "So, what do you think of oxygen then?" in that you just don't know where to begin
The thing is, most of the people I've spent time with have been both a) bleeding foreigners and b) mere fetuses. This makes common points of reference rather tricky. Just yesterday my lovely Canadian friend Janna wrote on Facebook "Oh Mia how I miss you and your outrageous Englishisms...". 'Outrageous Englishisms' in this context meaning saying "I'll pop that downstairs" or "I like your hair in bunches" or "I'll bring my swimming costume".
I'll give you a couple of other examples.
At work, a woman asked me where she should put her harness now she'd finished climbing. I replied "Just bung it over on the red rack" and pointed at said rack. She looked at me, blankly, and said "I have no idea what you just said. But I think I know what you meant by your pointing."
I introduced Isaac & Reilly to the wonderful series Life on Mars, which I'd downloaded on iTunes, and I was very amused to see two teenage Canadian rednecks become obsessed with 1970s Mancunian policing, but found myself having to pause it on a regular basis to try to explain what was being said. "It's 1973, nearly lunchtime, I'm 'aving 'oops" being a classic example.
I was up a tree (working hard, obviously) and saw Josh, a colleague, walking beneath me carrying a black bin bag, collecting rubbish. "Hey Bin Man!" I shouted. Cue blank look. "Bin Man!" I ventured again, in case he hadn't heard me. More blankness. "What?" "Bin Man! You're the bin man. You've got a bin bag. It's a bin bag. A black bin ba...no? No? Erm..." "I've been where?" You see the problem.
*which in reality is as hard to answer as "So, what do you think of oxygen then?" in that you just don't know where to begin
Saturday, April 26, 2008
BBC in sense of humour shocker
Has anyone else noticed that when you play the new, embedded videos on the BBC website, the volume scale goes up to 11?
Sunday, March 16, 2008
The value of privacy
If everyone could suddenly read everyone else's thoughts then very few people would survive the subsequent massacre
The above quote is from a truly excellent article by my old mucker Clive James that I came across on the BBC website this morning. I'm not one for lamenting the state of society on my blog very often - I tend to leave that to my dear friend Silas, as he's far better at it than me - and I can't hope to better Clive's turn of phrase, so I shall instead leave you to read the words of another that happen to mirror my own thoughts.
Friday, March 07, 2008
Say what you see
Ever wondered what colour blind people see? My friend Zander is colour blind and got sent this link from his friend recently, which recreates what red/green colour blindness does to your perception of the world. We sat and looked at the pictures together and he genuinely couldn't see any difference in them, which I found fascinating. This morning while waiting for the bus he remarked that although he wasn't that bothered about it, he did feel a bit sad that he couldn't see how pretty Christmas trees were. All together now: ahhhhhh.
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