Wow, not only has February blown past us, but we're even into overtime. Happy Leap Day everyone!
And before I know it, I'm going to be on a plane, bound for South America! That's right friends, the adventure this time is a two-week cruise around the end of South America, starting in Buenos Aires, Argentina and ending in Santiago, Chile. This will be the first time my brother and I travel together on our own. It will be interesting, for sure.
A lot of recurring patterns are starting to crop up as I continue my travels. First, I acquire the region's alcoholic beverage (I'm generating a very diverse collection). Next, I tend to visit a volcano or mountain (I don't know why I have the desire to climb something while on vacation). And finally, I'm either rushing to or from a wedding (if anyone's getting married in July, please let me know).
"All through my wild days, my mad existence, I kept my promise, don't keep your distance"
Friday, February 29, 2008
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Where is the Love?
I have some rather exciting news to share: I've started the application process to become a volunteer at the 2010 Olympics in Vancouver. As can be expected, it's rather lengthy, and will require a screening process, interview, RCMP background check, etc. But to have the chance to see the Olympics from behind the scenes? In a word: AWESOME.
But that leads me into a topic that I've been meaning to talk about. Last year, one of my coworkers was on vacation out in the western provinces, and she told me that she did her best to hide the fact that she was from Toronto. When, on one occasion, her origin was revealed, the attitude of the person (who was a retail employee) changed dramatically. She was no longer smiling or friendly. She simply finished the transaction and gave my coworker her purchase.
It's a fairly well known fact that a lot of people in other parts of this country have a strong dislike of people who are from Toronto. My biggest question is: WHY? The most common answer is that they believe people from Toronto think that "Toronto is the centre of the universe". In my entire lifetime, I've never encountered anyone from Toronto who has ever uttered those words, let alone believed them. Other Canadians think that people from Toronto are rude, full of themselves, and unfriendly. Lately, I've heard that they think Toronto has become too much like an "American city": crime-ridden and polluted.
It breaks my heart to hear this kind of thing, because it's come to the point where Canadians are openly prejudiced against other Canadians. Are we not from the same country? Don't we believe in the same principles and values? Aren't we known, as a people, to be open and unbiased? Don't we condemn people who are intolerant of those who simply come from another part of the world, or believe in different things? So why are we treating each other so poorly? I don't understand it at all.
If I were to go to another city, such as Vancouver, and ask someone from that city if they think Vancouver is the best city in the world, what do you think would be the response? But if I say the same thing about Toronto, I would be considered snobbish and arrogant. Personally, I love Vancouver. And Montreal. I really enjoy travelling around this country, and have already visited six of the ten provinces. I've also been to many parts of the world and I love cities like London and Paris. But to me, Toronto will always be home. I can't imagine living anywhere else. Why is that considered a bad thing?
So on this Valentine's Day, I ask everyone to let a little love in, for people from every part of this country. There's just too much hate as it is. Let's start small, and we can figure out the secret to world peace later.
"Now's the time that we need to share, so send a smile, we're on our way back home"
But that leads me into a topic that I've been meaning to talk about. Last year, one of my coworkers was on vacation out in the western provinces, and she told me that she did her best to hide the fact that she was from Toronto. When, on one occasion, her origin was revealed, the attitude of the person (who was a retail employee) changed dramatically. She was no longer smiling or friendly. She simply finished the transaction and gave my coworker her purchase.
It's a fairly well known fact that a lot of people in other parts of this country have a strong dislike of people who are from Toronto. My biggest question is: WHY? The most common answer is that they believe people from Toronto think that "Toronto is the centre of the universe". In my entire lifetime, I've never encountered anyone from Toronto who has ever uttered those words, let alone believed them. Other Canadians think that people from Toronto are rude, full of themselves, and unfriendly. Lately, I've heard that they think Toronto has become too much like an "American city": crime-ridden and polluted.
It breaks my heart to hear this kind of thing, because it's come to the point where Canadians are openly prejudiced against other Canadians. Are we not from the same country? Don't we believe in the same principles and values? Aren't we known, as a people, to be open and unbiased? Don't we condemn people who are intolerant of those who simply come from another part of the world, or believe in different things? So why are we treating each other so poorly? I don't understand it at all.
If I were to go to another city, such as Vancouver, and ask someone from that city if they think Vancouver is the best city in the world, what do you think would be the response? But if I say the same thing about Toronto, I would be considered snobbish and arrogant. Personally, I love Vancouver. And Montreal. I really enjoy travelling around this country, and have already visited six of the ten provinces. I've also been to many parts of the world and I love cities like London and Paris. But to me, Toronto will always be home. I can't imagine living anywhere else. Why is that considered a bad thing?
So on this Valentine's Day, I ask everyone to let a little love in, for people from every part of this country. There's just too much hate as it is. Let's start small, and we can figure out the secret to world peace later.
"Now's the time that we need to share, so send a smile, we're on our way back home"
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Mission: Implausible
My brother and I went to the mall last weekend to have lunch, pick up a birthday present for my aunt, and generally browse around. On our way home, we stopped to get gas for his car, which we've dubbed "The Beige Beauty". It's falling apart on all sides, most of the interior electronics are fried, and you can hear it coming from blocks away.
Recently, it started making a "new" noise. One would describe it either as rocks tumbling or a drummer persistently playing the high hat. The new noise started up after we filled up, but then abrupted stopped. I didn't think anything other than it was nice to stop drawing attention to ourselves from pedestrians and motorists who had this look on their faces like we were here to destroy them. But then my brother looked down and said, "Um...the engine temperature is quite high." We both looked and saw the needle climbing slowly and steadily higher. Then, as if on cue, the "Check Gauges" light started to flash. We started to get fairly alarmed. Next thing we knew, the "Check Engine" light started to flash urgently. As a stop-gap measure, we cranked up the heat to try and draw some of it from the engine. All we got was really cold air.
So, what do we do here? We were pretty close to home. Stopping on the side of the road for a few minutes wouldn't really do much to cool the engine down. If we tried to speed up to get home faster, it might only serve to overheat the engine faster and we could blow up in the middle of the road. If we slowed down, we might not heat up as quickly, but then we could still blow up in the middle of the road before we got home. We decided to plow onwards, with me on the edge of my seat saying "Please don't blow up" over and over.
We made it home and my brother turned the car off quickly. We popped the hood and looked around. Strangely, nothing was smoking, and the radiator was ice cold.
In the end, it turned out that the fan belt had fallen off somewhere on the road. Most likely at the point when the rocks stopped tumbling. Oh yes, and the water pump had crapped out. Amazingly, my father got both of them replaced at a shop where they didn't try to get him to fix every other thing that was wrong with the car. And so we've breathed new life back into the Beige Beauty. One thing to be said for the cars in my family: all of them end their lives at the dump.
"Stop and stare, I think I'm moving but I go nowhere"
Recently, it started making a "new" noise. One would describe it either as rocks tumbling or a drummer persistently playing the high hat. The new noise started up after we filled up, but then abrupted stopped. I didn't think anything other than it was nice to stop drawing attention to ourselves from pedestrians and motorists who had this look on their faces like we were here to destroy them. But then my brother looked down and said, "Um...the engine temperature is quite high." We both looked and saw the needle climbing slowly and steadily higher. Then, as if on cue, the "Check Gauges" light started to flash. We started to get fairly alarmed. Next thing we knew, the "Check Engine" light started to flash urgently. As a stop-gap measure, we cranked up the heat to try and draw some of it from the engine. All we got was really cold air.
So, what do we do here? We were pretty close to home. Stopping on the side of the road for a few minutes wouldn't really do much to cool the engine down. If we tried to speed up to get home faster, it might only serve to overheat the engine faster and we could blow up in the middle of the road. If we slowed down, we might not heat up as quickly, but then we could still blow up in the middle of the road before we got home. We decided to plow onwards, with me on the edge of my seat saying "Please don't blow up" over and over.
We made it home and my brother turned the car off quickly. We popped the hood and looked around. Strangely, nothing was smoking, and the radiator was ice cold.
In the end, it turned out that the fan belt had fallen off somewhere on the road. Most likely at the point when the rocks stopped tumbling. Oh yes, and the water pump had crapped out. Amazingly, my father got both of them replaced at a shop where they didn't try to get him to fix every other thing that was wrong with the car. And so we've breathed new life back into the Beige Beauty. One thing to be said for the cars in my family: all of them end their lives at the dump.
"Stop and stare, I think I'm moving but I go nowhere"