i'm back in canada and have 15 minutes to use the computer. so this will be full of typos and might not make much sense.
but i want to say happy new year!! sorry i don't have time to write you personal emails, but i'm thinking about yous and yeah hpapy new year!
this emial is mostly from my grandpa. And for Roloph Heinen. Grandpa, please tell him this story. And it's for you too mom.
so, I was checking in my baggage at the Heathrow Airport in London, England. And the lady next to me checking in was apparantly from Medicine hat. And the guy working at her counter asked her if she know Roloph Heinen, cause he's from Medicine Hat. And the lady was like "no! I have no clue who that is" and I stuck my head over to his counter and said "I know Roloph Heinen!! He's my grandpa's best friend!!" And this guy, Migual, spanish.. was very exciting that I knew him. And he told me to tell Roloph Heinen that he considers Mr. Heinen to be the most amazing man he has ever met.
Migual, this spanish dude who immigrated to London and now works for the Air CAnada Office in Heathrow Airport was traveling around CAnada in 1994 and was hitchhiking near Lethbridge, when a kind man stopped and picked him up. This man was.. you guessed it.. Roloph HEinen. so Roloph offers to not only give him a ride, but also bring him into his home and feed him and talk with him and make him feel very very welcomed. This Migual guy now considers Roloph to have the biggest heard out of any other man he has ever met. (I told him jokingly that he obviously hasn't met my grandfather)
I felt like I was in the twilight zone or something. Heathrow Airport has about 300000 people working in it, and AirCanada has about 20 checkin desks.. but there I was.. talking about Roloph heinen and how my grandpa and him go waaay back..
anyways, it's a small world.
I'm back in Canada and I love it. People are so friendly, I can communicate. We're picking up the Russians at the airport at 11pm and then heading to our camp. First some Tim Hortons. Don't it always seem to go... that you don't know what you got till it's gone..
Thursday, December 30, 2004
Sunday, December 26, 2004
Christmas?!
I just wanted to wish everybody (like my friends and family and everybody reading this blog who has some type of association with me and who celebrates something this time of the year) a belated Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays and happy Hannukah (I sure wish I could spell Hannukah)
Our farewell went well. Our Canadian Christmas also well, except for a few minor glitches related to us not being able to read ingredient labels of russian packaging. We're leaving Tuesday and today is Sunday and I was up all night dancing with some people from the group and our Russian supervisor and 2 swedish boys who are kind of friends of friends. One is living in Kaliningrad working for the Swedish consulate and one is his little brother who is 17 and who went to a club for the first time in his life. He's adorable and I've decided that Swedish accents are my favourite and he kind of reminds me of Jesse (my little brother) It was great music and great fun and worth the whole not sleeping thing.
Christmas is about dancing, right? Okay, so what I've figured out is that tomorrow we have "debriefing" all day and the day after that we leave in the am. And it's 11:30pm, so I think now would be a good time to start packing? Perhpaps.
So yeah, Merry christmas..happy boxing day. Drive Safe. Signing off.. with Love.
Our farewell went well. Our Canadian Christmas also well, except for a few minor glitches related to us not being able to read ingredient labels of russian packaging. We're leaving Tuesday and today is Sunday and I was up all night dancing with some people from the group and our Russian supervisor and 2 swedish boys who are kind of friends of friends. One is living in Kaliningrad working for the Swedish consulate and one is his little brother who is 17 and who went to a club for the first time in his life. He's adorable and I've decided that Swedish accents are my favourite and he kind of reminds me of Jesse (my little brother) It was great music and great fun and worth the whole not sleeping thing.
Christmas is about dancing, right? Okay, so what I've figured out is that tomorrow we have "debriefing" all day and the day after that we leave in the am. And it's 11:30pm, so I think now would be a good time to start packing? Perhpaps.
So yeah, Merry christmas..happy boxing day. Drive Safe. Signing off.. with Love.
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
Culturama
I feel a bit (as David Bowie would say) Under Pressure. I haven't posted in awhile cause I've been.. I'm not sure what I've been doing, waiting for the right time I suppose. Because I don't want to write just for the sake of writing, but rather because I have something to say. So now the pressure is on to say something entertaining and/or informative. Uh oh. And now I have David Bowie stuck in my head.
I have a cold. I have had one for awhile. And a few days ago it was much worse. My nose was running all over the place. (errands and stuff) Russians say that their brain is leaking when their nose is running, so I guess I could say my brain sprung a leak.
My host mom caught wind of my brain leakage and called me downstairs. (I thought I was in trouble, and I was right. But not the trouble I expected) I got into the kitchen, where she grabbed me and put a chunk of onions into each one of my nostrils. Now, for the full effect of this story, I think it might be necessary for everybody to get up right now and go put onions up their nose. And leave them there for a few minutes. My eyes started watering, and I started crying from the burning pain. So there I was my brain leaking all over the place.. from my eyes and from my nose.. and my Russian mom and sister are telling me to sneeze, cause after you sneeze that means you can take the onion out. Now, everybody sneeze. Can you sneeze on command? Have you ever heard of anybody sneezing on command? Maybe at the circus you might find people who can sneeze on command. Next to the bearded lady, I'm not sure.
Eventually the onions got out of my nose and I could taste onions for the rest of the week dripping from my sinuses. I'll admit, I did feel a bit better though. Russian Healthcare System.
Sunday, our mom asked me to cook a Canadian meal. I thought this would be pretty straight-forward. I chose Spaghetti. Simple, tasty, and the ingredients are relatively inexpensive. So Val, Galia and I set out for the grocery store. I find ground beef. Galia suggests ground chicken, (which I didn't even know existed) I get mushrooms and broccoli, Galia suggests cucumbers and celery. I get long noodles, Galia suggests crazy curly ones. I grab some parmasan cheese, Galia replaces it with Gouda. Finally, I get some tomato paste to make tomato sauce with, Galia suggests some ketchup with garlic in it. The ketchup was where I drew the line.
I wasn't home for supper that night, so I didn't have to taste the final product, which I knew would taste a bit off (or waaay off). Ekaterinberg/Canada spaghetti. (Galia kept calling it lasagna. Whatever.. what's in a name, anyways?)
I thought about leaving out the meat from the sauce all together, and maybe replacing it with beans, but I knew that I would be labelled a tree-hugging environmentalist lesbian vegan free-loving bead wearing left-wing radical and would get awkward stares for the rest of my days.
The mom watched us cook it up and told us what spices to put in (Is sugar a spice?) and how to do things properly. I guess when they say "cook us a Canadian meal", the really mean "we want to see how you would cook a Canadian meal if you were given the opportunity and then stare and scrutinize and take over and do it for you cause you obviously have no idea what the hell you're doing" It's probably better that way anyways. I probably would have blown up with house with the gas stove. With great power comes great responsability, right? So no power = no responsability. And no stress.
Overall, the spaghetti/lasagna event was fun. I was reminded of Mike, my old roomate who loved spaghetti and ate it pretty much everyday throughout the entire school year. I was also reminded of pre-made tomato sauces that are available in Canada with all possible spices and combinations, even organic if that's what your heart desires. And no, you don't have to be a hippy enjoy organic tomato sauce.
I have a cold. I have had one for awhile. And a few days ago it was much worse. My nose was running all over the place. (errands and stuff) Russians say that their brain is leaking when their nose is running, so I guess I could say my brain sprung a leak.
My host mom caught wind of my brain leakage and called me downstairs. (I thought I was in trouble, and I was right. But not the trouble I expected) I got into the kitchen, where she grabbed me and put a chunk of onions into each one of my nostrils. Now, for the full effect of this story, I think it might be necessary for everybody to get up right now and go put onions up their nose. And leave them there for a few minutes. My eyes started watering, and I started crying from the burning pain. So there I was my brain leaking all over the place.. from my eyes and from my nose.. and my Russian mom and sister are telling me to sneeze, cause after you sneeze that means you can take the onion out. Now, everybody sneeze. Can you sneeze on command? Have you ever heard of anybody sneezing on command? Maybe at the circus you might find people who can sneeze on command. Next to the bearded lady, I'm not sure.
Eventually the onions got out of my nose and I could taste onions for the rest of the week dripping from my sinuses. I'll admit, I did feel a bit better though. Russian Healthcare System.
Sunday, our mom asked me to cook a Canadian meal. I thought this would be pretty straight-forward. I chose Spaghetti. Simple, tasty, and the ingredients are relatively inexpensive. So Val, Galia and I set out for the grocery store. I find ground beef. Galia suggests ground chicken, (which I didn't even know existed) I get mushrooms and broccoli, Galia suggests cucumbers and celery. I get long noodles, Galia suggests crazy curly ones. I grab some parmasan cheese, Galia replaces it with Gouda. Finally, I get some tomato paste to make tomato sauce with, Galia suggests some ketchup with garlic in it. The ketchup was where I drew the line.
I wasn't home for supper that night, so I didn't have to taste the final product, which I knew would taste a bit off (or waaay off). Ekaterinberg/Canada spaghetti. (Galia kept calling it lasagna. Whatever.. what's in a name, anyways?)
I thought about leaving out the meat from the sauce all together, and maybe replacing it with beans, but I knew that I would be labelled a tree-hugging environmentalist lesbian vegan free-loving bead wearing left-wing radical and would get awkward stares for the rest of my days.
The mom watched us cook it up and told us what spices to put in (Is sugar a spice?) and how to do things properly. I guess when they say "cook us a Canadian meal", the really mean "we want to see how you would cook a Canadian meal if you were given the opportunity and then stare and scrutinize and take over and do it for you cause you obviously have no idea what the hell you're doing" It's probably better that way anyways. I probably would have blown up with house with the gas stove. With great power comes great responsability, right? So no power = no responsability. And no stress.
Overall, the spaghetti/lasagna event was fun. I was reminded of Mike, my old roomate who loved spaghetti and ate it pretty much everyday throughout the entire school year. I was also reminded of pre-made tomato sauces that are available in Canada with all possible spices and combinations, even organic if that's what your heart desires. And no, you don't have to be a hippy enjoy organic tomato sauce.
Information Technology
Wow is all I have to say about this It's our team webpage. My contributions include the peary puns and the purple background. Just like my bedroom.
peace and love
peace and love
Monday, December 13, 2004
I am preparing myself for the likely possibility of reverse culture shock, which will take place in about 16 days. Perhaps a bit pre-mature, but it seems like the right thing to do.
Granted, there are some things I will miss here, like being able to carry open beer with me on trams, (I never actually did this, but knowing I could was somehow comforting), the little cheesecakes you can buy at the grocery store that cost about 30 cents and Russians eat for breakfast, buying pirated music everywhere, my 4 generational house and family, my little brother Nikita who is starting to talk and it’s just so cute, and the cheapness of most things and the lack of gst, and the crazy ladies that work on the trams to see if your tram pass is valid and argue with me that my student card is not valid. They are right, because my student card is actually in Canada and all I have with me as a “international Youth Travel Card” but they don’t speak english, so they have no clue what “international Youth Travel Card” means. And, I am still a student, kind of. A Student in the University of Life is what I like to explain to them. And they say that international student cards don’t work, because these aren’t international trams. So I asked what an international tram was?? Does anybody know? An international tram? Maybe the chunnel?
One tram lady told me that my student card was actually a phone card. I’m said something along the lines of “it has my picture on it” (she looked like the sea witch in the little mermaid btw) She was insisting it was a phone card.. I decided that the best way to deal with the tram pass/student card fiasco is just to argue with the tram nazis until you get to your destination at which point you get off the tram and hope you will not have another meeting with the same tram lady. A phone card?
At the same time as I will be missing what I left behind to most likely never return to, I am excited about some things to be seen in my country. A very cool fellow Canadian who is living in France right now by who is named Jessica said this:
“I think Cookies By George steamed milks and blue bench philosophical discussions and one pound baskets of fries in the Powerplant and slushes with movies and coffee in coffee shops where you get more than an ouce of liquid for your money and large green open slaces in the middle of town and practical footwear and having the ability of having your written work published quite easily comparatively you know all adds up to create a great culture! I miss it.” It made me laugh and cry cause I knew exactly what she was saying (except for the blue bench philosophical discussion part but I can imagine what these are)
There’s nowhere in the city where you can find a portable cup of coffee. No coffee, no travel mugs, and you have to pay extra for cream in your coffee if you go somewhere and sit to drink coffee. Also, being able to do simple tasks like go to the library or buy stamps or read the time the train leaves will actually be simple tasks once again, and not big long complicating fiascos. Less adventure, more efficiency. It's hard to say which is better.
I went to a lecture by a German professor living in Ireland teaching here.. doing lecture in English.. It was very interesting. He was talking about the EU and not until that talk did I realize how interesting the European Union really is..
I'm hoping to maybe sneak out of work to attend more of his talks this week.
Don't tell my boss.
Granted, there are some things I will miss here, like being able to carry open beer with me on trams, (I never actually did this, but knowing I could was somehow comforting), the little cheesecakes you can buy at the grocery store that cost about 30 cents and Russians eat for breakfast, buying pirated music everywhere, my 4 generational house and family, my little brother Nikita who is starting to talk and it’s just so cute, and the cheapness of most things and the lack of gst, and the crazy ladies that work on the trams to see if your tram pass is valid and argue with me that my student card is not valid. They are right, because my student card is actually in Canada and all I have with me as a “international Youth Travel Card” but they don’t speak english, so they have no clue what “international Youth Travel Card” means. And, I am still a student, kind of. A Student in the University of Life is what I like to explain to them. And they say that international student cards don’t work, because these aren’t international trams. So I asked what an international tram was?? Does anybody know? An international tram? Maybe the chunnel?
One tram lady told me that my student card was actually a phone card. I’m said something along the lines of “it has my picture on it” (she looked like the sea witch in the little mermaid btw) She was insisting it was a phone card.. I decided that the best way to deal with the tram pass/student card fiasco is just to argue with the tram nazis until you get to your destination at which point you get off the tram and hope you will not have another meeting with the same tram lady. A phone card?
At the same time as I will be missing what I left behind to most likely never return to, I am excited about some things to be seen in my country. A very cool fellow Canadian who is living in France right now by who is named Jessica said this:
“I think Cookies By George steamed milks and blue bench philosophical discussions and one pound baskets of fries in the Powerplant and slushes with movies and coffee in coffee shops where you get more than an ouce of liquid for your money and large green open slaces in the middle of town and practical footwear and having the ability of having your written work published quite easily comparatively you know all adds up to create a great culture! I miss it.” It made me laugh and cry cause I knew exactly what she was saying (except for the blue bench philosophical discussion part but I can imagine what these are)
There’s nowhere in the city where you can find a portable cup of coffee. No coffee, no travel mugs, and you have to pay extra for cream in your coffee if you go somewhere and sit to drink coffee. Also, being able to do simple tasks like go to the library or buy stamps or read the time the train leaves will actually be simple tasks once again, and not big long complicating fiascos. Less adventure, more efficiency. It's hard to say which is better.
I went to a lecture by a German professor living in Ireland teaching here.. doing lecture in English.. It was very interesting. He was talking about the EU and not until that talk did I realize how interesting the European Union really is..
I'm hoping to maybe sneak out of work to attend more of his talks this week.
Don't tell my boss.
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
Monday, December 06, 2004
HECK YEAH!
This made me laugh mostly because I learned that Napoleon Dynamite isn't really crazy afterall.
It doesn't say anything about having magical powers though..
It doesn't say anything about having magical powers though..
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
hibernating?
Well, work has been cancelled for the entire week. This is kind of exciting for me. Not that I don't like working.. okay it is that I don't like working.
Freedom is exhilirating!! I don't even know what to do with myself. I've been drinking tea and reading, and working out in our lovely little sport room. I went with Nastia, my work counterpart to Svitlagorsk, which is a town on the Baltic Sea and we walked around the beach and took a train back! (I love trains!!)
Today, after standing outside my office and realizing that work was cancelled, we went to visit Galia at her work and we drank some tea and gossiped and chatted and she returned to work and I walked home.
On the way, I saw a poster for Jim Barron, a dj who goes by the name "Crazy Penis" (to attract attention I'm assuming. Like the naked chef maybe.) Well, he's super awesome house dj (there might be 2 of them in Crazy Penis, but only this Jim guy is brave enough for Russian dance floors apparantly) from the UK who is coming to Kaliningrad this Friday!
Kaliningrad!! This is great news for me. I've been dying for some house music dancey dance goodness. No more Rap, hip hop R and B soul whatever you wanna call it. No more top 40 or bottom 40 or anything in between. I want authentic dance music. And hopefully the tickets won't cost me and arm and a leg and my liver either.
But yeah, I wanted to say something about this Jim Barron/Crazy Penis entity. I discovered them when our Shambhala camping neighbors were playing them non-stop for the entire Shambhala weekend. Well, they alternated between Armand van Helden (MY MY MY) and Crazy Penis (COME ON!) for about 40 hrs. straight, and I was evangelized by the end.
I tried to track down some of their music, but I was only met with teenage HMV staff blushing when I made my request for the latest "Crazy Penis" mix.
It's kind of cool how I discovered this wonderful music blasting from our neighbors mini-van at a music festival in the middle of BC in the dusty Salmo River Ranch during the massive dance under the stars,swim in the river raver-hippy shakedown this summer.
And then I re-discover it, but this time blaring from the speakers of a very capitalist club in the former Soviet Union in the dead of of the crip Baltic Sea winter. Co-incidence? Am I reading into this too much due to my over-dose of herbal tea and soup?? That's for you, the reader, to decide.
And luckilly, my grandpa, who I adore, has been printing all my posts and creating a book. Maybe I'll try to write something intelligent in the future for his sake, for the sake of humanity..
Until then, I'm gonna go eat some soup. And maybe some more tea.
Freedom is exhilirating!! I don't even know what to do with myself. I've been drinking tea and reading, and working out in our lovely little sport room. I went with Nastia, my work counterpart to Svitlagorsk, which is a town on the Baltic Sea and we walked around the beach and took a train back! (I love trains!!)
Today, after standing outside my office and realizing that work was cancelled, we went to visit Galia at her work and we drank some tea and gossiped and chatted and she returned to work and I walked home.
On the way, I saw a poster for Jim Barron, a dj who goes by the name "Crazy Penis" (to attract attention I'm assuming. Like the naked chef maybe.) Well, he's super awesome house dj (there might be 2 of them in Crazy Penis, but only this Jim guy is brave enough for Russian dance floors apparantly) from the UK who is coming to Kaliningrad this Friday!
Kaliningrad!! This is great news for me. I've been dying for some house music dancey dance goodness. No more Rap, hip hop R and B soul whatever you wanna call it. No more top 40 or bottom 40 or anything in between. I want authentic dance music. And hopefully the tickets won't cost me and arm and a leg and my liver either.
But yeah, I wanted to say something about this Jim Barron/Crazy Penis entity. I discovered them when our Shambhala camping neighbors were playing them non-stop for the entire Shambhala weekend. Well, they alternated between Armand van Helden (MY MY MY) and Crazy Penis (COME ON!) for about 40 hrs. straight, and I was evangelized by the end.
I tried to track down some of their music, but I was only met with teenage HMV staff blushing when I made my request for the latest "Crazy Penis" mix.
It's kind of cool how I discovered this wonderful music blasting from our neighbors mini-van at a music festival in the middle of BC in the dusty Salmo River Ranch during the massive dance under the stars,swim in the river raver-hippy shakedown this summer.
And then I re-discover it, but this time blaring from the speakers of a very capitalist club in the former Soviet Union in the dead of of the crip Baltic Sea winter. Co-incidence? Am I reading into this too much due to my over-dose of herbal tea and soup?? That's for you, the reader, to decide.
And luckilly, my grandpa, who I adore, has been printing all my posts and creating a book. Maybe I'll try to write something intelligent in the future for his sake, for the sake of humanity..
Until then, I'm gonna go eat some soup. And maybe some more tea.
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