What I Did For The Rav4. Also, Happy Valentine's Day!

This morning, I spent an hour and three quarters in one of the saddest malls I have ever entered. It consisted of one corridor not longer than a football field, with the two main attractions being "Dollarama" and "valu-mart." (Two, I was lucky.) The patrons of the mall consisted of little old ladies and men, middle-aged types who were zipping in and out of Dollarama for the poor man's version of Adolescent Disfigured Samurai Tortoises and Akay scrubbing powder, and ethnic minorities of mysterious origins and even more mysterious purpose of "shopping" at a "mall" during work hours. And I was stranded there for another few hours.

What, dear readers may ask me, were you doing in such a godforsaken corner of Kitchener? Weren't you supposed to be at school, teaching the young 'uns their differential operators and vector-valued functions? Alas, comes this particular tale of Redneckia, a.k.a. Frederick St. Mall. Which shouldn't really be called a mall but whatever makes one feel important, no?

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It all started with a snow storm. No, wait; scratch that. It all started when I decided to become a teacher.

Actually it started somewhere in-between.

Having been in need of a car to go to work here in Waterloo, Jorghnassen's father generously donated his car, the 1997 Toyota Rav4 to his son, and thus the Rav 4 became part of my way of life around here. But our new province of residence has many hoops set up for any would-be border crossers like ourselves to make sure that any vehicle we bring with us would make more bureaucratic paperwork for ourselves, and more money for the province's numerous and vital auto mechanics, and its not-so-idle bureaucrats.

Jorgh's already hopped over a few of the hurdles, having gained his Ontario Driver's Licence, Ontario-based Auto Insurance, and other Ontario Brand (R) Pieces of Paper. It was now a matter of obtaining the Ontario Licence Plates, but this required more investment than just driving around town looking for building X, pi, and Dingbat.

According to province-jumping laws, one must send the evil foreign car to an auto mechanic who will then charge a set amount of money to check if this car is not spewing out too much poopoo into the Ontario Brand (R) atmosphere, also known as the Emissions Test, and the mechanic will also have to check if the car is safe for the Ontario Brand (R) Roads, a.k.a. Safety Certificate. Only then will the car be qualified to have Ontario Licence Plates.

I wanted to make sure that we had a mechanic who would be honest and worked well, but what can one do when one is in an entirely new environment, new province a.k.a Car Country (tm), with not many people to look to for contacts?

Fortunately, my boss serendipitiously had problems with his char, which he chatted about briefly to me. It was then discovered that he had a cousin who owns a garage in Kitchener, not too distant from the mall previously named, and that this cousin would be able to do all that auto work necessary.

Thus Jorgh and I were led to this garage yesterday afternoon. It was immaculate and definitely radiated efficiency. I knew that since my boss was related to the man, what was said was what is necessary. We left the car with him for about an hour and a half, wandering aimlessly around the neighbourhood.

Neighborhood might not be exactly what you'd imagine to describe an area that looks like the highway crossed with heavy commerce, peppered with roadside fast food. But if you are ever in the neighbourhood to buy army surplus equipment and a burger, this area would definitely be your best bet.

To summarize, we essentially had nowhere to go for an hour and a half, so we wandered the snowy streets from business to business, looking like hobos (in the Montreal sense, but looking nowhere like residents of this area, who look like hobos to begin with). When we returned, the mechanic said that the car passed the Emissions Test (yay!) but needed a buttload of work done to pass the Safety test (boo); i.e. a moolah-full of work. All necessary.

I scheduled to take it to the garage again today after work, near 1 pm, but the hitch on the plan was the unexpected cancelling of classes today, due to the snow storm. Actually, it was not much of a storm, as it actually passed under K-W and into Hamilton. What it did leave with us was 3 inches of snow on the ground. And the car.

The Rav4 has yet to fail to start in the morning, even after the deepest freeze of the year (refer to Jorgh's blog about the weather, I refrain from commentary). Nonetheless, when 3 inches of snow get dumped on the car, it still needs to be carved out of the white pile. I managed to break the new snow brush + ice scraper into snow brush and ice scraper. It took twice the amount of time to get to school, as several cars in front of me were cautiously inching along the stretch of road cutting through farmland, ironically clear of snow and even blowing snow. Along the way, just before arriving in fact, the secretary called and asked if I had 4 wheel drive. "I... think so?" Good, because I was going to need it. "O...kay?"

I arrived at school and discovered that classes was cancelled, due to a circumstantial massive snow pile sitting in front of the gate of the parking lot that with my integrated traction (or "sort-of" 4-wheel drive) I managed to drive straight through. The secretary also informed me that not only was there a snow pile preventing safe transit of students to the school, but that the other two teachers could not get their cars out of their respective driveways. When I told her about the garage, she suggested that I call ahead and take it earlier, and ask if they would shuttle me somewhere to wait for the projected three hours of work to be done.

Her suggestions worked, and I brought the car to the garage at 9:30. My boss was coincidentally at the garage as well, just having something briefly done for his car. His cousin, the mechanic, then asked if my boss would shuttle me to "the mall" while I waited. "That would save me a trip," the mechanic said. Surely there would be no problems, as boss lives in the area, right?

... "Where's the mall?" the boss asked, as he started the car.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, as we arrived at this mall, very near to the garage, the boss proclaimed, "This isn't much of a mall..." But who am I to take advantage of a lift to somewhere not in highway/furniture store/Burger King wonderland? I got out of the car, and made my way inside to experience all the glory of Dollarama, Home Hardware, and valu-mart.

To add some description of the excitement radiating from this mall, there was exactly one coffee shop, a women's only fitness center, some dinky (old person) boutiques, and the German consulate.

This, dear reader, is how I ended up staring at dyed-big-hair-tapered-jeans ladies and homely old people mulling in front of the lotto stand for almost two hours, until I couldn't take it any more and scuttled out into the unplowed sidewalks. (I would have run but earlier this week I had inadvertently cracked my big toe nail kicking the dirty snow behind the Rav4 tires, that turned out to be dirty ice.)

Finally, I ended up back at the garage, sitting and slowly falling asleep on their couch, until the repairs were completed at 12:15. There were no other events of note, so I drove home. Then I wrote a bit, then I slept for about 5 hours and now I'm writing some more.

Moral of the story: although everyone is nice and polite wherever I go, if the main attraction of a mall is the dollar store........... run away!

Islands in the Junos, That is What We Are

Stephen pointed out that Islands is nominated for a Juno, for Alternative Album of the Year (2006, I presume, tho the album came out 2005). Of course, as I pointed out before, bro didn't actually record with them, which makes it kind of a pity. Nevertheless, it is a nice recognition, and should they win I will still be very happy for him. (Tho for some reason their website is down... @_@ )

While looking for info on the Juno nod, Jorgh found an interview my bro did for some website. I'll let you decide who was being more facetious and who was being more of an ass.

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So finally I have a bit of time to write about some other dull things about Waterloo than food and... food. For instance, the smell. (Yay for a nose that picks up everything. And yay for a topic that will ensure that absolutely no one will come visit us here.)

It smells like something different every day when I walk out into the hallway and to the rear-facing apartment stairwell in the morning to get to the car in the parking lot. Sometimes it smells like someone's cooking. Sometimes it smells like someone's butt. Once in a while it smells like absolutely nothing. That is the day when they clean the carpets.

But for some insane reason, it smells like dog pee more than anything else. And cigarette smoke. And then a mix of both. And other things I fear to mention.

You'd probably say, "Why not just avoid this stairway to stinky hell?" Well, I am a creature of habit and thus after learning of this particular exit leading to the parking lot is the easiest way to the car, lugging two heavy textbooks all the way around a 50+ apartment sized building every morning doesn't strike me as an acceptable tradeoff.

Anyway, if you do come visit (which by now you might say "OMGNOWAI"), with a method of personal transit be it automobile, moped, or bigfoot, you can avoid the corridor of perpetual stink and you are welcome to park on the street.

Ms C's Random Food Review: Grapefruit

What: Grape-fruit. The pink one.

Comments: It doesn't even look like a grape. Besides being spherical.

The recent weather mishaps (in a multi-million-dollar-devastation sense) over citrus counties in the states have guaranteed that our fresher supplies of vitamin C will cost more than it usually should, although supplies are still regular from other continents like in South America. I forgot where we got these pamplemousses from but I assume they are actually from Califlowernia.

Review: Jorgh and I don't see eye to eye with citrus fruits. Basically, he hates oranges and anything that has to do with orange, even artificially flavoured orange crystals (or so I presume) and orange shirts. Though I see that he will gladly devour a tablespoon of lemon juice when he gets the hiccups because, "It works!" Then he gets mad when I get hiccups and refuse to gracefully sip away at citric acid on a spoon.

On the other hand, we both agreed on buying some grapefruits to vary our fruit intake. Tangy and sweet at the same time, the pink grapefruit is a summery citrus that has no need of supplement nor garnish, unlike other kinds of grapefruits, the "Ruby Red" variety is sweeter. It is a fruit thoroughly appreciated when freshly squeezed into juice or scooped out clumsily with a teaspoon. Then the pulp and juice have to be slurped out to avoid waste. One can argue that a grapefruit spoon will help avoid all that mess but I would rather keep my 5 dollars, thank you very much.

Jorgh dumped a teaspoon of sugar on top of his half. Then I had to eat it.

Rating: 4/5 for fruits, but 2/5 for style. >:(

Ms C's Random Food Review: Barley

What: It is called barley.

Comments: One puts it in soups, like Davy showed me that one time he made us mushroom (and more) soup. I remember the giant Ivo pot in which we made enough soup to feed us for weeks afterward, and the peppercorns that had been left in the bottom for one poor sap who had the last bowl of extra peppery flavoured soup-ness. (Lil V should have had that one, knowing how tolerant I am of spices.) But the soup was good, and much of it was because of the addition of barley. I would not have thought of adding it otherwise, nor thought of putting it in nearly all the soups I can possibly add it in.

Review: A small amount in water puffs out into a lot of barley. I learned this the hard way. (When have I not learned anything the hard way...!? #@_@) I have yet to correctly proportion the dry barley:broth volumes, as every time I put a bit less it still sops up most of the broth and expands like a marshmallow in a microwave.

Personally, I don't mind having such a bloated soup full of barley, as I can't get enough of the partly crunchy texture and the way it complements vegetables. It absorbs the beefy taste in beef broth, which adds even more depth to the soup. But alas, Jorgh doesn't think soup should look like wet foodstuff + some water so I have to experiment further.

Rating: A gajillion stars!!!/5 potatoes

Baldur's Gate

Another BG portrait, on a whim. I made yet another bard who somehow rolled 95, thus merited her own portrait for the game. Stupendous stick!

What's With the Water in Waterloo?

I'm trying to figure out why the water is so hard here. It was not that long ago in Southern Ontario that the Walkerton crisis occured, and to the residents in this area it is hard to discuss the water quality without alluding to that e.coli outbreak. The first thing anyone does when they move here, according to some sources, is to buy a water filtration device or water softener. I figure private water businesses make a killing here because there is probably one of these depots at every corner selling their coolers or installation and services. (There is at least one down the street, so I don't think I'm exaggerating.)

We bought an electric water boiler the second day we arrived, and I had thought to boil some of the tap water (still potable, mind you) for tea. And after boiling once, to our great dismay, it left a thick (!!!) film of mineral deposit everywhere inside the container, and I had to wash it out with vinegar to get off all the white stuff. :(

One cannot actually leave dishes or glasses out to air dry, or to leave any spots of water of any size, as everything will be left with water spots as frustrating as being stuck behind an old granny driving down a country road with double yellow lines for the next 50 km.

Jorgh lived here by himself for about two months; while he is not a terrible housekeeper, the bathroom sink and cups were left with a mess of deposit that doesn't come off easily with regular household cleaner (and by that I mean "fantastik" and "blue stuff"). So I dropped a bucket of vinegar on everything and it sparkled like new... for about a day or so. Everything smelled of vinegar for longer than that! >:(

So, what is with the water in Waterloo?

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And in other news, brem makes me a bit sad that I left QC at this time. :(

Ms. C Happens Onto Waterloo

I have been ultimately busy doing a number of things in the last two weeks:

1. Driving from Chicoutimi to Waterloo in the Rav4.


2. Driving around Waterloo to buy some furniture and other miscellaneous things in the Rav4.


3. Driving to the school out in Baden to meet people in the Rav4.


4. Driving to the school out in Baden to work in the last week... in the Rav4.


5. Driving Jorghnassen around in the Rav4.


6. Trying to get Jorghnassen to drive the Rav4.

It is creepy driving around in the middle of winter with barely any snow on the ground. The day we arrived, it was so warm that we were wandering around in our late fall/spring/cold summer day garb, and the temperature refused to dip below the freezing point. In the last two weeks, there has been some snow (or perhaps "crystalized rain") that has lasted a good two or three hours on the ground at a time, and then some more to replace the centimeter that eventually disappears.

I remember a bit beyond two years ago, I had just started my driving lessons at around 5 pm, at the Tecnic school near the Terminus Les Saules. It was snowing incessantly, and terrifyingly dark; my driving instructor was amazingly calm and terrific, and I managed to go through the first few lessons without actually hitting anyone or anything. I even managed at most two drivers honking at me, so I think I did alright.

Flash forward two years, and here I am, zipping around town more or less shaking my fist at every douchebag on the road who doesn't signal, doesn't know how to take turns at the stop signs, keeps sticking close to my rear, and passes from the right. And don't get me started on the crazies who like to drive while talking on their cell phones, because it drives me absolutely nuts.

Also, I just got a cell phone. :| It is a prepaid card with Telus and it costs me just as much money to send as it does to receive calls, and marginally less to send text messages so I would only use it if/when things get bad. Like the other morning when the driver side door didn't let my key unlock it, and the passenger side door wouldn't close! Then I called Jorgh from the parking lot to get him to wake up and stumble down the stairs of the apartment complex, out the door and help me resolve the problem, and all it took was 5 minutes of warming up the car to get the door to finally close. It must have been a ghost...

In other news, I started teaching last Monday at the school. It is quite, quite, quite small; in fact, so small you would think it just opened a scant 7-8 months ago. Which it did. There are exactly three classrooms in use, and three teachers who teach at completely different blocks. In fact, the calculus is the first and only class of the period, and the other two periods are occupied by chemistry and english at the same time. And, until just recently, I had exactly one student in my second period math class: she got promoted to the chemistry class, so I have to compensate that loss of class with two or three club periods at lunch.

I would say that it is an insane amount of work for one or two classes, but I am actually enjoying putting together the class. It entails following the course profile and curriculum of the class, trying to make sense of the crazy-long activities listed in there, and making the "daybook" (lesson plans) for each of these classes.

Now, during the training years, no one told me that I could condense all the lesson plans for each day into a lesson plan that can encompass the whole week, or several days. So I had briefly freaked out during the first two days discussing things with the principal on lesson planning when he told me that all I could do was take the previous teacher's daybook, replace the dates, and submit that as my own. Though it doesn't help that the daybook doesn't make any sense to me in that form.

So I spend the morning teaching, return to the apartment at around 1:30, sleep for several hours (yes, several), wake up and make supper, then work until 3 am writing the day plan. And I do mean DAY plan. So far, I have not gone beyond two days worth of day plans because I seriously don't know how long it would take these students to undertake any of the activities, despite the projected "2 hours" or "1.25 hours" they claim.

For a private school, the control of the discipline is genuinely upon the administration. I actually felt like every student in the class was scared beyond their wits to act out or speak out of turn simply because someone would kick them out of school for doing so. (And the kicking-out-of-school part is a bigger deal for them because they're all from Africa.) It took nearly three classes to get them to loosen up and feel (at least a bit) more comfortable asking a question. Fortunately, they are much more motivated in their learning than other places I have ever been, and they have little or no reason to resort to crazy antics.

Also, I have been told that the taxes were not witheld by the school, so I had a choice between being paid as an individual, or as a business. Thus, I should inquire more about registering as a business soon, as I can claim gas, car maintenance, the equpiment I bought, etc. The others even claim the heavier clothing they have to bring to school because the building is so cold sometimes even this blueberry would shiver.

To summarize the last few weeks in a few words, I would say that I am quite stressed with work but quite happy where I am. :):):)

Except for the hard water. But that's another thing altogether.

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Some sort of design-your-own dancing thing - I forgot why I didn't write anything about it earlier when I copy-pasted this link onto a blank post.