Yesterday morning I decided to get creative... creative and silly. So I made a brief documentary of the home where I am staying, here in Chicoutimi. It's about 4 mins long, so it may take a couple seconds to buffer, but I hope you have the time to give it a look.
You'll have to excuse the bed-head and lack of makeup... and who was the numb-nuts that chose the wardrobe? Get somebody from wardrobe up here! And where's my coffee? I ordered a decaf latte like 30 mins ago. And get Spielburg on the phone, his last movie was rubbish... I've got an earful for him.
ah-hem.
So without further adieu, enjoy le petit tour.
Sunday, May 28, 2006
Thursday, May 25, 2006
If the french language were a unicorn...
So what was the news that we recieved that would change things?
Last Wednesday we were told that we would be receiving two more students with us. Our immediate reaction was, "NO!!! We don't want to mess with the balance". But nobody actually asked us what we thought about it.
Ann and Ivan each have their own room, which I think is a smart idea for any couple. However, they decided to shack up and share one room, to make space for the two new girls.
The next day I found out that it was one of the girls from my class that was movin' in due to a bad host-family situation (bread and butter for dinner sort of deal). I also got to meet her roommate, who I have coined "le Cheerleader", because she sort of bounced up to me the first time we met and introduced herself in mangled french with a valleygirl accent. It was like watching a unicorn being slaughtered with an ax.
"Mon Dieu", I thought... my sacred host-family is being invaded by Jessica Simpson.
After only two weeks together, we had established a family unit (a family system) and I had no interest in changing it. Ironically, a month ago I wrote about the inevidabilty of change, and how we have a choice in how we deal with it. Here was my perfect opportunity to step up and prove my maturity to welcome change, to allow others to join the privileged situation that I was in.
So what did I do? I sulked for a while. I was cold. I was mildly bitchy for the first 4 days. Did these 19 year-old girls not realize they were invading the sacred Veggie-BC-Musician space? No, they did not. And for this they would suffer.
Nice work Dan.
Anyway, now it is a week later and the equilibrium has been re-established in the family. I have made an effort to be warmer. We are now seven people under one roof, things are busy and lively, the table is full of conversation. Le Cheerleader (pronounced with a thick french accent, "Le sheer-lee-deur") is actually a very sweet girl with intentions to be friendly and nice. The climate of the house has changed a bit, but things are still good...
It's still a bit of a fairy tale. Grumpy just had to make space for the other dwarfs.
Last Wednesday we were told that we would be receiving two more students with us. Our immediate reaction was, "NO!!! We don't want to mess with the balance". But nobody actually asked us what we thought about it.
Ann and Ivan each have their own room, which I think is a smart idea for any couple. However, they decided to shack up and share one room, to make space for the two new girls.
The next day I found out that it was one of the girls from my class that was movin' in due to a bad host-family situation (bread and butter for dinner sort of deal). I also got to meet her roommate, who I have coined "le Cheerleader", because she sort of bounced up to me the first time we met and introduced herself in mangled french with a valleygirl accent. It was like watching a unicorn being slaughtered with an ax.
"Mon Dieu", I thought... my sacred host-family is being invaded by Jessica Simpson.
After only two weeks together, we had established a family unit (a family system) and I had no interest in changing it. Ironically, a month ago I wrote about the inevidabilty of change, and how we have a choice in how we deal with it. Here was my perfect opportunity to step up and prove my maturity to welcome change, to allow others to join the privileged situation that I was in.
So what did I do? I sulked for a while. I was cold. I was mildly bitchy for the first 4 days. Did these 19 year-old girls not realize they were invading the sacred Veggie-BC-Musician space? No, they did not. And for this they would suffer.
Nice work Dan.
Anyway, now it is a week later and the equilibrium has been re-established in the family. I have made an effort to be warmer. We are now seven people under one roof, things are busy and lively, the table is full of conversation. Le Cheerleader (pronounced with a thick french accent, "Le sheer-lee-deur") is actually a very sweet girl with intentions to be friendly and nice. The climate of the house has changed a bit, but things are still good...
It's still a bit of a fairy tale. Grumpy just had to make space for the other dwarfs.
Saturday, May 20, 2006
Coin des Péchés
When I left you last, the Prince has gotten into a vehicle with a strange little Quebecois man, and was driving off to his countryside home where he would ride horses and eat hemp-burgers with renovating lesbians. Now, for the final half of the trilogy...
* * *
Well, shortly after we had left the university, the car pulled up beside a small shop and the little stout man, who was my chauffeur, said, “Here we are!”
I looked out the window, and was a little surprised because it appeared that we were in a parking lot for a large mall that was right behind the little shop. At this point my fantasies began to waver, and my wide-eyed smile was dropping into an expression of disillusionment. There would be no writing poetry from the bay window in the attic.
What I found was something equally lovely in it’s own unique way.
The little stout man is actually called “Ivan Roberts”, and he is one of the best Luthiers in Canada (a Luthier stems from the word “lute”, and is the term to describe one who makes instruments). He lives with a woman named “Anne Jones” who is a sculptor and artisan. She specializes in paper-maché sculpturing, jewelry making, and designing marionettes. I have had the privilege of being matched with this couple for the duration of my language program here in Chicoutimi.
Ann and Ivan have their workshop in the centre-ville of Chicoutimi. They work downstairs during the day: carving wood, molding shapes, painting violins and marionettes, and living their creative lives. It is a bit like a storybook here.
Above the workshop is a comfy apartment with three spare bedrooms that they rent to students throughout the year. As I was the first of three students to arrive that Sunday afternoon, I had the first choice of bedrooms. I chose the sunniest bedroom with gentle tones of green. It also had a paper-maché wall hanging that portrayed a man with an erection chasing a red-haired naked woman, both under the watchful eye of a giant pig. It felt immediately at home.
It turns out that each room in the apartment is named- the kitchen is called “Aux Petits Oignons”, another bedroom is called “Soleil Rouge”, my bedroom however is called “Coin des Péchés”. Roughly translated, this means “center of sins”. I am going to have to get busy and live up to the name.
Anyway, later that day my two roommates arrived. First was Rachel, who walked up the stairs with two instruments in her hands and a friendly smile. She has worked as a project coordinator for Katimavik, traveled around the world, has run a marathon, and just finished her Masters in Urban Planning at Dalhousie (Halifax). Needless to say, Rachel is doing amazing things with her life and I am enjoying the process of getting to know her.
The third, and final, student to arrive was Evan. He came in smiling, but with a slightly disheveled aura around him. He then proceeded to tell the story of how he lost his bus ticket and had to buy another one. He has a talent for telling well-animated stories, humouring us his intelligent side comments, and stumbling out of his room late in the morning with epic bed-head. Evan is studying world religion at McGill and I hope that we’ll have the opportunity to continue learning the language together when we return to Montreal.
The three of us are all vegetarians (hence the reason we were housed together) and all originate from British Columbia. We are also at similar levels with our French; we can carry on basic conversations but struggle with the complexities of the language. Often we can be heard asking each other, “how do you say ‘Suck it up Buttercup’ in French?”, as well as many other important idiosyncratic phrases that are key to express oneself in a new language.
So this is the story of my temporary home in Chicoutimi. I am living above a little shop in the center of town with four other unique souls: Ivan the instrument maker, Ann the sculptor (and vegetarian chef extraordinaire), Rachel the achiever, Evan the actor, and me (the prince with the active imagination). There is a beautiful little balance here. Life goes well…
However, on Wednesday we received news that things would change.
(stay tuned!)
* * *
Well, shortly after we had left the university, the car pulled up beside a small shop and the little stout man, who was my chauffeur, said, “Here we are!”
I looked out the window, and was a little surprised because it appeared that we were in a parking lot for a large mall that was right behind the little shop. At this point my fantasies began to waver, and my wide-eyed smile was dropping into an expression of disillusionment. There would be no writing poetry from the bay window in the attic.What I found was something equally lovely in it’s own unique way.
The little stout man is actually called “Ivan Roberts”, and he is one of the best Luthiers in Canada (a Luthier stems from the word “lute”, and is the term to describe one who makes instruments). He lives with a woman named “Anne Jones” who is a sculptor and artisan. She specializes in paper-maché sculpturing, jewelry making, and designing marionettes. I have had the privilege of being matched with this couple for the duration of my language program here in Chicoutimi.
Ann and Ivan have their workshop in the centre-ville of Chicoutimi. They work downstairs during the day: carving wood, molding shapes, painting violins and marionettes, and living their creative lives. It is a bit like a storybook here.
Above the workshop is a comfy apartment with three spare bedrooms that they rent to students throughout the year. As I was the first of three students to arrive that Sunday afternoon, I had the first choice of bedrooms. I chose the sunniest bedroom with gentle tones of green. It also had a paper-maché wall hanging that portrayed a man with an erection chasing a red-haired naked woman, both under the watchful eye of a giant pig. It felt immediately at home.It turns out that each room in the apartment is named- the kitchen is called “Aux Petits Oignons”, another bedroom is called “Soleil Rouge”, my bedroom however is called “Coin des Péchés”. Roughly translated, this means “center of sins”. I am going to have to get busy and live up to the name.
Anyway, later that day my two roommates arrived. First was Rachel, who walked up the stairs with two instruments in her hands and a friendly smile. She has worked as a project coordinator for Katimavik, traveled around the world, has run a marathon, and just finished her Masters in Urban Planning at Dalhousie (Halifax). Needless to say, Rachel is doing amazing things with her life and I am enjoying the process of getting to know her.
The third, and final, student to arrive was Evan. He came in smiling, but with a slightly disheveled aura around him. He then proceeded to tell the story of how he lost his bus ticket and had to buy another one. He has a talent for telling well-animated stories, humouring us his intelligent side comments, and stumbling out of his room late in the morning with epic bed-head. Evan is studying world religion at McGill and I hope that we’ll have the opportunity to continue learning the language together when we return to Montreal.The three of us are all vegetarians (hence the reason we were housed together) and all originate from British Columbia. We are also at similar levels with our French; we can carry on basic conversations but struggle with the complexities of the language. Often we can be heard asking each other, “how do you say ‘Suck it up Buttercup’ in French?”, as well as many other important idiosyncratic phrases that are key to express oneself in a new language.
So this is the story of my temporary home in Chicoutimi. I am living above a little shop in the center of town with four other unique souls: Ivan the instrument maker, Ann the sculptor (and vegetarian chef extraordinaire), Rachel the achiever, Evan the actor, and me (the prince with the active imagination). There is a beautiful little balance here. Life goes well…
However, on Wednesday we received news that things would change.
(stay tuned!)
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Ode to my Mother
(the story of my host family will continue shortly...)
Today, I would like to write about the queen of my real/genetic/post-dysfunctional family. And since today is Mother's Day, what better way to express the love one has for his mother, but to blog? I am a 21st century son after all.
I am a 21st century son with a global soul, and therefore, it is not a grand surprise that today I am thousands of kilometers away from my mother. When I was younger, I had little context of what my mother was like compared to other mothers. Then I set off on my own, I went to university, traveled to different countries, worked in different situations. It became evident that my mother was indeed unique, with strengths that I had never realized before. I began to realize my privilege.
I want to shout out my appreciation. My mother has always been an enormous source of support - emotionally, intellectually, financially. She has had the ability to step back and let me wander, yet the intelligence to have provided me with boundaries when I was young. These rules have installed in me a sense of self-discipline and knowledge of personal boundaries.
Today I celebrate the strong, supportive, adventurous, capable, intelligent woman that is my mother.
I also want to celebrate your mother too. If you are reading this, there is a good chance that you have had a positive impact on my life. And undoubtably, your own mother was a big part of why you are the fabulous person that you are. So with this logic, I am grateful for your mothers as well.
So thank you mom for being you. I wish I could be there with you today to help you in the garden, cook you a lovely dinner, and perhaps play a little Quiddler. Instead I offer you a raincheck and a blog.
As much as I am a bit of a Baylis, I am also small sprinkle of Sparks.
Today, I would like to write about the queen of my real/genetic/post-dysfunctional family. And since today is Mother's Day, what better way to express the love one has for his mother, but to blog? I am a 21st century son after all.
I am a 21st century son with a global soul, and therefore, it is not a grand surprise that today I am thousands of kilometers away from my mother. When I was younger, I had little context of what my mother was like compared to other mothers. Then I set off on my own, I went to university, traveled to different countries, worked in different situations. It became evident that my mother was indeed unique, with strengths that I had never realized before. I began to realize my privilege.
I want to shout out my appreciation. My mother has always been an enormous source of support - emotionally, intellectually, financially. She has had the ability to step back and let me wander, yet the intelligence to have provided me with boundaries when I was young. These rules have installed in me a sense of self-discipline and knowledge of personal boundaries.
Today I celebrate the strong, supportive, adventurous, capable, intelligent woman that is my mother.
I also want to celebrate your mother too. If you are reading this, there is a good chance that you have had a positive impact on my life. And undoubtably, your own mother was a big part of why you are the fabulous person that you are. So with this logic, I am grateful for your mothers as well.
So thank you mom for being you. I wish I could be there with you today to help you in the garden, cook you a lovely dinner, and perhaps play a little Quiddler. Instead I offer you a raincheck and a blog.
As much as I am a bit of a Baylis, I am also small sprinkle of Sparks.
Friday, May 12, 2006
Birkenstocks and Little Orphan d'Annie
The prince has arrived to Chicoutimi! I am here to “apprendre le francais” during a five-week French language program. I drove up last Saturday with two lady escorts, Chantal and MYLENE(!), past frozen lakes and clear-cuts filled with snow. When we arrived, we managed to find a cheap, yet tasteful, motel next to the river, and then proceeded to experience the Chicoutimi nightlife. It involved beer and an incapacity to find the university, even after multiple trips up and down Boulevard de l’Université.
Between us, we have almost 20 years of post-secondary training, yet finding a large academic institution in a small town proved to be a challenge. Sometimes universities hide themselves.
Anyway, back in March, when I was completing my application for this language program, I had the choice of living in residence or staying with a host family. Being the mildly brave risk-taker that I am, I thought I’d try my luck and have the true Chicoutimi experience. I chose to live with a host family.
I had idealized the perfect host family situation… I would live with two Birkenstock-wearing, granola lesbians out in the countryside in a large house over-looking the river. There would be horses for me to ride on the weekends, and my room would be the renovated attic complete with a large bay window. Here I would write poetry and watch the clouds roll by. My lesbian mothers would prepare me intricate vegetarian meals and swoon over my knowledge of female singer-songwriters. Oddly enough, there was no speaking french involved.
Anyway, on Sunday afternoon, after an exploration of the region, Mylene and Chantal headed back to Montreal and I was on my own to start my five-weeks of school and poetic endeavors. I started the process of checking into the program and getting my student card, while the organizers phoned my host family to inform them of my arrival. I was told to sit and wait on a couch while someone was coming to collect me.
Little orphan d’Annie sitting all alone in a big, scary francophone world.Ten minutes later, I was informed that my host “Father” had arrived. I looked over to see a short man with thick glasses, a long grey ponytail and a belly large enough for triplettes waddling slowly towards me. He was wheezing and smelled of sawdust.
“There must be some sort of mistake,” I said in my head, “apart from his obvious disregard for fashion sensibility, this jolly old man cannot possibly be one of my lesbian mothers.”
However then I thought that perhaps my lesbian mothers were busy in the garden or got delayed while putting new shoes on the horses or lost track of time while re-buffing the hardwood floors in the attic for my arrival. Perhaps they had to send someone else to fetch me.
So I decided to have a little faith and I got in the van with this strange little man…
(the story of the host family will continue shortly…)
Friday, May 05, 2006
Treasure (Hunter)
Feedback: Disclosing how you are perceiving and reacting to another person to provide him or her with constructive information. This can help the person become aware of his or her behaviour and effectiveness.
____________________________________________________
Feedback is a bit like treasure- I can use it to make myself richer. Through feedback I am able to increase the knowledge that I have of myself. By giving you feedback, I am allowing you to learn about yourself. It is a mutually beneficial endeavor that leads to increased self-awareness.
The actual content of this particular blog entry is going to come from you; the comments are the content. That’s right, I need full participation on this one. I am sending you on a quick “Treasure Hunt” to find an image on the internet. Your mission (if you choose to accept it) is to come back and leave a comment.
“But I don’t know how to leave a comment,” you say.
Well I am teaching you right now:
1) Click on the “Comments” icon
2) Write a Comment
3) Choose an identity (no blogger account? then chose “OTHER”)
4) When finished click on “Publish Your Comment”
It’s as simple as 1, 2, 3 (and 4)!. So let’s get the fun started…
When I was treeplanting last summer, I made a very special friend. His name was “Moe Lemounder”, and despite our incompatible politics, we quickly discovered our many cosmic connections and similarities. For example, we both eat breakfast! It was a friendship that was nobodies business but our own.
And now it has become your business. Go into the world of cyber space, find Moe Lemounder, then come back and share your thoughts.
Your thoughts are my treasure.
____________________________________________________
Feedback is a bit like treasure- I can use it to make myself richer. Through feedback I am able to increase the knowledge that I have of myself. By giving you feedback, I am allowing you to learn about yourself. It is a mutually beneficial endeavor that leads to increased self-awareness.
The actual content of this particular blog entry is going to come from you; the comments are the content. That’s right, I need full participation on this one. I am sending you on a quick “Treasure Hunt” to find an image on the internet. Your mission (if you choose to accept it) is to come back and leave a comment.
“But I don’t know how to leave a comment,” you say.
Well I am teaching you right now:
1) Click on the “Comments” icon
2) Write a Comment
3) Choose an identity (no blogger account? then chose “OTHER”)
4) When finished click on “Publish Your Comment”
It’s as simple as 1, 2, 3 (and 4)!. So let’s get the fun started…
When I was treeplanting last summer, I made a very special friend. His name was “Moe Lemounder”, and despite our incompatible politics, we quickly discovered our many cosmic connections and similarities. For example, we both eat breakfast! It was a friendship that was nobodies business but our own.
And now it has become your business. Go into the world of cyber space, find Moe Lemounder, then come back and share your thoughts.
Your thoughts are my treasure.
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