I swear that’s the last time I fill in for the receptionist. I’m a bloody French teacher. NOT a receptionist. And if the woman can’t even remember if she’s supposed to be in a group or a private class I really don’t think she will do that great as a student. And.. and I hate the phone.
One of the reason we can stand the cold weather and long winters is… hockey, Canada’s national sport. Think soccer for Brazil, NFL football for the US or cricket for India. That popular.
Hockey is a really fun sport to watch. The game usually lasts 60 minutes (plus overtime if needed) and it’s a speedy game. A famous rivalry in Canada opposes Toronto’s Maple Leaf to basically the rest of the country. But Canada also love playing Russia, Sweden, Finland, and of course the USA.
So, 15% of $30… is…
No, I’m not calculating my Adsense revenues (that would be easy: $1 + 0.50¢ = $1.50… last time I checked!). I’m experiencing tipping-related stress. Don’t laugh: it’s common.
One tag is easy enough to postpone: thank the blogger and “forget” (**hey, I’m kidding, don’t un-suscribe!**). But how do you do when you’re cornered by both France and Canada?
Obvious Canada #1 icon: the weather. When you think of Canada, you have the mental picture of a frozen tundra. Can’t blame you, because it’s pretty accurate! Weather changes are often drastic and we can go from +40C in the summer to –40C in the winter.
Winter has settled in the capital, and lately, we have been able to enjoy Canada’s trademark weather: pure blue sky with a high of –20C. But don’t think the weather is stopping us from going out.
I would have relaxed myself (translation: drink Diet Coke while smoking cigarettes and read forums), but as the new year is about to begin, I wanted to end 2007 on a positive note. So here are the top ten reasons I love Canada.
The volunteer took a step back as he spoke, as if my Europeanism could jump on him. I decide to not mention that I spent quite a lot of time in malaria infected areas in Latin America, and got my yellow fever shot last minute in Panama’s remote countryside in a local health center.
The weather channel didn’t lie, indeed. The forecast I posted in Seven Canadian Winter Facts was right on. This is what my Sunday looked like…
Canadians love to brag about how cold it is, and how winters are getting warmer, and how they survived whatever storm ten years ago, and how they went to school even though there were over two meters of the white stuff (white stuff = snow for us — not cocaine).
I grew up with the traditional French daemons: fascism and globalization. They were easy enough targets, and fighting against them included chanting socialist songs in demonstrations, keeping an eye on the Front National — the French Nazi party — and watching old French movies to thwart Hollywood’s plans to take on the world.
For you guys, I created the “Citizen Of The World” button/ award.
No matter how hard I tried, I was never able to see out of my left eye. Nothing but a useless blurry picture, with a few black spots on the way. The world looks distorted in a pretty fun way but it took me years to appreciate my difference. Kids all want to look the same.
I managed to dig my way out and get the mail. Beautiful trenches, isn’t it? However, there’s not way I can shovel the driveway and back out with the car… there’s at least 60 cm of snow. The snow banks on the side of the road are almost a meter high! So I’m home, on the coach and I watch the blizzard.
Occasionally, a bunch of dark coats men wait at the next station: tickets collectors. Upon seeing them, weird things would happen: people of all age would run towards the nearest doors, some would pull washed out tickets out their bags and pockets and punch them quickly, some would distribute extra-tickets around them and the consensus would be “putain!*”.
On Monday night, while I was outside getting some fresh air smoking a last cigarette, I noticed a few flurries in the sky. But when I woke up the next day, there was just a bit of frost on the grass. So, when Tuesday night I saw flurries again, I thought it would be gone the next morning.
There’s one difference in these two pictures, taken a day apart in front of the house – can you spot it?
The shop assistant (or the owner, cause as far as I know he is here from 6:00 am to 12:00 am) looks up at me and obviously expects an answer. An Arabic language newspaper opened on the counter and no sign of him reaching for my cigarettes tells me I’m in for a philosophical moment.
See, to me, there are two kind of women: women who like shoes, and women who like bags. And since I wear size 9 shoes (40 for European readers) — but I must also say that I’m 1.75 meter ! — I rarely get the shoes I really want. So I became a bag person.