Diddly-Ho, Neighbor-ino

See, I grew up in France in what North Amer­i­cans call an her­itage build­ing. I mean, you would prob­a­bly take a pic­ture of it. Six storey, white façade, bal­conies, big wooden door lead­ing to an inside court­yard, wooden stairs.

La Desaparecida

I left many places, many peo­ple, many times. I packed my bag fol­low­ing the same immutable rit­ual count­less times: my sleep­ing bag at the bot­tom with plas­tic san­dals, towel, sweaters and other light clothes piled …

Sicko(s)

I like Michael Moore. Sure, his movies are biased but since I’m left-wing, it doesn’t really hurt my feel­ings. On top of that, being an opti­mistic per­son, I do believe his inves­ti­ga­tions can make waves. But this time, I left the movie the­ater with mixed feel­ings. Since I’m famil­iar with both the Cana­dian and the French health care sys­tem, I knew Moore wasn’t telling us all the truth. And thus I started won­der­ing about the US health system .

What We Sell To Coca-Cola Is Available Humain Brain Time

See, back in France, it was quite sim­ple. I had a small black & white TV with a bro­ken antenna I had to trap between a pile of books and the edge of the couch in order to get a clear recep­tion. I only watched TV when : 1) I was copy­ing Chi­nese lessons 2) I was draw­ing 3) I was pluck­ing my eyebrows.Well, yeah. What was I sup­posed to do ? Watch it ??

The Interviews From Hell

How many inter­views have I been to ? I’d say about thirty in Canada so far, ¾ of them in my first year in Ottawa. I was des­per­ate for a job but the odds seemed to be against me. At 20 years old, my resume was pretty short. I had no pre­vi­ous work expe­ri­ence in Canada. I had no ref­er­ences but abroad. My Eng­lish wasn’t that great and I wasn’t a Per­ma­nent Res­i­dent yet.

From Laowai To Canadian

This sum­mer 2001 is hot and humid. The typhoon sea­son is in full swing and some days, I can’t even leave the 32^nd floor of the build­ing where I live. The whole island is reg­u­larly swept by strong winds and pour­ing rain. I live in Hum Hong, about twenty min­utes from my office in Tsim Shat Shui. When the rain isn’t too strong, I still make my way to the office, know­ing that my co-worker will oth­er­wise make fun of me.

Funny, How ?

We were three friends sit at a small wob­bly wooden table, set half on the side­walk, half on the curb side of the dusty road. We just came back from a bar where my roommate’s Chi­nese boyfriend was per­form­ing and we were starv­ing, crav­ing for a plat­ter of jiaozi. It was a hot and humid night in Nan­jing, China.

I'm A Legal Alien

I’m sit­ting at the kitchen table and papers are scat­tered every­where. Three black pens on the side, two cups of tea and a pack of cig­a­rettes in front of me. A pile of draft paper on hand and lots of patience. Lots of it.

Exactly two years ago, I was com­plet­ing my immi­gra­tion papers to stay in Canada. I was 22 years old .

Exactly two years ago, I was com­plet­ing my immi­gra­tion papers to stay in Canada. I was 22 years old .