A small, rather old Chinese lady. Friendly, but maybe just a little bit annoying. White hair, a slight old sofa smell, and obviously old-fashioned ways. And a shrill voice that will eventually become tiresome. Warm and welcoming, we would end up having tea and biscuits in her flowered and white chinaware.
When I joined that volunteer program for new immigrants, that was my expectation of my first real Canadian friend. I can't help but smile as I now think about it. I guess I held very low expectations, just to be safe. And because of local demographics, as you know.
Thankfully, that old lady never materialized. After knowing your name, it was clear you were not Asian at all. A lot of energy, curiosity and a big hunger to walk the world, instead. I guess I was lucky: We got along like siblings since we met. Your ever supportive words, funny spirit and sharp mind sure helped.
You said you were afraid that you will not be able to help me, to support my "newcomer" needs. I was worried you were not feeling helpful enough. Nothing to worry about. Again, coincidences do not exist. I am sure you have given me exactly what I needed: An open hand, a honest smile. A joke, lots of laughter and the chance to have a pleasant and welcoming conversation.
What one mostly needs when being new to a country, with a foreign language, different culture, with your beloved ones far away and a lot of new things and challenges to face; is to feel a little bit safer. To know there is someone you can trust. To gradually lose that "outsider" feeling, to start belonging to your new life. And you helped me to feel that way, starting to feel like home. One Tuesday at a time. And without any bitter wisdom, at all.
As a new stage of my journey begins, I look back and realize how much I've adapted and evolved; and I am glad and thankful that you were part of it. And I look forward to keep on sharing more "adventures" with you, my first Canadian friend.
Now that our partnership has come to an end, that I am feeling more and more like home, that I've got that long awaited job and that tomorrow's your birthday... It is time to celebrate! So Happy Birthday and duzhe djakuyu, Sonia Maria!
Friday, November 5, 2010
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Conversation in the bus
I left the motel in Surrey at almost lunchtime. Like most of the days in the city, the atmosphere was cold and the sky gray.
After getting on the bus and paying C $ 2.50 in that box that only accepts "exact change", I walked inside. I sat idly in one of the middle seats, trying to adjust the iPod volume (Rock in Spanish, of course). It was then when I realized that my seat neighbour was watching me with curiosity.
I really don't know why I didn't notice her Latin features before, considering that the majority of Surrey residents are Indian. Here, curry in the kitchen, and Chitra, Prasad or names like that are common. And English is spoken with a heavy accent. In summary, we stood out like fireflies, we were the exotic here.
-It's cold, right?
-A little- I replied, somewhat skeptical of finding a Latin here. But I like it cold.
-Oh, I prefer it warm...
A somewhat flirtatious smile made me realize that she was enjoying a conversation in Spanish.
-And where are you from? - I dared to ask.
-I have lived here for almost 10 years now. I came young, from my country. El Salvador.
-Aaah, you are from El Salvador? Great, my grandmother was from Sonsonate...
-We have common roots, then- She replied, while laughing.
That laughter made me feel more comfortable in the, since that moment, warmer bus.
We talked about many things, how I ended up here. My plans, my dreams, my way of seeing the world. She was a really good listener. It was a strange feeling, but I felt like I had known her forever. So I utterly enjoyed being there. Her presence was comforting, almost felt as if it was hugging you.
-I am so happy to find a "neighbour" here. How nice to talk in Spanish! - I smiled.
-Well, yes. I guess... Though you usually get used to the language. After some time, you get used to everything here.
After stopping a few minutes at the Newton station, the bus continued to King George. Ten more minutes.
-And are you married? -I was surprised with the suddenness of her question.
-No, I'm single. I guess it made things easier for me to come up here. And you?
-I'm married. I have four children, and I'm expecting the fifth.
-Wow! Really? - That was all I could answer, considering the difficulties such a big family entails...
I saw her face lit up as she said with pride:
-Yes. The oldest is 8 years old and he's so intelligent! And very dedicated. The second and third are a couple of little devils, but how cute my kids are. The fourth is two years old, she is a baby yet but I know she has a big heart. And the fifth... well the fifth is on her way.
I took a better look at her, as her pregnancy was not apparent. Not at all.
-And how do you know it is girl?
-I just know. Nevermind.
We laughed. An attractive woman she was, definitely. Pretty young for all the children she claimed to have. And there was something in her eyes, something in her features... Something irresistible not to look at. I sensed that she felt the sameway. Something likes a stale affinity, a sleeping endearment.
-It must be hard to live here with four children...
-It's hard. You have to sacrifice a lot. But if you can just look at them, how have they grown.
-I can imagine, I come from a big family too. We are seven... And you can imagine how hard it was for me to leave them...
Now she dipped her head down a bit, thinking.
-The important thing - she finally said, -is that you do not lose touch, lose the affection. Care for each other and never lose the joy, the excitement of being a family.-
I just felt how my eyes clouded as I swallowed hard.
Almost reaching the station, she gave me a kiss on the cheek. She put her hand gently on my face and said:
-Do not worry; everything will be just fine...
Then she rose and walked towards the door. Just before she got off the bus, I managed to babble:
-What is your name?
She looked me straight in the eye, and with a faint smile and an infinite tenderness she replied:
-Adela, my name is Adela. But everyone calls me Gloria.
After getting on the bus and paying C $ 2.50 in that box that only accepts "exact change", I walked inside. I sat idly in one of the middle seats, trying to adjust the iPod volume (Rock in Spanish, of course). It was then when I realized that my seat neighbour was watching me with curiosity.
I really don't know why I didn't notice her Latin features before, considering that the majority of Surrey residents are Indian. Here, curry in the kitchen, and Chitra, Prasad or names like that are common. And English is spoken with a heavy accent. In summary, we stood out like fireflies, we were the exotic here.
-It's cold, right?
-A little- I replied, somewhat skeptical of finding a Latin here. But I like it cold.
-Oh, I prefer it warm...
A somewhat flirtatious smile made me realize that she was enjoying a conversation in Spanish.
-And where are you from? - I dared to ask.
-I have lived here for almost 10 years now. I came young, from my country. El Salvador.
-Aaah, you are from El Salvador? Great, my grandmother was from Sonsonate...
-We have common roots, then- She replied, while laughing.
That laughter made me feel more comfortable in the, since that moment, warmer bus.
We talked about many things, how I ended up here. My plans, my dreams, my way of seeing the world. She was a really good listener. It was a strange feeling, but I felt like I had known her forever. So I utterly enjoyed being there. Her presence was comforting, almost felt as if it was hugging you.
-I am so happy to find a "neighbour" here. How nice to talk in Spanish! - I smiled.
-Well, yes. I guess... Though you usually get used to the language. After some time, you get used to everything here.
After stopping a few minutes at the Newton station, the bus continued to King George. Ten more minutes.
-And are you married? -I was surprised with the suddenness of her question.
-No, I'm single. I guess it made things easier for me to come up here. And you?
-I'm married. I have four children, and I'm expecting the fifth.
-Wow! Really? - That was all I could answer, considering the difficulties such a big family entails...
I saw her face lit up as she said with pride:
-Yes. The oldest is 8 years old and he's so intelligent! And very dedicated. The second and third are a couple of little devils, but how cute my kids are. The fourth is two years old, she is a baby yet but I know she has a big heart. And the fifth... well the fifth is on her way.
I took a better look at her, as her pregnancy was not apparent. Not at all.
-And how do you know it is girl?
-I just know. Nevermind.
We laughed. An attractive woman she was, definitely. Pretty young for all the children she claimed to have. And there was something in her eyes, something in her features... Something irresistible not to look at. I sensed that she felt the sameway. Something likes a stale affinity, a sleeping endearment.
-It must be hard to live here with four children...
-It's hard. You have to sacrifice a lot. But if you can just look at them, how have they grown.
-I can imagine, I come from a big family too. We are seven... And you can imagine how hard it was for me to leave them...
Now she dipped her head down a bit, thinking.
-The important thing - she finally said, -is that you do not lose touch, lose the affection. Care for each other and never lose the joy, the excitement of being a family.-
I just felt how my eyes clouded as I swallowed hard.
Almost reaching the station, she gave me a kiss on the cheek. She put her hand gently on my face and said:
-Do not worry; everything will be just fine...
Then she rose and walked towards the door. Just before she got off the bus, I managed to babble:
-What is your name?
She looked me straight in the eye, and with a faint smile and an infinite tenderness she replied:
-Adela, my name is Adela. But everyone calls me Gloria.
For Grandma Gloria (+), with much affection.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Juggling fears
Today I gave myself the opportunity to feel like a child again: to open myself to an almost forgotten experience and feel the joy and enthusiasm of trying other things, to live them again. To risk making a mistake and falling down. What was it? Nothing fancy, something very simple. And maybe that's why I still smile when I remember it.
The plan was to do it before lunch at Stanley Park, and so to take the opportunity to know it, as it is one of this city's icons. I went over there then, convinced to enjoy a sightseeing day. Upon arrival it was time to eat, so I went to Denman Street, which has a good variety of restaurants.
After walking several blocks I decided for Vietnamese cuisine, some oriental rolls and a kind of mini-pancakes. I see that I have improved my skills with chopsticks, because I could even eat the noodles (mostly). I had nothing to read -the day had threatened to rain and I did not wanted to carry anything-, so the Globe and Mail, a local newspaper, helped to get me entertained.
Now back to the challenge. I walked into the rental shop (there are several shops a couple of blocks from the park entrance) and then checked out the details (cost, requirements, models), chose the model, paid, got my helmet and went out. I was going to ride a bike!
The first thing I remembered was that I never liked having the seat too high (because I am short, of course. I feel like I'm falling!) So I told the guy "Not too tall, please." So after asking how to switch gears (I rented a 7-gear Cruiser) and after the guy telling me what was the best route to get closer to the park (you can't ride the bike until near the entrance), I started to walk.
Although after just a block I could jump on the bike, I felt a little shy to do it so I moved to a more "private" spot to perform the juggling act. I can't say otherwise, because just as hopping up I started to feel more awkward than I've felt in a very long time. My body swayed from side to side and while trying to maintain balance, I tried to pedal and keep a more or less stable direction. For a moment I thought "...and where are the training wheels of this thing?!" while I got used to something that I had not done since about 15 or 20 years at least...
So there was I, with a big smile on my face, remembering how I learned to ride a bike with my cousin Jorge back in Mixco, in that red Californian style bike, as I recall; with the illusion to achieve this little though important childhood accomplishment. I toured the park (in a counter-clockwise way) on the properly marked path that separates cyclists and skaters from pedestrians. Had the opportunity to take several photos and to do some exercise, because the trip takes about an hour.
Of course half an hour after, I was riding with one hand, and even took a video -when you see it, I will like to clarify that I did not fell down, but almost...- and manage to go faster. It was as if a part of me that had atrophied came out again and I confirmed it was still there, just dormant. I must confess that after half an hour the seat started to feel uncomfortable -well maybe not exactly the seat- (Ah! So that is why I don't do this a lot...) but I enjoyed the experience. And now that I tamed that bike, I remembered that sometimes I think how exciting it'll be to drive a 250cc Kawasaki Ninja... Hmmm.
Today's experience made me remember about that wonderful child conflict between the plunge to immerse in learning to ride a bike (if not, how?) and at the same time being careful not to get whacked.
And so is the same in our lives. We need to draw strength from somewhere despite our fears to achieve what we want. We are constantly exposed to fear (of being wrong, to hurt, to suffer, lose, there is at least one for every one) but the important thing is to be aware of this and, if we want to, fight to overcome that fear.
So how about you, how did you learned to ride a bike? If you did, I'm sure you can do anything..!
The plan was to do it before lunch at Stanley Park, and so to take the opportunity to know it, as it is one of this city's icons. I went over there then, convinced to enjoy a sightseeing day. Upon arrival it was time to eat, so I went to Denman Street, which has a good variety of restaurants.
After walking several blocks I decided for Vietnamese cuisine, some oriental rolls and a kind of mini-pancakes. I see that I have improved my skills with chopsticks, because I could even eat the noodles (mostly). I had nothing to read -the day had threatened to rain and I did not wanted to carry anything-, so the Globe and Mail, a local newspaper, helped to get me entertained.
Now back to the challenge. I walked into the rental shop (there are several shops a couple of blocks from the park entrance) and then checked out the details (cost, requirements, models), chose the model, paid, got my helmet and went out. I was going to ride a bike!
The first thing I remembered was that I never liked having the seat too high (because I am short, of course. I feel like I'm falling!) So I told the guy "Not too tall, please." So after asking how to switch gears (I rented a 7-gear Cruiser) and after the guy telling me what was the best route to get closer to the park (you can't ride the bike until near the entrance), I started to walk.
Although after just a block I could jump on the bike, I felt a little shy to do it so I moved to a more "private" spot to perform the juggling act. I can't say otherwise, because just as hopping up I started to feel more awkward than I've felt in a very long time. My body swayed from side to side and while trying to maintain balance, I tried to pedal and keep a more or less stable direction. For a moment I thought "...and where are the training wheels of this thing?!" while I got used to something that I had not done since about 15 or 20 years at least...
So there was I, with a big smile on my face, remembering how I learned to ride a bike with my cousin Jorge back in Mixco, in that red Californian style bike, as I recall; with the illusion to achieve this little though important childhood accomplishment. I toured the park (in a counter-clockwise way) on the properly marked path that separates cyclists and skaters from pedestrians. Had the opportunity to take several photos and to do some exercise, because the trip takes about an hour.
Of course half an hour after, I was riding with one hand, and even took a video -when you see it, I will like to clarify that I did not fell down, but almost...- and manage to go faster. It was as if a part of me that had atrophied came out again and I confirmed it was still there, just dormant. I must confess that after half an hour the seat started to feel uncomfortable -well maybe not exactly the seat- (Ah! So that is why I don't do this a lot...) but I enjoyed the experience. And now that I tamed that bike, I remembered that sometimes I think how exciting it'll be to drive a 250cc Kawasaki Ninja... Hmmm.
Today's experience made me remember about that wonderful child conflict between the plunge to immerse in learning to ride a bike (if not, how?) and at the same time being careful not to get whacked.
And so is the same in our lives. We need to draw strength from somewhere despite our fears to achieve what we want. We are constantly exposed to fear (of being wrong, to hurt, to suffer, lose, there is at least one for every one) but the important thing is to be aware of this and, if we want to, fight to overcome that fear.
So how about you, how did you learned to ride a bike? If you did, I'm sure you can do anything..!
Emptiness
Today I am afraid
Afraid to open my eyes
look down
and find a huge emptiness.
That emptiness that contains
the amplitude of the world;
or that one that swallows my being
slowly from above my navel.
I am afraid to open my wings
and take flight
without knowing when to stop,
or under which conditions,
or where to land.
Today I feel suffocation and
I am afraid to drown.
To get lost in an endless sea
and never find myself again.
To forget their voices
the tone of their laughter
their gestures and smells,
and their warm closeness.
Today that it is so hot,
I am cold, terribly cold.
Just hug me, please.
Afraid to open my eyes
look down
and find a huge emptiness.
That emptiness that contains
the amplitude of the world;
or that one that swallows my being
slowly from above my navel.
I am afraid to open my wings
and take flight
without knowing when to stop,
or under which conditions,
or where to land.
Today I feel suffocation and
I am afraid to drown.
To get lost in an endless sea
and never find myself again.
To forget their voices
the tone of their laughter
their gestures and smells,
and their warm closeness.
Today that it is so hot,
I am cold, terribly cold.
Just hug me, please.
Finding my place in Vancouver
Or "13 Easy Steps to get a suite in Vancouver:"
1. Clarify your priorities. It sounds easy, but it took me about four days stuck to my laptop looking and looking again at Craigslist; and there were so many options (furnished-unfurnished-shared (bedrooms)-suite-in Downtown-in Burnaby-Richmond-price...) that it was quite confusing to arrive to a conclusion of what to look for.
2. Its better if you do an Excel matrix (me and my methods). It allows you to compare all the important parameters:
Location-Price-Furnished-# Rooms-Separate entrance-Private bathroom-Area(sqft)-Cable TV-Internet-Laundry-Availability-Term-Deposit-Contact-Other...
3. Finally, start calling for appointments. As you feel nervous because you don't have a job and in multiple ads they ask for references; first you start sending e-mails so as to begin slowly, gently. At last you receive the first response from a Rebecca Something: "Thanks for your interest Francisco. Are you working or a student?” Shhh...t...! Is there an option for "None of the above"?
4. After answering that you are a landed immigrant but that you're a professional person, 35 years old, who worked for a multinational company, who has lived by yourself for 13 years without a single complaint from your landlord: in short that you are a very decent person... and swallowing the bitter pill because Rebecca chose not to answer to your reply... Well, continue sending e-mails.
5. Now with some practice, you decide you've find the guts to start calling. What can go wrong, anyway? Ok, James. Ah, he is in a meeting and will call back. Eric. That it’s ok, but he has other offers and he'll call back too. Hmmmmm...
6. Spend the whole day without receiving any answers either by e-mail or telephone. Then, around 18:00 as if by magic, they start returning your calls. That if you can come tomorrow. Yes, at what time tomorrow? Yeah, on Sunday. Ah, Vincent. You are available tomorrow? Ok... Phew. Thank goodness.
7. Saturday arrives and you get up early because you have to visit places with the owner of the settlement company that received you at the airport and has accompanied you for the paperwork process (PR card, SIN)... 9:00 and Prasad is not showing up. Hello? Yes, Prasad? Will you come to go see the places with me? Ah, I had to confirm you and as I didn't you did not schedule the visits... Ok, I understand. Adios. Sh...t. Now what?
8. After hesitating for a few minutes, with no other choice, you find the guts and decide to go by yourself. Luckily there is Google Maps, which is a wonderful tool for this and as you are entering the addresses the indications of what Skytrain station to go, which bus line to take, the number of the bus stop appear. Putting together your itinerary, you take flight decisively (or maybe not so much).
9. It is 10:30 and I am calling James because I just got off at the Edmonds Skytrain station but the 106 bus does not pass until 10:40 and he will not be available after 10:45. Ok, I will drop off later. I decide to go nevertheless just to know its location (Eric's house is around anyway). I get off one stop before, walk to the place noting that the area is ok, a little neglected though the house is nice. Then I return and go to Eric's. The suite has a bedroom and a living room (I just learned what a suite is...). It's just okay. The rent does not include Cable TV (Eric says he doesn't watch TV, just internet) and it is available until June 1st. Ok, thank you very much Eric. On my way back I wander to know where the supermarket, laundry, etc. are, for the sake of convenience.
*** We interrupt this list momentarily to go find a sports bar or Italian restaurant to watch the UEFA Champions League final on Commercial Drive. Commercial Drive is an eclectic street (as Carol would say) with many restaurants of different nationalities... A very lively and interesting area of Vancouver where I definitely thought someone must be watching the game.
The trouble is that when arriving at the station I took the wrong direction and went to Victoria, where I found nothing more than Chinese, Japanese and Indian restaurant; where I can tell that the match had for them the same importance as the Miss Universe contest has for me...
Back to Commercial I (finally) find what I was looking for. I enter the first sports bar and it’s packed. I keep looking and I don’t like the ambience at second Italian restaurant that I find, so I keep walking. At the end I enter the "Roma Sports Bar" in a corner and although it is also full, Milito's second goal and the Inter fans' celebration invite me to stay, standing at the exit door. I watch the last 25 minutes of the 2nd half, and when the match ends the majority of Italians takes off as well as five or six crestfallen Germans (Inter beat Bayern Munich 2-0). I have then two slices of pizza and a local beer, Kokanee, for lunch.
Now let’s get back to the list ... ***
10. I'm (according to Google Maps directions; this thing is never wrong!) at Metrotown (station near the Metropolis, a fairly large shopping mall) and looking for Route 129 that will take me to my next destination. But when I realize the bus frequency and the time it is, I give up and I end up buying a White Chocolate at Starbucks... it's a cold day and I need some extra calories. With my chocolate in hand I go near Renfrew St to check out the furnished suite that Vincent rents and that caught my attention since I saw it.
According to my itinerary, I must take another Skytrain line (Millennium instead of Expo) so there I go. I get lost at the next station, so I return to the previous one. Hmmm... It seems that the thing does go wrong sometimes because it was in Expo line anyway... After wandering for a time, I arrive an hour ahead of schedule but when I call Vincent, he is able to see me now.
Uh-huh, in many homes here in Vancouver you have to remove your shoes to enter a house (I do not know if it’s just to avoid spoiling the carpet in winter or if it’s a cultural habit). The point is that the apartment has its own entrance with alarm and I note that the carpet and the place are pristine -that is, overly clean. Although it’s a basement, there is plenty of light and it has two rooms, the living room with a sofa, cable TV, desk, dining table, fridge, microwave oven, etc.., a very clean bathroom and a bedroom.
Vincent tells me that he is quite selective to choose his tenants: First he asks for responses by e-mail, if he likes them he interviews the candidate by phone and in person and it is just then that you’ll get the place. No problem, I choose carefully too...
We get to talk a little bit, he tells me he is from Brunei -I don't have many references about it-, and that he also worked at the “Pecten” company; that his last tenant was an Australian or German that returned to his country and that he likes to keep everything clean, which is evident.
After clarifying the details (Yes he can give me the suite before June 1, charges C$ 75.00 to clean the carpet when leaving the place or every two years) and I realize that in fact neither Vincent asked nor did I say anything about my job -which makes me think I have a good chance of getting the place-. He tells me he will have a couple more interviews and that he will call me back to confirm, no later than Tuesday. Ok, thank you very much Vincent, nice to meet you...
11. Now back to the Skytrain and then to Edmonds, to finally visit James suite, which is very nice, very spacious and with plenty of light. It is unfurnished though, so if I get here I will have to buy the basics. James is the only one who asks me to fill out a form; I leave my phone, my references (Carol, Andy and Prasad) and even the number of my “job” (we creatively invented that I work with Carol's cousin in web development, how about that? hahaha) and then back to the motel.
12. I realize how good I feel about being able to look after myself again, walking around town without knowing it and realizing that it was (as always) not that difficult. Mental ranking of visited sites:
a. The Vincent furnished suite - just concerns me that he is not very agreeable on overseas visits... we'll see.
b. James' unfurnished suite - It's very nice, but the location is not the best and would have to buy furniture.
c. Eric's unfurnished suite - Just OK. Same location as above and also furniture to be bought.
d. Oakridge unfurnished suite - Ugly, dirty and poorly maintained.
13. After going back and forth in the 321, Skytrain, the 106, Skytrain, the 129, Skytrain, the 106 again, and finally the 321 Skytrain to the motel, almost getting off the bus I receive a call: "Francisco, I have great news for you. I choose you..."
And the winner is: Vincent... What a good tenant he has found!
1. Clarify your priorities. It sounds easy, but it took me about four days stuck to my laptop looking and looking again at Craigslist; and there were so many options (furnished-unfurnished-shared (bedrooms)-suite-in Downtown-in Burnaby-Richmond-price...) that it was quite confusing to arrive to a conclusion of what to look for.
2. Its better if you do an Excel matrix (me and my methods). It allows you to compare all the important parameters:
Location-Price-Furnished-# Rooms-Separate entrance-Private bathroom-Area(sqft)-Cable TV-Internet-Laundry-Availability-Term-Deposit-Contact-Other...
3. Finally, start calling for appointments. As you feel nervous because you don't have a job and in multiple ads they ask for references; first you start sending e-mails so as to begin slowly, gently. At last you receive the first response from a Rebecca Something: "Thanks for your interest Francisco. Are you working or a student?” Shhh...t...! Is there an option for "None of the above"?
4. After answering that you are a landed immigrant but that you're a professional person, 35 years old, who worked for a multinational company, who has lived by yourself for 13 years without a single complaint from your landlord: in short that you are a very decent person... and swallowing the bitter pill because Rebecca chose not to answer to your reply... Well, continue sending e-mails.
5. Now with some practice, you decide you've find the guts to start calling. What can go wrong, anyway? Ok, James. Ah, he is in a meeting and will call back. Eric. That it’s ok, but he has other offers and he'll call back too. Hmmmmm...
6. Spend the whole day without receiving any answers either by e-mail or telephone. Then, around 18:00 as if by magic, they start returning your calls. That if you can come tomorrow. Yes, at what time tomorrow? Yeah, on Sunday. Ah, Vincent. You are available tomorrow? Ok... Phew. Thank goodness.
7. Saturday arrives and you get up early because you have to visit places with the owner of the settlement company that received you at the airport and has accompanied you for the paperwork process (PR card, SIN)... 9:00 and Prasad is not showing up. Hello? Yes, Prasad? Will you come to go see the places with me? Ah, I had to confirm you and as I didn't you did not schedule the visits... Ok, I understand. Adios. Sh...t. Now what?
8. After hesitating for a few minutes, with no other choice, you find the guts and decide to go by yourself. Luckily there is Google Maps, which is a wonderful tool for this and as you are entering the addresses the indications of what Skytrain station to go, which bus line to take, the number of the bus stop appear. Putting together your itinerary, you take flight decisively (or maybe not so much).
9. It is 10:30 and I am calling James because I just got off at the Edmonds Skytrain station but the 106 bus does not pass until 10:40 and he will not be available after 10:45. Ok, I will drop off later. I decide to go nevertheless just to know its location (Eric's house is around anyway). I get off one stop before, walk to the place noting that the area is ok, a little neglected though the house is nice. Then I return and go to Eric's. The suite has a bedroom and a living room (I just learned what a suite is...). It's just okay. The rent does not include Cable TV (Eric says he doesn't watch TV, just internet) and it is available until June 1st. Ok, thank you very much Eric. On my way back I wander to know where the supermarket, laundry, etc. are, for the sake of convenience.
*** We interrupt this list momentarily to go find a sports bar or Italian restaurant to watch the UEFA Champions League final on Commercial Drive. Commercial Drive is an eclectic street (as Carol would say) with many restaurants of different nationalities... A very lively and interesting area of Vancouver where I definitely thought someone must be watching the game.
The trouble is that when arriving at the station I took the wrong direction and went to Victoria, where I found nothing more than Chinese, Japanese and Indian restaurant; where I can tell that the match had for them the same importance as the Miss Universe contest has for me...
Back to Commercial I (finally) find what I was looking for. I enter the first sports bar and it’s packed. I keep looking and I don’t like the ambience at second Italian restaurant that I find, so I keep walking. At the end I enter the "Roma Sports Bar" in a corner and although it is also full, Milito's second goal and the Inter fans' celebration invite me to stay, standing at the exit door. I watch the last 25 minutes of the 2nd half, and when the match ends the majority of Italians takes off as well as five or six crestfallen Germans (Inter beat Bayern Munich 2-0). I have then two slices of pizza and a local beer, Kokanee, for lunch.
Now let’s get back to the list ... ***
10. I'm (according to Google Maps directions; this thing is never wrong!) at Metrotown (station near the Metropolis, a fairly large shopping mall) and looking for Route 129 that will take me to my next destination. But when I realize the bus frequency and the time it is, I give up and I end up buying a White Chocolate at Starbucks... it's a cold day and I need some extra calories. With my chocolate in hand I go near Renfrew St to check out the furnished suite that Vincent rents and that caught my attention since I saw it.
According to my itinerary, I must take another Skytrain line (Millennium instead of Expo) so there I go. I get lost at the next station, so I return to the previous one. Hmmm... It seems that the thing does go wrong sometimes because it was in Expo line anyway... After wandering for a time, I arrive an hour ahead of schedule but when I call Vincent, he is able to see me now.
Uh-huh, in many homes here in Vancouver you have to remove your shoes to enter a house (I do not know if it’s just to avoid spoiling the carpet in winter or if it’s a cultural habit). The point is that the apartment has its own entrance with alarm and I note that the carpet and the place are pristine -that is, overly clean. Although it’s a basement, there is plenty of light and it has two rooms, the living room with a sofa, cable TV, desk, dining table, fridge, microwave oven, etc.., a very clean bathroom and a bedroom.
Vincent tells me that he is quite selective to choose his tenants: First he asks for responses by e-mail, if he likes them he interviews the candidate by phone and in person and it is just then that you’ll get the place. No problem, I choose carefully too...
We get to talk a little bit, he tells me he is from Brunei -I don't have many references about it-, and that he also worked at the “Pecten” company; that his last tenant was an Australian or German that returned to his country and that he likes to keep everything clean, which is evident.
After clarifying the details (Yes he can give me the suite before June 1, charges C$ 75.00 to clean the carpet when leaving the place or every two years) and I realize that in fact neither Vincent asked nor did I say anything about my job -which makes me think I have a good chance of getting the place-. He tells me he will have a couple more interviews and that he will call me back to confirm, no later than Tuesday. Ok, thank you very much Vincent, nice to meet you...
11. Now back to the Skytrain and then to Edmonds, to finally visit James suite, which is very nice, very spacious and with plenty of light. It is unfurnished though, so if I get here I will have to buy the basics. James is the only one who asks me to fill out a form; I leave my phone, my references (Carol, Andy and Prasad) and even the number of my “job” (we creatively invented that I work with Carol's cousin in web development, how about that? hahaha) and then back to the motel.
12. I realize how good I feel about being able to look after myself again, walking around town without knowing it and realizing that it was (as always) not that difficult. Mental ranking of visited sites:
a. The Vincent furnished suite - just concerns me that he is not very agreeable on overseas visits... we'll see.
b. James' unfurnished suite - It's very nice, but the location is not the best and would have to buy furniture.
c. Eric's unfurnished suite - Just OK. Same location as above and also furniture to be bought.
d. Oakridge unfurnished suite - Ugly, dirty and poorly maintained.
13. After going back and forth in the 321, Skytrain, the 106, Skytrain, the 129, Skytrain, the 106 again, and finally the 321 Skytrain to the motel, almost getting off the bus I receive a call: "Francisco, I have great news for you. I choose you..."
And the winner is: Vincent... What a good tenant he has found!
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Opening my eyes
The journey began early, as long journeys usually do. At 4:15 am on that Wednesday May 12. However, it may have started even earlier; perhaps on my last day at work in April when I had then secured the money and time to prepare my migration. Or maybe in August last year, when I received the confirmation for my resident visa.
Maybe it was one or two weeks before that Wednesday, when I really started to feel the rigours of moving, with a to-do list that was quite abstract at first and that was becoming very concrete little by little: terminate accounts, distribute my belongings, buy suitcases, have eye surgery, arrange the freight for my things, sell my car... It was just too much, and the last three days I felt overwhelmed with the magnitude of the tasks I was facing.
But maybe the errands were not as difficult as the emotional detachment that this trip, this migration meant. I had to leave almost everything behind. As someone said, I had to summarize and package 35 years in three suitcases.
During that time I received so much love, so many words of encouragement, many hugs, so many smiles ... and tears as well. I felt so proud of my life. All people who were with me, my family, my friends, everyone made me feel blissful. I was so happy for being able to share even a little moment with everyone, to brace our love, our friendship and trust; to reassure us that we will always be there for each other.
I brought so much positive energy that I will need to radiate here. I don't even know how. So much love and joy that is simply overwhelming, it surpasses my being. It made something very clear to me: if I have to die soon, this is the best time for it. Make it today! What better time than now? In fact I think I am already dead. The one that lived with you all those experiences, the one that shared so much with you no longer exists. It has to be that way; I want it and need it to be like that.
So thank you all for witnessing my death and attending my funeral, for sharing that pain. There is nothing to worry about though; it was not the black pain of death. No way. It was a different pain, a whiter and brighter pain: it was a delivery. That’s how I am now: naked and armed only with instinct and intuition. Sure, there's so much new stuff that it can be scary but I'm happy, excited to learn to walk again.
And as always, I know you are here with me. So join me again, let’s start walking...
"Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery;
none but ourselves can free our mind..."
- Redemption Song, Bob Marley
Maybe it was one or two weeks before that Wednesday, when I really started to feel the rigours of moving, with a to-do list that was quite abstract at first and that was becoming very concrete little by little: terminate accounts, distribute my belongings, buy suitcases, have eye surgery, arrange the freight for my things, sell my car... It was just too much, and the last three days I felt overwhelmed with the magnitude of the tasks I was facing.
But maybe the errands were not as difficult as the emotional detachment that this trip, this migration meant. I had to leave almost everything behind. As someone said, I had to summarize and package 35 years in three suitcases.
During that time I received so much love, so many words of encouragement, many hugs, so many smiles ... and tears as well. I felt so proud of my life. All people who were with me, my family, my friends, everyone made me feel blissful. I was so happy for being able to share even a little moment with everyone, to brace our love, our friendship and trust; to reassure us that we will always be there for each other.
I brought so much positive energy that I will need to radiate here. I don't even know how. So much love and joy that is simply overwhelming, it surpasses my being. It made something very clear to me: if I have to die soon, this is the best time for it. Make it today! What better time than now? In fact I think I am already dead. The one that lived with you all those experiences, the one that shared so much with you no longer exists. It has to be that way; I want it and need it to be like that.
So thank you all for witnessing my death and attending my funeral, for sharing that pain. There is nothing to worry about though; it was not the black pain of death. No way. It was a different pain, a whiter and brighter pain: it was a delivery. That’s how I am now: naked and armed only with instinct and intuition. Sure, there's so much new stuff that it can be scary but I'm happy, excited to learn to walk again.
And as always, I know you are here with me. So join me again, let’s start walking...
"Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery;
none but ourselves can free our mind..."
- Redemption Song, Bob Marley
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Let's start walking
For what it’s worth: it’s never too late
to be whoever you want to be.
There’s no time limit,
stop whenever you want.
You can change or stay the same,
there are no rules to this thing.
We can make the best or the worst of it.
I hope you make the best of it.
And I hope you see things that startle you.
I hope you feel things you never felt before.
I hope you meet people with a different point of view.
I hope you live a life you’re proud of.
If you find that you’re not,
I hope you have the strength to start all over again.
to be whoever you want to be.
There’s no time limit,
stop whenever you want.
You can change or stay the same,
there are no rules to this thing.
We can make the best or the worst of it.
I hope you make the best of it.
And I hope you see things that startle you.
I hope you feel things you never felt before.
I hope you meet people with a different point of view.
I hope you live a life you’re proud of.
If you find that you’re not,
I hope you have the strength to start all over again.
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