Sonntag, 29. April 2012
There and back again, a hobbit's tale.
Let it be known that I am essentially useless as a blogger. All these crazy things happen, and I store them in my head, to tell you later. I take a bunch of photographs here and there, and I store them all...er, on my computer to, well, show you if you randomly show up at my apartment. I guess. So yeah, I've neglected this blog like a red-headed stepchild, and I do feel sorry for that. Towards myself, mostly.
But anyway, I did want to write a little wrap-up before taking off today (the original document said "day after tomorrow. Go me.) So yes, here it is.
Final thoughts on the city:
Toronto taught me a lot. Mostly because it was the longest I've ever been away from, well, everybody. It taught me that if I ever do decide to move away from Austria, it will be very hard. I also learned that I enjoy travelling, paradoxically it might seem, but traveling is a thing of away from and back to, not just away from. I've put down my roots pretty deep in Vienna, and permanently separating myself from the home of Gemütlichkeit and Vernaderer would be painful. But seeing how I've come to genuinely enjoy the place over the last weeks...well, maybe I should have gone in Summer. But anyway, I'm glad to be back, no mistake about it, and I don't want to stay longer, but I'm still sorry to see everything go. In that respect, I really am a Hobbit (several people have told me that I specifically resemble Frodo on my drivers ID and sorta Elijah Woods in my passport. I don't see it, but there you have it) in that I'm pretty closely tied to home, but can't help the urge to run as far from it as I can every couple of years, so expect more travel in my future, should I be able to afford it.
It's funny how people here, when learning that you are a foreigner and you're leaving Canada forhome, always ask "So when do you come back?" like it's logical that once you've been to Canada, you keep wanting to come back. And you know what, it works, I wouldn't mind coming back to Toronto, and I still need to visit Vancouver anyway. I guess it's because the Canadians consider their country to be the best in the world without being smug about it like the USA.
So it's customary to have recommendations for the people coming after, oh do I ever.
1.) Don't move to the Annex unless you like frat parties
2.) the following restaurants and/or chains are awesome and deserve your patronage:
Kensa Ramen at Bloor and Walmer put shame on the notion that Ramen is junk food.
Big Chubby Burgers near College and Augusta is the best burger place in Toronto. Hero burgers can suck it.
Burrito Bandidos is the best mexican food chain I have found so far.
3.) When somebody tells you it's "one subway station away", do not blindly attempt to walk it. It might be a distance of
nearly 10kilometers.
4.) If you want to try and quit smoking, move here, the cigarettes in Ontario are expensive AND disgusting.
5.) If you want to drink yourself poor, don't acquire an alcoholism habit, just move to Ontario and continue drinking
like you used to, tax will take care of the rest.
Well, that is my story, at least the bits I was not too lazy or distracted to write down, and the rest you'll hear soon enough.
So what's next? Sun is shining, my bags are helluva heavy, the road is calling, and I'm already wondering where to go next. Never been to Australia before...
Sonntag, 26. Februar 2012
Meltdown
Okay, upbeat Chicago post to follow once I'm able to write something funny again, but here is what happened.
Zur Klarheit alles auf Deutsch. Also ich bin heute heimgekommen, sehr verschlafen, und hab mich wieder bei mir eingerichtet. Dann taucht ein Kumpel von mir der über mir wohnt auf und meint ich muss unbedingt mit Rebecca reden. Rebecca ist unser House-manager, also zuständig für Putzeinteilung etc. Nettes Mädel, studiert Regie. Und heute hat sie einen Nervenzusammenbruch gehabt, anscheinend. Komplett verstört, abewesend, sehr sehr seltsames Verhalten. Bei jedem anderen hätt ich gedacht das sind Drogen, aber bei ihr, nein, nie.
Ich hab also versucht mit ihr zu reden, keine Chance, sie hat irgendwie an mir vorbeigeredet, nicht wirklich reagiert, und ständig sehr sehr seltsame Sachen gemacht, zum Beispiel Kekse im Stiegenhaus verteilt und umarangiert, den Mistkübel ausgeleert, aussortiert und wieder einsortiert, also alles in allem alles andere als normal. Dann kommt Joseph (der Neue) vorbei und meint seine Freundin und er verlassen das Haus und schlafen bei ihr, weil sie den ganzen Nachmittag bei im angeklopft hat und seltsame Fragen gestellt hat, vor seinem Fenster die Amerikanische Nationalhymne gesungen, Sachen auf sein Fensterbrett geworfen, und andere verhaltensoriginelle Zwischenfälle.
Ja, super. Als stellvertretender Hausmanager ist es jetzt also meine Aufgabe das zu regeln. Irgendwie stand in der Aufgabenliste nie eine Klausel darüber das Kommando zu übernehmen wenn der Hausmanager durchdreht. Na gut, ich also total übernachtig, keiner im Haus außer ihr, Franco (der Kumpel über mir) und einem anderen Freund von uns, der mir noch erzählt hat das sie sich seit Tagen so seltsam verhält, aber bis dato nicht so schlimm. Ergo ipsum, Leute fühlen sich von ihr bedroht, sie spricht nicht mit mir und benimmt sich als hätte sie ein schweres psychisches Problem. Also Coop-Notnummer anrufen, und siehe da, die Jungs von der Notnummer sind ungefähr so nützlich wie ein Rettungsboot aus pissgetränktem Krepppapier, danke sehr.
Was bleibt? 911. Die sagen also sie schicken wen, und zu dem Zeitpunkt waren schon ein paar andere Bewohner wieder da (wir sind irgendwie alle heute zurückgekommen, nona, morgen sind wieder Vorlesungen nach einer Woche Ferien) ich schick also die anderen rein sie im Auge zu behalten, und warte auf die Jungs vom Notruf. Die kommen nicht. Irgendwann kommt ein Mädel raus und sagt mir sie wollte sich einen, Zitat "Razor" ausborgen. Verfluchte Sprachverengung, Razor deckt alles zwischen Rasierklinge und Ladyshave ab, es war letzteres, sie hat sich im dunkeln im Bad die Beine rasiert, weiterhin sehr seltsam, aber nicht so erschreckend. Ja. Ich wusste dieses nicht, mach mir sofort um ein paar Magnituden mehr Sorgen, und ruf den Notruf nochmal an, jetzt schicken sie die Polizei. Zu diesem Zeitpunkt rückt ihre beste Freundin an, und nimmt sich der Sache an, der Himmel habe Mani Eustis selig, ohne die wäre ich vermutlich aufgeschmissen gewesen.
Zu diesem Zeitpunkt hat die Lage gewirkt als würde sie sich entspannen, definitiv psychisches Problem, aber anscheinend im Vorfeld Probleme mit ihrem Bruder, mim Studium, dazu oder davon noch Schlafstörung, alles noch immer besorgniserweckend aber immerhin, GRÜNDE. Und dann. Die Polizei braucht fast zwei Stunden weil sie Downtown anscheinend einen Typen bei einer Ubahnstation angeschossen haben, und kommen zum selben Zeitpunkt an als die komplett aufgelöste Mutter von dem Mädel kommt, die irgendwie was mitbekommen hat, und nur die ganzen Krankenwagen in der Gegend sieht. (Das ist der erste derartige Zwischenfall seit vier Jahren, laut Freund und Helfer) Herrlich. Und ich, in meiner Kapazität als größtes wandelndes Fettnäpfchen aller Zeiten, beruhige die Dame mit den Worten "Nono, just a misunderstanding, I only got worried when she wanted to borrow a razor." Ich Vollidiot. Naja, die Polizei nams locker, gibt uns eine Notfallnummer, und rückt ab, die Mutter wird mit Tee und Verständnis von den Mädels behandelt und beruhigt, und Rebecca, weiter von ihrer besten Freundin betreut, schwirrt weiterhin im Haus herum und macht seltsame Dinge, die Spitze ist das ich jetzt alle scharfen Gegenstände aus ihrem Zimmer für sie in Verwahrung habe, damit sie beweisen kann das sie nicht suizidgefährdet ist. Ja, danke. Tut mir leid.
Ich hab keine Kapazität, keine Zeit und so herzlos das klingt keine Lust mich mit diesem Problem zu befassen, und werd das Gefühl nicht los das ich mich danebenbenommen habe. Rebecca ist garantiert auf mich sauer in ihrer Verwirrtheit (sie ist von mir fortgeschreckt als ich mich entschuldigen wollte, jetzt fühl ich mich noch mehr verantwortlich) das ganze Haus steht mal wieder Kopf, und ich werd wohl die ganze Sache morgen Coop als großes Mißverständnis erklären. Und ich mag kanadische Polizisten, die sind immer sowas von entspannt...
So, die letzten Absätze hab ich mal revidiert, jetzt wo ich mich ein bisschen beruhigt hab. Alles in allem geht mir das hoffentlich verständlicherweise auf den Zeiger, aber ich denk mir wenn ich erstmal drüber geschlafen hab (was ich jetzt seit bald 37 Stunden nicht mehr richtig gemacht hab, im Bus wars nicht so bequem)kann ich die Tatsache das wir jetzt Rebecca erstmal alle helfen werden müssen mehr als Freundschaftsdienst als als Verpflichtung sehen. Ist ja kaum ihre Schuld. Die anderen kümmern sich momentan um sie, und es ist schließlich super das wir in Notfällen immer zusammenhalten, obwohl wir uns alle "nur" 6 Monate kennen. Trotzdem, kranker kranker Tag. Beenden wir ihn hier, mit Schlaf.
Zur Klarheit alles auf Deutsch. Also ich bin heute heimgekommen, sehr verschlafen, und hab mich wieder bei mir eingerichtet. Dann taucht ein Kumpel von mir der über mir wohnt auf und meint ich muss unbedingt mit Rebecca reden. Rebecca ist unser House-manager, also zuständig für Putzeinteilung etc. Nettes Mädel, studiert Regie. Und heute hat sie einen Nervenzusammenbruch gehabt, anscheinend. Komplett verstört, abewesend, sehr sehr seltsames Verhalten. Bei jedem anderen hätt ich gedacht das sind Drogen, aber bei ihr, nein, nie.
Ich hab also versucht mit ihr zu reden, keine Chance, sie hat irgendwie an mir vorbeigeredet, nicht wirklich reagiert, und ständig sehr sehr seltsame Sachen gemacht, zum Beispiel Kekse im Stiegenhaus verteilt und umarangiert, den Mistkübel ausgeleert, aussortiert und wieder einsortiert, also alles in allem alles andere als normal. Dann kommt Joseph (der Neue) vorbei und meint seine Freundin und er verlassen das Haus und schlafen bei ihr, weil sie den ganzen Nachmittag bei im angeklopft hat und seltsame Fragen gestellt hat, vor seinem Fenster die Amerikanische Nationalhymne gesungen, Sachen auf sein Fensterbrett geworfen, und andere verhaltensoriginelle Zwischenfälle.
Ja, super. Als stellvertretender Hausmanager ist es jetzt also meine Aufgabe das zu regeln. Irgendwie stand in der Aufgabenliste nie eine Klausel darüber das Kommando zu übernehmen wenn der Hausmanager durchdreht. Na gut, ich also total übernachtig, keiner im Haus außer ihr, Franco (der Kumpel über mir) und einem anderen Freund von uns, der mir noch erzählt hat das sie sich seit Tagen so seltsam verhält, aber bis dato nicht so schlimm. Ergo ipsum, Leute fühlen sich von ihr bedroht, sie spricht nicht mit mir und benimmt sich als hätte sie ein schweres psychisches Problem. Also Coop-Notnummer anrufen, und siehe da, die Jungs von der Notnummer sind ungefähr so nützlich wie ein Rettungsboot aus pissgetränktem Krepppapier, danke sehr.
Was bleibt? 911. Die sagen also sie schicken wen, und zu dem Zeitpunkt waren schon ein paar andere Bewohner wieder da (wir sind irgendwie alle heute zurückgekommen, nona, morgen sind wieder Vorlesungen nach einer Woche Ferien) ich schick also die anderen rein sie im Auge zu behalten, und warte auf die Jungs vom Notruf. Die kommen nicht. Irgendwann kommt ein Mädel raus und sagt mir sie wollte sich einen, Zitat "Razor" ausborgen. Verfluchte Sprachverengung, Razor deckt alles zwischen Rasierklinge und Ladyshave ab, es war letzteres, sie hat sich im dunkeln im Bad die Beine rasiert, weiterhin sehr seltsam, aber nicht so erschreckend. Ja. Ich wusste dieses nicht, mach mir sofort um ein paar Magnituden mehr Sorgen, und ruf den Notruf nochmal an, jetzt schicken sie die Polizei. Zu diesem Zeitpunkt rückt ihre beste Freundin an, und nimmt sich der Sache an, der Himmel habe Mani Eustis selig, ohne die wäre ich vermutlich aufgeschmissen gewesen.
Zu diesem Zeitpunkt hat die Lage gewirkt als würde sie sich entspannen, definitiv psychisches Problem, aber anscheinend im Vorfeld Probleme mit ihrem Bruder, mim Studium, dazu oder davon noch Schlafstörung, alles noch immer besorgniserweckend aber immerhin, GRÜNDE. Und dann. Die Polizei braucht fast zwei Stunden weil sie Downtown anscheinend einen Typen bei einer Ubahnstation angeschossen haben, und kommen zum selben Zeitpunkt an als die komplett aufgelöste Mutter von dem Mädel kommt, die irgendwie was mitbekommen hat, und nur die ganzen Krankenwagen in der Gegend sieht. (Das ist der erste derartige Zwischenfall seit vier Jahren, laut Freund und Helfer) Herrlich. Und ich, in meiner Kapazität als größtes wandelndes Fettnäpfchen aller Zeiten, beruhige die Dame mit den Worten "Nono, just a misunderstanding, I only got worried when she wanted to borrow a razor." Ich Vollidiot. Naja, die Polizei nams locker, gibt uns eine Notfallnummer, und rückt ab, die Mutter wird mit Tee und Verständnis von den Mädels behandelt und beruhigt, und Rebecca, weiter von ihrer besten Freundin betreut, schwirrt weiterhin im Haus herum und macht seltsame Dinge, die Spitze ist das ich jetzt alle scharfen Gegenstände aus ihrem Zimmer für sie in Verwahrung habe, damit sie beweisen kann das sie nicht suizidgefährdet ist. Ja, danke. Tut mir leid.
Ich hab keine Kapazität, keine Zeit und so herzlos das klingt keine Lust mich mit diesem Problem zu befassen, und werd das Gefühl nicht los das ich mich danebenbenommen habe. Rebecca ist garantiert auf mich sauer in ihrer Verwirrtheit (sie ist von mir fortgeschreckt als ich mich entschuldigen wollte, jetzt fühl ich mich noch mehr verantwortlich) das ganze Haus steht mal wieder Kopf, und ich werd wohl die ganze Sache morgen Coop als großes Mißverständnis erklären. Und ich mag kanadische Polizisten, die sind immer sowas von entspannt...
So, die letzten Absätze hab ich mal revidiert, jetzt wo ich mich ein bisschen beruhigt hab. Alles in allem geht mir das hoffentlich verständlicherweise auf den Zeiger, aber ich denk mir wenn ich erstmal drüber geschlafen hab (was ich jetzt seit bald 37 Stunden nicht mehr richtig gemacht hab, im Bus wars nicht so bequem)kann ich die Tatsache das wir jetzt Rebecca erstmal alle helfen werden müssen mehr als Freundschaftsdienst als als Verpflichtung sehen. Ist ja kaum ihre Schuld. Die anderen kümmern sich momentan um sie, und es ist schließlich super das wir in Notfällen immer zusammenhalten, obwohl wir uns alle "nur" 6 Monate kennen. Trotzdem, kranker kranker Tag. Beenden wir ihn hier, mit Schlaf.
Montag, 6. Februar 2012
Business as usual
I have been told that I have failed to uphold my new year's resolution of not neglecting the blog. Well, yes and no.
I admit that I have not written much in here since coming back last month, but I stay true to the word of my resolution to not put off writing when there is something to write about. And, sad to say it, there just isn't.
It's not that I'm bored, far from it, though it's not the kind of excitement that I care for, really. I have two papers due by the end of the month, another by early next month, bi-weekly homeworks and a barrage of tests which, by the looks of it, will not abate until mid-March. So my days have been filled with reading, reading, reading and finding excuses for not having to read right now, the latter is something I'm getting increasingly good at.
So you see, I'm simply saddled with a high volume of low-level academic work which is keeping me from doing anything substantial other than attend to it. I go out drinking ever other week or so, and I'm not in desolate, fun-less doldrums, but I have been weighed down by a lot of early-last-century reading, and as you see it's on my mind and my vocabulary. What sort of normal person uses the word doldrums, right?
So I'm mostly busy with looking forward to Chicago at the end of the month, and scrambling to get everything done before leaving for Chicago, and other than that, I am simply not doing anything that would make good reading if I wrote about it, and I'm too busy to write down the intermittent reflections on trans-atlantic living that I get. So I do not write, since at the moment nothing much is happening. The strange metallic buzzing is still coming from the wall, the squirrels and raccoons go on about their business of early-morning disturbance, the sun rises, the sun sets, and time passes.
It's a steady, comfortable, and boring life for the moment, but that, as all things, is bound to change.
I admit that I have not written much in here since coming back last month, but I stay true to the word of my resolution to not put off writing when there is something to write about. And, sad to say it, there just isn't.
It's not that I'm bored, far from it, though it's not the kind of excitement that I care for, really. I have two papers due by the end of the month, another by early next month, bi-weekly homeworks and a barrage of tests which, by the looks of it, will not abate until mid-March. So my days have been filled with reading, reading, reading and finding excuses for not having to read right now, the latter is something I'm getting increasingly good at.
So you see, I'm simply saddled with a high volume of low-level academic work which is keeping me from doing anything substantial other than attend to it. I go out drinking ever other week or so, and I'm not in desolate, fun-less doldrums, but I have been weighed down by a lot of early-last-century reading, and as you see it's on my mind and my vocabulary. What sort of normal person uses the word doldrums, right?
So I'm mostly busy with looking forward to Chicago at the end of the month, and scrambling to get everything done before leaving for Chicago, and other than that, I am simply not doing anything that would make good reading if I wrote about it, and I'm too busy to write down the intermittent reflections on trans-atlantic living that I get. So I do not write, since at the moment nothing much is happening. The strange metallic buzzing is still coming from the wall, the squirrels and raccoons go on about their business of early-morning disturbance, the sun rises, the sun sets, and time passes.
It's a steady, comfortable, and boring life for the moment, but that, as all things, is bound to change.
Donnerstag, 19. Januar 2012
Still alive in the West
This was a triumph, I'm making a note here, huge success. It's hard to overstate my satisfaction. I will stop brutally commandeering the Portal song at this point and get to the point. I really liked the vacation, it was, as they say in the ghetto, da shit. Thanks to everyone for making it really really hard to board that plane, and at that point I was really worried that I'd feel homesick the moment I landed.
Which, puzzlingly enough, I did not. Returning to the big TO was not a joyous occasion, and neither was it a sad one. Well, finally getting to the house and falling face-first on the bed after a 15 hour journey that should have taken 10 hours was a cause of celebration at the point, if only because I was coming down with the plague that I had imported from Austria and really wanted to lie down. The 3 hour delay in Frankfurt was apparently because of a clogged toilet on the airplane. Seriously. Because somebody tried to flush a "foreign body" as the pilot put it. Whelp, whatever, we got there eventually, and by now I'm contented to the fact that whenever I fly, there are delays, possible future travel buddies beware.
But anyway, Toronto, yeah, it was like coming home, to a home that isn't home. If that sounds odd, then that is because it is odd, that feeling. I was really busy getting all my stuff one floor down into the new room, which in many ways reminds me of the old room at my first apartment. It's small, but has a high ceiling, it's very bright thanks to a fourfold increase in windows, and it really gains a lot of vibrancy because some previous occupant painted one wall bright crimson. Yes, crimson, not red. Red is to mundane a word to describe what has been done to that wall. It does work really well with that one poster...
Yes, that red.
Anyway, this is where I reside now:
Normal geometry, rather bright, that's how I like it. And for all those astute reads who wonder how I got myself so close to the wall and surmise I'm standing in the doorway, well I'm not, door's to the right, I'm standing in here:
That odd little closet I told some people about, and yes, that's the end of a tiny three-stair staircase leading down into it. No idea what I am supposed to do with this so far, but it came with a huge supply of coat hangers, for a start, and a rather nice view of the back yard. More on that later. Oh, and, that doorframe in the right of the picture is actually the back of what looks like the original closet of the room, which leads into this little hidden space. If you put a door in there, you'd never find this little cell. Yes, it has me raising eyebrows at the Victorians who originally built this house, just a little.
In other news, a film crew shot an episode of a post-apocalyptical miniseries in our basement and living room. I kid you not. It was part of an art project for one of my housemates, who goes to this film academy, and actually, as far as "post-apocalyptic torture chamber ambience, possibly haunted" goes, they couldn't have picked a better basement than ours. Branching off from the kitchen is a small sequence of irregular room cluttered with machinery and debris, and if I believed such things I be positive the damn place is haunted. So that was fun, especially coming home and seeing a rather graphic trail of (film)blood leading up to the house. The neighbours already think we're weird anyway, and I admit the looks the annoying lady next door gives me now are tinged with fear, and I enjoy that. How about complaining about our trash cans being in the way now, eh? Haha, I'm such a dork.
Other than that, the weather has shown its true face, finally, and I realized that it's schizophrenic to the extreme. Today saw temperatures close to 6°+ in the morning and rain, giving way to snow and high winds at -5° by midday, followed by a sunny afternoon at what felt like -20°, and is now slowly seguing into a freezing evening with light flurries of snow. I wonder why they even bother with the weather report, as it essentially says "Lol, I dunno." anyway. Now, I admit, right now I wouldn't mind even more snow, as it makes the churned field of mud that is our backyard seem a little less like the Somme in 1917.
Almost quaint, isn't it? I made the photograph so you can't see the huge pile of recycled cardboard we can't seem to get rid of, but hey.
Anyway, part of my new years resolution was not to be quite such a lazy bum when it comes to this blog, so expect more mildly interesting updates in the future as events pick up again after the “deer-in-headlights” frozen fear that accompanies the start of a new semester at this, one of the best universities in the country.
Which, puzzlingly enough, I did not. Returning to the big TO was not a joyous occasion, and neither was it a sad one. Well, finally getting to the house and falling face-first on the bed after a 15 hour journey that should have taken 10 hours was a cause of celebration at the point, if only because I was coming down with the plague that I had imported from Austria and really wanted to lie down. The 3 hour delay in Frankfurt was apparently because of a clogged toilet on the airplane. Seriously. Because somebody tried to flush a "foreign body" as the pilot put it. Whelp, whatever, we got there eventually, and by now I'm contented to the fact that whenever I fly, there are delays, possible future travel buddies beware.
But anyway, Toronto, yeah, it was like coming home, to a home that isn't home. If that sounds odd, then that is because it is odd, that feeling. I was really busy getting all my stuff one floor down into the new room, which in many ways reminds me of the old room at my first apartment. It's small, but has a high ceiling, it's very bright thanks to a fourfold increase in windows, and it really gains a lot of vibrancy because some previous occupant painted one wall bright crimson. Yes, crimson, not red. Red is to mundane a word to describe what has been done to that wall. It does work really well with that one poster...
Yes, that red.
Anyway, this is where I reside now:
Normal geometry, rather bright, that's how I like it. And for all those astute reads who wonder how I got myself so close to the wall and surmise I'm standing in the doorway, well I'm not, door's to the right, I'm standing in here:
That odd little closet I told some people about, and yes, that's the end of a tiny three-stair staircase leading down into it. No idea what I am supposed to do with this so far, but it came with a huge supply of coat hangers, for a start, and a rather nice view of the back yard. More on that later. Oh, and, that doorframe in the right of the picture is actually the back of what looks like the original closet of the room, which leads into this little hidden space. If you put a door in there, you'd never find this little cell. Yes, it has me raising eyebrows at the Victorians who originally built this house, just a little.
In other news, a film crew shot an episode of a post-apocalyptical miniseries in our basement and living room. I kid you not. It was part of an art project for one of my housemates, who goes to this film academy, and actually, as far as "post-apocalyptic torture chamber ambience, possibly haunted" goes, they couldn't have picked a better basement than ours. Branching off from the kitchen is a small sequence of irregular room cluttered with machinery and debris, and if I believed such things I be positive the damn place is haunted. So that was fun, especially coming home and seeing a rather graphic trail of (film)blood leading up to the house. The neighbours already think we're weird anyway, and I admit the looks the annoying lady next door gives me now are tinged with fear, and I enjoy that. How about complaining about our trash cans being in the way now, eh? Haha, I'm such a dork.
Other than that, the weather has shown its true face, finally, and I realized that it's schizophrenic to the extreme. Today saw temperatures close to 6°+ in the morning and rain, giving way to snow and high winds at -5° by midday, followed by a sunny afternoon at what felt like -20°, and is now slowly seguing into a freezing evening with light flurries of snow. I wonder why they even bother with the weather report, as it essentially says "Lol, I dunno." anyway. Now, I admit, right now I wouldn't mind even more snow, as it makes the churned field of mud that is our backyard seem a little less like the Somme in 1917.
Almost quaint, isn't it? I made the photograph so you can't see the huge pile of recycled cardboard we can't seem to get rid of, but hey.
Anyway, part of my new years resolution was not to be quite such a lazy bum when it comes to this blog, so expect more mildly interesting updates in the future as events pick up again after the “deer-in-headlights” frozen fear that accompanies the start of a new semester at this, one of the best universities in the country.
Dienstag, 20. Dezember 2011
Outpost 302, signing off.
Well, Montreal was fun. It tried its best to make itself hated, what with freezing rain and high winds, but I still enjoyed the city, and would like to visit again in summer. Due to incliment weather and a faulty Memory card, there aren't a lot of photos of it, but I'll try to get those up soon enough. It all looks like a very chilly version of southern France in old Quebec, and the rest looks like a nice, not overly large, French city. You immidiately notice you are in France-Canada, not Canada-France. Everything is written bilingually, but unlike in Ontario, where the English on top is the same size as the french on the bottom, the Quebecouis make no such pretense and make the French about size 12 and the English about size 5. I had Poutine, which is very good and very filling, if you don't mind getting fat very fast. I walked up Mount Royal, which is actually covered in snow, showing that Montreal is delicately balanced on the dew point between rain and snow at this time of year, the difference really is only about 50 meters. Visited a very nice hostel, and can only recommend "L'Auberge Alternative" for the price, the awesome common room and free tea. Can't recommend it for the crazy lady in her 70ies who was apparently a muslim-chaser and lived full-time at the hostel, but I guess you can't blame the hostel for that.
And boy is the 7.5 hour drive from Montreal (aka, Mun-Tree-awl, which is how the Ontario people pronounce it, I think they're trying to be funny) dull. Prairie, clumps of wood, Prairie, a farm...hey, check it out, this goes on for several hours. Ontario has a lot of room, but sadly not a lot of landscape to fill that room with, and what is there is, in winter, singularily ugly. Except for the lakes. Oh yes, the lakes, vast shimmering expanses of sky and water, they really pull the landscape together.
But, nothing saves the towns. One of the reasons the way back took so long (except for the prerequisite traffic jam in Toronto) was that we detoured through several towns for stops. And as much as I love cities, and love the open countryside, I really hate towns. And Ontario gave me ample material to hate. Among the wonderful places we visited were
Kirkland (notable for the worst roads I encountered in Canada thus far)
Cornwall (apparently notable for its XXL truckstop and not much else)
Iroquois (full of white trash, fittingly)
Brockville (home of the 1000 island park, and possibly the sauce as well)
Kingston (notable for containing many sensible people doing the only sensible thing, leaving Kingston via bus)
Scarborough (already part of Toronto, but still 1.5 hours from city center, full of appartment blocks and highways)
The towns just kind of drift into and out of each other in a never-ending urban trickle. The lesson here is probably that I hate sprawl. My ideal city has a neat edge, and beyond that only landscape that is vertically challenging, not vertically challenged. I guess this is what, in my eyes, reifies Vienna, as it doesn't have a lot of noticable sprawl (there might be a yet hiding in there). Some people might disagree with me (looking at you, George), but while Vienna can't compete with the size of the GTA, it can compete with the population numbers in the respective urban core, and it manages them more efficiently and densely, in my opinion. If Toronto were Vienna, Biedermannsdorf would have been swallowed by faceless strip malls and highway junctions long ago. In this, I agree with Margaret Atwood, Toronto is a VM, a vile Metropolis, but only because it mirrors the typical US city so much.
But in any case, it is now 11:20, and in a scant 7 hours and 20 minutes I'm leaving Canuckistan behind for a few weeks, leaving for mountains, good food, and properly priced beer that I can buy at a supermarket.
A nice vacation, in my opinion. See you there, I hope.
And boy is the 7.5 hour drive from Montreal (aka, Mun-Tree-awl, which is how the Ontario people pronounce it, I think they're trying to be funny) dull. Prairie, clumps of wood, Prairie, a farm...hey, check it out, this goes on for several hours. Ontario has a lot of room, but sadly not a lot of landscape to fill that room with, and what is there is, in winter, singularily ugly. Except for the lakes. Oh yes, the lakes, vast shimmering expanses of sky and water, they really pull the landscape together.
But, nothing saves the towns. One of the reasons the way back took so long (except for the prerequisite traffic jam in Toronto) was that we detoured through several towns for stops. And as much as I love cities, and love the open countryside, I really hate towns. And Ontario gave me ample material to hate. Among the wonderful places we visited were
Kirkland (notable for the worst roads I encountered in Canada thus far)
Cornwall (apparently notable for its XXL truckstop and not much else)
Iroquois (full of white trash, fittingly)
Brockville (home of the 1000 island park, and possibly the sauce as well)
Kingston (notable for containing many sensible people doing the only sensible thing, leaving Kingston via bus)
Scarborough (already part of Toronto, but still 1.5 hours from city center, full of appartment blocks and highways)
The towns just kind of drift into and out of each other in a never-ending urban trickle. The lesson here is probably that I hate sprawl. My ideal city has a neat edge, and beyond that only landscape that is vertically challenging, not vertically challenged. I guess this is what, in my eyes, reifies Vienna, as it doesn't have a lot of noticable sprawl (there might be a yet hiding in there). Some people might disagree with me (looking at you, George), but while Vienna can't compete with the size of the GTA, it can compete with the population numbers in the respective urban core, and it manages them more efficiently and densely, in my opinion. If Toronto were Vienna, Biedermannsdorf would have been swallowed by faceless strip malls and highway junctions long ago. In this, I agree with Margaret Atwood, Toronto is a VM, a vile Metropolis, but only because it mirrors the typical US city so much.
But in any case, it is now 11:20, and in a scant 7 hours and 20 minutes I'm leaving Canuckistan behind for a few weeks, leaving for mountains, good food, and properly priced beer that I can buy at a supermarket.
A nice vacation, in my opinion. See you there, I hope.
Dienstag, 6. Dezember 2011
Heureka!
-Which is Greek and means "give me a towel, quickly!"
Well, I figured something out last night. I've been feeling rather morose and stressed out the last week, and there was a mounting feeling of discomfort I'd been dragging around with me for the whole last month. I boiled it down, and after a ridiculously small amount of honest soul-searching, it hit me.
My Thesis.
Yes, my thesis is what I am afraid of. The realization of that was so utter and so straightforward it kind of boggled my mind. But yes, I'm stressed out about it. Why? Well, I have a reading list, I have some preliminary work, I have a lot of notes, but I didn't know what exactly to write on. So I resolved to narrow down my choices, scrap my old research questions, and basically start a new page in and on the face of my writer's block. I had that slated for the next couple of weeks, maybe compare with the notes I left in Austria, but that apparently wasn't necessary.
Because I had an epiphany.
Epiphany: An epiphany (from the ancient Greek ἐπιφάνεια, epiphaneia, "manifestation, striking appearance") is the sudden realization or comprehension of the (larger) essence or meaning of something.
I was walking home from my last lecture for this semester, only today, and as I was just plodding along through Queen's park, with my thoughts on nothing in particular, suddenly, A THESIS APPEARS! I had a realization, a revelation, and I wrote it down immediately, ultimately expecting it to be bogus upon considering it again at home. But it works, somehow. I have a vague idea what book ties into what part, and I actually know what exactly I want to write now. Now all I have to do is write it!
This, my friends, is seriously good news for me, and it verily did brighten my day considerably. I doesn't save me from another 300 pages of soul-destroying urban geography for the test on Monday, but it did give me something I can work on, finally. The new sense of direction is dizzying, and I hope it lasts, because I need it to last for, oh, 80+ A4 pages of rough draft.
It also means I'll have to freight myself down with a few extra books. Oh well, I'm still too amazed with how positively this influenced my general mood that I won't bother with cold realism right now.
Well, I figured something out last night. I've been feeling rather morose and stressed out the last week, and there was a mounting feeling of discomfort I'd been dragging around with me for the whole last month. I boiled it down, and after a ridiculously small amount of honest soul-searching, it hit me.
My Thesis.
Yes, my thesis is what I am afraid of. The realization of that was so utter and so straightforward it kind of boggled my mind. But yes, I'm stressed out about it. Why? Well, I have a reading list, I have some preliminary work, I have a lot of notes, but I didn't know what exactly to write on. So I resolved to narrow down my choices, scrap my old research questions, and basically start a new page in and on the face of my writer's block. I had that slated for the next couple of weeks, maybe compare with the notes I left in Austria, but that apparently wasn't necessary.
Because I had an epiphany.
Epiphany: An epiphany (from the ancient Greek ἐπιφάνεια, epiphaneia, "manifestation, striking appearance") is the sudden realization or comprehension of the (larger) essence or meaning of something.
I was walking home from my last lecture for this semester, only today, and as I was just plodding along through Queen's park, with my thoughts on nothing in particular, suddenly, A THESIS APPEARS! I had a realization, a revelation, and I wrote it down immediately, ultimately expecting it to be bogus upon considering it again at home. But it works, somehow. I have a vague idea what book ties into what part, and I actually know what exactly I want to write now. Now all I have to do is write it!
This, my friends, is seriously good news for me, and it verily did brighten my day considerably. I doesn't save me from another 300 pages of soul-destroying urban geography for the test on Monday, but it did give me something I can work on, finally. The new sense of direction is dizzying, and I hope it lasts, because I need it to last for, oh, 80+ A4 pages of rough draft.
It also means I'll have to freight myself down with a few extra books. Oh well, I'm still too amazed with how positively this influenced my general mood that I won't bother with cold realism right now.
Montag, 5. Dezember 2011
Some observations...
Well, the finals are still rolling, but with only one test left next Monday, I do have some breathing room, so here a short little update so you know what I've been up to.
Over the weeks, I have narrowed down my lingering disdain for the house to my own room, and in that mostly the virtual lack and placement of windows. I have one, as you know, so all my activities necessarily are near that window, as my desk is there. What little light it provides is partially swallowed by the dark brick wall opposite the window, as the distance between our house and the next is only about 3 meters. in that narrow space is wrenched the fire exit, which is my second problem, as the smallness of the room forces me to have the window open most of the time, or die of heatstroke (yes, even now that the daily average is in the single digits, the room is still too hot) and since everyone on the top floors uses the fire exit as a convenient back door, I'm constantly having people walk by my window. That rattles me, and annoys me.
Soooooo, I asked Coop to tell me if any other rooms become vacant, and I might consider moving. The main argument against that is that I actually like the people I live with pretty much, and elsewhere might be worse. But it might also be better! So let's see how that pans out, maybe I'll stay here for the rest of my stay, maybe not.
What else has been happening? I tried to get some christmas shopping done, but seeing how I usually get my christmas ideas by close observation of my family from October to December, I'm in a bit of a bind this year, and I hope I think of SOMETHING because I only have about one week of uninterrupted shopping left. What happens then?
Oh, I'm going to Quebec for a week.
Yes, trip time! I'll be leaving for Montreal on the 13th, after my last test, and return the 19th, fly home on the 20th, arrive on Austria on the 21st. Kinda cramped, my schedule. And while I am sure that there will be opportunities for some shopping while I visit the crazy french-Canadians, I will also have other things to do, I hope. Well, I will, I'm not going alone, but with some people from the exchange who, like me, missed the original Quebec trip.
We're planning on going to Quebec city as well, and we were going via car. As far as I know my license is not valid in Canada, which is both good and bad. Bad because I was supposed to drive, good because I don't want to drive. Not in wintry conditions, not in a country where I have never driven a car before, not a rental car, not from Montreal to Quebec City. There will have to be another way, and if the others rent a car, I am taking the bus on my own. Yes, I do not trust them enough, and I've had enough highway hijinx during the Huron trip to last me for another 4 months.
Also, I figured out that instead of giving you another long article about what Toronto is, I'll end today's installment with one of the few things which it is not: Ein österreichisches Bundesland. It is, however, a province of China, a district of Singapore, a prefecture of Japan, a subdivision of Russia, a state of Germany and several other things. There really are a LOT of foreigners.
Over the weeks, I have narrowed down my lingering disdain for the house to my own room, and in that mostly the virtual lack and placement of windows. I have one, as you know, so all my activities necessarily are near that window, as my desk is there. What little light it provides is partially swallowed by the dark brick wall opposite the window, as the distance between our house and the next is only about 3 meters. in that narrow space is wrenched the fire exit, which is my second problem, as the smallness of the room forces me to have the window open most of the time, or die of heatstroke (yes, even now that the daily average is in the single digits, the room is still too hot) and since everyone on the top floors uses the fire exit as a convenient back door, I'm constantly having people walk by my window. That rattles me, and annoys me.
Soooooo, I asked Coop to tell me if any other rooms become vacant, and I might consider moving. The main argument against that is that I actually like the people I live with pretty much, and elsewhere might be worse. But it might also be better! So let's see how that pans out, maybe I'll stay here for the rest of my stay, maybe not.
What else has been happening? I tried to get some christmas shopping done, but seeing how I usually get my christmas ideas by close observation of my family from October to December, I'm in a bit of a bind this year, and I hope I think of SOMETHING because I only have about one week of uninterrupted shopping left. What happens then?
Oh, I'm going to Quebec for a week.
Yes, trip time! I'll be leaving for Montreal on the 13th, after my last test, and return the 19th, fly home on the 20th, arrive on Austria on the 21st. Kinda cramped, my schedule. And while I am sure that there will be opportunities for some shopping while I visit the crazy french-Canadians, I will also have other things to do, I hope. Well, I will, I'm not going alone, but with some people from the exchange who, like me, missed the original Quebec trip.
We're planning on going to Quebec city as well, and we were going via car. As far as I know my license is not valid in Canada, which is both good and bad. Bad because I was supposed to drive, good because I don't want to drive. Not in wintry conditions, not in a country where I have never driven a car before, not a rental car, not from Montreal to Quebec City. There will have to be another way, and if the others rent a car, I am taking the bus on my own. Yes, I do not trust them enough, and I've had enough highway hijinx during the Huron trip to last me for another 4 months.
Also, I figured out that instead of giving you another long article about what Toronto is, I'll end today's installment with one of the few things which it is not: Ein österreichisches Bundesland. It is, however, a province of China, a district of Singapore, a prefecture of Japan, a subdivision of Russia, a state of Germany and several other things. There really are a LOT of foreigners.
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