Post-Election Blues in la Belle Province

My voting card in hand, Fred and I trudged to St-Joseph's Oratory on Monday to cast our votes. We approached the church, praying silently that we wouldn't have to climb the hundred something stairs to the top in order to do so. Apparently the government accounted for this laziness and set up post in a little chalet at the foot of the stairs. We waited no more than a minute to register our votes, traditionally a sign of a Liberal victory in Quebec. The formula has long been low voter turn-out equals Liberal victory, high voter turn-out equals Parti Québécois victory. Though Quebec has the highest rate of voter turn-out in the country, this election put us at a sad 71% participation.

Quebeckers rarely waffle. Stubborness, pride and political conviction are three characteristics that very accurately describe your typical Quebecker. You're either separatist or federalist, there are few who sit in the middle, indifferent. This is exactly why it has been 129 years since the last minority government in Quebec. It is a difficult picture to paint for someone who has never set foot in Quebec. I engaged in very few political discussions during my years in Calgary- Albertans are largely politically indifferent. The province in prospering so it appears that the government is doing something right, and voters continue to elect the same people to lead them. That's why Kananaskis was such a perfect place for the G-8 summit meetings, and Quebec City such a poor place. My year at the University of Calgary, I was part of the campaign against tuition hikes. To our extreme frustration, few people signed our petition against the hikes- indifferent about the price and the actions of their government. Meanwhile, tuition hikes and cuts to student loans and bursaries left Quebec universities and Cégeps empty during student strikes two years ago. Some schools were closed only a day or two, the Université de Montréal, however, was closed for three months in protest.

We watched the election coverage intermittently that night. Up until 9pm, CBC was predicting an ADQ victory. I was both baffled and afraid. How can a party that waffled on the issue of sovereignty possibly be leading? A party that presented few clear ideas in the hopes of capturing the voters who were turning against the PQ and the Liberals? The consequences could be dire. The Quebec economy is not what it once was. With the passing of Bill 101, hundreds of big businesses packed up and moved to Toronto. Few, if any have returned. Today the two biggest industries in Montreal are the sex trade and telemarketing. Thankfully, the city has in recent years also become a hot bed for the video game industry. In any case, the desire to maintain the culture of the province has gone to such lengths that it has crippled the economy. Instead of looking at the city of Montreal, approximately 60% French to 40% English, and realizing the incredible potential that this held for businesses, the government has done their best to prevent the French from learning English. French and English are the two most common official languages in the world- imagine the possibilities if nearly 100% of permanent residents were bilingual. But bilingual people have the freedom to leave for provinces with lower tax rates and this would threaten sovereignty, so instead it has been made very difficult for francophones to learn English. I'm rambling. Back to Mario Dumont- a leader with so few clear plans, his election would have been disastrous for this delicate economy. Rather like Ralph Klein, but in a less fortunate province. His collection of questionable choices for ministers does not particularly help his case. I was fearful of an ADQ victory. Children, it seems, were also fearful of such a victory. The French newspaper, La Presse polled a group of kindergarten students and asked them which of the three party leaders most resembled the evil Lord Voldemor of Harry Potter. Mario Dumont (ADQ) was the clear winner.

Evil Lord Voldemor

Evil Mario

See the resemblance?

Having said all that, a PQ victory would have been less disastrous, in my mind, but not by much. André Boisclair is not a leader. While people at Liberal headquarters shouted 'Charest, Charest!' and ADQ headquarters was filled with screams of 'Dumont, Dumont!' on Monday night, les péquistes (PQists) were apparently chanting, 'Un pays, un pays!' (A country, a country!). The PQ may have the strongest platform in terms of social programs, but it is too idealistic. They fail to generate any new ideas to provoke the economy and resort to blaming the federal government for budget shortfalls, yet remain determined that separation is a viable option. It seems that voters this election gave them a clear message that their message is tired and old. Nobody wants another referendum. The province can't afford it. I'm not sure if this has been big news across Canada, or if the focus has largely been in Quebec. Montreal is a cosmopolitan city and one of Canada's most diverse. The issue of 'reasonable accomodation' seems to have snuck its way into the media and they are trying their best to instill fear in les québécois that their culture is at risk because Muslim women choose to wear hijabs, or because I'm not permitted to eat non-kosher spaghetti in the kosher section of the Jewish hospital. Please. Is your culture really so fragile that it is threatened based on where you eat your lunch? On passing a woman dressed differently in the street? Boisclair's recent comments about Asians with les yeux bridés (slanty eyes) reveals that he is not the one to lead us through this definitive period of cultural integration.

At least André Boisclair is happy. That's what counts...

We can probably assume this photo was taken before Monday.

The Liberals. The lesser of the three evils, but I am still not interested in supporting them. Charest fell short of his election promises from the last election, and in my mind does not deserve a second chance. That having been said, he was the best of the realistic possibilities. At least we know that his platform is all lies and his federalist agenda means that it is in his best interest to make the Quebec economy more accessible. Of course, this is in the best interest of Quebec, but some are too stubborn to acknowledge that welcoming in big business does not have to mean sacrificing your language and your culture. English and French are perfectly capable of living side by side in Montreal. Despite the unfortunate and sometimes mysterious choice of having each candidate posed with their fist under their chin (in French, the word for chin is menton, dangerously close to the verb mentir -to lie.) on campaign posters, it seems that many Quebeckers chose their Liberal candidates to lead them. Perhaps their victory (if you can call it that) had something to do with the Gazette's review of which party's posters were the best to go sliding. The Liberals won that contest by leaps and bounds- probably due to their disregard for the environment, demonstrated by needlessessly big campaign posters.

Jean Charest

We wouldn't have been happy with any of the possible results. The Liberals won in my riding, followed closely by the Parti Québécois and in third place, the Green Party. Change is in the air. If nothing else, these elections have sent a clear message. We are not pleased. At school the other day, we were discussing how mysterious it is that the ADQ won so many seats when no one will admit to voting for them. Perhaps their success was meant to signal dissatisfaction, and we came frighteningly close to teaching ourselves a very important lesson.

Québec Indecision 2007

On the eve of the Quebec provincial elections, we wait. Braced to hear which of the three under-qualified candidates will lead our province for the next four years. A minority government is certain- what is yet unclear is who will lead that minority government. Will it be the separatist, the racist, or the idiot? So much for the separation of Church and state. I received my voter card on Friday that informed me the voting location for my riding is the lobby of St-Joseph's Oratory.

St-Joseph's Oratory-
where thousands crawled up the stairs on their knees to be healed by brother André.

This notice was also the first introduction that I had to any of the candidates in my riding. Apparently the days of door to door campaigning have gone the way of political honesty. I discovered that my choices were:

• Romain Angeles (Independant)
• Raymond Bachand (Liberal)
  
• Yvon Breton (Marxiste-Léniniste Party of Quebec)
• Luc Côté (Green Party)
• Sujata Dey (Québec Solidaire)
• Pierre Harvey (ADQ/Équipe Mario Dumont)
• Salim Laaroussi (Parti québécois)

Well, Romain Angeles- you're cut, I'm sorry to say. I would expect that someone running independant of a party would do a better job of communicating what they stand for. I've never heard of you before, so you've lost my vote.

Dear Raymond Bachand (Liberal), perhaps if your party had not just cut 100 million dollars from student loans and bursaries and weren't contemplating lifting the ten year tuition freeze, you might stand a chance of getting my vote. But as it stands, the Liberals seem to stand for lies and broken promises. Whatever happened to those tax cuts? Weren't you even campaigning to keep that 1% of the GST cut by the Federals? Sorry, Raymond- you're cut. I also believe you to be the same man who left many of my phone calls unanswered a couple years back. Not a chance, Bachand.

Hmmm... Yvon Breton (Marxiste-Léniniste). I have to say my interest is peaked, but seriously- did you really think your party name said it all? I'd like a bit more of an explanation of your platform. Just because you're communist, I'll pay you a little more attention and venture to your website... strictly out of curiosity. The site is completely in French, with no English tab. I have to look for the tab marked platform and discover that even the communists of Quebec are separatist. On their platform page, all I find is an assurance of separatist sympathies and an indication of hatred for the Liberals. Sorry, Breton- you're out.

Luc Côté (Green Party), well Luc Côté, I can't say I'm too impressed. For a party that is up and coming, I'm shocked that I didn't get a little notice in my mailbox about you. If you didn't want to waste the paper, it's okay- I get it. Stick up a notice of a meeting at my dépanneur and I would have been there. I know you're pro-environment, so am I. But what else do you stand for? I consult the website. Political accountability, okay that's good. Economic sustainability- not something you hear alot about in Quebec. Health care- create easy access to healthy lifestyles, I like that. A family doctor for every Quebecker, that's a good thing. Policy in support of supporting a healthy lifestyle and encouraging health, rather than treating sickness. Sounds like something I've been saying for the last two years. Accessible education, promotion and encouragement of the arts. Hmm... so far, so good Mr Côté... We'll come back to you.

Sujata Dey (Québec solidaire). Well, to start off- I've heard nothing about you Ms. Dey and little about your party. Being that you seem to be all the rage with disgruntled separatists, I'll check you out and find out what you're about. It should perhaps be noted that separatism doesn't necessarily strike a party immediately in my mind, if they can make up for this fault in other areas. English tab on their website, point one. Okay... platform- equality between the sexes, solidarity among citizens, environmental protection and sovereignty. Anti-union laws? Really? Health care- all you have to say is that we have the right to affordable medication? What about the ridiculousness of new doctors in the province being required to take a three year position in Chibougamu before working in Montreal? How does it help our shortages if our doctors don't stay? Whatever, solidaire- I think you might be crazy. Education- well, you seem to be okay there. Reduce debt, accessibility and so on. Okay, on sovereignty- more referendum talk, great. Oooh, with tax cuts- tax cuts are good. But how do you achieve accessible education, improve environmental standards, reduce prescription costs by 50% AND cut taxes. Sounds suspiciously like the ADQ too good to be true platform. NEXT.

Pierre Harvey (ADQ/L'équipe Mario Dumont). First and foremost, if you really feel that you need to put Mario Dumont next to Action démocratique, perhaps it is true and Mario Dumont really is a one man show. Having fired two or three candidates over the last couple weeks for racist and sexist remarks, I think I have to skip right you, Harvey.

And last, but certainly not least- Salim Laaroussi of the Parti québécois. That's not a terribly québécois name. I wonder... oh, Morocan immigrant. I wonder how he feels about the racist comments that have spewn from the mouth of his leader. I wonder if it's a coincidence that one of the few people with the parti québécois who is not pure laine is running in one of the most ethnically diverse ridings in the province. Twenty-eight, impressive résumé. Salim Laaroussi on his own may have a good shot with me, but not affiliated with the Parti québécois. I really don't want to see Boisclair take the leadership...

It looks like the Green Party wins out, as I expected it would. Many tell me I'm throwing my vote away, but I'd rather support a party who will be able to grow a little bit every election and may one day be the big kid on the block than lie and say that any of the big three represent me when they don't. It's amazing how quickly we begin to lose our idealism. I used to listen to my mother complain that there was no one to vote for and get so frustrated. Now part of me feels like I'm in the same boat, especially in a province where your vote comes down to a decision between being Canadian together or being québécois apart. I hate that people continue to vote for the Liberals just because they don't want to separate, and that others vote for the PQ just because they do. The ADQ may be trying to toss it up a bit, but I'd really like for them to answer the question of where they stand on separation instead of being ambiguous about it so they can get votes from both sides. So tomorrow we go to the polls and vote to see if we will once again be faced with a referendum, or as Boisclair is calling it 'a public consultation on separation.'

Tragically Nameless

These posts are getting fewer and farther between as my teaching job eats up more and more of my day. I'm really not sure why people do this. I understand that some people are passionate about it, and it baffles me. I can't imagine dedicating my life to chasing kids around in an effort to help them learn and grow, and receive so little appreciation from the kids, their parents and society. I simply wouldn't be able to justify six years of school to make 35 000$ a year. Not even summers off could convince me to pursue this as a career. Three weeks into my teaching job and the unthinkable has happened; I've turned into my Uncle. My Uncle Bob has been an English teacher in Quebec since the beginning of time (or at least my time). The summers that I spent out in Montreal with him and his family meant being subject to his comments about hating children and being fed up with babysitting. Even worse seemed to be the student teachers who weren't, in his books, sufficiently well read to be doing a stag as an English teacher. Only years later upon meeting Julien did I discover that my Uncle may hate children, but he clearly loved his job. He was one of those teachers that changed lives, but didn't want anyone to know and now I've gone and publicly ruined his reputation.

Work is going alright. I don't hate it, I just don't like it. It's difficult to see any sort of improvement and garner any satisfaction from teaching a second language as it is, pair with that the large class size and it's nearly impossible to leave feeling you're making a difference. I'm not passionate about teaching English. Maybe if I could have real discussions with them- push them to see a piece in another light, or provoke and challenge new thoughts. Unfortunately the nature of the work is that you spend most of the day trying to suppress the urge to finish sentences for your students just because it would be faster. You try not to scream as you listen to the hundreds of different excuses for homework not having been finished and actually try to make that student believe that you just listened to whatever gibberish spewed forth from their mouth. You try in vain to avoid the flashbacks to your own Elementary school days, especially when you hear yourself yelling, "Stéphanie. Assis-toi. Comme il faut. Avec les quatre pattes de la chaise à terre et tes deux pieds sur le plancher." (Stephanie. Sit down. Properly. With the four feet of the chair on the ground and your two feet on the floor.) I nearly collapsed when I heard the words explode from my mouth- shocked that it took me so far back. My tone, my pacing -it was all so familiar! I suddenly felt like Mme. Nicole Jolicoeur, my grade three teacher. It was eery. My frustrations are heightened by the disrespect of the students, their indifference to learning and their ability to complain about absolutely everything. I had slotted to spend today's class reviewing vocabulary with my grade five class today, which promised to be painfully boring for all parties involved. So rather than have me talk at them about how these words were important, I put the students in groups of four and explained they would be playing charades. The only requirement was that they preface their physicalization with the phrase, "I like (don't like) to ______," and then they would proceed with their animation. The amount of students who bothered to approach me to inform me the activity was stupid absolutely stunned me. I finally replied if they didn't like it, they were welcome to take their seat back at their desk and read the key words to themselves over and over again. They shut up.

School has changed, kids have changed and I'm glad that this path is just for the moment. Swearing is fairly common in the classroom now, the students refer to their teachers by their first names (Mme. Stephanie, Mme. Julie- although often the madame is dropped) and address them with the more familiar tu, as opposed to vous. In the past three weeks, I realized beyound a shadow of a doubt, that I don't want children. As our society seems to move further and further from values that I still hold precious, I cringe to think of how little respect and hard work will be valued in ten, twenty years. The Western materialism has reached its peak when every student in my grade six class describes shopping as a favourite activity and believes they are entitled to a Playstation3 and an iPod. I can't help but think we have gone so, so wrong.

While it is far from what I want, I know that teaching will bring me closer to what I want to do. Hopefully I can manipulate the desperation of the Commision Scolaire de Montréal into a contract that will only amount to part time hours, leaving me open to do other things. In the meantime, it is providing an eye opening experience with this next generation. This post has perhaps seemed negative, and I don't mean it that way. I'm feeling fairly indifferent about my situation at the moment- apart from having to wake up at 6am. I hate 6am.

As I settle into a routine, I'm struggling to balance my life. I don't know how people work a job this demanding and actually have a life... which explains why these posts are becoming fewer and farther between. I started Bykram Yoga last week, in a room heated to 42 degrees celsius to prompt you to sweat out all your toxins and protect your muscles from injury. I felt amazing all last week and have developed quite an addiction to it. Unfortunately, difficult as I am, I had to choose the most ridiculously expensive type of Yoga to fall for and am currenly arguing with myself about whether or not its worth the 150$ per month. My cheap intro pass expired on Monday and now I've decided to bounce around from studio to studio for awhile until I make a choice. I wonder how many cheap intro weeks one can enjoy at Yoga studios in downtown Montreal... I'll let you know.

Losing Steam

Maybe it's the return to the monotony of real life without intriguing observations or thought provoking encounters, maybe I'm drained from my new job that requires me to juggle the behavioural problems of twenty-seven students at a time. Maybe my itchy feet are unsatisfied finding themselves back in Montreal, or maybe the cold has gone to my brain and frozen any creative impulses I once had. Maybe it's a little of this and a little of that.

After two weeks of hard work as an elementary English teacher, I felt I deserved a week off. And it so happened that my wish was granted- spring break, although I can't what this week has to do with spring. I had plans to actively look for a new job, to get some writing done and perhaps even begin to edit my Korean travel account. As it happened, I was sick on Sunday, and Monday, and Tuesday, and yes- even Wednesday. Today is therefore my first real day off and I celebrated by staying in bed all morning and doing nothing at all of interest, unless you count the dishes.

Tuesday I was called up by the Commision Scolaire de Montréal, the largest school board in the city. We arranged an interview for the following morning and the woman gave me the questions that I would be asked, in order to prepare myself, I assumed. So yesterday morning, I dragged myself out of bed down to the metro and all the way to the East end of Montreal for this interview. I had prepared as well as I felt necessary, which wasn't a whole lot. The questions seemed fairly ridiculous to me- and some of them non-sensical given my inexperience as a teacher. What did I think of the role of the teacher in the face of the reforms? Hmm-- I assumed that these reforms are responsible for the lovey-dovey atmosphere of the classes with the younger teachers at my school... the mistaken belief that children do not require rigid rules in a school environment. I imagined that they probably wanted to hear about how I believed that the teacher's role should be that of a facilitator that provokes the children to become interested and engaged in the subject matter. I half believe this, but mostly feel that Canadian children have it easy and should just buckle down and do the work. Also, I've learned I'm not passionate about education- this is clearly not so much a career move as a stabilizing move. In any case, I arrived at the school board, sat down in front of the two men interviewing me and launched into my semi-prepared speech about the eligibility of my candidacy. One of the men interrupted to inform me that in fact I was not being interviewed for a position as an anglais langue séconde teacher, but for a drama teacher. And with that, the little preparation I had done for the interview was tossed out the window.

In any case, I told the men about my experience as an English teacher in Korea. As is usually the case with francophones, they stared at me in disbelief. How did you come across an opportunity like that? Really, a lot of anglophones do that? Why do they want to learn English so badly? Each and every time I have this conversation, I'm blown away by how isolated the French community is from the rest of Canada, and from the rest of the world. I explained to both men that there is a huge push in Asia at the moment to learn English, and that many educated people were bilingual (leaving out the fact that English is the language of business, as I was still hoping to endear myself to these men). I hope that they passed on their disbelief to other school board officials- perhaps these rumours will result in more English in québécois schools, out of pure embarrasment that they have chosen not to learn what people across the world recognize as valuable.

Even though we were sidetracked for quite awhile by a discussion comparing the educational systems of Korea and that of Canada, we finished the interview and they wished me luck on my French test. It seems that since I was being interviewed for a position teaching in French that I could no longer get away with writing the bobo French test. I called human resources in a panic and my good friend Catherine, assured me the test wasn't that bad. Catherine and I have in fact never met face to face, but she feels like a close friend as we have tried to wind our way through a maze of red tape together. The test I was scheduled to write was equivalent to a grade nine French test (or sec 3), but now I'm required to pass the test grade eleven (sec 5). Having made the switch to anglo school in grade ten, I have reason to be terrified. Apparently my interview went well and she was given the green light to hire me, as long as I pass this nasty French test...

Teaching Position Near Seoul

I have a friend just outside of Seoul whose school is desperately looking for a kindergarten teacher. It's a great school, the owner and boss are super nice and the accomodations are way nicer than the usual. They need someone to start ASAP- preferably within the next two weeks. If anyone is interested, leave me a message and let me know.

My First (real) Snow Day

A snow day is a rite of passage for most Canadian kids. Waking early on a weekday and waiting in anticipation by the radio-- will it be closed? Can I go back to sleep and spend my afternoon sledding instead of studying? But of all those mornings that I awoke and hoped for the good news that would liberate me for the day, it happened only once.

Grade twelve. Now, I went to a weird high school. I didn't have to attend classes (which served my ADD just fine). Instead I just showed up at 9am, sat myself down with some books and studied whatever I felt like that day. I had skipped my evening math class (yet again) at Viscount Bennett (those of us from Bishop Carroll High that had motivation problems went there for real classes ) and opted for smoking a joint and going to see a movie with Colin, the boy of the moment. I don't remember what movie it was, but I know we were the only people in the theatre. We left the movie theatre and walked across the deserted parking lot to the car, buried under a foot of snow.

I contemplated how I had mocked my mother for keeping a shovel in the car, but being a Montrealer to the bone, she had refused to remove it. I hate it when she's right. With much difficulty, I drove Colin home. A group of drunken young men helped me push the car out when I got stuck on his street, and I continued home. When I finally reached my driveway, I tried to pull the car in as far as I could, but ended up leaving it half in the street. At 3am I wasn't about to start shovelling snow. I went to bed and awoke early for school the next day. School was cancelled! Finally in my grade twelve year I got the snow day I had been waiting for since grade one. I called around to find out how everyone was celebrating the day off and was invited to go sledding with Colin and his friends. I got dressed, keys in hand and made my way out to the car, determined to dig it out and enjoy my day off. My mother met me at the door and asked where I thought I was going. At the time, she was quite accustomed to saying no to everything under the sun, so I had simply stopped asking her and had begun telling her what I was doing.

She looked at me and shook her head. I wasn't going anywhere until I shovelled the drive-way, she told me. I looked out the window and saw that the foot of snow that had greeted me at 3am, had become nearly two feet of snow in our drive-way. Despite my best efforts to recruit various boys who called themselves friends, none of them came to my rescue. I began to dig. The snow was past my knees and heavy. I glanced up and down the street and saw families outside shovelling the mess together. Tyler and Travis were at my dad's place for the week, and my mother had put her back out, so it was me and me alone. It took me six hours to shovel the drive-way, and I took plenty of breaks to complain to my mother about lack of solidarity in our family. I was nearly finished, and gazed with some satisfaction at our neighbour's house. She hadn't even started shovelling yet. I laughed to myself about how she would be up all night. Just then, the garage door opened and a snow blower emerged. She was finished in twenty minutes.

Colin called later on and infuriated me by recounting how much fun he had had that day. After twelve years of anticipation, my first snow day had been absolutely terrible. I got in the car to drive to school the next morning and arrived to find that the crew in charge of plowing our school's driveway had also opted to take the day off. I had to park on Crowchild Trail (on the highway) and walk for half an hour to get to school. Stupid snow day.

This morning, I awoke at 6 am. I accidently turned the radio on as I fumbled in the dark and the announcer declared that it was going to be "An absolutely terrible Friday." Words of encouragement. I got dressed, grabbed my coffee and left the house. I could barely see across the street. The snowflakes stung my face as the wind whipped them at my cheeks. I caught the number 11 bus to take me over Mount Royal, not my usual route to work but a better one given the weather. I got off at my transfer point and noted my bus would not come for ten minutes, so I started to walk. I arrived at school half an hour later- the bus had never come. I glanced in the mirror on my way to my desk and found mascara running down my face and snowflakes frozen to my hair and eyelashes. Madonna continued to blare away from my mp3 player, and I made a note to myself to remove her songs. Fred had been wrong, I didn't like her new album. I took off my jacket and walked past the secretary's desk to my first class. I heard her tell a parent we were closing the school and a smile broke out across my face. Woohoo! Snow day #2!!

I left the school amidst grumbles as teachers and parents complained about having to turn right around and go home. It was fine with me. The trek home was long, but enjoyable because I knew I had the whole day to myself. My first real snow day- and it's full of possibilities!

Teaching in Canada

I was never really clear on how I managed to find myself in a supervising position at IMAX. I may have been reliable in some ways, but I know without question that mornings were not my forté. I never understood why Ingrid would schedule me on Saturdays for early morning functions. I rarely made it on a time and finally asked her to stop scheduling me on Saturday mornings, and she didn't, so I went right on being late. Miraculously once I was given a key to theatre, I only slept in once. Thankfully Brett was au courant with the various ways to break into the theatre....

Last Monday I started work at a private French school in the plateau. School has changed little since I was in Elementary, except that mornings start earlier. I start teaching at 8:30am and am expected to be here at 8am. Unfortunately this means waking up at 6am.... something that I do far from gracefully.

Aside from my shock at the complete lack of respect that these Canadian students have for themselves, each other and their teachers, it's easier than teaching in Korea. I actually have enough materials to sustain a full class, without resorting to absolutely ridiculous activities. It's difficult though, going from teaching a class of seven students to teaching twenty-seven. On the upside, they expect less individual attention because they know they aren't about to get it. On the downside, the students are less self-sufficient, less respectful and more self-centered. In the two weeks since starting, I've kicked at least four students out of my grade six class for swearing and other innapropriately language. One student told another to fuck off, another told a girl to suck his dick. He told me afterwards he didn't think it was offensive to say it to a girl because she didn't have a dick. Nice. It seems one of the things that has changed since my days is students now call their teachers by their first names. I was introduced to my classes as Mrs. Stephanie - and many of the students have dropped the Mme when talking about their homeroom teachers. I was shocked. I've also noticed that the students don't use vous when talking to their teachers, but the less respectful and more familiar tu. Of course I didn't expect the students to bow to me as they entered the school as they did in Korea, but I just didn't expect... this. It doesn't feel like that long ago that I was in Elementary school, although it has been fifteen years. Every time I yell at my classes, I can't help but feel eery flashbacks to grade four. Every time I yell, "Samuel, je veux voir les quatre pieds de la chaise à terre," I hear Mme Deschênes' voice. Every time I snap "On lève la main et on ferme la bouche," I hear Mme Jolicoeur. I don't feel old enough to have a real job... responsible for the education and growth of over two hundred students. But I am, and it's scary stuff.

After teaching in Korea, I'm not on the same page as the other teachers. At lunch one day, they discussed how it was terrible to have such long days for the students in Elementary school and they were just too tired. They talked about how their schedules were too rigid and it was too bad the system didn't allow the students more freedom. Excuse me? I nearly yelled. Eleven year old children are telling each other to suck their dicks and you think these kids need more freedom? If ever there was a doubt in my mind that I didn't want children, working in a Canadian school has made my decision. I got angry with a student for propping his feet up on the chair next to him- to which he responded, "My feet are clean." I lost it. My time of Korea made me hyper-aware of how dirt travels. At home, I had three pairs of slippers for different areas of my house so as not to transfer bathroom dirt to the kitchen, for instance. Even now I have two pairs of slippers for my Montreal apartment, and keep a seperate broom to sweep the bathroom floor. It was both the sight of dirty feet on a chair and the indignant response of the child that shocked me. I can't imagine how anyone could teach for thirty years. In fact, the idea of going back on Monday makes me mildly anxious. There are too many students in the classes and they have not been trained to think independantly or resourcefully. After explaining a presentation that I assigned my grade four class, I was bombarded by students asking me to translate various words for them. In my day we had dictionaries, which we were trained to consult. Not so today, as they hmmed and hawed about the injustice of my not doing their work for them. People love to blame the schools for not teaching children this or that, but truth be told, the responsibility to teach children respect rests squarely on the shoulders of parents and the community. And it seems we're failing all around.

Fire on St-Catherine

Fire breaks out in a restaurant kitchen on St-Catherine &
St Mathieu...

Two Chinese restaurants, one dépanneur, and all the above
apartments are destroyed...

Unfortunetly I didn't have my camera when I first passed by,
so the above pictures are grabbed off a google image search.

Fear not- Sex Cité and the sketchy Bar Diana are doing okay

The Evolution of Language

I finally received my study guides for my upcoming French test and have realized that it won't be as easy as the woman on the phone promised me. It seems that the Quebec government is picky about details that no one else cares about. And apparently the beloved Office de la langue française has made some new rules for writing. Perhaps they heard a rumour that Francophones were actually becoming somewhat capable of writing their language and decided to further complicate it while they had the chance. For part of the test, we're given a paragraph of text and asked to correct the errors. The prep-booklet suggests that we keep in mind that the proper way to write 21, for instance, is no longer vingt et un, but the Office de la langue française has fallen in love with les traits d'unions and has declared that vingt-et-un c'écrit comme ça. The text also contains des anglicismes. Some are fairly obvious. Ça ce dit pas appointment en français, mais plustôt rendez-vous. Mais y en a d'autres qui peuvent facilement nous tromper. La phrase; 'Veuillez compléter le formulaire' contient un anglicism, mais ça ce dit souvent. Compléter, allegedly, should only be used in the sense of adding something, or to complete it- not à remplir un formulaire. Then again, it was likely printed in France and they speak funny French. They say things like cake instead of gâteau or ticket instead of billet, words that would surely give me a failing grade on my knowledge of government of Quebec approved vocabulary. The Université de Montréal Department of French lists the following as words and abbreviations often contaminated by English:

• adresse (address)
• app. (apt. - meaning apartment)
• Dr (Dr. - note the lack of period in French)
• h (hr. - meaning hour)
• n^{o (no. - meaning number)}

The Office de la langue française is so terrified of my contamination of the above French terms that it fears allowing me to teach English to young Francophones could have disastrous effects on the French language. Just imagine if there were consistency in abbreviations across language barriers! Quelle horreur!

Ethical Tourism

For those who have been reading my ramblings regularly, you may recall that I had very mixed feelings about being in Thailand. I found it difficult to deal with the hoards of tourists and though it was a very easy country to travel because of their dependance on tourist dollars, I also couldn't help but feel that I'd walked into a sort of Disneyland park. Western tourists seemed to believe that since their hard-earned money was paying for their trip, they had earned the right to be condescending, leacherous losers. I actually heard a young Brit telling our guide that led us through the jungle that he took offence to Thai people thinking he was so rich because he had to save up for six whole months to travel to Thailand. He went on and on- really trying to communicate how difficult his life was as a young Brit- never even stopping to consider that our guide, who was paid pretty well by Thai standards, would likely never be able to afford to vacation in England.

The experience made me think about what sort of traveller I aim to be. Though I've found myself back in Canada, I know it won't be long before I'm hitting the road again (and by not long, I mean shortly after my boyfriend gets some working organs). Though cheap, trips to Cuba and Cancun have never interested me. I'm not fond of the concept of package trips and resort vacations. It alters the local economy and puts the tourist in an elite category above the local people. I'm not a fan. Without interaction with local people, I would have had very little to say about my year away. In any case, I began to think about how I plan to travel in the future. I want to see it all- which is an impossible feat as time and money are always concerns, but I plan on seeing every continent at the very least. And it seems as though teaching English and drama will be my vehicles. I am so lucky to be a native English speaker (except in Québec), as there is an endless stream of opportunities for me.

I've been thinking alot about volunteering to teach in Africa for awhile. This is the only way that I would consider travelling to Africa. The idea that some people spend thousands of dollars to go on a guided safari gives me chills. I began to look into volunteer opportunities while I was still in Korea and was annoyed that the agencies serving as the middle man were charging thousands of dollars to place you in a community. I'm perfectly willing to pay my own way and donate my time, but I take issue with paying to volunteer. These agencies are quite clearly scams, as far as I'm concerned. Help is so badly needed, I can't imagine I would be turned away if I just turned up there.

In any case, these plans are still in the thought stage, but if any of you have had experiences volunteering in Africa- please leave me some comments about your time there. I've got some leads on some good agencies, but you can never have too many...

Just Politics

A short rant for you today. I'm off to bed in a minute here, but need to get something off my chest. Ever since I left Canada, I've been contemplating how ridiculous our government is, and how we allow them to go on this way. The Liberal government stole billions of dollars from tax payers and we punished them with re-election. I bet they learned their lesson. Thankfully in the following election we came to our senses and booted them out- even if it did result in Harper being elected. They were too cocky and needed a wake-up call. In any case, I began to contemplate Canadian politics more and more and I became infuriated. We've been brainwashed into believing that our health care system is fantastic- when in truth we only think that because it's better than what you find in the US. We still pale in comparison to many European countries and we pay comparable tax. Our education system is also weak in comparison. My rollerblades have become useless since I moved to Montreal. The roads are too bad to allow me to use them. Travelling in Thailand, I wished that I had them with me. I dream of coasting down hills of roads so nicely paved. Even Mexicans enjoy free education. With all these thoughts floating about in my head, I returned to Canada.

I was determined to get some answers. I hope down the road Canada will be my home away from home- dreaming of settling in a warmer, more transparently corrupt country. For now, however, I feel I should make the most of being home. And I want some answers. I want to know where my tax money goes. I want to know why I nearly starved on the less than adequate student loans provided by the Quebec government. I want to know how they justify cutting off my loans because I made 8,000$ in my graduating year. According to their calculations, 5000$ should have been set aside for my education the woman had told me, glaring down her long pointy nose at me. I've seen how things are done elsewhere, and I'm just not happy with our system. So I looked up my député provinciale- M Yves Séguin (Liberal). All I wanted was to talk. Of course, previous calls to his office have never resulted in a phone being answered, or a message returned. I don't know why I would expect any different in Quebec. Nothing on the Quebec government site indicates anything out of the ordinary. A Google search, however, reveals that M Séguin has stepped down and his seat has been left vacant. Hmmm... I searched for my Member of Parliament. Lo and behold, this position is also vacant. I'm glad that my interests are not being represented at the provincial or the federal level. What a relief!

That's what I get for having a spurt of idealism. Thank god it comes at a time when the Quebec government is voting on raising tuition for the first time since 1994. I'm thrilled that my opinions on the matter will not be heard and that I can enjoy a 200% increase in tuition upon starting my next degree.

Gainfully Employed

Montrealers have got to be the most employable Canadians. We just have to be. We enjoy the country's cheapest tuition and have the most educated population. Perhaps we're more likely to call our employers on bullshit as a result. We take more days off than the rest of the country, but that's just to keep us sane. It's difficult, after all, to turn up at a bullshit job everyday when you realize what it is. The more education you've got, the more likely you are to realize it's bullshit.

We speak at least two languages. You'd think that this would give us an incredible advantage, but that all depends really. If you are fortunate enough to have a passably French last name in Quebec, you're likely to do well. Though Bogue is passably French, it is also the term for a computer virus ... perhaps not the impression I'm trying to make. In English Canada, if you have a passably English name, you're also likely to do well. If you're a French Canadian with a last name like Leblanc, fear not, all is not lost- just pronounce it 'Le blank' and try not to shutter. Being bilingual also allows us to curse our employers in the language that they are least familiar with. This is important.

Montrealers are adept at navigating mazes of red tape and accept that we will be paid poorly for it. This also ensures that we will complain more than other Canadians, but at least we're accustomed to making a hundred calls just to get our address changed on our driver's licence. You'll find us pleasantly surprised if we're able to do it in one phone call- and suspiciously shocked if we aren't charged 50$ for such a service.

We are the fastest driving Canadians, and are thus likely to be on time for work. I say that, but we're actually painfully unreliable. And quite likely to speed away from work an hour early at the end of the day. We drink the most, leading some people (myself) to believe that we are happier in our work. We also gamble more than other Canadians, which should serve as assurance that we will continue to turn up at our mind-numbing jobs (until we win big, that is). Montreal men and women alike spend more money on their appearance than other Canadians. This makes us seem better looking. Screw the filles des roi theory- it's all about not wearing your sweatpants to work.

I don't know where I'm going with this. I just got home from an interview at a temp agency and was struck by the differences between working in Calgary and working in Montreal. Years ago, I saw an ad in the paper in Calgary for a temp agency looking for bilingual receptionists. I faxed in my résumé, sure that I wouldn't get a response since I had extremely minimal knowledge of Word, or any other computer program. I got a phone call the next day. The woman on the other end asked how good my French was... I hesitated. How do you answer that, I don't know. What do you want? A rating from one to ten? She passed the phone to her colleague and we finished the interview in French. She offered me the job and told me I started on Monday. In closing she asked if I was familiar with Word. Of course, I lied.

This morning I dragged myself from my bed bright and early. I made my way down to the temp agency and presented myself at the front desk. The young woman behind the desk passed me two thick packets- ten pages each, one in English and one in French. She pointed me to the exam room and set me to work correcting the grammatical errors in each packet. It screws with your head. They had a list of mispelled words in each one- confusing as hell when they've spelled words in the French packet the English way and vice-versa. They know damn well it reaches a point where you can't remember one way or the other. After that ordeal they sat me in front of the computer and called me on my claim that I 'knew' Word and Excel. By now they must know I lied. Just like that fancy restaurant in Westmount figured out real fast that by 'knowledge of wines' I meant I could tell red from white. In any case, the long stream of testing finally came to an end and I interviewed with the owner. It was refreshing to be able to be totally honest in an interview. She looked down at my cv and asked if I was just looking for work until I found a teaching job. I said yes. Like most French Canadians, she marvelled at how I was able to work abroad and totally misunderstood what the imminent French test was for. She seemed to think that as a requirement for further teaching in Asia, I was being asked to write a French test. Only in Quebec would such an error be made. After careful review of my grammar tests, she gave me a passing grade in both languages and informed me that I would hear from her soon.

The process took me over two hours, and I walked out shocked that I had to go through so much to get a job temping. In no other Canadian city would you be asked to do so much work, with so little in return. As I left the office, I checked my voice mail and found I had a message from the school. After all that, I start teaching on Monday. My days of lounging about are officially done and I'll have to get up at what my mother calls 'a reasonable hour'.

Face to Face With My Quarter-Life Crisis

I assume there's a time in everyone's life when they come to the realization that they are getting old. I came to realize recently that most of my long-time friends are exactly where I would have pictured them to be at this age. Maybe not geographically- but in terms of relationships, careers, education. But every once in awhile someone surprises me. A couple that I always thought were perfect suddenly split up, someone's career takes an unexpected turn, someone has a baby. Fred and I left our friends Michael and Christine on Friday night after dinner. The four of us were exhausted. We had talked about going for drinks but none of us were motivated enough to move beyond the couch, so there we stayed until we decided, half asleep- it was time to head home. A symptom of early-onset old age, as I understand. But there is no greater indication that 'time is marching on' then when your crazy old roommate, 'Spacey Caycee' announces her engagement.

Caycee and I worked at IMAX together. We didn't really know each other all that well until word got around that I was looking for a roommate and had gone to such desperate lengths as to call up an ex-boyfriend to move in. I thought Caycee was crazy- but determined that it would be best if I weren't living with Jon alone. I'd like to say that once we moved in together, I realized that Caycee was not infact crazy, but just misunderstood. But I'd be lying. She's nuts. Barbie dolls with shaved heads and facial piercings left out as cat toys proved that Caycee and I had been very different little girls. I never owned a Barbie doll- soccer balls were so much more versatile. Our lives may have been simple had Caycee and I lived together with Jon. But somewhere along the line, we picked up another couple of roommates, Greg and Gerald. They snapped and moved out a month later. Apparently believing that Caycee's requests that they keep it quiet in chatting to each other on their computers till all hours were completely unreasonable. Exit Gred and Gerald, enter Rageful Scott. Caycee and I thought he was cute. Turned out he was a complete lunatic. Caycee was one of the closest witnesses to the ridiculousless of my flings that year- and has largely remained silent about the extent to which I embarrased myself. Thankfully. But if there was one person that I considered less likely than myself to settle down in a real relationship, it was Caycee. Not entirely surprising- she has been with Kent over five years now, but that in itself is pretty nuts. That's when you know you're getting old. When the person you consider the least likely to settle down, announces that they are. Damn it- we should start a pool. I'd be losing miserably- I also would have bet Diana to be a long-time single girl, and her and Jerod have been married over a year now.


Some people think too much. Others think too little. I believe I'm the former. Just as I think I've made some choices about my life, I talk myself out of it by examining other options. Or taking a step back and considering whether the choice I'm about to make will bring me closer to or further from my goals. Whatever they may be at that particular moment. Now that it looks like stability is just around the corner and my anxious nerves can calm themselves, I began to ponder exactly why I was looking for a teaching job to begin with. It's not what I want to do. I suppose it's closer than serving over-priced food at crappy restaurants though. I know full well that I'll need to return to school- part of me loves the idea of returning to the security of thick books and quantifying my personal development with As & Bs. Part of me dreads the student lifestyle. The instability, lack of funds. For awhile, I've contemplated returning to school in Psychology and pursuing a Master's. I've long thought about pairing the self-exploration of the arts with therapy. Not in the drippy Master of Fine Arts in Drama Therapy kinda way, but in the less obvious- Master's in Psychology - I have intelligence, an imagination and a BFA kinda way. So I begin the phone calls. McGill University pointedly informed me that I could not speak to an academic advisor until they had my 80$ in application fees firmly in their pockets. The woman refused to answer any questions, even regarding scheduling and the possibility of doing the program part-time. I crossed McGill off the list of school possibilities. If that's the snobbery I'm greeted with in making inquiries, they can take their pretentious reputation and shove it. I knew there was a reason I went to Concordia. They were happy to make arrangements for me to speak to someone. The University of Waterloo promptly responded to emails concerning their online Psychology program. As long as I never have to live in Waterloo, it looks like a good option. My mind was made up. This was going to be my course of action. And then I thought, hmm... maybe I'll go to law school instead.

Some article I read said that if you're having trouble deciding on a path, examine the books on your night table and extrapolate from them. So I looked at my night table. The Montreal Gazette, The Bell Jar, A Brief History of Everything, Laughing Wild, Guns, Germs & Steel. Okay.... hmm- current events, literature, philosophy, drama and anthropology. So I've learned I'm ADD. Apparently most artists are, not to worry. After spending so much time focused on returning to school, I suddenly began to wonder if these fields would lead me to the lifestyle that I wanted. I think I've established this year that I need to be mobile. I need to travel. I want to take off for months at a time, and bounce about here and there and everywhere. The idea of being one of those office people that crams their life into their two weeks of vacation every year is absolutely painful. It's just not for me.

On The Road to Stability

Earlier this week, I had an interview for a teaching job at a private Catholic school in Montreal's plateau area. The interview went well, with the principal and vice-principal impressed by my French and asking, as usual, for clarification as to how a girl from Calgary came to be so comfortable in French. The head of the English department was impressed by my insights into the education system of Korea, and by my experience as an actor. They promised to call me back by Friday to let me know if I had the job. Thursday I received a call saying they were concerned that with only one year of teaching experience, I may be a little lost when it came to classroom management. Of course, I didn't tell them this, but I was concerned too. My biggest class in Korea was ten kids- at this school, my class size would increase to 28. They asked me to come in the following day and teach a class, to demonstrate my level of comfort and ability to manage the students. Fear kicked in. I was fairly certain that they would sense my inexperience and eat me alive. I awoke painfully early Friday morning (6am) and began the long trip to DeLormier and Sherbrooke East. As a testament to the time of day, my dépanneur was closed and I was forced to go without coffee until I arrived at the school. Then they tossed me in with a class of grade three students to see how I fared. And I learned something. Teaching English in Korea is a thousand times harder than teaching English in Montreal. As the kids grumbled and grunted their confusion about why a young blond woman was demanding their attention and their usual English teacher was nowhere to be seen, I understood every word effortlessly. I could give them the English word when they asked how to say, for instance, guimauve (marshmallow) in English. The biggest difference, however, was the fact that I wasn't expected to play the role of an overly enthusiastic mime. With thirty kids in a class, they aren't accustomed to individual attention the way Korean kids are in classes of ten. They had all their books on their desk when I walked in. Canadian boys aren't used to their mothers dotting on them, so they don't expect it of their teachers. They're accustomed to hearing English spoken around them, so they already have the ear for it. My fear subsided right away and I breezed through the class and was offered the job. Unofficially. I'm still waiting on the final verdict from the principal, but the woman in charge of the department assured me I would be hired. The only catch is that the position in temporary. A replacement for a teacher who's going on leave for an operation, but apparently a date for the surgery won't be confirmed until 48 hours beforehand. So sometime in the next four weeks, I will be working. Needless to say, I'm still looking. It's comforting to know what I'm getting into, however. At first I felt like I was taking advantage of a staffing shortage to gain employment in a position that I was in no way qualified for. Now I can see how much I learned in my year in Korea, and how it definitely prepared me for teaching in Montreal. Once I start working, I'll deal with the question of how exactly this teaching thing can fit into my acting world... or a busy University schedule. Step by step, as crazy Mr Choi would say.

L'Entrevue

Last week my cursed telephone finally began to ring in response to résumés I've recently sent off. I interviewed for a job as a secretary at an advertising company on Thursday. Not, obviously, what I want to do- but I thought I'd show up for the interview and see where we went from there. The manager was super young and apologized for the thundering noise coming from the adjoining room- they were building a gym on site. They also offer ski passes to their employees- not so bad, I thought. The following day, I got up early and dragged myself out of bed and made the long trek to the Old Port. I arrived at the office and was greeted at the door by your typical middle-aged Québécois man, M.St-Pierre. He smiled and said 'Ah, Bonjour Debbie!' - not a good start. Turns out I dragged myself out of bed and all the way down there for nothing. He meant to call Debbie Bolton for an interview, but somehow called me instead (he said because Bogue and Bolton are so similar). He interviewed me anyway- and succeeded in becoming the most frustrating interview I've ever had. He asked me why, as an actor, I was applying to work as a receptionist at his télé-production company. Like any good actor, I'm quite adept at lying. I blathered on about wanting to see how things work on the other side, learning the ropes of the administration side to further my goals of one day running my own theater company. And blah blah blah. Of course, the real reason is because ACTRA is on strike and this makes it difficult to convince an agent that they should take you on. And because I have yet to perform in French, I have no French demo, and thus cannot acquire a French agent. Blah blah. So M. Le Québécois, looking over my cv with squinty little eyes, asks what makes me think I'm capable of multi-tasking since none of my jobs have required this skill. I sort of laughed and said, well- I do have teaching, management and waitressing experience. He stared at me blankly, and without missing a beat he said he didn't see how any of those jobs involved multi-tasking. Another glance over the page and he proclaims that I have too much leadership experience to work under someone else. He doesn't think this will work, and by the way- you're being very quiet, how is your French? Quiet? Hmmm... perhaps, sir, because you keep interrupting me to tell me your interpretation of my position, which frankly I don't care to hear. Of course, instead I just smiled and said "M.St-Pierre, je parle très bien français." He went quiet. Gave me an outline for a letter and asked me to write it in French, then in English and then I could go. A test, he said, of my creativity and written skills. I wrote the letter and stormed out of the office and up the street back to the metro, ranting silently the whole way. Of course, he was right- why would I want to work there? And I do have too much leadership experience (and intelligence) to work for a man who completed the interview by inquiring as to fluent I was in Mandorin. My face blank and confused, he had repeated the question- and finally it clicked- "They speak Korean, in Korea," I said.

Back home, my head throbbing from the frustration of the job hunt and damn it, how hard it is to be content when you're so darn smart. I spotted a posting for a temporary teaching position at a private school. I have an interview tomorrow, and hopefully if all goes well, I should be teaching next week. I just can't sit on my ass anymore. I'm about to lose my mind.

Koreans Love Their Juice

I was unable to find my favourite Korean commercial, which features a newly wed couples skipping around their brand new 'smart home', then at the end make a cutesy heart with their hands and exclaim 'Samsung!'. This one is a close second though. The commercial is for pomegranite juice.

In Contemplation of Flying Bananas...

Not to re-ignite any mind-numbing arguments from my theatre school days, but really- what is art? Montreal artist César Saez has determined that an enormous floating banana is an art installation. He recently thrust said banana into the skies of Mexico, with the intention that it will rest over Texas. In an interview with Montreal weekly magazine, Saez acknowledged the inanity of the project, but noted that Texas was lacking in flying bananas. No word yet on how US authorities will deal with a giant banana entering their airspace, although I would personally love to see them shoot it down. Just to compound the absolutely ridiculous nature of the world in which we live. That would be art.

The Banana Over Texas project was funded by the Government of Quebec and cost an estimated one million dollars.

I'm taking a poll here- check out the website and tell me here... What's the verdict on the Banana Over Texas project? Art, or as we actors call it- artistic masturbation?

http://www.geostationarybananaovertexas.com/

Yet Another Way to Capitalize on Low Self-Esteem...

The Hooters corporation has finally clued into the money to be made in South Korea. The social taboo on discussing sex and the acceptance of extra-marrital affairs ensures that the latest American export will become just as successful as McDonald's. Finally all those beautiful Korean women who have spent a ridiculous amount of time and money dieting and getting nose jobs will have a place of their own to flaunt their low self-esteem. Thanks America!

Rather than sliding Hooters into a low-income area as they are in North America (or at least, in my experience with Canadian Hooters), the corporation is trying to pass this off as an important piece of American culture that Koreans NEED by placing it in the upper-class area of Apgujeong. Currently the Apgujeong area is known as the Rodeo Drive of Seoul and houses all the big plastic surgery clinics, within convenient walking distance of Hooters. The area is also home to the city's most expensive gym, the Louis Vuitton store and Seoul's most expensive department store- and for proud Albertans, a Big Rock Brewery Pub. And so begins the moral take-over of Korea. As though Korean women didn't have enough challenges...

North Korean Account

North Korea

Many people have asked me about the sentiments of the Korean people towards their Northern neighbours. I have tried my best to make sense of it for those who have asked. Korean society is a reflection of their families. In a restaurant, the middle-aged man serving you is not a waiter, but ajossi. The woman, adjimma. These terms are equivalent to uncle and aunt in English. Min-Su (16) used to tell me that he wouldn't lock up his bike because it was an insult to the Korean people- an implication that he believed someone would steal his bike. It revealed a distrust towards others- a distrust that is necessary in Western countries to keep you from being robbed blind. In any case, I often use this as a metaphor to explain the relationship between North and South. Though they may be divided, they are still Korean- part of the same family, sharing the same history, culture and language. Older people probably have very different views on the situation than their children. It is hard to believe that the country was devastated just over fifty years ago. The growth is a testament to the work ethic of the Korean people (or insanity, as I came to call it). Nowadays, it seems that young people worry more about the impact the instability on the peninsula could have on the strength of the Korean economy. In any case, my point was this- I stumbled on this account of an American-Korean woman who had the chance to meet her Uncle and his family in Pyongyang. Those who have spent time in Korea will be hit hard by this I suspect, it gave me chills. Check out Ann Kim's photos of North Korea as well.

South Koreans banging the reunification drum in Paju, South Korea

Castro's Anus

I was waiting to find an appropriate moment to use this picture, and I have finally found one!




I have been mocking this sign for months- since I first passed by on my way home from work one day. Anal reconstructive surgery? Were people really so vain that there was a demand for anal beautification? Was I jumping to conclusions by assuming that reconstruction meant cosmetic? Probably, but it's funnier that way. So for many months, I've pondered how to comment on the Seoul Anal Surgery Clinic and gradually, it became a faded memory. But tonight I sat watching The Daily Show and it all became clear. Fidel Castro, Cuba's reknown dictator has been in and out of surgery to fix some problem with his intestines or something.

"A second operation to clean and drain the infected area was conducted. Doctors removed the remainder of Castro's large intestine and created an artificial anus. But this operation also failed, El Pais said... A prosthetic device made in South Korea was implanted in the bile duct and failed..."

So there you have it, folks- Castro's anus brought to you from Mok-Dong, South Korea...